Eleven

Chapters

Returning to Duty
Many Meetings
Looking For Trouble
Getting In Too Deep
Fumbling In The Dark
Found But Still Lost
Assault on The Castle of Friendship
The Master Stroke
Epilogue

Returning to Duty

A unicorn stallion stood in deep thought, his face grim. He stared at a series of projections on the wall emanating from an array of crystal balls. His tan coat and nearly-black mane matched his crisp brown business suit, which covered his cutie mark. The rhythmic wooden sound of another’s hoofsteps echoed behind him, and a second stallion in similar apparel came along side of the first. The images on the wall were of a stormball game, the stands covered in a thin dark mist went through the projections, and Princess Celestia’s dispelling of said mist. The second stallion, a black earth pony with dark brown eyes wearing a pinstriped gray blazer, watched as the first spat in anger: the recording showed an aging athlete recklessly charging Princess Twilight Sparkle as black mist poured from his eyes, but he was promptly thwarted. The black stallion shook his head discontentedly, and said, “Well, chief, there you have it. There’s no doubt now. The threat is real.”

“If they’re getting this bold, Shadow-Walker, we will need to act, and soon,” growled the other, still looking where the projection was.

“If I may be so blunt, Mr. Fields, a few of us were getting worried you weren’t coming to this conclusion quickly enough,” said Shadow-Walker.

Mr. Fields said, “Were you now? Until I reviewed this turn of events, I didn’t have enough proof, but what happened during that match, well...no doubt, as you said. But they’re surprisingly paranoid. We can’t go about this in the usual way; they’ll see us coming leagues away. We’ll have to come at them sideways, and will need to get in close if we’re to succeed. We need somepony on the inside.”

“Who should we send, sir?”

As Mr. Fields pressed a button on the wall, the projections ended, leaving only a dull ambient light. The two started toward a desk with a few more crystal balls on it, set in wrought iron tripods. He turned toward Shadow-Walker and said, “We’ll need one of the best. Somepony who always gets the job done. One of our own, who doesn’t know we’re back up and running. Then, and only then, can we be certain the enemy won’t see us coming.”

“That’s a small pool to draw from,” replied Shadow-Walker. The unicorn sat at the desk, meddling with the crystal balls, as the earth pony continued, “How many would even be up to such a challenge?”

Mr. Fields pressed another few buttons. Pictures of four ponies shone on the wall: a charcoal pegasus mare with a dark blue mane, a tan earth pony mare with a two-tone curly mane and tail, a spiky-maned gray unicorn stallion, and a pale green earth pony draft stallion. Leaning back and waving across the images, Mr. Fields declared, “These four come to mind: Meteor Chaser, Sweetie Drops, Half-Pipe, and Cross Cut.”

“Meteor Chaser is out; she has a husband these days and a foal on the way. Half-Pipe is too high profile...too successful in the pro-skateboarding scene after we closed down; he’ll have autographs to sign wherever he goes. And...Cross Cut died two years ago, in a house construction accident,” said Shadow-Walker with a touch of sadness.

“Cross Cut’s dead?” started Mr. Fields in surprise. Shadow-Walker nodded slowly, to which the chief sighed long, low and slow. Shaking his head, he resumed, “What a shame, that he’s gone. He was incredible in the field. Rest in peace, old friend; you’ve earned it.” The two held a moment of silence.

As they lifted their heads back up, Mr. Fields suggested, “Well, what about Sweetie Drops?”

The black stallion rocked his head side to side for a moment, then hesitantly reported, “She did the best at disappearing. Last any of us heard, she still was in deep cover as a confectioner near Ponyville, due to the Bugbear’s whereabouts.”

“Ponyville, you say? Well, isn’t that just conveniently close. She will be perfect,” said Mr. Fields as he tapped a button again, making all four portraits disappear.

Nickering in displeasure, Shadow-Walker said, “I think we need to revisit who’s up for consideration. Sweetie Drops is a no-go. She’s a loose cannon.”

“A loose cannon she may be, but she’s also the only agent who ever had a perfect capture or kill record. If we must endure collateral damage to get the job done, then so be it. This cannot continue,” Mr. Fields said sharply.

Shadow-Walker pursed his lips. With a grunt, he returned, “Be that as it may, but it doesn’t cancel out that we’ve changed too much since we restarted the agency. What we do now is too different from Sweetie Drops’ M.O. She’s a scorched-earth monster-catcher for pony’s sake, not—”

“Not all monsters are enormous creatures,” interrupted the chief. “Some, as you can see, are other ponies. She should have little trouble getting in and getting the job done.”

“This is going to blow up in our faces,” sighed Shadow-Walker with flattened ears.

Mr. Fields snorted. With a pointed glower, he curtly said, “Put your differences with her aside, and go make the call. She’s the best chance we have.”

Bon-Bon watched as the quickly-bubbling thick clear fluid in the saucepan began turning amber. She shook up a carton of heavy whipping cream and began pouring some into a measuring cup as Lyra rounded the corner. The unicorn's bright smile and mouth opening up halted, as if put on hiatus by the focus on her best friend’s face, and was slowly overwritten by a cheeky smirk. Lyra’s horn glowed golden, as did an aura about her hooves. Her hoofsteps, silenced by the spell, picked up in speed as she approached Bon-Bon, still meticulously measuring the whipping cream. As she ceased pouring, and with the mint-coated unicorn upon her, Bon-Bon swiftly whipped out an air horn. Lyra convulsed and slid as the horn cried out its clamour, its bearer grinning victoriously. Bon-Bon hurdled her assailant, reducing the sliding Lyra to a dust mop. Lyra came to a stop a yard from the trashcan. The two looked at each other. Bon-Bon giggled triumphantly; Lyra pounded a hoof on the floor, protesting, “Damn! I thought I had you!”

“Hardly!” said Bon-Bon as she got a measuring spoon from a drawer, setting it next to a bottle of imported vanilla extract.

“How?”

“One, the stairs creak. Two, while your spell silenced your hooves, the spell itself makes noise. And three, I saw your reflection in the saucepan,” explained Bon-Bon as she helped Lyra to her feet. The two hugged for a moment. Bon-Bon returned to the stove-top, finding the liquid had begun edging from amber to a dark sienna in colour. She moved the saucepan from the active burner to an unlit one and poured the measured whipping cream into the mixture. A hiss sounded as Lyra looked over the confectioner’s shoulder.

As Bon-Bon added some vanilla extract, Lyra asked, “Carmel today?”

Bon-Bon said, “It’s pronounced care-rah-mel, but yes. A young colt ordered a batch of turtles for a filly he fancies.”

“Rumble needs to learn Scoots isn’t looking for anypony right now,” chuckled Lyra, slowly shaking her head with a knowing grin.

“Wrong on both ponies,” said Bon-Bon, shutting off the lit burner.

“Oh? You did say a colt and filly, not a stallion and mare, right?” pressed Lyra as her best friend finished stirring.

Bon-Bon snickered again. She began washing the wooden spoon as she said, “What’s Roseluck offering for gossip and rumours this time?”

“She hadn’t decided, but how did you know?” asked Lyra, trying not to laugh.

“Just paying attention,” said Bon-Bon, looking over the spoon, then resuming scrubbing it on one side.

Lyra shot her a questioning look, then reiterated, “No, really, how did you know?”

“I just told you,” answered Bon-Bon, not even looking up.

“Okay, okay, you want to keep your secrets,” snickered Lyra as she opened a cabinet. “I’ve got a bit of shopping to do for tonight.”

“For tonight? What’s—oh!” exclaimed Bon-Bon, dropping the spoon in the soapy water. A smile wormed its way across her face as Lyra pulled out a pair of saddlebags. “Wow, that’s here already? Does’'t feel like a year’s already gone by.”

Lyra beamed, “I know, right!? I’ve been looking forward to our Friendiversary for weeks!”

“Time sure flies when you’re having fun...,” said Bon-Bon, walking over to Lyra. The two embraced again, each with a contented sigh and closed eyes. They held each other for a moment with not a sound around but a warbling wren outside. They opened their eyes nearly in unison, each gazing into the others’ as Bon-Bon continued, “Nothing like a best friend, is there?”

“You’re so right,” cooed Lyra as they nuzzled muzzles. They looked each other in the eye, then smiled with small, genuinely happy giggles. The two very best friends let go. Lyra tightened the belt for her saddlebags as she said, “Hopefully this won’t take long.”

Bon-Bon sighed as she took a candy thermometer out of drawer, clipping it onto the saucepan, “It will. You know how Golden Harvest gets.”

“Crap. I forgot we’re out of carrots,” scoffed Lyra, annoyed. She shook her head a moment. “Oh my God, that mare is aggravating. Wish me luck in getting back before nightfall.”

“Good luck, Lyra,” said Bon-Bon. “And don’t let her get to you this time.”

“Thanks, I’ll try. Be back A.S.A.P.”

The two smiled broadly at each other before Lyra turned to go. She paused a moment as she got to the door, then ran back and gave Bon-Bon a hug. Giggling, the confectioner playfully pushed her best friend away by the face, saying, “Get moving, you silly filly! The mail will be here before you leave at this rate!”

“Sorry! This time I really am going!”

With another grin, Lyra stepped out of the kitchen. Bon-Bon shook her head with a small smile. That goofy mint-furred mare just made her happy, happier than anypony else ever did. She was just too much fun. Becoming best friends happened so naturally, and all the hanging out they did made it a waste of perfectly good bits for them to live separately. Bon-Bon had noticed Lyra seemed just as happy with the new arrangement. All the long talks, silly jokes, lunches, the occasional prank, sharing their hopes, fears, dreams, and deepest, dark secrets have been a strong source of contentment. They even had a park bench big enough for them both installed on the front porch. There had been rumours floating around they were more than best friends, but Bon-Bon didn't care. She had her Lyra with her through thick and thin.

Looking up from the thermometer, she saw the mailmare, a wall-eyed pony coming up her step. Seeing it wouldn't be at optimal temperature for another few minutes, Bon-Bon stepped out to the porch. With a nod, she said, “Hey Muffins. How do you do?”

Derpy tossed what was left of a golden-orange muffin in the air and chomped it. She grinned as she chewed and swallowed, then said, “Bon-Bon! I’m feeling great! The Cakes had butterscotch muffins this morning, and they always put a spring in my step. How about you?”

It’s true, today’s looking pretty darn good. The weather’s nice, ponies are smiling and laughing, and tonight is gonna be special. Can’t friggin’ wait!

They laughed together a moment, then Bon-Bon said, “I’m feeling great, too! I’ve got a special order brewing for who could be Ponyville’s newest item, and a special night with Lyra this evening.”

“Oo-o-ooh...!” started Derpy as a devious grin turned her lips upward. “Are you two gonna keep the neighbors up?”

Bon-Bon’s face turned a vibrant carmine hue, to which Derpy nearly buckled from laughter. Bon-Bon spluttered, “No-o-o! Nothing li-ike that! It's our Friendiversary!”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist; it was right there,” said Derpy. Bon-Bon exhaled hard as the mailmare patted her on the withers. As the confectioner caught her breath, Derpy gave Bon-Bon a hooffull of envelopes and continued, “Smells like caramel. Is it chocolated coated with peanuts you’re giving Lyra tonight?”

Bon-Bon flushed again, and in exasperated tones splurted, “No! Snails wants these turtles for Twist!”

Eyes shot open as Bon-Bon realised what slipped through her lips. A triumphant grin crossed Derpy’s face as she exclaimed, “Ah! Thanks; gonna get those fifty bits from Roseluck now!”

“Fifty bits!?” Bon-Bon shouted as her jaw went slack.

“Yep! If she’s gonna offer that much for gossip, why not, right? See ya, Bon-Bon!” cheered Derpy as she took off, almost as fast as she had during that stormball game.

Bon-Bon remained agape as she watched the mailmare’s sudden departure towards the florists’ market stalls. Grunting in frustration as she headed back toward the kitchen, she muttered, “For pony’s sake, fifty bits?”

Why did her words leave me so flustered that I spilled the beans, and that fast? This isn’t like me; I’ve kept secrets of all kinds for years. Hell, I still remember a myriad of classified and other privileged information for which journalists would pay a small fortune, documents Equestria's enemies even now would offer me amnesty and comfortable accommodations for life, and so on! Never once did I fail to keep mum on any of that. But...crumbling almost instantly when she suggested Lyra and I were together? Sure, plenty of other ponies have said the same—wait, why is my heart beating that fast, suggesting that about Lyra? Oh, whatever; I’ve got more pressing things to think about. I mean, I’m still the same pony; why am I now, as Bon-Bon, struggling to do what I, as Sweetie Drops, handled without issue? There’s nothing I had then that I don’t now, and when it comes to the big stuff, the same goes the other way, so—actually...no. That’s not true. Bon-Bon has something Sweetie Drops didn't: Lyra.

Bon-Bon’s mind continued to wander as she set down the day’s post, checking the thermometer and seeing it still registered the mixture too hot to continue.

Lyra is something special, something worth treasuring. Maybe that’s why she’s proving to be such a break point. I’m not used to having attachments, even five years after the agency shuttered. Having no emotional weaknesses or attachments was essential for anypony in the B.P.P., and I’m still...no, stop lying to yourself; emotionally, I am certainly attached to Lyra. I couldn't not be: she’s so sweet, caring, fun, and funny. I love her—as a friend, of course, and just as a friend...or...is that really the end of it? My heart’s going quick again...um...well, crud, I don’t know! Never really thought about it before. Well...I don’t recall having any crushes through school, or my professional life either, if I’m honest about it. It’s not like there wasn’t opportunity, even if I don’t include that creep Breezy Rays. But...what about Lyra? I don’t know. Well, it’s not like I have time right now to figure this out! Five degrees left to drop; that’s just enough time to sort the mail before the caramel will be ready.

Setting a pair of pair of paper organizers by the stack, she starting knocking the envelopes one at a time into whichever sorter bore the correct cutie mark. She muttered to herself, “Junk...junk for Lyra...bill...junk....”

She stopped suddenly with a sharp gasp, eyes widening. A bronze horseshoe in a golden circle lay centered on a small envelope. It was addressed to “Bon-Bon,” who trembled as she took it from the rest of the mail. Her hoof shook badly enough she nearly tore it in half trying to open it. Her breaths shortened and quickened as the colour ran away from her face. The shaking worsened as she stared agape at the letter within. She muttered, “...no....”

Her breaths slowed, but the shaking did not. Her jaw clenched. Bon-Bon’s eyes narrowed. “No....”

She collapsed toward a chair and missed. Blood vessels on her eyeballs stitched lines of red along their white surfaces as she crumpled the letter and its envelope. “No...!”

She threw the paper ball toward the stovetop’s pilot light, and pounded both forehooves on the floor at each word. “No! No! NO!!!”

Tears started down Bon-Bon's face as she seethed, breathing hard, with the occasional hammer-blow to the octagon-and-dot tile floor. Sobs overtook the rage and earnest crying began. Her tone remained angered, “Why now!? Why today of all days!? Why couldn’t you wait another twenty-four motherless hours?!”

Bon-Bon cried on the floor, not showing the slightest bit of dignity in the face of unwanted news. A passing wren flitted to the window, sang its fluty warble, looked down at the crying pony, paused a moment as it flicked its tail perpendicular to the ground, then flew away as if it were happier not knowing what started that scene. The confectioner lazily pushed herself up with her front legs. Defeated, she moaned, “Why can’t the past remain in the past...??”

She pulled on a towel, partially opening a cupboard as she found something to dry her face. Through the fluffy red cloth she murmured, “I’m so sorry, Lyra. Oh my Celestia I am sorry. I wanted this night so bad....”

Wiping the towel downward, her face and eyes had hardened. Somepony could have died under that gaze. As she stood up, she said firmly, “...but duty calls.”

“...but I swear she just can’t make up her mind. That filly is, like, so fetlocks-over-withers about Noteworthy one minute, and the next she pines for Big McIntosh. I’ve tried telling her both those stallions are, like, married to their work and don’t have time for a mare, and Octavia’s tried telling her that, and so has Carmel, but Lily is just, like, so dramatic all the time...,” prattled Golden Harvest in the gossipy-est tones known to ponydom, oblivious to Lyra’s drooping eyelids.

Boredom permeated and marinated Lyra’s every word. “Yes, anypony who’s ever been around when she faints knows she’s a drama queen....”

The carrot-topped earth pony huffed, and put a hoof on her hip, shifting her weight on her hind legs with an irritated expression. “Gee, Lyra, it’s not like I’m talking or anything! How rude a pony would, like, have to be to show no interest in what’s, like, going on in another pony’s life, or share with somepony who actually cares how you’re doing!”

“Gee, Goldie, it’s not like you’re talking about anything important, nor that I have anything else going on that, just maybe, I need to be doing that’s more important to me than listening to the rumour-mill. Do I have Your Grace’s permission to leave and get on with my day?” grouched Lyra, rolling her eyes and opening her coin purse with telekinesis.

Smirking, Golden Harvest retorted, “Oh, sure! I’d just let you get right back to your, like, best friend’s warm embrace! You have, like, so many things to do that just best friends do! Like sleeping in the same bed, trading spit, and getting frisky!”

Throwing a few bits roughly on the table, Lyra rolled her eyes while sardonically, snidely responding, “I guess that’s the difference between you and me, that at least I can bed somepony.”

“At least I can, like, tell the difference between a mare and a stallion. Everypony’s talking about it...,” sneered Golden Harvest, haphazardly dropping a sack of carrots on the stall counter.

“Believe whatever the hell you want, then. Since you’re too stupid to know the difference between marefriends and best friends, kindly bugger off,” snarled Lyra, taking up the carrots with a levitation spell and whirling off to leave.

Behind her, Golden Harvest called out, “You two have a loving night! I mean, a lovely night!”

Lyra focused as she gritted her teeth angrily. A slight glow to her horn lasted for a second. As a small gust swept through, the sound of flapping burlap ruffled overhead. Golden Harvest looked up to see the upper right corner of her stall’s sign flopped over, its twine unraveled and undone, in spite of the other three being in firm square knots. The carrot vendor scoffed loudly back at her stall, “Why, I never!”

Lyra grinned to herself as Golden Harvest grumbled indistinctly. The sky had darkened a little with a touch of crimson on some of the clouds. Lyra took some deep breaths, settling down a little bit at a time.

Maybe next time, Goldie, you’ll remember who gets the last laugh. Damn, the sun’s setting. You were right again, Bon-Bon; getting everything for your favourite dish took too long. If I hurry I can get the risotto done before the stars are in full view.

Lyra began to run, as did her mind.

I really, really wish there was another carrot vendor closer than Canterlot, but nope. Golden Harvest holds the damn corner on the market, and will for the foreseeable future. But Bon-Bon loves carrot dishes so much. Goldie's gossiping is almost as bad as Roseluck's. At least Roseluck’s kind-hearted, even if she’s melodramatic (well, the rest of the flower trio are too, for that matter). Golden Harvest, though...she has a way of picking at ponies. Just loathe that insufferable rumour queen. She really wouldn't be that bad if she wasn't so snarky all the time.

Lyra rounded a corner, dodging a disappointed-looking Snails.

There’s the house. So good, to see her in a moment! Just walk in and see her lovely bicoloured mane, sparkling eyes, adorable face, wonderful smi—hold on just a stinkin’ minute, where did all that come from now??

Lyra stopped dead in her tracks at the thought. Her eyes twitched, looking downward at nothing in particular.

That...that isn’t the kind of thought best friends have for each other. My very best friend is a good-looking mare to be certain; I’ve seen the heads turn when Bon-Bon enters a room, particularly when she’s all dolled-up...but to dwell on it fondly? No. I won’t. I do not swing that way. I do not swing that way. I never chose to fall in love with other mares. Yeah, mom, I remember. I won’t be the “dyke” in the family...geez, I hate the way she said that word. Still sounds so mean, even in my own head....

Lyra continued forward slowly, chewing on her lip and looking down.

No, it’s not okay. I know, mother, you don’t need to keep saying it. “There’s no reason for there to be both mares stallions, if it were okay for mares to love other mares like stallions. It goes against Princess Celestia’s wishes.” But nopony seems to agree with you, mother. Rainbow Dash firmly said there was nothing wrong with it, so did so many others around town. So much of town is already convinced we’re together like that...is that how I feel? No. No...I...no, she’s my best friend, my very best friend; a strong sense of fondness should come naturally. I do not swing that way.

The scent of caramel met Lyra’s nose upon opening the door, which...wasn’t right. Turtles required chocolate. There was no smell of chocolate. Just caramel, and not particularly strong. Lyra raised an eyebrow as she called out, “Bonnie?”

Lyra, that’s a pet name. You don’t use a pet name with somepony who’s just your best friend...but it’s okay between very best friends, right? I hope?

The light was on in the kitchen, but no Bon-Bon. Lyra stepped in. The caramel still was in the saucepan, and thickened past the point of use. Cocoa and confectioner’s sugar sat measured and in bowls exactly where they were this morning. She found the mail, not fully sorted, on the counter. Lyra furled her brow, but concern leaked into her voice as she said, “Bon-Bon!”

She ran upstairs. The bathroom was unoccupied. Poking into the bedroom, she saw their beds on opposite sides of the room, and no sign of her best friend. On Bon-Bon’s bed lay a long yellow dress, soft and devoid of wrinkles, and matching wide-brimmed hat.

That outfit...the one I like best on her...she planned on wearing it tonight....

Lyra sniffled. Tears started welling up in Lyra’s eyes. She bolted downstairs, checking on the other side of the kitchen. The shop floor was closed and dark, its delicacies neatly laid out on trays with the labels in place. Lyra’s shoulders and ears slumped as she hung her head. Moping back into the kitchen, she whined, “Bonnie....”

Sobs started as she dropped her weight against the counter, barely holding herself up. As her crying worsened, she flopped down. She pushed herself around so that she wasn't smashing her nose against the cabinet doors, and wailed. Heaving chest, rolling tears, rattling breath, Lyra could be heard out in the street. Within seconds a face appeared in the window, but quickly left, appearing quite uncomfortable yet concerned. Lyra began regaining control of her breathing bit by lonely bit. Still a mess on the floor, Lyra lamented, “But it’s our Friendiversary....”

Why, Bonnie...?? Why would you do this? You said you were looking forward to tonight as much as I was, but you’re gone. You just up and left me here crushed...lost...heartbro—no. That’s not—oh, who do I think I’m kidding? I am heartbroken....

Darkness continued overtaking the kitchen, and Lyra didn’t move. All her smiles were gone. She stared vacantly in the dim room. As the sun set, something caught her eye. A glint of light near the stove? Lyra looked over at the out-of-place reflection. Gold leafed paper? They didn’t keep any such stationary in the house. The paper ball was partially burnt, having been too close to the stovetop’s pilot light. Slowly Lyra mustered the strength to return to all-fours. She levitated what remained of the paper over to her, unfurling the mass.

I’ve seen this insignia before...but where...?

Flipping it over, Lyra struggled to piece together what little there was. Enough of the upper left was intact to give two clear words, which she muttered, “Sweetie Drops....”

The ruffled wet fur did nothing to hide her confusion. Lyra repeated, “Sweetie Drops...?”

Wait...when we were decorating for Cranky and Matilda’s wedding, she said something like that before charging after the Bugbear, that her real identity was “Special Agent Sweetie Drops.” And then she—the briefcase! The one with the grappling hook and such! It had that symbol. But why would they send her a letter marked like that, unless...they were calling her back....

The dawning moment of comprehension hit Lyra like The Friendship Express at full steam. A long, slow drawing of breath was held briefly, then the waterworks resumed. Her tears and cries this time sounded of anger and rage, not sadness and despair, as she once again slumped to the floor. Roaring, she kicked the floor repeatedly for a few moments. Emotional pain returned to her face. The unicorn returned to a sitting position, neck limp, while she reined in the sobbing. She stared at the floor, lower lip quivering. Her head raised up a moment, then Lyra dashed out of the house.

Minutes later, still with tears running down her face, Lyra stood outside the Friendship Castle, pounding frantically on the door. She waited very little before giving the door another fraught beating. A boyish soprano yelled from somewhere behind door, “All right, all right! I’m coming!”

The door opened to reveal a baby purple dragon with green eyes, spines, and underbelly. Lyra sniffled as he jerked back in surprise. Spike started, “Lyra? Wow, it’s been a long—what’s going—never mind. Just come in. I’ll go get Twilight.”

A crescent moon hung in the sky like a cockeyed, sneaky smile as the train pulled into Canterlot. Bon-Bon rode coach in the second to last car. She stared vacantly, the fur under her eyes drenched, and her eyes reddened with a sopping kerchief in her left front hoof. The conductor called out, “Canterlot South Station! Next stop, Hollow Shades! Departure is in ten minutes!”

Bon-Bon wiped her face again. She packed little, and had no issue retrieving her saddlebags. She tried to focus, but one face was all her mind could find.

Our Friendiversary was this night. Oh Lyra, I’d been looking forward to tonight for weeks. Your carrot risotto had been so close I could almost taste it. The stroll through the park under the stars kept my eyes to tonight. Instead, some oversalted peanuts and the redeye into Canterlot was what I got. I’m so sorry, Lyra....

Lyra’s giggle echoed in her brain, in opposition to the groggy grouching of passengers debarking at this forsaken time of day. She muddled toward the exit along with several others. Outside the train, few were on the platform. A few businessponies, doubtlessly bound for Fillydelphia or Manehatten, waited impatiently in their suits and trench coats, with their leather-bound binders and attaché cases. Bon-Bon didn’t look up at the coming and going of others. She walked toward the street, her mind digging up the old routes, trying to place them against the new landmarks.

“The moon rides high tonight,” said a stallion in the darkness as she reached the street.

Bon-Bon’s eyes narrowed. Without even turning, she recited, “Because we cut it a path through the darkness.”

Out of the shadows stepped a black earth pony stallion in a pinstriped gray blazer. He stopped about two and a half lengths from her, scowling. After a moment with Bon-Bon still not turning, he said flatly, “Sweetie Drops. Long time no see.”

She cast him a sideways glance, flattening her ears. He walked up to her, nostrils flared, the bridge of his nose scrunched, and the corners of his mouth turned downward. Their eyes met in opposing glares as he came alongside her. A moment passed, and she looked forward.

This is turning into a bad night indeed, having to deal with this...pony. It’s been, what, nearly five years had passed since I last saw him, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s been about five-thousand too few. What I’d do for a knife right now....

The two started down the street, and she spat, “Yeah. Long time, Shadow-Walker.”

The two turned a corner, still in silence. A palpably heavy air of anger lay between them, both sets of ears flattened. The two passed an entire city block as such before Shadow-Walker said, “I see some things never change.”

Bon-Bon gave him the same sideways glare as before, then snarled, “I was hoping we wouldn’t see each other ever again.”

“Likewise, but with the B.P.P. reassembled, we have work to do,” answered Shadow-Walker with just as much vitriol. Three ponies in nearly-identical outfits, each sporting a red bandanna, loitered in front of a run-down apartment building. All three watched the two angry agents approach. One began to advance toward the two, with an up-to-no-good smile, but the one leaning on a concrete staircase swiftly stopped him, shaking his head. The third watched nervously as Bon-Bon and Shadow-Walker went by. The animosity all but left a trail of droplets on the sidewalk.

Entering an alley, they walked up to a brick wall with little more than specks of black and yellow paint that once was some company logo and name for a partial mural, and a dry-rotted oaken door, its mahogany stain lay bleached out from years of sun exposure. Shadow-Walker nudged at the doorknob, and a green spell ray swept over both of them. Text in the same colour appeared on the door for a brief moment:

ASSISTANT DIRECTOR SHADOW-WALKER
CHIEF SPECIAL AGENT SWEETIE DROPS
WELCOME

“I thought Celestia wanted total deniability,” growled Bon-Bon as the words disappeared and door opened. The two walked into a military-grade slanted lift. The doors shut, as they walked to the middle of the platform.

Could’ve been having my Lyra’s risotto and not around him if I just ignored the damn letter.

“Yes, and she still does. This facility never existed, remember?” hissed Shadow-Walker. A metallic clunk, and the lift began to descend.

“Every shred of evidence was destroyed, including this lift. How long has this thing been back?” accused Bon-Bon.

Shadow-Walker answered, “This is only my third time on it since we put it back together.”

“I also thought we had the monster count down enough that Equestria would not need our return,” Bon-Bon snapped.

Even dealing with Golden Harvest’s prattling sounds like heaven against being around this negligent, cowardly bastard. Oh Lyra, if you only knew. If I could only tell you...I can’t stand the thought of you being upset, and it’s because of this piece of trash you’re hurting.

“There are, shall we say, other monsters, that we’re tasked to deal with.”

Several moments passed in an uncomfortable silence. Magic-powered lights ambled upward at a lackadaisical pace as they descended. Other doors went by, but the lift continued.

Bon-Bon jabbed, “Did you ever apologise to Argent Belle’s family?”

“I wasn’t the one who left my post, was I?” snapped Shadow-Walker.

Bon-Bon wheeled around, forcing her face into his face. They were almost eyeball to eyeball as she barked, “No, you only cowered in that farmhouse and left her to die as the Cryohydra bore down on her position!”

Shadow-Walker pushed back, almost yelling, “Which would never have happened if you stayed on the north side of the ridge, and drew it northward like you were supposed to! But what did you do? Ignored your orders! You tried to outflank it, and because of you it went east, straight at Argent Belle before she had time to cast a sufficient barrier!”

“And you still did nothing!” shouted Bon-Bon. “Everypony else moved to help, but you did nothing! How the hell did you ever get promoted?!”

With gritted teeth, Shadow-Walker snarled, “Because I never got anypony killed, and I know how to follow orders in a chain-of-command! Better question: did you ever apologise to Argent Belle’s family!?”

Bon-Bon eased on her pushing, to which Shadow-Walker stumbled forward before catching himself. A loud metal clunk rang out as the lift came to a stop. Bon-Bon spoke markedly more quietly, but still livid. “Yeah. I did. I went to them three days after it happened.”

A heavy metal-on-metal hinge screech echoed up and down the shaft as Shadow-Walker, sounding self-satisfied, remarked, “Well then, will miracles never cease.”

“I told you to set your differences with her aside!”

Mr. Fields stood in the open doorway, bearing a face of professional displeasure. Bon-Bon and Shadow-Walker stared at their boss and stepped away from each other as the unicorn entered the lift. Bon-Bon blinked rapidly for a moment, and began in a state of disbelief, “Fallow Fields...? You're the director now? What happened to Director Reins?”

Shadow-Walker answered, “Heart attack three years ago. Way to keep up on things.”

Bon-Bon looked down. Director Fields consoled, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Sweetie Drops. I really am. I remember how much you looked up to her, that you were in many ways her apprentice, but her family wanted a small, private service. She lived a long and successful life, with her work completed.”

“If her work was, in fact, completed, then why are we here now, sir?” asked Bon-Bon, trying to not cry at the news, let alone in front of others.

Fallow Fields looked over at Shadow-Walker. He said, “Go to Department 107, and see to it the gear is ready. Sweetie Drops, come with me, and I will explain what I can before your briefing.”

Bon-Bon stepped off the lift. The doors closed with Shadow-Walker still aboard as she followed the director down a hallway of steel plates and oblong magic-powered lights, spaced every four metres or so. Mr. Fields said, “Can’t say I’m surprised you two still blame each other for what happened that day. But enough about the past; you must be exhausted. I’ll take you to your accommodations for the night. Your briefing will be in the morning at 11am, so that you can have enough sleep to make heads and tails of what’s going on.”

“Sir, you haven’t answered my question,” prompted Bon-Bon.

I so don’t want to be here. I’d so take Lyra over walking through shadows of the past. Hell, even if I have to sleep in the same bed as her...well, that doesn’t sound half-bad right...but if I’m to be honest with m’self, sleeping next to Lyra sounds great. Even cuddling her sounds great...just hold her close, smell that coconut shampoo she likes so much—okay, need to stop thinking like that. Maybe I can figure out what I’m feeling later. Really wish I could do it now...should’ve just left the stupid letter alone...never dreamed I’d be returning to duty....

Fallow Fields looked at her a moment, then said, “Very well. Director Tight Reins captured monsters of all shapes and sizes, ones that threatened ponies’ lives and the peace Equestria has enjoyed since ancient times. When the agency dissolved, the only truly dangerous monster that remained was the Bugbear, which my sources tell me you took care of once and for all about six months ago.”

He paused a moment as Bon-Bon nodded. “The large and bizarre no longer pose any real danger. These days the monsters are other ponies. Ponies whose true aim, no matter how well disguised in niceties and charming words, are baleful and deadly to Equestria and its ponies. The B.P.P. was reassembled to combat today’s monsters.”

Bon-Bon nodded again. Fallow Fields stopped a moment, and so did she to turn to face him. He bluntly asked, “Tell me, Sweetie Drops, what do you know about a terrorist group called ‘Eleven’?”

Author's Note

I always pronounce it "carmel," too... :ajsleepy: oh well. But, so begins part two, its first chapter done. Looks like Bon-Bon has to go infiltrate the Elevens, but what about Lyra? What part does she have to play? Stay tuned, and thanks for reading.

Many Meetings

The lift’s heavy doors opened into a wide room with a number of ponies at various workstations. Shadow-Walker stepped out, looking around. Fallow Fields leaned against a desk, engrossed in conversation with the young stallion there, who animatedly pointed to various papers on his desk. Shadow-Walker stopped beside them. Fallow Fields patted the busy pony on the withers before turning to his second-in-command expectantly. Shadow-Walker said, “Department 107 is ready. All the gear is in order.”

Fallow Fields nodded as he motioned towards the lift. The two started that way as he replied, “Good, good. And the locket?”

“Secured in the magic-dampening chamber. They’re giving the security protocols a third battery of tests,” said Shadow-Walker as they entered the lift.

“Excellent.”

The lift door closed with a clunk. A whirring motor sounded, and the lift ascended at the same slow pace as before. Several doors passed in silence. Shadow-Walker pursed his lips, then turned to his boss, asking, “You really think it’ll be time for it, this soon?”

Fallow Fields answered, “If she completes her assignment, yeah.”

“I still have my concerns,” grumbled the earth pony as he flattened his ears and looked away.

“Of course you do,” commented the director with a hint of annoyance. “Can’t let go of what happened with Argent Belle, can you?”

“No. It’s Sweetie Drops’ fault she’s dead,” seethed Shadow-Walker.

Mr. Fields gave him a disapproving look. Turning to completely face his second-in-command, he retorted, “You know the fault isn’t solely with Sweetie Drops. Many factors played into that tragedy, including you.”

Shadow-Walker looked down with a long sigh, shaking his head. He stared at the floor for a moment, then turned to his boss, softly confessing, “I can’t stand losing ponies under my command.”

Fallow Fields sharply ordered, “Then you better start caring about Sweetie Drops. There are so many ways this can go wrong. Since you’re not part of the briefing, get some rest. You’ll be in command of the situation room this evening.”

“Speaking of the briefing, what does she already know?” asked Shadow-Walker.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Not a thing. She was at the game in Ponyville, but didn’t know what was going on,” explained the director.

Shadow-Walker suppressed a smile as the lift stopped. “Ah. I see.”

“Get some shut-eye,” ordered Fallow Fields. “I want you at your best. It gets interesting soon.”

“Yes sir, of course,” said Shadow-Walker. As he left the lift, he muttered under his breath, “Don’t know the first thing, huh, Sweetie Drops? Good. About time you did something right....”

“Are you serious?” Twilight nearly shouted.

Nodding, Lyra said, “Yeah, Twilight. I couldn’t believe it either when she told me.”

“Never would’ve guessed...wow,” breathed the princess. They sat in an antechamber by the map chamber just inside from the main hall. Spike softly snored from a bench nearby. Twilight shook her head as she as she continued, “Bon-Bon, a secret agent? I didn’t know we had any. I’ll need to talk to Princess Celestia about what all is going on. I mean, I become Head of State if anything happens to her or Princess Luna; I really ought to know this stuff.”

Lyra griped, “But she said ‘Celestia demanded total deniability.’ How are we supposed to find out anything about them? I don’t even know what they called themselves!”

Twilight scratched her chin. She levitated over some parchment and a quill, quickly jotting down a letter. “I have an idea.”

“What are you writing?” asked Lyra.

Twilight said, “A letter to Princess Celestia, summing up everything you just said, and asking to meet with her as soon as possible.”

A yelp sounded from the hallway as the baby dragon floated into the room, suspended in Twilight's levitation spell. He whined, “Why would you do that, Twilight? You promised you wouldn’t do that anymore!”

“I’m sorry, Spike, I forgot,” the princess answered sheepishly. “I'll try not to forget it again. Could you please send this to Princess Celestia?”

Spike snatched the scroll huffily and blew a small green flame upon the paper roll. The scroll disappeared into a string of smoke which wafted out a window well above them. He trudged out of the room, grumbling, “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks.” Twilight then turned to Lyra, “She’ll be honest with me. I know she will.”

Lyra cocked her head off to the left. After a short delay, she asked, “How can you be sure?”

“I...” Twilight trailed off. She closed her mouth, rocked her head side to side, then looked at Lyra and said, “After knowing her as closely as I do for so long, it’s something I can feel, but can’t really put into words.”

“Like what I thought I had with Bon-Bon, or ‘Sweetie Drops,’ or whatever I should call her...” sighed Lyra.

Twilight sighed as well. She asked, “Do you think of her as Bon-Bon, the kind-hearted candy-maker of Ponyville, or as Sweetie Drops, the monster-catching secret agent?”

Lyra thought a moment before answering, “Until this, I thought of her and called her Bon-Bon. She even told me to call her Bon-Bon and not Sweetie Drops after Cranky and Matilda’s wedding. But, was she ever really Bon-Bon, or was she always Sweetie Drops?”

“What does your heart tell you?”

Lyra again needed to consider the truth briefly before answering, “To me...in my heart...she’s my very best friend. She’s Bon-Bon.”

“Then, she’s Bon-Bon,” smiled Twilight. She tapped her chin and shook her head. “I’ll have to remember this as a friendship lesson for Starlight, about trust and believing in your friends.”

“And privacy,” added Lyra. “I know this would have been a perfect opportunity to teach, but thank you for keeping her out of this.”

“Of course, Lyra. I’ll be sure to not give names.”

Spike burped loudly from the next room. The two mares looked at each other as the baby dragon grumbled and shuffled enough that his feet audibly scraped against the floor. As entered the room, he softly grouched, “And I was almost back asleep, too....”

The mint unicorn raised an eyebrow. Impressed, she commented, “That was quick.”

“I’ve noticed she gets back to me quicker since my coronation. Spike, thanks. I really appreciate it,” remarked Twilight, taking the scroll with her magic. Spike plodded out of the room, grumbling inaudibly. Apprehensive, she muttered, “All this interrupted sleep will make him crabby tomorrow....”

Lyra shook her head at Spike's exeunt, remarking, “It’s still weird that you're a princess now.”

“Isn’t that the truth...a year in, and I’ve still not completely adjusted,” admitted Twilight, unfurling the scroll.

“What did she say?” pressed Lyra expectantly.

Twilight’s face lit up with a bright smile. “She can meet with us tomorrow at noon for lunch!”

“But there aren’t any trains until after dawn!” griped Lyra in frustration. “We’ll never make it to Canterlot, let alone to the princess, by noon!”

“Relax, Lyra. Get some sleep. After we’ve had breakfast, I’ll fly us there,” said Twilight. She studied her old school friend’s dour demeanor, and said, “She really means a bunch to you.”

A sad smile answered, “Yeah.”

Twilight patted Lyra on the shoulder caringly. Lyra continued looking downward as Twilight said, “I’m sorry you two missed such an important night, but there’s nothing that can be done until tomorrow. There’s a guest room three doors down on the left if you take a right out of here. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Bon-Bon exited the lift into a small conference room. Seated there was only one other: an elderly unicorn mare, mane completely grayed out, and markedly gray around her muzzle and hooves. The rest of her coat was a faded sapphire blue. Her orange eyes still sparkled like fire opals. She gave Bon-Bon a warm, matronly grin, to which Bon-Bon’s eyes lit up as wide, almost giddy smile broke across her face. The aged unicorn spoke first, “Ah, Agent Sweetie Drops. Good to see you.”

“Mineral Eyes! Definitely,” Bon-Bon nearly squeed.

Mineral Eyes stood and offered a hoofshake. Bon-Bon looked down at the hoof extended to her, and just hugged the old mare. Chuckling and lightly patting the earth pony on the back, she lightly prompted Bon-Bon, “I’m sorry we don’t have time to catch up, but you’ve got an assignment.”

“Right,” said Bon-Bon as she let go and sat down. “Let’s get to it.”

“Of course,” said Mineral Eyes as she retook her seat. The elderly unicorn’s horn glowed orange. Lighting in the conference room dimmed and a crystal ball mounted from the ceiling shone an image on the white wall. “You are to infiltrate the terrorist syndicate that calls itself ‘Eleven.’ We need to know what their specific goals are, and how they intend to accomplish them.”

Mineral Eyes stopped at the annoyed, disbelieving look on Bon-Bon's face. The younger mare scoffed, “Who are these ponies? ‘Eleven?’ What kind of name is that, what have they done that warrants dragging me, specifically me, back into service to deal with it? And if they are that dangerous, why haven’t I heard of them before a cryptic question last night?”

“If we knew the answer to the first question, you would still be playing the part of confectioner,” chastised Mineral Eyes. Bon-Bon nodded, conceding the point. The venerable agent resumed, “We think the name has something to do with their long term goals. As for what they’ve done, we know they made an attempt on Princess Cadance’s life, another on Princess Luna’s, and they caused the trouble at that stormball game in Ponyville.”

Oh wow, I’ll never forget that day. Lyra and I attended that game. Got so mad just sitting in the stands...and we had their first bad fight there; even bringing up my past didn’t cause near the row we had that afternoon. Cried our apologies that night, both of us a blubbering mess in each other’s embrace...oh, those hugs...I could easily drift away into those awaiting forelimbs, and cuddle up with—

“Sweetie Drops!” barked Mineral Eyes, looking as much surprised as aggravated.

“What!? Oh. Oh...sorry,” Bon-Bon answered, shrinking in her seat.

Mineral Eyes pointedly glared at Bon-Bon for a moment, then continued, “Anyways, I was starting to say, we called on you for two reasons: one, your record. You’ve had seventy-eight assignments: fifty-one monsters captured, twenty-seven monsters slain, zero failures. You are, simply put, the best we ever had. And two, somepony different and unknown would be best to send. Information stolen from Equestrian Intelligence is that they’ve already lost four agents, and we’ve not heard back from one in six days. Since all of these ponies were known, we thought sending somepony who disappeared would be best.”

Disappearing...I did it well. Staying hidden from the Bugbear, my entire past was buried and I started fresh. But, when did I stop being Sweetie Drops, and truly become Bon-Bon? I really don’t know what...oh. Duh. Lyra. That mare brings out the very best in me, and made me the pony I wanted to be. So free with Lyra. Around her I don't constantly have to wear a mask, like it was so often serving on Her Highness’s secret service. Walking around in these old stomping grounds felt natural...at first. That latter half of the train ride, though...it makes me wonder.

Before she gave reason to be yelled at again, Bon-Bon said, “You haven’t answered why it’s been so hush-hush.”

This did nothing to sweeten the old mare’s demeanor, nor tone. Her response came as one answering a question whose answer should have been as obvious as day or night, “Seriously, Sweetie Drops? How do you think the general populace would react if they knew somepony made attempts on the princesses’ lives? While there’d be outrage and surely most would keep an eye out for them, the shattered faith in our peaceful society would make it slowly crumble.”

“You’d think events like Tirek’s rampage would’ve shown everypony the world isn’t safe,” countered the younger agent.

Mineral Eyes said, “Nopony’s saying Equestria is a safe haven from the rest of the world, but until the Elevens started up, the dangers to our society didn’t come from Equestria’s own ponies.”

“I find it hard to believe in the three-thousand year history of Equestria we’ve never had internal enemies,” Bon-Bon said bluntly.

Mineral Eyes shrugged. After a tiny pause, she said, “Maybe, but until recently, there’s always been one monster or another to give ponies a common enemy.”

“I guess.”

Mineral Eyes paused again, studying Bon-Bon’s face. A good ten seconds passed before Bon-Bon showed any kind of acknowledgement. The old mare shook her head, and sighed, “What’s distracting you?”

“Huh?” asked Bon-Bon, sounding as though a trance were broken.

“‘Huh’ indeed,” jabbed Mineral Eyes with an irked expression. “I guess even you can change.”

Trying to recover, Bon-Bon quickly answered, “It won’t stop me from completing my mission.”

Mineral Eyes appeared unconvinced, as did her voice, “Won’t it indeed? What special thing did we interrupt yesterday when we summoned you?”

Bon-Bon hesitated with a static face.

Crap, how do I answer? “Friendiversary” felt right before, when it was just Lyra and I. I don’t think the old gal’s ever heard of it; likely gonna call it a bogus answer. Shouldn’t give her any more reason to be miffed. Now that I think about it, I haven’t heard of any other best friends celebrating their Friendiversary the way Lyra and I planned to. Heck, I can’t think of anypony else who keeps track of that day at all. Even Pinkie Pie doesn’t think to throw parties for that reason, though the thought would surely be reason enough for the super duper party pony to crank out the balloons, cake, and punch. But we did keep track of which day that was. We had the one-year planned far in advance: Lyra making my favourite entrée for dinner, and our moonlight walk. I’d been looking forward to seeing those golden eyes sparkling in the starlight, sitting on our favourite park bench, in a long embrace, basking in Lyra’s aroma—

“Sweetie Drops?” asked Mineral Eyes, sounding much more concerned than agitated.

“Wha...? Sorry, I did it again...” said Bon-Bon guiltily.

The aging agent pursed her lips, nodding slowly. Looking downward was all the younger pony could do in response. Mineral Eyes put a hoof on Bon-Bon’s shoulder, asking, “That important a night, huh?”

“Yeah. It was.”

The knowing smile that only the old and wise show came to Mineral Eyes’ face. Softly, she said, “Never thought you’d get yourself a special somepony. You always came across as the married-to-your-job type.”

“Well, when the right one comes along...” Bon-Bon blurted with a gasp, floored at what left her lips.

That came out wrong. Absolutely wrong. Not what I meant at all...or...was it...?? Were those words the truth? Oh for the love of—listen to yourself! You have work to do, and a mission to prepare for; there’s no time to think or act like some stupid lovestruck mare!

“Fair enough. I’m truly sorry, for both you and your love,” said Mineral Eyes sadly, shaking her head.

Lovestruck...no point in fighting it now; you went and admitted it to yourself, thought the word about your own self. The corner is turned...albeit at about as inconvenient a time as possible. I am lovestruck...with Lyra, my very best friend. Ahh...so this is what—stop grinning like an idiot! No. It's okay to smile about it. This is something worth keeping, worth protecting, worth defending. If protecting Equestria one last time can give me the peace to start our life together, then...once more unto the breach, as they say. But in the meantime, oh brain of mine, be so kind as to quit phrasing things, let alone pining, as though I were the lead mare in some three-bit drugstore paperback romance novel. Please.

“The mission,” said Bon-Bon, steeling herself.

“Yes, of course,” said Mineral Eyes, sounding very much back to business. “While we do not know much about the Elevens, we do know enough to get you started, and a contact who has more information for you. We can’t give you that data now; it’s too sensitive to be transmitted by crystal ball or the postal service. The Elevens have a ceremonial robe of a dull purple and orange, and have some cult-like behaviours and rituals. A few witnesses reported hearing chanting in the night in the northeastern slums of Detrot, near the river.”

Bon-Bon nickered irritably. “Detrot. Go figure.”

“Yes, it’s one of the few things about them that comes as no surprise.”

Leaning her head against a hoof, Bon-Bon snidely chuffed, “Maybe they should tear the whole town down. They’re pretty much halfway there already.”

“Such is industrial collapse, with tremendous drop-off in demand for locomotives,” said Mineral Eyes concedingly. “Those out of work likely led to the unrest. It’s not like bellies suddenly don’t need food just because there isn’t any income.”

“You make it sound like the ones that were laid off blame Their Majesties for their plight,” accused the younger agent with slightly narrowed eyes.

“It is speculation based off of grumblings heard around the town’s common conversation,” said the elder matter-of-factly. “Regardless of Detrot’s fiscal state, or lack of one as it may be, your mission is there.”

“Street crime’s commonplace around Detrot. I don’t know where it’s rougher than others, just that it’s not good. Could be a mugger or rapist behind any corner,” said Bon-Bon, sounding more concerned about those points than she meant to.

Mineral Eyes said, “We’ve taken that into consideration when preparing your gear. Head to Department 107. Another old familiar face awaits you, along with your field equipment.”

Twilight Sparkle touched down at the end of Canterlot Castle’s drawbridge with Lyra on her back shortly before noon. Twilight took a moment to catch her breath while Lyra took a moment to gather her nerves. She turned to the princess and said, “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but can we go home by train? I don’t like the ground being that far away....”

Twilight responded, “Sure, I don’t mind. I didn’t know you were afraid of heights.”

“Neither did I.”

Twilight stood taken aback. She paused with a confused look, then asked, “I thought you usually traveled by airship.”

“I do, but your back doesn’t feel as solid as the deck,” said Lyra as she began to breathe normally. “No offense.”

Twilight shook her head. As Lyra’s complexion stabilized, an armoured white pegasus stallion approached them. Twilight turned to him as he bowed and said, “Your Highness, this way, please. Her Majesty is expecting you and your companion.”

Twilight and Lyra followed the guard across the bridge and through the courtyard. While Twilight’s eyes were forward, Lyra had a small gasp as she looked all around. Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns wasn’t inside the castle. As such, this was a first: the high spires, banners floating aloft, the well-manicured lawn, and hedges and trees. The cobblestone paths around the courtyard met the hedgerows in crisp angles. Lyra, still gazing about, tripped over the marble stairs leading indoors, her chin stopping at the feet of her sovereign. Celestia shook her head with a giggle as Twilight stopped to help Lyra up. “Are you okay?” she asked. “What happened?”

“Ow,” grumbled the mint unicorn, pushing herself back to her feet. “Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Don’t feel bad, Miss Heartstrings,” said Princess Celestia with a smile. “Many a pony have tripped right here, exactly as you did, looking all around the courtyard.”

Bowing, Lyra gracefully asked, “Please forgive me, Your Majesty.”

As they started inside and down the great hall, Celestia laughed, “Oh, Lyra, no need to apologise, nor do you need to be so formal. I never forgot you from my school.”

“Really?!” asked Lyra, face and ears perking up.

“Of course!” Celestia beamed. “Your senior recital of Whinninov’s Concerto for Harp in C# minor was nothing short of exquisite. In all my years, I never heard a more touching, tear-jerking interpretation of his heartache.”

Lyra's eyes widened and her mouth opened in giddy surprise as they turned toward a side chamber. She squeaked, “You knew of his unrequited love for Star Sailor of the Wonderbolts!?”

“Lyra, Lyra, Lyra...I’m well-over two thousand years old,” Celestia chuckled. “Whinninov himself personally performed at the Grand Galloping Gala four times, and I remember the debut of this piece.” She looked upward for a second, then added, “Fourteenth opus, if I recall correctly.”

“Wow,” breathed the young unicorn. She turned to Twilight a moment, then back to Celestia. Both alicorns giggled as Lyra stuttered, “C-colour me impressed, Y-Your Majesty.”

“Here we are,” said Celestia. She telekinetically opened the door. A servant pony finished pouring tea for three. Already plated on the table, set for three, were modest portions of a salad of spring greens with red raspberry vinaigrette, ricotta-stuffed manicotti smothered in marinara sauce, and a mix of oats, diced apples, and warm molasses as the side. The butler and servers all bowed deeply as the two princesses and unicorn took their places at the table. The three sat. Princess Celestia gave her servants a courtly nod, to which they bowed again and made their exit. She turned to her visitors after the door closed, saying, “I am sorry to hear your best friend left without a word, Lyra.”

“Me too. Yesterday was our Friendeversary—”

“Your...what, now?” asked the Princess of the Sun.

“Our Friendiversary,” Lyra repeated, her voice growing shaky. Celestia raised an eyebrow and slowed her chewing, allowing some of the vinaigrette to escape at the corner of her mouth. Lyra looked to Twilight for a brief moment before resuming, “Marking one year of being best friends?”

Princess Celestia nodded with an appreciative smile as she turned toward Twilight. “Ah! Is this one of the ways you've spread friendship, my old faithful student?”

“Uh, no. I had nothing to do with this one,” said Twilight, almost sheepishly. Lyra fidgeted.

“Really?” answered Celestia, unaware of Lyra’s increasingly panicky expression. “Maybe there's a friendship lesson here about remembering important dates, like—”

“Please, Your Majesty, I never went against your wishes! She’s my very best friend and nothing more! I never chose to...,” Lyra pleaded before suddenly trailing off when her eyes met Princess Celestia’s. The monarch’s face was a tight-lipped and fixed stare, with her right eyebrow markedly raised. Twilight, however sat there agape with her head askew like a quizzical, begging puppy. Twilight attempted to speak and failed while Celestia merely waited for the explanation of the sudden outburst. Lyra sheepishly began, “Um, I mean...well...never mind.”

Twilight found her voice, gently asking, “Lyra...is there something you want to share about you and Bon-Bon?”

“Twi! You’re gonna get me in trouble!” hissed Lyra.

The junior princess’s head jerked backwards slightly. Furling her brow, she asked, “How would that get you in trouble?”

“There’s nothing real that’d get me in trouble; it’s the misperception...!” whined the unicorn fearfully.

Twilight said, “I think you’re the one who's misperceiving things.”

“Lyra, Twilight, stop. You didn’t ask to meet me at my first convenience just so that you two could bicker in front of me.” The two old school-friends fell silent as they both looked up at Princess Celestia in unison, whose motherly words echoed in her expression. She closed her eyes as she took a long sip of her tea before turning to Lyra. “And I know Twilight would not contact me if it were just a single pony who disappeared unexpectedly one night, even though one of my school’s alums is torn up about it. So tell me, dear Lyra, why did your ‘very best friend’ depart so suddenly, and why do I need to be contacted on the matter?”

“About six months ago, when the Bugbear attacked during preparations for Cranky and Matilda’s wedding, Bon-Bon revealed to me her actual name is Sweetie Drops, and that she worked for a ‘super-secret anti-monster agency in Canterlot’ a few years ago,” said Lyra. The mint unicorn studied Celestia, looking for any kind of reaction, but found none. She continued, “She also said that the Bugbear escaped Tartarus and the organization had to be dismantled, to the point that, quote, ‘Celestia demanded complete deniability,’ unquote.”

“Okay...,” said Celestia, “...this sounds like the beginning of a half-decent novel so far.”

“I thought so too, Your Majesty, especially since she never brought it up again after that day,” added Lyra.

Celestia was visibly unamused. Her face conveyed the sense of having her time wasted, but her voice retained its regal, sociable tone, “While is this all very interesting and a bit of a mystery, this doesn’t answer why you simply had to meet with me on such short notice. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve enjoyed your company and conversation. I’m just not understanding what this has to do with anything.”

“Well, yesterday afternoon when I got home, ready to start making our Friendiversary dinner, she was gone.”

“No doubt summoned by this ‘agency’ that may or may not have ever existed,” quipped Celestia with a touch of impatience.

Lyra’s horn glowed. Out of her saddlebag floated the burned paper with the insignia in gold leaf. Princess Celestia paused a moment, straightening her neck and lowering her chin, maintaining eye contact with the mostly-straightened bit of charred paper. Lyra said, “From what I could gather from this, yes. I found it by the stove's pilot light.”

Princess Celestia took over the telekinesis, flipping the letter over. Fire flashed in her eyes a moment, then her gaze flicked to Lyra. The unicorn shrank back as the junior princess kept looking between the two with ever-growing worry. Celestia turned to Lyra as she set the paper down. Her face and voice were both authoritative and unbending as she said, “I’m sorry, Lyra, but you need to leave immediately. I have something I must discuss with Princess Twilight that cannot wait.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” sighed Lyra, as she left her chair and started moping toward the door.

“Lyra,” Celestia called out kindly, “it’s not because you’re in trouble or did anything wrong.” Lyra halted, looking back at her ruler. Princess Celestia's expression spoke volumes, and carried well in her inflection. “It’s because this information is for royal ears only. Princess Twilight will fill you in with what she can afterwards. Wait out past the drawbridge. Now go.”

Bon-Bon entered a large workroom with cinderblock walls, numerous work benches, and many freestanding woodworking and metalworking power tools. A half-dozen ponies were around at one or another of these, many handling what appeared to be some mundane object or two. An aging stallion started in her direction. He was a dappled gray and black earth pony with a black mane and violet eyes. His cutie mark, visible past his smock and lab coat, was a drill press.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said smugly, his voice almost sounding like a caricature of a Neigh York accent, but which borough was uncertain. “The vicious hunta returns.”

Bon-Bon let loose a single snicker as she shook her head at him with an open-mouthed look of disbelief. “Oh, come on, Tinker! Already? You couldn’t wait even five minutes, huh?”

“No can do, kid,” he answered in his even, rhythmic meter, “‘specially not afta that numba you did to the White-Tailed Roc.” He began walking towards a side room as something exploded somewhere else in the workroom. “Elite company you keep, being in the Twenty-Five-Plus Club. All you guys, vicious huntas, every single one of ya.”

“There’s a club?” she squawked, silently asking herself how one pony managed to drop so many “R” sounds.

“It’s just what I like to call you few who killed at least twenty-five of the beasts,” replied Tinker, opening a door.

They entered a small conference room with lowered horizontal blinds. An elliptical table sat in its center, upon which rested a battered strongbox. Tinker walked toward the locked crate and motioned to a chair while Bon-Bon asked, “How big is this ‘club,’ anyway?”

“All-time, maybe a dozen and a half of ya. Still livin’, just you and Shadow-Walka,” said Tinker, tending to his pockets.

Bon-Bon flattened her ears as she sat down. “Oh. Charming. In a club with that little—”

“You ain’t gonna cuss around me, kid. Getting too old fo’ that shit,” growled the aged stallion with a sharp glare.

She returned the glare with a look of annoyed incredulity, snidely replying, “Oh, and it’s perfectly okay for you to swear, Misfire?”

Tinker waved a hoof downward. “Fuhgit about it. And I thought I told you neva to bring up that nickname.”

“Sorry,” said Bon-Bon while Tinker located a key in his lab coat. She looked him in the eye and said, “It’s been a long time. Too long.”

“Hey, I’m happy to see you too, kid, but you got woik to do,” pressed the older stallion as he opened the strongbox.

“Then, business.”

“Let’s do this,” said Tinker with a grin, removing things from the armoured chest and setting them on the table. “You’re going to Detrot to sniff out them bad guys, and find out what they do, how they do it, and why. But Detrot’s got a well-earned nasty reputation. You’ve had the sleeping gas packets befoah dozens of times.”

“Yep,” Bon-Bon replied as Tinker walked up to her, carrying a small tube with quite a number of bumps along it.

Tucking the tube under her forelimbs, he grumped, “Try to remember this time that they put something to sleep, not like that Rhyos Chimaera you sent to sleep with the fishes.”

Bon-Bon raised an eyebrow (dreadfully insufficient by Applejack standards). “You remembered? That was—”

“Ten years ago, ya foist assignment, I know,” said Tinker with some seemingly unnecessary waving of his hooves while he went back to the things laid out by the box. “But here’s the catch: these packets are made to tuck ponies in for a little nap, not the big and ugly. You use one too close to ye’self, you’ll be snoozing too. So you’ve got this little mask that fits over ya nose.”

He brought over...something. It didn’t look like a mask. Heck, it really didn’t look like anything in particular...just some strange concave beige things on a string. Tinker pushed it into Bon-Bon’s nostrils. It appeared to fit well, in spite of a cascade of funny faces Bon-Bon made in response. She grumbled, “It scratches.”

Tinker picked up another cylindrical object, saying, “Get used to it, kid. With the moida rate there as high as it is, you might need to use a few befoah you find them. You’ll like this next one too. Tuck this in ya cuils.”

“Mane accessories are your new thing?” teased Bon-Bon, as she pushed this object into the blue part of her mane.

“Don’t staht,” growled Tinker, adjusting Bon-Bon’s mane so that the cylinder could not be seen even up close. “That there is a magic-powahed lie detecta. It can catch the most sociopathic ess-oh-bee in a fib, but it runs out of juice after about a half-owwa’s use. Wait ‘til you need it.”

“Gotcha.”

He brought over a watch, not unlike the one she wore when the Bugbear came to town. “One wristwatch with all the standard goodies.”

“Still has that acid spray?” piped up Bon-Bon, almost like a filly in a candy shop.

Tinker broke into a wide grin. “You know it, kid.”

Bon-Bon clapped her hooves giddily a moment before putting on the watch. “Great! That’ll help immensely. And the standard shades to go with it, I see.”

“Nope,” answered Tinker, now bringing over a pair of sunglasses that looked just like the ones she kept in the emergency briefcase she stashed under her bed in Ponyville. She gave him an expectant look. As he placed them on her face, he elaborated, “Once on ya head, they can switch to night vision, or infrared, and it has a camera. When ya want it to switch, give it a thought, and watch the culahs change befoah yer eyes.”

“Ooh,” cooed Bon-Bon. Her smile widened every few seconds. Tinker looked at this and shook his head with a slight grin, grabbing the last thing he pulled out of the strongbox.

“And last but not least are these,” he said with an air of importance. In his hooves were four chunks of semi-circular metal, sized to Bon-Bon's feet. “I like to call ‘em the levitation shoes, because they can give you a bit of a lift when you need it.”

“Levitation shoes? You outdid yourself this time!” laughed Bon-Bon as they got them on her feet. She promptly lifted off the ground by about two hands, held it for a few seconds, then settled back to the ground.

Tinker clapped her on the shoulder as they started out of the room, saying, “Hey, thanks kid, that means a lot comin’ from ya.”

The two headed towards the door through which Bon-Bon had entered the first time. As they went, Bon-Bon took in the sights of the nifty gadgets one agent or another would have the joy of taking into the field. Nearing the door, she slowed a step, head turned towards a wall a little further down. Tinker turned to look as Bon-Bon started slowly walking towards this other door, asking, “Uh, Tinker, what’s that iron door doing here? I don’t remember there being anything over in the corner last time. ‘Magic Dampening Chamber’? What’s—”

“You don’t want to know what they keep in there, kid,” urged Tinker as he wrapped a foreleg around her torso, tugging back on her.

Bon-Bon looked him over with her head cocked to the right and her eyebrow raised (enough that AJ’s standards would consider it “passable”). He shook his head at her, eyes locked on the shades over her face. “Tinker?”

“Trust me, ya’ happia not knowing,” he pressed, leading her back towards the first door. “I was fine until I found out, and now I’m on edge every friggin’ time I walk past that thing.”

“You’re putting me on edge talking like that,” said Bon-Bon with a shaky tone.

Tinker said, “Sorry kid. I’ll just say what they keep behind that door could be the answuh to our prayers, but only in the right hooves, in the right place, and at the right time. If not, big trouble. They got plans fer its use, when the situation is ripe.”

Bon-Bon stopped when they reached the exit. He opened the door for her. She took a step, then paused. Then she asked, “Do I have anything to do with that?”

“They don’t tell me everything, but my gut tells me yes,” answered Tinker with a shrug. “Oh, ya best be meeting with the directah. He said he wanted a quick woid befoah ya left, and it’s a long train ride to Detrot. May nothin’ breathe down ya back.”

“And may nothing breathe down yours,” she answered.

Celestia did not see Twilight to the door as she left. Mid-afternoon had come before she stepped out of the castle. The young princess ambled across the courtyard, gazing slightly downward, her mind deluged with questions and possibilities. What Celestia and Luna told her rattled around her thoughts uncomfortably, made worse by what limitations they demanded on what she could share.

Becoming a princess is getting less and less fun all the time. I studied magic for pony’s sake, not the subtleties of political intrigue! And why didn’t they tell me these things earlier? I’d like to think if something were to happen and I’m suddenly the sovereign, I should know about these things in advance! This playing politics charade is already getting old. Guess that’s why they have the old adage: “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

Twilight stopped as she reached the drawbridge. Lyra wasn’t alone. Twinkleshine, Minuette, Lemon Hearts, and even Moon Dancer, had gathered to comfort her as she sat on the bench with puffy, reddened eyes. They all looked downtrodden; even Minuette lacked her usual broad smile as she rubbed Lyra on the withers. Moon Dancer looked up as Twilight walked up to the group, saying, “Hey.”

“Hey, Moon Dancer,” said the princess. She took a tally of the others gathered. "Wow...we’re all here.”

Lemon Hearts, still looking at Lyra, sadly added, “Would be like old times, if not for why.”

“I know,” moaned Lyra.

Moon Dancer said, “Lyra told us about Bon-Bon. That must have really hurt.”

“We had a long talk last night about it,” Twilight said, giving Moon Dancer a hug.

As they separated, the cream-coloured bookworm asked, “Is that a thing in Ponyville? Celebrating when best friends became best friends?”

“No, before Lyra told me about her Friendiversary, I hadn’t heard of such a thing,” answered the princess.

“Oh. Still sounds nice.”

As Twilight went around the group with hugs, Twinkleshine spoke up while knitting her brow, “Lyra, can I ask you a blunt question?”

“Never stopped you before,” said Lyra with a small smile. “Whadiya wanna know?”

“Please don’t take offense,” began Twinkleshine cautiously, rubbing Lyra at the base of her mane. “Are you in love with her?”

Lyra went wide-eyed at Twinkleshine's “blunt” question while the others gasped. They stared for a moment in their own ways: Lyra’s lower right eyelid and jaw both twitched, Moon Dancer had a forehoof over her mouth, Twilight had both over hers, Minuette’s eyes bugged out of their sockets, and Lemon Hearts’ face went vacant. The yellow unicorn scoffed, “Twinkleshine! That’s so rude!”

“Well, you tell me, Lemon Hearts!” balked Twinkleshine. “If they’re the only two who celebrate becoming best friends, and how heartbroken she is, I thought I should ask!”

Moon Dancer muttered to herself, “Why does everypony say ‘please don’t take offense’ right before they say something that they know will offend somepony else?”

“No. I never decided I would like other mares,” declared Lyra, with a heavy shakiness in her voice.

“Lyra, that’s not something you pick,” replied Minuette. “You either like them or you don’t; you cannot pick to like stallions or mares like that. Or both.”

Lyra buried her face in her hooves. Her voice carried an even mix of fear, anxiety, and self-doubt. “That’s...not true. I’ve been told over and over that—”

“That’s your mother talking, not you,” the blue mare retorted.

“Do you like stallions or mares?” pressed Lyra, her unease fading.

Minuette answered as though her thoughts were knocked off-balance. “Well, stallions, but I didn’t—”

Lyra interrupted, “What about you, Twi?” as she turned toward the lone alicorn.

“Uh...stallions...” Twilight weakly gasped as she turned a brilliant crimson hue.

Smiles lit up Minuette’s, Twinkleshine’s, and Lemon Hearts’ faces, both Lyra and Moon Dancer raised their eyebrows, and all five gasped. Minuette and Twinkleshine squealed girlishly as Lemon Hearts gushed, “Oh, she’s blushing! Who is he!? You have to share!”

Twilight hastily objected, “It’s really not the time...!”

“It’s really not,” Lyra added, who audibly forced down her own piqued curiosity at this revelation. “Moon Dancer, how about you?”

Moon Dancer pursed her lips, bopping her head around, while Twilight tried taking enormously deep breaths to tone down her still-crimson cheeks. Moon Dancer looked up and stated, “I haven't felt that way about anypony. I don’t know.”

Lyra paused with a bit of a stare, before turning and saying, “I see. You, Lemon Hearts?”

“Stallions. Don’t you remember?” Lemon Hearts grouched at her friend’s forgetfulness.

“Oh yes, sorry,” said Lyra. “How are you and Quick Shot?”

Lemon Hearts squawked irritably while Minuette and Twinkleshine shot Lyra with narrow-eyed looks. The yellow unicorn stomped angrily, then snapped, “Lyra, we broke up years ago! You had just returned after looking at houses in Ponyville, don’t you remember!?”

“Girls...” Twilight began, trying to catch their eyes.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I forgot! Now I feel bad,” said Lyra as her ears drooped.

“Just don't bring it up. I still miss him.”

Nodding, Lyra turned to the last of her friends on the subject. “And we come to you, Twinkleshine. What's your fancy?”

Twinkleshine snarled, “Where’s your head today?! Stallions! Don’t you remember lending me your shoulder when Soufflé turned me down for the Saddle Hawkins Dance?!”

Twilight held up a hoof. “Girls.”

“Ah hell, girls, I don’t know what’s with me. I feel terrible. Seems like I can’t remember a thing right now.”

“Yeah, we got it; next time just give us a paper cut and rub some salt in it,” seethed the white unicorn. Sounding blunter than before, she posed, “Your turn: what about you?”

“I already said,” Lyra defended.

Twinkleshine pressed, “Well, since we're all baring our feelings, who’ve you had the hots for?”

“Girls!”

“Well, there’s...really now!?” began Lyra, whose voice went from pensive to incensed as Twinkleshine’s horn began glowing a pale powder-blue with a pulsating bright spot. “A veritas spell?!”

Twinkleshine, sounding very self-satisfied, answered, “Just keeping you honest.”

“Girls...!” Twilight shouted again, glaring. Moon Dancer glanced at her, and nudged Minuette, whose expression softened.

“Why!?” Lyra demanded, still fixated on Twinkleshine.

“Because I don’t like seeing you hurting!” Twinkleshine declared angrily. “And right now, it’s because you’re lying to yourself!!”

“GIRLS!!”

Moon Dancer and Minuette both had their hooves over their ears in time, but Lemon Hearts did not. Lyra and Twinkleshine looked shaken, and even nearby ponies had stopped what they were doing and stared at Twilight. Nearly all of them stopped to take a knee.

“Uh...yes, Twilight?” Twinkleshine meekly asked as the crowd returned to what it was doing.

The princess sighed through her nose, making eye contact with each of the other five, although Lyra was who she looked at the most. “Look, I really like getting the chance to see and chat with you all,” she regally declared, “and having some girl talk is not a bad thing, but there’s something much more important I need to talk with Lyra about. And since we’re all here, I may as well let you all in on this as well. But this is not the place for it. Why don’t we order some doughnuts and head back to my old place? It’s the closest to Pony Joe’s.”

After a short silence, Minuette regained her chipper demeanor, chiming in, “Sounds good to me.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Moon Dancer with a smile.

“By the way...” began Twilight, intrigue plain in her voice, “...how did you all know to meet Lyra here?”

“Telepathy spell,” answered Lyra. Her horn took up its usual golden glow, but the tip rapidly flashed a very bright pinpoint of white light. In Twilight’s (and only Twilight’s) field of vision, in golden letters with angular serifs and even kerning, were two sentences:

“Calling it ‘telepathy’ isn’t quite correct, but it does allow us to send a message.”

“It’s why we spell so well; we kept teasing each other over misspelled words.”

The letters faded as Twilight gasped in surprised, academic delight.

“That is a useful spell to have,” Twilight replied, eyes wide. “How long have you known that?”

Lemon Hearts looked downward guiltily, and confessed. “Well...let’s just say it’s how Twinkleshine got me through a few of those ancient literature exams, and how I got her through math. And I know Lyra and Minuette used it to help in some of their electives.”

“Oh geez...” hissed the princess. Moon Dancer looked equally underwhelmed. The other fours’ ears drooped as they hung their heads.

“Sorry, Twi,” murmured Twinkleshine, her gaze fixed at the ground.

“I guess there’s nothing for it now,” sighed Twilight, still shaking her head. She began leading them down the street. After a moment, she perked up, suggesting, “How about you gals teach me that one on the way?”

The lift door opened. Bon-Bon walked out into a sterile-looking, boring hallway with eggshell-white walls and bland doors. Fallow Fields stood inside one such open door. She marched up to him. He acknowledged her approach with a nod. She returned it. The director motioned inward, and the agent did as instructed. A wide office lay within, with an impressive desk, and a number of armoured cabinets and boxes. The two sat down on opposite sides of the desk. Mr. Fields carried himself with an air of controlled, restrained tension. “Good to see you’re up to the task, Sweetie Drops.”

“Always,” she answered with a nod.

“One thing concerns me,” declared Fallow Fields curtly.

Bon-Bon’s forehead scrunched as an eyebrow raised. “What’s that, sir?”

“Both Mineral Eyes and Tinker said you seemed distracted at times,” stated Mr. Fields with a professional degree of displeasure.

Bon-Bon sighed, nodding sadly. She looked up with a sorrowful expression and said, “I was.”

“Explain.”

“The summons came just before a long-awaited date,” said Bon-Bon, feeling her heart pick up the pace at the thought of a date with Lyra. She longed to see her, to stare into those lovely golden eyes.

“Ouch,” Fallow Fields muttered, shaking his head slowly. “I’m sorry to hear that, but if it’s meant to be, your date will be waiting, and Equestria will be that much safer for you two. If not, it’s better to get the breakup out of the way now, before any feelings really set root.”

“Of course.”

He put a hoof on her withers. She looked up at him as he smiled gently, saying, “If you pull this off, we can leave you two be until the end of your days. That much you’ve earned.”

“I appreciate it,” answered Bon-Bon with a weak smile of her own.

“Your train leaves in about two hours, from the north station,” said the director. “As a precaution, it’s booked under your moniker from Ponyville,” said the director.

“Okay.”

Fallow Fields sighed through his nose. He hesitated, then solemnly explained, “I’m not gonna lie to you. This is, far and away, the most dangerous assignment you’ve ever had. Monsters are often easy to predict. A rougher neighborhood of a city that’s seen its income and pride withered to almost nothing, where close to ten thousand ponies live, every one of them unpredictable, and to find terrorists somewhere in there...you’ll be looking for trouble from the moment you arrive. I can’t ask you to be careful. You cannot hope to accomplish your mission if you do. You’ll doubtlessly have to break a number of laws to complete your mission, but beyond a B&E and trespassing, I can’t predict. You may even have local law enforcement complicating matters. I want you to take this, but hopefully you won’t need it. I urge you, please don’t use it on a police pony if you can find any way around it."

Mr. Fields gave a small sheathed blade to Bon-Bon. It was barely as long as her hoof was wide, but its unusually vibrant shine clearly showed that it had been enchanted somehow.

“Wasn’t this Director Reins’ knife?” She asked, staring at it.

“Yes, and I’m entrusting it to you for this mission. You....” He cut himself off, concern and an unclear urgency piercing his professional face. “You simply have to succeed. You don’t know how important this is to Equestria.”

“No pressure, I see,” she quipped.

“I can’t truly convey how critical your success is. We can’t have the wrong ponies forcing their way upon everypony else, and your success will be crucial to keeping the wrong ponies from dominating so many lives.”

“So...no pressure,” Bon-Bon commented sardonically. “Just getting a little nervous.”

“Clear it from your mind. Make contact with Standing Vigil at your first opportunity,” ordered Fallow Fields, showing a photograph of a deep red stallion with a black mane and hazel eyes. Bon-Bon silently nodded, and he continued, “Look for him at 1216 East High Street, Apartment 1386. Mineral Eyes informed you he has information that was deemed too sensitive to send here, but enough that he could not infiltrate the Elevens without being recognized too quickly. Get the data and move into the organization, gathering as much data as possible. If you find credible evidence of an imminent danger, you are to send word as soon as feasible.”

“Of course,” Bon-Bon replied.

“So, head to the Outpost, and use the information you receive there to locate and chart the Hidden Valley. Good luck, Lone Ranger.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now get going,” Fields said with a warm smile. “North Station is not a short walk from here. May nothing breathe down your back.”

The walk through Canterlot went without incident. It was another glorious day that she’d rather be spending with Lyra. With a crush recognized and accepted, new thoughts, even more compelling and distracting, pervaded her mind.

How should I tell Lyra? How will she react? How soft are her lips? I wanted to know...oh boy, do I ever want to know.

The last one repeated itself in a myriad of iterations, enough that if she saw Lyra, Bon-Bon might very well kiss her on the spot, consequences be damned.

But Bon-Bon did not see Lyra. She saw nopony whose coat and mane even came close to matching her very best friend. An entire day gone, without seeing her once, and that observation drained her. Bon-Bon fought to hold back the waterworks, with limited success. “One last mission,” she swore to herself, “and I’ll confess my feelings to Lyra. Slacking off now will just slow me down. I have to push through this. I have to be with my Lyra.”

It became her mantra, her light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

Boarding the train, she did not notice a black earth pony stallion watching her from the windows across the street, masked in black curtains. His well-pressed suit fit him as only a master tailor could execute. Shadow-Walker smiled as the train pulled out of the station with Bon-Bon aboard.

Six mares sat around a table, and five mouths were agape. A box large enough to hold two dozen assorted doughnuts sat in the middle, nearly half-empty. Such pastries were at each plate; some had been dropped. Moon Dancer had a red-purple spot on her neck, from her jelly-filled Bismarck’s splatter after losing her telekinetic hold. Twinkleshine had custard oozing off her lips, and only the last bite of a chocolate-iced long john on her plate. Twilight Sparkle looked across at her friends, and took another bite of her cruller, waiting for them to find words again.

Lyra blinked first, and shook her head with a sigh. She lifted her maple-iced, crème-filled long john and took another bite, sighing again, still speechless. Lemon Hearts’ plate had three-quarters of a strawberry cake doughnut, and her eyes still hadn’t blinked. Minuette’s peanut-encrusted yeast ring sat ignored as she breathed, “Wow, Twi, if you hadn’t heard it straight from Princess Celestia, I wouldn’t believe you.”

Moon Dancer pushed her glasses back up onto her nose, then said, “Heck, even with the veritas spells, I still can’t.”

“I know. This is bad,” began the princess, looking around. “We have to help Lyra with this. This is too much for Bon-Bon. She’ll be in over her head quickly and with no way out. Lyra couldn’t stand it if something happened to Bon-Bon, and it’s a sure bet they're sending her somewhere rife with peril, if she isn’t already on her way.”

“How do we even know she’s in Canterlot?” asked Lemon Hearts, finally blinking.

Twilight explained, “We know she was; we don’t know if she still is. The porter at Ponyville station told us when she boarded the train to here, and that she tried to hide that she was very upset.”

“I’d like to help, but I have work in the morning,” said Minuette somberly. Twinkleshine and Lemon Hearts murmured in assent.

Twilight tapped her chin a few times, then turned to those three. She said, “I can write a decree that I called for your assistance on royal business, and give that to your employers. They can’t say no to a princess.”

“Thanks, Twi,” said Twinkleshine as she wiped up her mouth.

Minuette’s signature smile returned. With a laugh she said, “Hey, sometime could you give a royal decree that I need seven days, six nights, to go handle ‘royal business’ in the Prench Riviera?”

All six ponies laughed for a good, solid moment. The tension in the air finally subsided. After some wiping of eyes, Twilight teased, “Wow, Minuette, really pushing the envelope, huh?”

“What are friends for?” giggled Minuette.

Twilight’s tone returned to its serious nature, as she pointed out, “Writing the decrees for tomorrow can be misconstrued bad enough by the Elevens. Just giving away vacations to my friends will look just plain terrible.”

Sighing, the blue unicorn joked, “It was worth asking....”

“Should we start now, ask if she’s been seen around town? She does have a distinctive mane that ponies might remember,” asked Lyra, looking around the room.

“We could,” Twilight answered, “but I’m pretty tired, between flying here, the crazy news, and walking all over town. And I’ll need to write those decrees tonight. If you gals want an early start on the search, go for it.”

4:16 a.m. Detrot’s Grand Central Station. A train from the capital arrived, precisely on time. Fog off the Detrot River lay heavy in the air, thicker outside the station. Magic-powered lights shone the graffiti and other forms of vandalism around the aged art deco building. Some of the concrete had crumbled enough that in places the rebar held nothing at all except the dusty air. Few waited on the platform. A hobo or two picked themselves as the brakes squealed, ready to offer directions to those disembarking passengers who offered tips. The train slowed to a stop. The coach doors opened while the engine hissed a steam jet on both sides.

Sleepy ponies shuffled off the train one by one. Fourth from the last to depart was a beige earth pony mare in dark shades, with a curly two-toned mane of deep blue and carnation pink. She packed light. Her head turned side to side slightly as she ambled forward, her slow gait confident and standoffish. She shook her head as one of the hobos approached her, who promptly turned to try his luck with a different new arrival. Sweetie Drops checked her watch, then walked down the short stairs, disappearing into the mists of the city.

Author's Note

So...there's two chapters done; now it gets fun. I can't help but hear this track as Bon-Bon arrived in Detrot, despite the track's name. Pity Lyra couldn't finish her lunch....

Looking For Trouble

Across the dim room sat a dozen ponies monitoring one thing or another on their respective crystal balls’ projections. Shadow-Walker moved silently around the room, pausing now and then at various stations. In his rotations he frequently stopped at three particular stations that were side-by-side, each showing a run-down city just before dawn. Light from an opening door intruded upon the darkness. Fallow Fields stepped in, this time in a black suit with a spring green tie, and closed the door behind him. Shadow-Walker turned as his boss approached and gave him a simple order: “Report.”

“Field Team A has had no luck so far in the Golden Desert,” Shadow-Walker said, pointing a hoof at a few work stations. He gestured towards the adjacent stations, saying, “Field Team B advised there are more troublesome locals in the Stirrup Steppes than the scouts’ reports indicated. Local watch team noted Princess Twilight Sparkle showed up in town unannounced, still without guard detail.”

Mr. Fields shook his head discontentedly. He grumbled, “Have them keep a constant eye on her.”

“They didn’t need to be told,” answered the black stallion.

“Good. Field Team C?”

Two of the ponies at other workstations turned toward the boss with wide smiles, one pumping a hoof in the air. Shadow-Walker looked and sounded satisfied as he reported, “Success. They found it.”

Fallow Fields laughed triumphantly, hoof-bumping the two who smiled and putting a foreleg around Shadow-Walker. “Most excellent!” he cheered. “Follow standard extraction procedure.”

“They’re already on it. Four remain.”

“Perfect. Good work,” said Fallow Fields with a smile. “And, the Lone Ranger?”

“Lone Ranger is on the ground, and on the move,” Shadow-Walker replied with stymied venom.

“Progress?”

“Minor delay due to a local gang, but not enough to knock her off-schedule.”

The director frowned at his lieutenant’s masked indignation. “You seem disappointed.”

“Maybe a little,” conceded Shadow-Walker. He bit back on his anger as he continued, “The faster she finishes the job, the sooner she’s out of my mane for good.”

“Make sure she actually finishes the job,” Fallow Fields curtly ordered. The black stallion nodded irritably. Easing up, the director asked, “Is the Outpost ready for the Lone Ranger’s arrival?”

“We’ve received no word from the Outpost,” said Shadow-Walker with a frown.

“That can’t be right.”

Shadow-Walker led Mr. Fields over to one of the workstations. A small beige earth pony mare with mint green eyes, an emerald mane, and an empty basket for a cutie mark sat here with a hoof to her earpiece. Shadow-Walker said, “Weaver! Any update on the Outpost?”

“Negative, sir! I’m still trying,” she answered.

Fallow Fields looked over her station, asking “Is she on the right frequency?”

“Double-check your frequency,” ordered the second-in-command.

“Ball is set at 21.55 gigahertz, sir!”

The director scratched his chin. “Not incorrect here; what about there?”

Ms. Weaver answered, “Negative, sir! Visual confirmation from the Outpost in the ball.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. Main viewer, Ms. Weaver,” ordered the director. On the wall appeared the projection of an apartment’s interior, looking across a fairly nice office desk and chair with a few filing cabinets in front of a wall that was in a state of disrepair. Nopony was there. Fallow Fields nickered irritably, “It was left it on...this is bad.”

“Sir, what do we do now?” Ms. Weaver asked.

“Hope and pray the Outpost isn’t down. If it is, well...the Lone Ranger may have a difficult time of things,” Fallow Fields said, shaking his head. He turned toward his second-in-command. “Get some sleep. You’ve had a busy night. I have things from here.”

“Of course, sir. Good luck,” answered Shadow-Walker. As he entered the lift, he muttered, “Think, think, think. Doesn’t look like Plan A or B is gonna work now. How to cast the net...?”

Twilight Sparkle awoke with a yawn and a long stretch. Her tower condo here in Canterlot felt much more like home than her palace in Ponyville. Maybe it was the years she spent here, the familiar hangings, the ambience, the room layout, the view...it all took her back to simpler times. Everything was as it used to be...except the breathing. Somepony else was here; the breathing was way too deep to be Spike. And there wasn’t any snoring. And...there was more than one. The sound emanated from below, down on the first floor. Then the memory from yesterday and the night before returned: Lyra’s panic, the long talk with Princesses Celestia and Luna, the ensuing long talk with her old friends, and planning to help Lyra find Bon-Bon before—

“Hey, morning, Twi,” said an amiable female voice.

The princess nearly leapt out of her skin. She turned to see a familiar face, in the form of an ivory unicorn mare with a bubblegum pink mane and tail. “Twinkleshine. Morning. I...huh.” Twilight hesitated briefly, then continued, “I don’t mind, but why did you stay here?”

“My place is on the other side of town,” Twinkleshine said flatly.

Twilight nodded. Her ears flicked toward the balcony’s edge. She paused again, then asked, “Wow, did everypony just sleep over?”

“Sure did.”

“Who all went out looking last night?” asked Twilight. “I crashed after writing the decrees and delivering them.”

Twinkleshine gave her a sad smile, explaining, “All of us went looking. We’ve never seen her so down in the dumps.”

“I know,” answered Twilight, slowly shaking her head. “Guess I’ll get breakfast started. Catch me up when the others wake up.”

“No, don’t,” directed the white unicorn, holding a hoof in the princess’s path. “I’ll fix breakfast.”

“I’m the hostess! I should prepare food for my guests,” protested Twilight.

“Yes, but you can’t cook; Spike’s done it for years.”

Scoffing, the alicorn almost petulantly insisted, “I can so cook!”

“Twilight, I haven’t forgotten that scorched mess you called a cake. Just let me do it,” Twinkleshine said soothingly, patting the princess on the shoulder.

Still objecting, Twilight squawked, “That was almost ten years ago! I’ve learned since!”

“And I’ve been cooking the whole time, nearly daily. I’ve got this,” soothed Twinkleshine. As the alicorn frowned, she quickly added, “And before you even think it, it’s not because of your crown; it’s because I know what I’m doing by heart. It’s okay.”

Twilight sighed, her face creased with frustration. Huffing, she grumped, “Fine.”

The two walked down the stairs. Twinkleshine turned toward the kitchen while Twilight headed for the rotunda, past Twinkleshine’s makeshift bed on floor. There she found her other schoolmates wrapped in spare blankets and piled on the couch, tables, and chairs in sloppy sleeping arrangements. Lyra, who had taken the bench, was awake, staring at the ceiling miserably. Minuette was stirring on the coffee table. Moon Dancer still had an open book on the floor in front of the couch, but was zonked. Lemon Hearts, in the recliner, snored quietly enough to not be heard unless one was close by.

“Lyra, are you okay?” asked Twilight, stopping next to her.

“No.”

Twilight's ears and expression slumped at how empty and flat the answer came. She watched as Lyra’s eyes turned a bit glassy as she held back a sniffle, never taking her gaze off of some indeterminate point on the ceiling. Solemnly, the princess asked, “Is there anything more I can do to help?”

Lyra emitted a long, drawn-out sigh. “I don’t know. I have to find her before she gets in too deep. I’m trying to remember the better clairvoyance spells, but it’s been too long since I had AP Divination; I’ve forgotten too much.”

Tapping her chin in thought, Twilight uttered, “I still have the book to that class.”

“Really!?” Lyra started with sudden energy, sitting upright as if she were bipedal. Moon Dancer and Lemon Hearts both opened their eyes briefly and Minuette took a deep breath. Lyra eagerly asked, “Can I see it?”

“Sure. Upstairs, fourth bookcase from the left, second shelf from the top,” said Twilight, gesturing as she spoke.

“Thanks!” Lyra nearly shouted as took off up the stairs close to a canter from sitting still.

“Lyra wants...” began Minuette and was interrupted by her own yawn, “...hoo-wa. Sorry. Why does Lyra want to look up something from school?”

Twilight replied, “She can’t remember the spells from AP Divination, but she remembered there were a few that can help her find Bon-Bon. I had the class, but it wasn’t my best subject.”

“Wasn’t that the only one you risked getting an A- in?” Minuette teased with a small giggle.

Twilight grumbled, “Yeah, thanks for the reminder. That was so stressful.”

Minuette laughed as Twilight frowned. Pulling herself together, the blue unicorn chuckled, “Ha-ha, you were totally freaking out before every midterm, too! Did you ever try counting backwards from five?”

“Yeah, and it didn’t do much good,” said Twilight with a sigh. She drew herself up, taking a deep breath, and as she exhaled, she waved a hoof in front of her.

Minuette raised an eyebrow with a grin. “What was that?”

“Something my sister-in-law showed me. This one works for me,” said Twilight, now calmer.

“Well, if it works, go for it,” Minuette said. She sniffed at the air, to which a smile broke over her face. “Hey, are those pancakes and home fries I smell?”

“What? Oh... I guess?” answered Twilight, a bit absentmindedly. “Twinkleshine insisted on making breakfast, so—”

“Girls! Twinkleshine Special for breakfast!” announced Minuette at the top if her lungs, making a beeline for the kitchen.

“Wha...?? Oh! All right!” beamed Moon Dancer, quickly emerging from slumber and heading toward the kitchen, snatching up her glasses in a telekinetic aura.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” shouted Lemon Hearts as she bolted upright and followed the others.

Lyra came running down the stairs with a book held in her magic. “At least today starts off with a solid meal,” she remarked.

Twilight blinked at this rapid exodus. She could hear them digging out her plates and bickering over who sat where. “I really need to spend more time with my old friends,” she sighed. “Maybe I should get a secretary....”

The “Twinkleshine Special” was buttermilk blueberry pancakes with strawberry syrup, whipped cream, and blackberry sauce, home fries, oatmeal, and orange juice. Twilight wondered when Twinkleshine found the time or opportunity to buy groceries, since she certainly didn’t have anything left in the pantry here. Nevertheless, they spent much of the time laughing and talking, with Twilight telling most of the new stories. Lyra laughed with her friends, though she spent most of the time perusing the book in front of her. Lemon Hearts spoke up, “Well, this is a funny role-reversal!”

“Wha...?” breathed Lyra, as though she had been distracted.

Lemon Hearts giggled, “Twilight’s telling the stories, and Lyra has her nose in a book! Minuette, did you bring your camera?”

They all laughed for a moment, though Lyra was easily the first to stop and carry on as before. Most of her pancakes still sat uneaten. Taking a bite of the potatoes and turning the page a few times quickly, she mumbled, “Just trying to remember something....”

“How goes the search?” Moon Dancer chimed in

“Most of these don’t affect a wide enough area,” reported Lyra, still scrutinizing the book. “I can try etching a magic circle to boost the range, but not enough. Canterlot’s too big.”

Twinkleshine gave a knowing smile to Lemon Hearts and Minuette, who both tittered briefly. Moon Dancer just shook her head. Twilight stepped in, “We could each try that at different points around the city.”

“I suppose, but it’s not a short incantation, plus there’s making a magic circle,” Lyra said. “I haven’t had a need to do that since we were in that ‘Intro To Magical Theory’ class. I’m very rusty.”

Twilight beamed. “No worries; we can review those magic circles and put them into practice this afternoon!”

Minuette, Twinkleshine, and Lemon Hearts burst out laughing, almost in unison. Moon Dancer cracked a grin, and Lyra smiled and shook her head. As the guffaws subsided, Lemon Hearts snickered, “There’s the Twilight we know and love!”

Another round of laughter, and a few eyes needed a quick wipe before they had the giggles under control. A quiet, happy (or happier than before, in Lyra’s case) moment passed before Minuette said, “Girls, Twi’s got a point. Lyra’s been there for us when our love lives turned sour, and many other sad moments. It’s the least we can do for her.”

Lyra gave a small smile as she stood up, walked over, and gave the blue unicorn a heartfelt hug. “Thanks, Minuette.”

Sweetie Drops wiped off the knife on the mugger’s fluffy coat lining. The execution of the strike produced neither scream nor blood pool, while the clavicle guided the knife’s point squarely into the ascending aorta. She dragged her assailant’s limp body towards the pile of sawdust and scrap wood, checking over her shoulder occasionally. All was clear. She wasted no time in clearing a body-shaped hole from the misshapen chunks. Checking one last time, she shoved the body into the hole, giving it an unceremonious burial with a bit of sawdust on top. She slunk through the shadows toward the other side of this fortuitously-placed carpenter’s shop and lumberyard. A nearby intersection showed her she was at the corner of Chestnut Street and Hayfield Boulevard. She allowed herself a small grin; the map she bought showed East High Street was off of Hayfield. She turned north, disappearing into the crowd.

Forty minutes passed as she walked down the road. In that time, she’d turned onto East High, realised she turned the wrong direction and got herself turned around. Finally she found the address in question: 1216. The building, like most of the rest of town, was a run-down, aged brick structure. Fire escapes lined its sides. An inscription on the doorframe read “Project Lakeview.” Looking upward, she saw at least twenty rows of windows, most of them darkened. She gave the glass double door a yank, and it opened.

Sweetie Drops found no lobby, just a dreary, dark-green hallway with the occasional chunk of missing plaster exposing the wood lath. A building layout sat on the wall, with “decorations” recently added. The quadrangle’s floor plan showed the nearest stairwell was four doors to the left toward the inside, and that all the first floor rooms were all assigned three-digit numbers starting with a one.

Thirteen flights of stairs...not my favourite thing.

She found the stairway door had a broken lock and went up, feeling no reason to rush. Some of the lights were out at the sixth floor. By the ninth, all of them were out, as though they didn’t bother with this part of the building. The windowless staircase darkened quickly. Sweetie Drops grabbed the shades and enabled the night vision. With the world in green, she advanced uninterrupted.

The entire thirteenth floor was dark. No windows left a silent green hallway, the wall paint the only thing around in its actual colour. She turned left coming out of the stairwell. If the floor plan downstairs could be trusted, 1386 should be on the inside corner. Sweetie Drops noted a lack of light from under every door. Nothing. The building was silent as a tomb. Not even water dripping sounded from anywhere. Near where the hall continued to the left was the door whose plaque read “1386.” It, too, shone equally little light from below its door. She knocked. Silence. No hoof steps, no voice, nothing. She knocked again. And again, no response. She knocked at the pink part of her curls, and out came something not given to her by Tinker: a small metal bar with precise kinks and teeth. Her lock pick. Setting it into the lock, she began to tap the pick.

With a huff, she grumbled, “A twenty-tumbler lock? Good grief....”

Hoof steps. Sweetie Drops halted, listening closely. The footfalls were quiet with a soft plunk that fell just after every fourth step.

Somepony wants to play...fine. With that staggered gait, this has to be a draft stallion trying to be quiet, and that fifth noise must be the butt-end of a spear tapping the floor; there’s nothing else that would explain it. A spear means a guard or sentry...a private watchpony in the high-rise projects...isn’t that just swell? Not all is as poor as expected in the poorer quarters, it would seem.

He sounded about twenty metres away, and closing in on her. Sweetie Drops stood up on her hind legs, bracing against the wall, with gritted teeth. She drew the knife, waiting. He would be there in a few seconds. She could pick a lock in that time, but not silently.

How to deal with this pony...I’d really rather not. Had enough of that today to last one day, or mission, or even lifetime. Please don’t force my hoof like those earlier did; I’ll do it, not happily, but I’ll do it. Ugh. Feels terrible even thinking about it. Good thing Lyra's not here; I’d hate for her to see this. Rather just be Bon-Bon, be her Bon-Bon. That’s really all I want, to go home to my shop, and have a quieter, simpler existence, with the mare I love in my—

Tobacco smoke found her nose. The guard was smoking a cigarette, and had to be just around the corner. The spear’s plunk confirmed he was less than a length away, literally in hooves’ reach with nothing between them but some plaster, thin strips of wood, and a maybe a steel I-beam. With bated breath she tensed up, her forelimb coiled and ready to deliver the end to somepony just doing his job, albeit of questionable legality.

How in the world did you let yourself get distracted in a potentially lethal situation!? That kind of mistake was unheard-of, even among first-timers and amateurs! You’ve got it bad, if thoughts of Lyra could break your focus here and now! Soon as he starts around the corner....

He wasn’t moving. The other stood just around the corner, not moving. There was no wind chime-like ringing of a spell, no aura of magic, nothing. A slight glow rose, followed the exhale of a smoker blowing out a draught. The smell of cigarette smoke soon came after.

Sweet Luna, that is foul. You'd think it’d be a harder habit to start, and easier to quit. I’d to think this mask filters out more than just the sleeping gas, but it doesn’t look that way. Not menthol, unfiltered maybe? Is there something I can divine from this? Well, no, there isn’t; maybe there would be if I’d been around more smokers, but I have no idea.

Still there he stood, not moving, giving no indication of when this undeclared standoff would end. Sweetie Drops’ forelimb began complaining about being held aloft as such. And still there they stood. Nothing. She began curving around, preparing to take the initiative as her patience waned. Then another plunk sounded, a bit away, then a brief glimpse of a trimmed tail met her enhanced vision. He ambled off at the same pace as he approached. She eased, quietly sighing to keep her presence unknown.

Sweetie Drops silently moved back to the door, returning to the lock pick. Twenty tumblers, and silence to maintain. She had plenty of time now, if she didn’t make any noise. Taking it easy, Sweetie Drops recalled the old skill.

Glad I didn’t have to end another. Both the pack of thugs and lone mugger were all lawless, violent individuals who intended far more harm than good, and on the whole would not be missed, possibly unnoticed altogether. This sentry...no idea. If he’s legally employed, killing him would’ve been murder. And I nearly did him in. How much flak would I get from the director for that? They could’ve chosen to throw me to the dogs and prosecute, if I had gone that route instead. Should’ve asked Tinker about the sleeping gas. I don’t know how long these pellets keep a pony under; I can’t take such a gamble when I could be in there for hours. Geez, why are you trying to justify murder? What’s gotten into you?

A soft click interrupted her mulling over her unjustifiable earlier actions as the lock opened. Into the apartment she went, quietly closing the door behind her. The apartment within was mostly barren and unfurnished. With one more danger put behind her, there was no refuge from her own conscience as she searched the apartment. Her stomach lurched.

You were completely in the wrong to have killed those five, and you knew it from the beginning. Even not knowing how long they stay in effect, the gas pellets would have been ample. Five ponies will not go home to their families tonight because of you. Five, whose families were doubtlessly hard-up enough already, and you gave them a funeral and burial to pay for as well. Five who suffered all their days are left dead in alleys or piles of wood, likely just trying to keep hay on the table by the only means they had left, and you kept them from bringing anything home ever again. Five that, while in the wrong for what they did, had not done enough to warrant the grisly demise you gave them. Five that will deservedly haunt your mind for years to come. Five that—

Blood met her feet. She had stepped in a cold, partially congealed pool of the stuff. With a gasp she looked down. A stallion lay in the middle of the pool with a single stab wound just behind the shoulder. The breadth and depth of the wound was of the kind that came from broad-headed spears, like a partisan. She recognized the face from briefing. It was him: Standing Vigil was dead in his own apartment. The stallion lay murdered at what should have been his haven. Dying with him was whatever info he had for her mission. Looking back, the door showed no sign of being forced, nor any signs of struggle here; he was just silently assassinated. The abject horror socked her in the belly, hard enough for her breakfast to make a repeat appearance.

I can’t stand it anymore!! Too much death, and I made it happen! Hadn’t taken the life of a pony before today, and the weight is already too much! This whole way of life is too much! How in the hell did I ever do it in the first place? No! I can’t, and won’t do it. No more, and never again. I refuse to be Sweetie Drops ever again.

“I swear, by Celestia’s sun, Luna’s moon, Cadance’s love, and Twilight’s friendship, this mission will be the last time I knowingly or willingly hurt another pony, and a peaceful candy-maker will I be to the end of my days, so help me Faust and keep me steadfast,” vowed Bon-Bon solemnly and earnestly, never before sounding so serious. She sighed. Picking herself up, she turned to find clues of what to do next, and something to clean herself off.

Bon-Bon passed through another doorway, and found the office. A crystal ball had a mare in it, busily handling paperwork. Behind this mare were the familiar trappings of the situation room. Bon-Bon steeled herself, and sat at the desk with crystal ball. “Lone Ranger reporting in. Respond.”

“The Lone Ranger has reached the fort; acknowledge,” answered that other mare, sounding of covert business.

Frowning, Bon-Bon said, “Negative. The Outpost has fallen.”

The mare in the crystal ball grimaced, then motioned to somepony behind her. She shuffled to one side, and the face of Fallow Fields took her spot. He looked displeased at the news, saying, “Lone Ranger, Chief Marshall here; acknowledge.”

“Lone Ranger acknowledges. The Outpost has fallen. No signs of struggle. Appears to have been a sneak attack from behind,” she said.

Mr. Fields closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. He unhappily directed, “Investigate the ruins of the fort; use anything found to proceed toward accessing The Hidden Valley.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Good luck. May nothing breathe down your back.”

“And may nothing breathe down yours. Out.”

The crystal ball turned clear as Bon-Bon worked at some buttons in front of it. There were a few filing cabinets beside the desk. She started quickly perusing the contents of each drawer, shuffling through papers and stuffing them back as neatly as she could without losing speed. She cleared the first drawer in five minutes. The second drawer took almost as long. She found detailed income tax information and other fiscal forms, notes from other missions, even some medical reports, but nothing regarding the Elevens.

The next cabinet opened easier, and she found paper ash, still sitting as if it burned there in the cabinet, filed neatly. The charred remains still had evidence of words, and could be read, until the slightest shake made the sheets crumble a little at a time. The cabinets had a solid fireproof rating; the only explanation that remained for her was that these documents had to have been burnt within the drawer while it was closed. The other four drawers of this cabinet gave the same results. Crumbling paper ash that could not be read met her in the next cabinet as well.

With past mission data in the previous cabinet, what was so much more sensitive that it needed to be destroyed first? And by fire inside his own apartment?

Bon-Bon huffed as she sat down at the desk. Her eyes turned toward the desk drawers. They weren’t locked. She got up and yanked the centre drawer open. Inside there were quills, inkwells, paperclips, sealing wax, a seal, a candle and a box of matches.

“Hmmm...,” hummed Bon-Bon satisfied as she opened the top right drawer. A manila envelope with a familiar seal sat on top. She quickly opened it, speed-reading as she went. There were only two sheets within. There were mini-dossiers on a few known members of the Elevens, and a hastily scrawled explanation that “they were onto him.” The second sheet had little on it, but was vastly more useful in her current situation:

You will need to find Custard Cream. She is a pale yellow unicorn with a frizzy tan mane and deep magenta eyes, and a slice of pie on a plate for a cutie mark. Custard Cream is a recruiter for the Elevens, and is who anypony that shows similar ideas to the Elevens is sent to. She is often around the restaurants along the waterfront of the St. Mare Shores suburb on the north side. Strike up conversation. Sooner or later she will ask, “Heard any juicy gossip?” The code answer to show you’re interested in joining is “One and one are one.” Good luck, Agent Sweetie Drops, and may nothing breathe down your back.

Bon-Bon pulled out the matches and set the read letter and its envelope on the tile floor. Striking one, she dropped the flame onto the awaiting paper. The sheets took to fire much quicker than paper usually does, giving Bon-Bon a pause. Only ash remained in under a minute.

A door opened. Bon-Bon gasped and forced a hoof over her mouth before she let out any more noise. Straining her ears, she crept along the wall, reaching for the sleeping gas pellets. She discerned two voices, both stallions.

“What a dump. I swear, if this is some more happy-ass bullshit from The Whips, I’m gonna have a goddamn conniption,” said some gruff baritone.

An easy-going lower tenor answered, “Relax, Sarge, nopony’s seen them in the projects.”

Police ponies. But why are they here now? Did I miss an alarm on the door? And how did they get in here without a key?

The sergeant asked, “And that tag on the first floor?”

“That was The Whips’ tag? Are you sure? I thought they did everything in orange,” retorted the junior police pony.

Their footfalls were getting closer as hints of flashlights provided some illumination. Fumbling with the pellets, Bon-Bon freed one from her blue curls as the sergeant began, “Yeah, it’s theirs. They sometimes put a little blue in the—” Footsteps and words ceased in unison, immediately followed by two different shocked gasps: one breathless, the other pushed being a squeal. The sergeant blurted, “...oh. Oh shit! Get Lieutenant Fuzz up here now!!”

“On it!” shouted the other as a bit of green light glowed for a moment. Soon there began a flashing of red and blue light, alternating between the two every not-quite-a-full-second. The unranked police pony said, “He’s on his way, with the rest of the precinct’s ponicide team.”

Bon-Bon heard them moving around, but could not see what. There was something scraping against the floor, followed by the sergeant again. “The blood’s cold, but the puke’s warm. Somepony else is here, or was here recently.”

“Those hoof prints lead into the next room, and aren’t as congealed,” said the other. Footsteps came in her direction. Bon-Bon’s gasped through her nose.

“This is the Detrot Police! Identify your—” began the sergeant, interrupted by sudden unconsciousness. The gas pellet dropped both officers in an instant as Bon-Bon bolted past them at a full canter. Red and blue flashed around the door, set by the police ponies. She tore down the hall and down the stairs, throwing silence to the wind.

Eight flights of stairs later, she heard more stallion voices. While she couldn’t fully discern one from another, the ongoing trend of red and blue lights left little to the imagination. She backtracked to the last landing she passed, and quietly exited the stairwell. Sixth floor. She took off toward the nearest corner. Turning the corner and looking down the hall, she saw one open door for an outside-facing apartment, and made a dash for it.

The smell was atrocious, as was the condition of the apartment. She shut the door and saw a dirty red unicorn stallion who similarly looked terrible, enough she couldn’t guess his relative age. He had some rubber tubing tied around one forelimb and held, in a silvery telekinetic aura, a syringe containing some brown-ish fluid. Bon-Bon looked him in the face and said, “Cops’re coming up the stairs.”

“If you didn’t see this, I didn’t see you,” he answered, smacking a bulged vein below the rubber tie-off.

“Of course,” she said smoothly, knocking a gas pellet onto the floor. As the junkie dropped, she untied the rubber tube, picked up his paraphernalia, and dropped it in the bathroom sink, muttering to herself, “If I’m going to be Bon-Bon from now on, then I’m gonna do the right thing.”

Searching his drawers, she found a few uninflated red balloons that had something else in them. These, too, were dropped in the same sink. Bon-Bon took a step back and reared up, pointing her right foreleg at the opiate stuff. Tapping the watch with her other foreleg, a colourless liquid sprayed out onto the things in the sink, making a sizzling, gassy noise. The balloons and everything else in the sink eroded and withered into an unusable partially fused lump. She quickly scratched a note, “Get the stallion in 621 to drug rehab.”

Bon-Bon returned to the junkie’s apartment after slipping the note under the stairwell door. She looked down from the window. There were few walking along this side of the building, though the red and blue flashes from out front were plenty visible around the corner. She opened the window and pressed downward on the fire escape with a front hoof. It did not move nor creak. Bon-Bon stepped out, and found nopony slowed or even noticed her descent back toward street level. Dismounting the fire escape, though, appeared more difficult. Scratching the side of her head, her eyes lit up. She hopped over the side, clicking the levitation shoes together. Her fall speed slowed, and stopped all vertical momentum when she hovered a hand and a half over the sidewalk. Deactivating the shoes, she slipped into the gathering crowd, picking her way northeast toward St. Mare Shores.

Twilight examined the masses milling about at lunchtime. The magic circle gave her clairvoyance spell a broad range indeed, covering nearly a quarter of Canterlot, but she did not find any indication of Bon-Bon. She noticed a graying middle-aged unicorn mare wearing a black pantsuit and pearl earrings, whose brown eyes kept darting around. Twilight hurriedly went to her, gave her a tap on the shoulder. “Excuse me, miss.”

“Yeah? What do—” the businessmare began most irritably, before it registered who stopped her. Her eyes widened with a gasp as she deeply bowed in deference. “Princess...! Oh my goodness! Forgive my rudeness, Your Highness!”

Forcing a smile, the junior princess said, “Please, just Twilight will do.”

“I couldn’t, Princess! What does Your Highness need of me, your loyal subject?” brown-nosed the older mare lavishly, still kneeling.

“Really, it’s okay, you don’t need to go through all that,” sighed Twilight.

Still failing to hide her intent to impress, the other said, “Since you insist, Twilight.”

“Thank you,” said Twilight. She held up a photo of Bon-Bon. “I’m looking for this pony. Have you seen her?”

Finally standing up, the businesspony expectantly answered, “No, I have not. What crime is she wanted for?”

“Not a crime; she is a missing pony and is in terrible danger,” Twilight said bluntly.

The older mare’s face shifted from one looking for rewards and recognition to one of mostly surprise with some concern and confusion. Sounding much more solemn, she promised, “I will let a watchpony know if I see her.”

“Glad to hear it. Thanks,” said Twilight with a nod.

“Of course!”

As she walked away, Twilight saw the text appear in her vision. Instead of the block text like last time, she saw well-written calligraphy in an off-white, “Twilight, Lemon Hearts has something. She said to meet at North Station.”

Twilight disappeared in a flash of purple light. She rematerialized on the ornate flagstones of a wealthier part of town. North Station was larger and better decorated than South Station, with actual spires instead just a platform. North Station also had two more rail lines. Here Twilight found Lemon Hearts and Moon Dancer, both with their horns powered up with the rapidly twinkling pinpoint of white light. Lemon Hearts looked up at the princess’s approach. Delighted, she said, “Hey Twilight! The magic circle worked! I have solid, verified info.”

“That’s great news, Lemon Hearts! What do you have?” Twilight asked with a smile.

Waving a hoof parallel to the ground, Lemon Hearts said, “Let’s wait for the others. I’d rather not have to retell the same thing over and over.”

“I understand.”

A light blue ball of magic grew slowly, and Twinkleshine appeared with a pop. Another, golden in colour, showed at the same lackadaisical pace, a few lengths away, producing Lyra. Then appeared a yellow sphere brought in Minuette; of those three, Minuette’s teleportation sphere worked the quickest, but nowhere near Twilight’s. Twilight raised an eyebrow, stating, “Huh. I didn’t know you girls knew the teleportation spell by heart.”

“Sure do. How much practice do you have with teleportation, Twilight? You appear and disappear so fast,” snickered Minuette.

“Um, often?” Twilight sheepishly offered.

Minuette laughed. The others, apart from Lemon Hearts, tittered a little as well, while the princess simply frowned. The blue unicorn chuckled, “‘Often’ doesn’t cover it from what Pinkie’s said.”

“Okay, all the time,” conceded Twilight.

Lemon Hearts impatiently said, “Girls, can we talk about something more important?”

“Sorry, Lemon Hearts. What did you find out?” Minuette brightly asked.

Moon Dancer turned from the listed departure and arrival times to looked at Lemon Hearts. Sounding both blunt and bored, she said, “She took a train.”

“Yeah,” answered Lemon Hearts. Looking across her friends, she elaborated, “The porter who just started his shift remembered seeing her yesterday. He said a beige mare with a curly blue-and-pink mane with ‘a smoking hot flank’ took—”

“He said what?” interrupted Lyra, nostrils flaring.

“Woah, take it easy, Lyra,” interceded Twinkleshine. “Bon-Bon’s just easy on the eyes.”

Glaring around at the ponies handling luggage, Lyra snarled, “Maybe he shouldn’t look at her like she’s just some piece of ass and nothing more!”

“That’s what stallions do, Lyra,” Minuette stated, gently patting Lyra’s shoulders.

“That doesn’t make it right!” Lyra fired back.

Twinkleshine inserted, “Nopony said it made it right; it’s what they do, because they’re stupid.”

“That they are...,” affirmed Minuette, shaking her head in disappointment. Moon Dancer gave both of them a questioning, disapproving look that went altogether unnoticed.

Huffing, Lemon Hearts pressed, “Lyra, I’m trying to tell you which train she boarded, but you’re getting wrapped around the axle because he thought she’s sexy.”

“Sorry...I just...sorry,” said Lyra, forcing herself to chill out. “Where was she headed?”

The yellow unicorn curtly answered, “Detrot. The next train bound for there leaves in ten minutes.”

The other five groaned. Moon Dancer griped, “Oh lovely! They sent her to the very sphincter of Equestria!”

“That town, I tell you...,” grumped Twinkleshine.

Concerned, Twilight asked, “Lyra, do you want a hoof with this?” The others nodded and turned to the minty unicorn.

“I appreciate the offer, girls, but you’ve already done enough,” said Lyra, looking around. “Detrot’s too dangerous. I can’t let you girls risk life and limb for me, too.”

“Lyra...,” started Minuette.

“Seriously, girls.”

The other five looked at each other. Sighing, Twinkleshine said, “Well, if you’re that certain....”

As the words came out, a bright yellow-white globe coalesced and burst, revealing Princess Celestia. Ponies all around knelt before their ruler, except Twilight Sparkle. She walked up and gave her mentor a hug. Lyra looked down as Celestia approached her. The sovereign began, “Why so guilty, my dear Lyra?”

Words stuck the top of Lyra’s mouth like oats and molasses with too much peanut butter. Celestia smiled warmly and beckoned the unicorn near. Lyra shuddered as she walked up to her princess. The others watched on with varying degrees of confusion, apprehension, curiosity and intrigue. Lyra continued having a petrified, worried countenance as Celestia gestured down the platform, toward an empty section. The two started in that direction. Lyra could not believe she was walking side-by-side with Princess Celestia, but there she was, alongside of the mighty alicorn. The overwhelmed unicorn carried an obvious shake to her gait, her face frozen in place, eyes unblinking. Celestia whispered, “Can I tell you a little secret?”

Lyra attempted to subdue hyperventilation. Tentative, she replied, “O...o-okay. If y-you want to.”

“Your mother is wrong,” said Celestia matter-of-factly. Lyra looked up at her as she continued with a motherly smile, “I would never want any of my little ponies to be denied the joys of love, just because they cannot help to whom they’re attracted.”

Lyra turned her eyes to the ground. Celestia paused a moment, then continued, “I know you’re torn between how you were raised and a part of yourself that’s forcing its way to the surface, and you don’t know which one is right. But let me tell you plainly: it is perfectly okay to be attracted to mares. Nothing wrong with it at all.”

“But...,” Lyra blurted, finding her voice. “...isn’t it a-a choice?”

Celestia laughed heartily, with no trace of malice. When she saw Lyra wincing, she said, “No, you silly filly! Whoever gave you that idea?”

Lyra looked at the ground yet again as she muttered, “...my mom.”

“So that’s two things she told you wrong.”

Still with eyes to the platform in front of her, Lyra asked, “But why would my mom lie to me?”

“Some ponies fear and despise what they don’t understand,” elaborated Celestia with a grimace. “I’m sure your mom tried to raise you as best as she knew how, but didn’t have all the information. If I had to guess, your mother didn’t know that she wasn’t telling you the truth.”

Not just grasping, but flailing for words, Lyra stammered, “But I...I....”

“Look at me, Lyra...,” said the princess, stopping Lyra in her tracks. The mint unicorn still looked down. Celestia lifted Lyra’s chin with her hoof, looking her in the face. Lyra quivered under the warm gaze of her ruler. Still sounding matronly, Celestia said “It’s okay for you to be in love with her. There is nothing wrong with that. Don’t feel ashamed.”

As Celestia released her chin, Lyra murmured, “Your Majesty, I...uh...I don’t know what to think....”

The princess smiled and said, “Detrot’s a long train ride, and that’ll give you time to mull it over. While Princess Twilight or I could teleport you that far, the Elevens would definitely notice, and give both of you unwanted attention. You have to help her, not me, not Twilight, you. Whether she’s your best friend or even more special to you, the task is yours and yours alone. You can contact Twilight or I, or your other friends if you need help, using a spell a little bird told me a certain few someponies used to cheat on their school exams,” ending on a stern note.

The colour drained from Lyra’s face as her jaw slackened and her eyes shrunk to pinpricks. Her gaze flicked over to her friends briefly. Celestia shot her a puzzled look, then said, “Breathe.”

Lyra let out a breath didn’t realize she was holding. She sobbed, “I’m sorry we did that, Your Majesty! We—”

“What’s done is done. You have more important matters to focus on,” Princess Celestia cut her off, sounding annoyed. The locomotive sounded its whistle. She continued, “And a train to catch! Lyra, you’d better climb aboard. I’ll handle the ticket.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Lyra gasped, suddenly finding herself in an embrace from the princess. She blinked in confusion, and looked at the white alicorn who was holding her. With a small smile, she returned the hug. Celestia whispered, “Get the both of you home safely. Please.”

“I will, and thank you,” answered Lyra. She walked over to her friends, giving them a group hug. “Thanks, girls. For everything.”

They wished her luck all at once, and their own ways and words, unintelligible outside their little circle. Lyra took the ticket, carried to her by Celestia’s telekinetic aura. She stepped onto the third coach car. Near the rear of the train a stallion shouted, “All aboard!”

Lyra waved to her friends as the locomotive hissed steam and shuffled forward, carrying its passengers right out of sight. Half past noon, with two stops between there and Detrot, due to arrive at around 9pm. Celestia had said she’d have time to think about matters, and Lyra noticed her mind wanted to get right down to business, as she pictured Bon-Bon eyes sparkling on a sunny day, with her adorable giggle.

Bon-Bon threw a sleeping gas pellet through the broken window, making all three burglars drop to the floor. She continued down the street as if she had done nothing. Down the hill and straight ahead was the lake.

Why did I pushed myself to be Sweetie Drops again? What I’m doing now comes naturally, and feels right. No guilt it putting some home invaders to sleep as opposed to knifing them, and with them expected to be down for a good while, odds favour somepony will call the police. Just the same, the amount of street crime is flipping nuts. Heard St. Mare Shores is a safer part of town, but all things are relative, and this is still an area of Detrot. This whole city is going to pieces. Pretty easy to poke fun at Detrot until seeing up close how much The Train City has suffered with the rise of airships.

Her map said she approached the waterfront and would arrive in two blocks, which passed without incident. Several little shops lined the little street with its overlook of Lake St. Mare. The road turned from cobblestone to flagstone. The weatherworn and generally beaten up street and fence showed in its less-damaged place that at one time, the waterfront was spiffy and the epitome of class and taste. Still, St. Mare Shores was not as badly fallen from grace as downtown Detrot. Some small weeds grew in the masonry. Wharfs were further down the way. Bon-Bon felt some reassurance that the restaurants were close, particularly with the vomited breakfast. She scanned the queues. Most ponies had returned from their lunch breaks. A passing mare shot her a funny look as her stomach rumbled, saying, “Well, you’ve come to the right part of town, miss.”

Bon-Bon flushed for a moment, but quickly recovered. After quickly looking over her options, she spotted and picked Whinny’s, figuring it should be about the same here as the chain was elsewhere in Equestria: fairly quick, reasonably priced, and would give her both a fuller belly and happier taste buds than the other major hayburger chains. She ordered a double hayburger combo to go. Walking out to an overlook of the south side of the lake, Bon-Bon spotted a mare sitting at a table, pale yellow, with a frizzy tan mane.

Walking over to her, Bon-Bon gestured to an open seat, asking, “Do you mind if I sit here?”

The mare’s plum-coloured eyes met Bon-Bon’s light blue. She broke into a friendly grin and brightly answered, “Not at all! Please! Join me.”

“Thank you,” said Bon-Bon as she sat down. She withdrew the box of fries and partook.

The other mare, a unicorn, looked Bon-Bon over as she took a sip from her iced coffee. She said in a bubbly voice, “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before!”

“Not likely,” said Bon-Bon in spite of the full mouth. She chewed a few more times and swallowed. She continued, “I live in Ponyville, and am up here on business.”

“Ponyville!? Wow, you’re a long way from home!” exclaimed the unicorn with a chuckle. Bon-Bon nodded as she had more of her fries. The unicorn said, “I’m Custard Cream, proprietor of ‘Lakeside Pies,’ just around the corner.”

Bon-Bon grinned. “My name’s Bon-Bon, and I own the confectionery in Ponyville. Good to meet you.”

“Absolutely!” replied Custard Cream with a smile. Bon-Bon ate the last of her fries while Custard Cream put a hoof to her nose in thought, then asked, “Princess Twilight Sparkle lives in Ponyville, right? Heard any juicy gossip?”

“Oh, I have...,” Bon-Bon trailed off as she leaned in close to Custard Cream’s ear. She whispered, “One and one are one.”

The unicorn bright smile shifted into a sly one. She gave Bon-Bon an equally pleased and devious look as she answered in an almost sultry voice, “Oh my, now that is juicy.”

Custard Cream stood up and motioned for Bon-Bon to follow. “Come with me; let’s talk about it over a slice of pie.”

Getting In Too Deep

“You don’t just lose sight of them! Princesses don’t just disappear!” Fallow Fields barked at a trio of ponies at their posts, their crystal balls showing different parts of Canterlot. Others busied themselves. Others still appeared contented they weren’t the ones in trouble.

Trembling, one young stallion said, “No, sir, they don’t, but they do teleport. And Princess Twilight Sparkle is known to do just that.”

The director glared at him, yelling, “It doesn’t change that it’s too dangerous for either of them to go poof and for us to have no idea which way they went!”

“Sir, we have a report coming in, in regards to both!” chimed in another of the berated three with a hoof to her earpiece. “Princess Celestia returned to the castle in the way she left, to about the same place.”

Mr. Fields said, “Good, that’s one prodigal princess. And the other?”

“Seen airborne, heading towards Ponyville,” said the mare, reading off a small projection on her desk.

Fallow Fields sighed in relief. “Excellent, thank you, Ms. Waves. Monitor her flight,” he said normally, and then he continued in his earlier intense tone, “And get me info about the five seen with her!”

“Yes sir.”

The door opened. In walked a black earth pony stallion. He had the appearance of one who had been wrestling with the bedsheets and lost. Mr. Fields turned to him, raising his eyebrows in surprise. He remarked, “Ah, Shadow-Walker. You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” yawned Shadow-Walker with a rub at his side.

Fallow Fields grimaced. With a nod and sigh, he said, “I understand. I’m there nearly every night.”

“Sir, it may be just as well you’re both here,” interjected a young stallion looking at a still image on the ball. “The Lone Ranger just sent some information.”

The director motioned toward the wall. Four images appeared on there. Two were of a unicorn mare, pale yellow with a frizzy brown mane and tail, and plum-magenta eyes, and a caption on the second. Another was a storefront, with a display of pies. The last was of a lakefront street. Director Fields pondered a moment, then he gasped in understanding. “Through the shades...! Tinker, you magnificent son of a bitch, that’s brilliant!”

Shadow-Walker regarded the photos contemptuously. He began, “Why did—oh. A recruiter, eh?”

“Hmm. ‘Custard Cream.’ Sweetie Drops proves herself again,” said Fallow Fields with an amused smirk.

“If you say so,” muttered Shadow-Walker as he turned to go.

Fallow Fields stepped between his lieutenant and the door. Curtly he ordered, “Bury the damn hatchet already. This is past getting old.”

“Sir, we have facial recognition data on those five,” interrupted Ms. Waves, with a hoof held over her head.

Fallow Fields gestured to Shadow-Walker towards the wall. He said, “Good. Report.”

A picture of a familiar cobalt blue unicorn showed up in the main viewer. Ms. Waves said, “This is Minuette. She graduated with Princess Twilight Sparkle from Princess Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns, top 10% of their class, quickest dentist in Equestria.”

“Her mane looks like toothpaste...,” Shadow-Walked muttered irritably. Fallow Fields nudged him in the ribs and shook his head no when their eyes met. The image shifted again, to a yellow unicorn.

“This one is Lemon Hearts,” continued Ms. Waves. She blinked at the text in front of her a moment before resuming, “She, too, studied at Princess Celestia’s School For Unicorns, graduated in the top 20% of their class with Princess Twilight. She’s an event planner at Castle Canterlot.”

“Were they all school friends?” asked Fallow Fields as Shadow-Walker yawned. The viewer then displayed a white unicorn with pink mane and tail.

“It’s looking like. This is Twinkleshine. Same school and year, top 20% of their class. She works in the Department of Municipal Planning, City of Canterlot,” read Ms. Waves.

“Not surprised the company she kept in her school days have solid careers,” said Shadow-Walker as Fallow Fields nodded.

“Yes, but those last three are far more sociable than Princess Twilight. This next one, though, isn’t,” replied Ms. Waves. A cream-coated unicorn with thick glasses and eyebrows appeared next. “Moon Dancer, Salutatorian of their graduating class, behind Twilight Sparkle as Valedictorian. ‘Professional Bookworm:’ until recently, all she did with her days was study every subject she could, using a modest income from her long-term investments’ dividends to handle every monthly expense.”

“She looks damn depressed,” commented Shadow-Walker, earning another stern look from his boss.

Ms. Waves paused, both eyebrows raising substantially when a mint green unicorn appeared on the screen. She grinned, and said, “Oh...sir, you’ll want to hear this.”

“What about this last one?” asked Fallow Fields expectantly.

“Lyra Heartstrings, perhaps coming from the most affluent upbringing of those six,” said Ms. Waves with considerable amusement. “Same graduating class, top 5%. Music performance and therapy...in Ponyville.”

“Oh?”

Unable to contain the titillating, she snickered, “And it gets better: she shares a house with a mare named ‘Bon-Bon.’ Look familiar?”

Both Fallow Fields and Shadow-Walker stood agape as her picture showed up, minding her candy shop with a wide smile. The director blurted, “...you can’t be serious.”

Ms. Waves guffawed as a new bit of text appeared in front of her. Other ponies, who were hard at work before, stopped and stared as she nearly buckled. She started to rein it in as Shadow-Walker snapped, “Get it together, you!”

“Short Waves, do we need to review the drug policy?” Fallow Fields accused.

“I’m sorry, sir, this last bit is just too rich. It’s too perfect!” she answered, on the edge of laughing again. “All six of those classmates were at North Station when Princess Celestia teleported there. She left the same way, and five of the six school friends left on foot. Guess who got on a train, to where?”

Shadow-Walker scoffed angrily, “You’re telling us this Lyra Heartstrings took a train to Detrot after being seen off by both Sparkle and Celestia!?”

“That would be correct,” said Ms. Waves before cracking up again.

Fallow Fields walked over to a different station, one with a rail map of Equestria. Several moving dots inched along the marked lines. The young mare there highlighted the dot leaving Canterlot as her boss growled, “What the hell is she doing?”

Shifting a few projected symbols and buttons, a large red one appeared. The mare held her hoof over it, and asked, “Should we have that train stopped, sir?”

“Not yet, but maybe,” said Fallow Fields, as he pressed something else on the desk that made the large red holographic button disappear. “We need to know what Ms. Heartstrings was told before we do such a thing; she’s not the only one on that train. If she were, well...acceptable collateral.”

“Acknowledged. Train-stopping protocols on stand-by,” she replied.

The director walked over to his lieutenant and put a hoof on his withers. He said, “I know this will make it more difficult for you to rest, but you need to, old friend. It looks like it’s gonna be an interesting one tonight, and you’re no good on minimal sleep. Get back to bed.”

“Yes, sir, of course...,” answered Shadow-Walker as he turned to go. As the lift doors closed, he cracked a grin and a chuckle, muttering to himself, “...wasn’t expecting a bit of serendipity when I dropped by, but not complaining. This Lyra Heartstrings may be just the key.”

Bon-Bon and Custard Cream sat at a round two-pony table. Bon-Bon’s plate had crumbs left on it, while Custard Cream was finishing off a slice of key lime pie. Bon-Bon had a thoughtful grin as she nodded slowly. She looked up and said, “I’m liking what I’m hearing so far.”

For Bon-Bon, this was the worst. She had been lying through her teeth for nearly an hour, just trying to get some new information, all with an overstuffed belly. Up until this point Custard Cream hadn’t given her any information she didn’t already have. That slice of coconut cream pie was superb, though, despite already being full after her double hayburger combo.

This wouldn’t be a bad place to take Lyra once this was all said and done...if it weren’t a front for terrorists. What I’d do to have a walk with Lyra along the waterfront right now...or anywhere at all.

Custard Cream chewed on the last bite of her slice with a grin of her own. She swallowed and beamed, “I thought you might. I think we’re gonna be good pals, you and I.”

“Yes indeed,” answered Bon-Bon with a warm smile. She turned serious and asked, “But is there a plan to make this a reality, like written down?”

Nodding, her tablemate said, “There is. Some of our legal experts already have been drafting a new constitution, mostly taking inspiration from Pferdland’s Grundgesetz.”

Bon-Bon stared blankly. “Huh?”

“The literal translation is ‘ground laws,’ but it means their constitution,” Custard Cream explained.

“I got the gist, but I was more confused by ‘Pferdland.’ Where’s that?”

Custard Cream gave her a slight frown. “I see you’ve not been there. It’s ‘Pferdland’ in their tongue, but in ours, we call it ‘Germane.’ They have a name for Equestria in their language, but don’t ask me to pronounce it.”

Bon-Bon silently mouthed an ‘ahh’ as she lifted her head. She felt a mini-burp exit her throat, the kind that often comes before puking; the pie’s lack of room kept pressing against her rib cage. Keeping it together, Bon-Bon asked, “They’re democratic?”

“First country of the modern era, too,” stated the unicorn. She gestured toward the water and said, “Across the river and lake is Caneighda, and so are they.”

Scrunching her forehead, the earth pony asked, “How much of the world is democratic? I had thought I was thinking like a radical, but it’s looking more and more like Equestria is behind the times.”

“Most countries still have royalty in one form or another, but that number is dropping,” said Custard Cream. “The idea that somepony, or yak, or deer, or whatever is above the rest of her or his race just because of her or his parents, or in Sparkle’s case, a single deed, is absurd, backwards, and routinely proven false.”

Bon-Bon lightly waved a hoof just over the table. Cautiously she said, “Um, just to be fair and honest, Twilight still isn’t entirely comfortable being a princess, and asks us to not address her by her honourific.”

“Really...?”

“Yeah. Really.”

Custard Cream’s face appeared to have either withheld a smile, or suggested she had a toothache...or maybe a little of each. Slowly she admitted, “Now that is interesting, and good to know. There may be hope for her yet.”

“There really is,” Bon-Bon said with a chuckle, shaking her head. Her overfull stomach protested again. Still not letting her queasiness show, she continued, “I’m willing to bet she would willingly lay down her crown if the ponies voiced they wanted democracy.”

“Nopony, or other sentient being for that matter, ever willingly concedes power unless it has become a burden,” said Custard Cream.

“I think she thought of it as a burden in the first place,” Bon-Bon said airily. Talking about the princesses negatively, even just playing the part, left her feeling ill, a feeling made far worse by coconut cream. Her stomach lurched again.

“Are you okay?” Custard Cream asked, her face concerned.

Bon-Bon rubbed her sides. Although pained, she honestly answered, “Ate too much. A double hayburger and then that big a slice of pie? I’m no draft stallion.”

“I believe you, about both the food and Sparkle,” said Custard Cream. She pursed her lips a moment, then asked, “Hey, are you busy tonight?”

“Not unless you guys need me to be,” Bon-Bon said, while she earnestly wished she had plans with Lyra, and have a belated Friendiversary...rather than sit here overstuffed and keeping it down.

“Sweet! We’re having a get-together tonight well-after sundown. You can officially join us then,” cheered Custard Cream with a broad smile.

Bon-Bon clamped on her own esophagus as she cheerfully answered, “I look forward to it!”

“Great!” beamed Custard Cream. She walked around the table and gave her companion a gentle hug as she softly and honestly said, “Bon-Bon, thank you. I speak on behalf of The Order of Eleven when I say we’re happy to have you, and we look forward to building a better Equestria with you.”

The moon was little more than a sliver as it rose out of the east, visible only around turns as Lyra sat pensive in the second sleeping car of the train. They had their stop at the junction to the Crystal Empire nearly an hour ago. She still had an hour left to ride, and this train showed no sign of slowing down, as though somebody shoved the throttle lever to its max and then stole the lever itself. Unfortunately her mind showed the same sort of motivation and drive, though instead of following a track into the northwest, her train of thoughts pressed onward through an ever-tightening spiral. Seven hours through said spiral whittled it down to five general thoughts left in its repeating sequence:

I think I like her, like, like-like her.
You can’t do that! It’s not right for a mare to like-like another mare.
But Princess Celestia herself said there’s nothing wrong with that.
G’ahh...!! Why can’t everypony agree?! I’m so confused, I don’t know what to think anymore!
It’s your life to live, not theirs; what do you think you want?
I think I like her....

Lyra shook her head. All this repetition had given her a brutal headache. She stared out the window at flat landscape, dotted here and there with conifers, tinted a dark blue as dusk settled. Thumbing through the old divination book reminded her of many spells she once knew; she called upon one to show her a map of Detrot and the surrounding area.

Geez, this town is huge! Knew it had seen much better days, but damn, it looks terrible. It's a huge dump. Much too huge a dump, particularly with all those iron mines in its eastern hills. And the Bon-Bon could be anywhere in all that mess. Stupid, should’ve taken my friends’ offer to come along now. I can’t draw a magic circle to boost the a spell’s range anywhere near that much. Unless....

Her horn began flickering rapidly, sending a message to her lavender friend: “Hey Twilight, Detrot is enormous. Are there other circles you know how to etch, or stronger divination spells, to make this feasible? I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

An orchid pink-purple text of italicized cursive showed up in her vision in response, “Hey Lyra. I was wondering about that. Well, if we can’t help you right at your side, we’ll help you like this.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait, how far along the ride are you?” asked Twilight via the texting magic.

“About another hour before I get there,” Lyra texted back.

Twilight answered, “Whoa! That’s some range on this spell!”

“It helps when one knows exactly where the other is.”

“I see what you mean. Hey, let me try something,” the young princess posted.

Lyra clamped her jaw for a moment at this. She responded, “Define ‘Something.’”

A slight pause came before Twilight’s answer, “Just seeing if...ah! Good evening.”

Lyra’s head jolted backwards a moment as an off-white text in ornate, modern script appeared, “Hey Twi.”

“Moon Dancer??” Lyra replied.

A series of pale yellow letters in medieval calligraphy appeared next, “Good evening, my old faithful student.”

“YOUR MAJESTY!?!” answered Lyra, actually italicizing her response.

Moon Dancer’s answer came right on the heels of Lyra’s. “Uh, Your Majesty?”

“Well, well. Lyra and Moon Dancer, if I’m not mistaken?” asked Princess Celestia’s message.

There was another pause. Moon Dancer remarked, “Yes, Your Majesty. It’s us.”

“Oh wow, Twilight! Element of Magic or not, that’s impressive!” Lyra gushed.

“Twilight Sparkle, did you use this spell to cheat on your exams, too!?” accused Celestia’s next post.

“No, Princess. I just learned it yesterday,” answered Twilight.

Still another pause, then Celestia prompted, “Just yesterday?”

Lyra asked, “And you already tweaked it from being a link between two ponies, and made it into a conference call?”

“Yep,” responded Twilight. “I was pondering how you gals weaved the dweomer on the way home, and had a thought.”

“You’re not the kind to show off, Twilight,” added Moon Dancer. “You added the Princess and me to the conversation for a reason. What can we do to help Lyra?”

Twilight replied, “She needs a more potent magic circle, or clairvoyance spell, or both, to help her search in Detrot. I thought the three of us are the most knowledge of the libraries, or spells in general. My own student never studied divination magic at all, but maybe she can contact Sunburst. He’s brilliant with magical theory.”

“You actually took Starlight Glimmer as your student? That wasn’t just a rumor? Isn’t she old enough to have been your foalsitter?” Moon Dancer posted.

“Yes, yes, and yes, to your questions,” answered Twilight.

Lyra imagined Twilight had to be losing her patience at all the sidebars. She felt so too as she interjected, “Um, gals, Your Majesty, this train arrives in an hour. Could I get a hoof, please?”

Twilight replied, “I’m already in my castle’s library, looking.”

“I shall be in my own library in a moment,” popped up the text from Princess Celestia, barely after Twilight’s response.

Moon Dancer began, “Um, the Canterlot Public Library closed hours ago...what the...!! Um...how did I get here?”

“I teleported you to the correct section of the library, Moon Dancer,” explained the senior princess. “I will send a notice to the head librarian, so that you will not be accused of trespassing.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Twilight posted, “I’ll keep the conversation active, and we can pass our findings quickly.”

“Will Hayscartes’ technique interrupt this spell?” Moon Dancer asked.

“Nope. I’m already inside the books.”

What are they talking about? Well, whatever it is, or whoever this “Haycartes” is...if it helps me, I don’t care.

Lyra cocked her head to the side. Moon Dancer answered, “Oh wow! That’s great to know! With that said, I’m going in.”

Princess Celestia entered, “I shall as well.”

Lyra shook her head as the others discussed the finer subtleties of divination.

Custard Cream led Bon-Bon into what looked like a rough neighborhood. The paint jobs looked fresh and shoddily applied, many windows were barred, and twice they passed a chalk outline of a pony surrounded by police tape. Several places didn’t have working street lamps. Twice they were approached by honest-to-goodness gangs, and twice their potential assailants stopped and waved when Custard Cream waved to them. They approached what looked like a large brick institutional building with the tattered remains of a playground to one side. Bon-Bon asked, “An old school?”

“Yes. We use it as a symbol: we gather where our children should have been, to secure for them the future that they should’ve had in the first place,” said Custard Cream, leading her inside. The hall was dark, but Bon-Bon’s eyes darted between points of soft red light tucked among cracks of the crumbling walls and ceillings, and between lockers.

“Why did they close the school?” Bon-Bon asked as they turned the corner and went down half a flight of stairs.

“No money and no teachers will soon leave a school with no students,” explained Custard Cream as they continued down another hallway. “This part of Detrot suddenly had twenty-five hundred foals who would not have even an elementary school education. We asked for help from the princess, because at the time it was just Celestia, but we heard nothing back, time and time again. The school ran out of funds and had to close. Canterlot decided they would rather have yet another fountain in their then-newest park, than educate our children. The cost of the fountain would have kept every school in the greater Detrot area open for three years. But no, we went ignored. We eventually stopped asking about five years ago.”

Bon-Bon said, “As they say, ‘out of sight, out of mind.’ It’s too easy to turn a blind eye to nameless, faceless ponies.”

They came to the gym. Entering and beginning across, Custard Cream elaborated, “We know. We are only as strong as the weakest of us, only as well-off as the poorest of us. We’ve looked around the world and learned the strength and wealth of a society comes from its working class, not from aristocratic elites. Layponies spend their bits, which increases market demand, and that creates both jobs and new opportunities for business; we’ve seen it in so many other nations. We also feel everypony is entitled to have her or his opinion known, and that nopony’s opinion is any more valuable than anypony else’s. Fair voting is the only way we all can have liberty, security, and a shot at a fair living.”

“Sounds great, but I could use a bit of clarification, please,” said Bon-Bon.

“Anything.”

In carefully-minded tones, she pointed out, “Somepony could construe that to suggest everypony, regardless of their occupation, should be paid exactly the same.”

“Others before you have voiced the same concern,” began Custard Cream as they neared the middle of basketball court. “While we would not allow anypony to fall through the cracks, the cream of the crop should still have something worth striving for. Ponies should rise to the top financially because of their deeds and talent, deeds that helped a great many and not just a hooffull, and certainly not just because of lineage. Nopony should lord over another. We all enter and leave this world the same way; we should live together as sisters and brothers. Because of that, everypony should have equal education. We have no idea where the next Hayscartes will come from, or the next Whinninov, or Starswirl The Bearded. Unless they all can get their chance, the world will miss out on what geniuses would come from the poor.”

Mention of the composer’s name made Bon-Bon’s face light up, thoughts of Lyra rushing to her and the number of times the mint-coated mare carried on about his work. Even the thought of listening to Lyra playing made her smile, and she exclaimed, “Whinninov? My very best friend loves his concertos!”

Custard Cream grinned with an affirming grunt as they walked up some stairs onto a stage, attached to the gym. She said, “Then you know better than most why equal chances are of utmost importance.”

They stopped by the backstage door. It alone looked to be new, or at least in good repair. A green ray swept over both of them. Bon-Bon’s eyes narrowed as green text appeared. “One of you is unknown. What is both friend and desire that must hide?”

Bon-Bon thought a moment, and answered, “Liberty.”

New text replaced the first. “And how far would you to go to find your friend?”

Bon-Bon saw Lyra’s smiling face, and thought of her instead of the mission, answering, “Through death, and then Tartarus, before I give her up.”

Custard Cream raised her eyebrows. A last bit of text showed for a moment before disappearing as the lock clicked. “Welcome, new friend.”

“Something wrong?”

Bon-Bon came out of her Lyra-trance. She looked over at her companion. “Huh?”

“You looked irritated at the security measure.”

Bon-Bon covered, “Perhaps a little, but I’m more curious where you got that.”

“I don’t know the specifics, but let’s just leave it as that some among us are some former special agents. There’s no way to predict what it’ll ask, but it’s intelligent enough to understand the answers it receives, and if the pony is lying. That was one heck of an answer,” Custard Cream replied most-impressed.

The two entered. They were greeted by a stairwell that could convey four abreast both up and down, and in good condition by normal standards rather than Detrot’s lowered bar. At the bottom were two sets of double doors. Going in, there was a crowd of ponies and some seats in rows, all facing a stage that had a podium on a raised dais. Bon-Bon noticed an unfortunately familiar face. Her own grew slightly worried. Before she could duck from sight, the stallion shouted to her, “Sweetie Drops! Hot-diggity-damn, it’s good to see you!”

Custard Cream faced this almost-middle aged pegasus, asking, “‘Sweetie Drops?’ What are you talking about, Rays?”

The sunny yellow pegasus with powder blue eyes and a white mane and tail laughed happily as one would when meeting up with an old flame. “Ms. Cream, this is Sweetie Drops! She and I worked together in the B.P.P. a few years ago.”

“The mare who was Sweetie Drops hasn’t been around since the agency closed, Breezy Rays,” Bon-Bon said as smoothly as one does when one wishes to leave another’s past crush in the past.

“You were a monster hunter?” asked Custard Cream with a raised eyebrow.

Breezy Rays patted Bon-Bon on the shoulders, still with that unwanted glint in his eye, proudly saying, “Ma’am, you’re looking at the best of the best we ever had!”

“Just a confectioner these days,” urged Bon-Bon in a fixed but uneasy tone. “I’m guessing you had a hoof in the security here?”

“Sure did!” he beamed, pulling Bon-Bon into a side-hug. She looked over at Custard Cream, disconcerted. She shared Bon-Bon's expression, though he carried on obliviously, “Hey, should I get everyone’s attention for the announcement?”

Nodding, Custard Cream said, “If you don’t mind.”

Breezy Rays let go of Bon-Bon, and walked to the centre of the room. The confectioner shrunk and shuddered a little bit. Custard Cream rubbed the side of her own glowering face irritably with a soft growl. Breezy Rays flitted to just above the crowd, took a deep enough breath one would suspect he was showing off, then hollered over the din, “OYEZ, OYEZ!!!”

Everypony stopped talking. After they looked at him for a moment, they all turned to the podium. Custard Cream was already leading Bon-Bon to the front. Ponies began taking their seats. Stepping up to the podium, Custard Cream announced, “Good evening, my comrades! We have a new friend joining us tonight, and I think she’ll be a great addition! Please welcome Bon-Bon to the Order!”

Bon-Bon stepped back in surprise at the thunderous applause. She figured they’d be welcoming, yes, but this left her expectations far behind. Cheers, hurrahs, and whistles sounded from all around the gathered ponies giving her a standing ovation, even after the first thirty seconds had passed. Custard Cream stayed at the podium through the applause. The clapping slowly subsided. Bon-Bon looked around and saw other ponies enter the room at different doors, each wearing a robe of a dull purple and orange, though their hoods were down. A few had a red and black rope looped around their left shoulders. A few among those had a blue and white one as well. One, though, an austere, senior citizen unicorn mare at the back of the centre aisle, had two gold ropes and a medallion as well as the other decorations. Custard Cream looked at the decorated figure and declared, “Madam President, I believe our new friend is ready and willing to take on a major assignment right away! If it would please you, I’d like to show how she answered the door.”

The president strode up the centre aisle with a deliberate gait. She was a red pony with a yellow mane and deep blue eyes. Ponies seated watched her go by with fond faces, akin to a foal seeing granny come to the front door. The stern mare’s horn glowed the same yellow as her mane; the lighting in the room dimmed immediately. She said, “Then begin, Comrade Cream.”

A projection displayed Custard Cream and Bon-Bon coming to the door, as viewed from the door. The entire crowd gasped with delight as Bon-Bon answered the second question, and a display over the image stated there was no hint of a lie in her words. Bon-Bon grinned at the smattering of awestruck commentary.

Thank Celestia and my lucky stars that the door didn’t detect I was thinking about Lyra and not of overthrowing the princesses. Fortune smiled on me there.

Movement to her right tickled at the corner of her eye. She looked to see the president standing there as the lighting returned to normal. The robed unicorn’s face eased, and she happily said, “Welcome, my friend! We are thrilled you came!”

The applause roared again, even more so than before. The president stepped up on the dais. Bon-Bon met the president with a hoofshake. As the clapping simmered down, Bon-Bon replied, “Thank you, Madam President. My name is Bon-Bon.”

“Well met. I am Stall Lynn, President of The Order of Eleven. I understand you wish to join us?” the president asked as the room fell to a dead hush.

Bon-Bon smiled with a nod. “Yes indeed.”

The room turned dark, except a single spotlight over Bon-Bon and Stall Lynn. The president nodded with a satisfied expression. She continued, “Then, would you work to ensure ponies may rule themselves?”

“I will.”

“Do you pledge that your answers, both to me and to the impersonal barrier, are true and accurate, on pain of death?” asked President Lynn with an expectant grin.

Sure am in the thick of it now. Well, here goes nothing.

“I do.”

The world around them seemed to shrink away as the president gave her one last vow to take, “Do you swear, my friend, that you would sooner lay down your life than allow the current oppression to continue?”

“I swear it,” said Bon-Bon.

Sounds like I'm getting in too deep to get out. Was this a suicide mission?

“Then, congratulations, Comrade Bon-Bon! You are now a member of The Order of Eleven!” President Lynn declared, as the lighting in the room shifted to normal.

More applause of the same intensity. The aging president pulled Bon-Bon into a hug, which she returned. As they let go, two robed stallions presented Bon-Bon with a robe of her own. She donned it, and pulled her hood back. Custard Cream gave her a wide, genuine smile. As the applause died down, President Lynn said, “Comrade Cream, Comrade Glade, please take Comrade Bon-Bon to the Preparation Room. Of the many souls I’ve had the pleasure to know and induct, none answered so thoroughly and truthfully as you. We have a ceremony for new members, and for one who answered as you did, we have something truly special.”

The remaining hour on the train ride passed with what Lyra thought of as the most intense magic lesson of her life. Twilight’s adjustments to the spell allowed diagrams in addition to text. Several times she sat dumbstruck, reading and examining the depictions as Twilight, Moon Dancer, and Celestia continued discussing magical theory and its applications. Among the diagrams sent were how to weave some seriously potent divination spells, several of which written by major figures like Starswirl The Bearded, Clover The Clever, Mare-Lin, and even Princess Celestia’s father, King Galaxy. Lyra’s head was awash. Lyra was secretly glad they could not get Starlight’s friend Sunburst on the line too; she didn’t know how much more of this sort of discussion she could take. Over the course of that hour, one kind of headache had been replaced with another. Lyra looked around as she felt the train slow down. There were city lights. She posted, “The train’s pulling into the station.”

Princess Celestia’s decorative script replied, “The safest hotel in the greater Detrot area is about six blocks away. Taxis aren’t as readily available there are they are in Manehatten. Hopefully you won’t need any personal protection spells.”

Lyra hesitated. Attack magic was nothing she ever wanted to know. Sure, she had learned some protective magic; defense spells were required at Celestia’s school, but offense wasn’t covered, both for what Lyra felt were obvious reasons. “I never learned those.”

“Then, hopefully we won’t have to give you a crash course,” texted Twilight.

Moon Dancer added, “If it comes to that, Lyra, it’ll be a learning experience for us both.”

The train stopped. The conductor announced they were at the end of the line as Lyra responded, “All the extra studying, and you never once looked into evocation?”

“Nope. I found transmutation and illusion spells much more fascinating,” Moon Dancer answered. Lyra got up and took her bags, then started for the door.

“While I had learned a few, I never actually tried one of them out until the changeling incident when my brother got married,” texted Twilight.

Lyra looked around. The platform was mostly empty. A few hobos accosted debarking passengers, including her, as she started toward the exit. She texted, “Ah. If you say so. Um...which way to the hotel? A bum is offering directions in exchange for money.”

“You’re looking for the Iron Hills Inn. Take a left once outside the station. Go four blocks, take a right, and after two blocks it’ll be on the right,” Celestia posted as Lyra slinked past the last vagrant trying to earn a tip.

Lyra started down the street, looking around. She had never been this far from home, either her own place or her parents’ estate. Much of the architecture was art deco, and derelict. Moss grew on the side of several office buildings, along with wild grasses in a number of cracks, both on the road and the skyscrapers, suggesting more wild flora lived above the city lights. Frowning, she texted, “This place looks like it’s falling apart.”

Celestia answered, “It is. That’s why my sister held a conference to revitalize the city. Her aim was for the businessponies to reopen the closed locomotive factories, and renovate them to make airships and airship parts. Things, however, did not go as planned, mainly thanks to the Elevens making an attempt on her life. They even slaughtered the bankers in there with her, trying to frame her guards for their murders.”

“Oh. Oh wow. That’s horrible,” Moon Dancer texted.

Lyra crossed at an intersection. She looked around and saw a few rough individuals step out of the shadows as Twilight inserted, “They are.”

“Um, I might need that attack magic now...!!” hastily texted Lyra, picking up her pace as the pack pursued.

A circular diagram with a series of notes popped up in her field of vision, all in a completely alien alphabet, and in Twilight’s pink-lavender. She stated, “Okay, use this simple pattern to generate a striking ray from your horn. This is a basic Magic Missile.”

“Twilight Sparkle, no! Those can be fatal,” Princess Celestia fired back while Lyra went to a full canter. The gang kept up, and was gaining on her. A larger, more complicated, and not-at-all circular diagram appeared. “Cast The Lone Mare's Ward instead because never kills. It’s more complicated, but will subdue your assailants.”

Still another spell diagram showed up as Twilight countered, “Well, if we’re worried about death, Mass Stun is a similar spell that has a spheroid area of effect. It’s centred on the caster, in case of somepony coming from behind.”

“Can we stop with the diagrams for a moment, please?! They’re blocking my field of vision!” Lyra protested as she barely missed a lamppost.

Twilight posted, “Sorry.”

“My apologies,” replied Celestia just as quickly.

“I’m just going with the first, because it’s simple, and I caught all of it the first time. And...,” Lyra stated as she turned to face her attackers. There were six of them, all earth ponies. They slowed and began to encircle her. Lyra used the pattern presented and fired a beam out of her horn at one moving toward her left, knocking him into a dumpster and subconsciousness. She quickly fired again at the other trying to outflank her. The spell’s ray struck him in his left-front leg and punched a hole clean through it. He howled as he started to bleed. The others retreated. She resumed her response, “...hey, that was easier than expected. They’re backing off now.”

“I’m glad you’re safe, Lyra. I don’t think I could handle what you’re doing,” answered Moon Dancer.

Lyra watched as her would-be muggers, or worse, disappeared. She turned to continue on her way, suddenly feeling really tired as she also became aware that her heart rate had gone through the roof. She likewise found out she edged into hyperventilating without knowing that, either. She took a moment to settle her nerves, then continued on her way. She posted, “Believe me, it comes as a shock over here that I’m doing it, too. But she’s my very best friend. I have to help her.”

“So that what you’ve decided she means to you?” Princess Celestia asked.

Lyra twitched and hesitated. She partially lied, “I...don’t know, Your Majesty. My thoughts kept going in circles on the train.”

The next several blocks passed without any real hassle. Lyra booked a room on the third floor, mentioning to the innkeeper she may have another mare joining her later this night or on a subsequent evening. She took the keys and headed up to her room, finding everything most satisfactory and in order. She could see the lights and silhouetted buildings of downtown from the window, in nice accommodations. A slight glow, dim enough most would miss it, on the windowsill told her why this building didn’t have bars on them while many on the neighboring blocks did. She set a seal on the door that prevented entry without a key.

Discussions via the texting spell revealed how to draw a much stronger magic circle. Lyra found that to use it, she had to move the beds in the room to open up a large enough space. The circle was a complicated piece of work indeed; even with direct instruction from those three, she spent a good forty-five minutes setting the circle. Twilight advised to be careful with the spell used, since she could not scribe the circle again for another week, lest she wished the spell to fizzle. Princess Celestia showed a highly complicated diagram, and posted, “Speaking spells that can be used only on every now and then, try out this. You can ask three specific questions with it, and get an answer about it, but only if you are honest with the question. The circle will give you a longer distance to check and a much more thorough answer.”

Lyra asked, “Will this do me any good without the circle?”

“Not likely, with what you need to have answered. This may push your upper limit, not in terms of skill, but raw power. This spell can be used only once a month, and will take all of your focus. I shall leave you to your work,” answered Celestia.

Moon Dancer posted, “Good luck, Lyra. Go get your mare.”

The mint unicorn blushed furiously as Twilight texted, “Our thoughts and prayers are with you.”

Lyra felt her jaw clamp tighter from her cheeks’ redness as the others left the conversation. She breathed long and deep several times before her jaw eased. She walked around the circle, looking over her work. In spite of the step-by-step instruction, she couldn’t help but feel pleased with herself. Never had she seen such a complex spell booster, and she did it herself. Telekinetically she opened the cabinet drawer and pulled out the complimentary twelve-pack of simple white candles. Rather than set them in the wall fixtures, she set nine of the candles at the vertices along the circumference, lighting each. She set the others aside and walked into the very centre.

Lyra powered up her horn. Heeding her sovereign’s advice, she pushed the charge as hard as she could. A slight breeze in the room picked up as a secondary aura surrounded her horn. Sweat ran down her brow. Digging deeper and closing her eyes, she forced more charge into her horn. That didn’t make a difference. Redoubling her efforts provided a small but present increase, but she knew there was nothing more she could do. She pressed her charge at the circle, which responded, its outline, runes and markings turned from a slightly darker colour than the surrounding carpet to a bright white glow. Lyra recalled the diagram Princess Celestia showed her, weaving the magic into the biggest spell she ever used.

A bright flash pulsed from Lyra’s horn as she felt herself lifted from the ground. Her eyes opened, and found herself aloft and lazily floating within the circle, along with every mote of dust in the same space. Three questions. Her cheeks reddened. With a hard swallow, she asked the spell, “What has happened to the mare I love?”

She shook and gasped. Lyra never dreamt she would say aloud she loved another mare, and there it was. Before she could explore this shock any deeper, a series of images and sounds passed before Lyra’s eyes and ears. In the course of a minute she saw sum-up of everything Bon-Bon went through in the last two days: her reaction to the summons, the meetings at the agency HQ, the dangers in Detrot, the painful talks with Custard Cream, going to the meeting...and then it showed her what was to come, somehow prefaced as such. Lyra learned the immediate future...and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Before it was over she started into rattling gasps and sobs, convulsing while still in the air. She murmured, “No...please, no...please, God, no...oh God, please, don’t....don’t let them...oh no, please....”

Lyra curled up into a fetal position as she wept. She lingered afloat by the spell along with her tears. She twitched again. Forcing some gulping breaths, she regained enough control, albeit shakily, to ask her second question: “Where is the mare I love?”

Bon-Bon took in the information like a sponge. This was a gold mine. The plans they spoke of, once the princesses were out of the way, and why, came one after another. Bon-Bon wasn’t sure why they spent so much time on her appearance and trying to keep her stress levels down in the preparation room. Through the walls there was occasionally the muffled noise of chanting, or a lively discussion. They had been at this for close to an hour when Custard Cream wheeled in what looked like a ceremonial gurney, with restraining straps for all four hooves spread, one for the head, and one for the torso, though they were all well-padded. Bon-Bon raised an eyebrow at this and asked, “Um, should I be worried?”

“Maybe a little,” answered Custard Cream bobbing her head about. She looked Bon-Bon square in the eye and continued, “Nervous would be better than worried.”

“That’s making me worried,” grumbled Bon-Bon as her shoulders slumped. She pulled the robe’s shoulders back up.

“Sorry, Bon-Bon.”

The confectioner looked over the gurney contemptuously. “What’s this for?”

Custard Cream smiled brightly, and said, “It’s the little ceremony we’re having tonight for you, the one the President mentioned.”

“I get to be strapped down on this thing, huh?” Bon-Bon grouched.

“Yeah.”

“...fun times,” Bon-Bon muttered, fiddling with one of the straps absentmindedly, and then lightly smacking it.

Custard Cream sighed as she shook her head understandingly. She started, “I wish it weren’t necessary, but with the ceremony....”

“What is it about this ceremony? Why are we doing this?” Bon-Bon interrupted with a mix of apprehension and accusation.

“The way you answered the door shows you’re one of the very, very few who can do it,” said Custard Cream encouragingly. “Because of what happens during the ceremony, you can help us move plans forward much more quickly than anticipated, which would help free Equestria from the princesses.”

“And that calls for restraints, because...why?”

Custard Cream grimaced, then stated, “Because part of the ceremony, for you, is really gonna hurt, and I’ve heard from the few others who’ve been through it that at first it’s really scary. It’s to make sure everything is going in place well.”

“Yep, nervous went right out the window and we’re in full-scale worried, now,” muttered Bon-Bon, not-so-lightly slapping the same restraint as she turned away, burying her head in the hood.

The pie baker pursed her lips. She started toward Bon-Bon. Gently she said, “Relax. The pain and fear won’t last. The freedom will, and you’ll live to see it.”

Bon-Bon did not look at her as she grumped, “How exactly is this terrifying, painful thing gonna help me liberate Equestria?”

“I don’t know all the details myself. I’ve just heard this is the lead-in to ‘The Master Stroke.’ Honestly I’m a bit jealous that you get to do this and not me...,” Custard Cream trailed off, her voice more than just “a bit jealous.”

Bon-Bon snorted, “It’s not too late to trade places.”

“I’m afraid it is,” said Custard Cream with a sad chuckle. “I didn’t answer the door as well as you did.”

Another came into the room, one of the robed figures with three loops of rope around his shoulder. He looked around and urged, “Comrade Cream, it’s nearly time.” She nodded. Both of them turned to Bon-Bon. He met her gaze and said in awe, “I’m honoured to have met you, Comrade Bon-Bon. You’ll be a hero, all your days and into old age, and beyond.”

Bon-Bon shot him a questioning look, turning her head such that only one eye saw him past the hood. She warily pressed, “I’d still like to know what I’m supposed to do.”

“That will be made quite clear before the end of the ceremony, Comrade Bon-Bon. You’d best get into position,” answered the decorated stallion. With a nod, he stepped back out.

Bon-Bon sighed nervously. She climbed upon the gurney and laid down. Custard Cream eased the restraints onto her, tightening them one at a time. She looked down at Bon-Bon before starting on the one for her head, and asked, “Not too tight?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” signed Bon-Bon, staring vacantly at no point in particular.

Custard Cream stopped working at the padded belts. She pursed her lips as she looked up, unable to find any Bon-Bon could be staring at. With a worried voice, she pleaded, “Please tell me what’s actually bothering you.”

Bon-Bon nickered. She looked at Custard Cream briefly, then resumed the empty stare. She bluntly declared, “I hate pain. I worked for the Bureau of Peace Preservation for five years, became Chief Special Agent in that time. Seventy-eight assignments, no failures. Never once did I go into something expecting it to hurt, or to be hurt, or allow anypony else to get hurt. Now I’m told I get the rare privilege to do what needs to be done, it’s gonna hurt like hell, and scare the shit outta me. Nervous, worried, and the anticipation of coming pain...I hate it.”

“I think that’s just pony nature, to let our heads create the worst possible thing and fear that coming,” Custard Cream said soothingly, rubbing Bon-Bon’s closer restrained foreleg. She patted her, then continued strapping down Bon-Bon’s head as she spoke, “Then when it actually comes, it’s not so bad.”

“I hope you’re right,” murmured Bon-Bon, testing the restraints. They held, and were padded well enough they didn’t hurt or dig into her skin.

“Yeah,” Custard Cream said. She held her breath a moment, and with forced cheer suggested, “We’ll have to share pie again once Equestria’s free. Or maybe stop by your shop and have a few chocolates?”

Bon-Bon said, “Sure thing.”

The same decorated stallion poked his head in again, and evenly said, “Comrades, it’s time.”

The door closed. Chanting started on the other side of it. Custard Cream walked around to the pushing side of the gurney. “So....”

“No point in putting this off,” muttered Bon-Bon.

The unicorn gave the earth pony a hug as could with the other strapped down. She said, “I’ll stay beside you as long as I can.”

“Thank you, Custard,” said Bon-Bon genuinely.

Custard Cream rubbed Bon-Bon’s hoof as those outside the doors opened them. The chanting was in unison, but not in a language Bon-Bon knew. Illumination was limited. Custard Cream moved on at a steady pace, neither rushing nor lagging, down the centre aisle. Bon-Bon turned her eyes in her head since she could otherwise look around. It looked as though everypony was robed with hoods raised. The chanting rumbled. Bon-Bon felt her breathing getting away from her, and forced it to slow.

They turned a corner. Bon-Bon’s heart pounded in her throat. The chanting changed, though its tempo and metre remained as it was. She tried to discern how many were there, based on rows and columns, but was forced to concede she couldn’t get an accurate count. Another corner, and up a ramp they went. From there Bon-Bon saw the centre of the stage had plenty of lighting. They turned in that direction. They came under the lights. Bon-Bon, unable to look away, squinted. The chanting stopped abruptly as the gurney came to a halt.

From her right, Bon-Bon heard President Lynn speaking in this other tongue. Custard Cream rubbed Bon-Bon’s hoof again. After a moment, the crowd gave a unified four-syllable response. President Lynn leaned over Bon-Bon, mercifully between her and the harsh light above, and asked, “Comrade Bon-Bon, tonight we bestow upon you a great honour and duty, both to the Order, and to all of Equestria.”

The audience responded again with the same four syllables. Bon-Bon attempted to nod, but the restraint kept her head in place. President Lynn continued, “My friend, our dear new friend, we are ready to begin when you’re ready.”

“Madam President, nopony’s told me what’s going on,” Bon-Bon said flatly.

“What we are doing, here and now with this ceremony, is imbuing you with a power and a gift,” explained the president. “With it, you will help in major ways to free Equestria. You will help to flush out the truth, so that the populace will see the princesses for what they are.”

Bon-Bon asked, “‘The Master Stroke,’ as I heard it put?”

“Precisely,” said Stall Lynn warmly with a fond smile.

“Then...,” gulped Bon-Bon, “...let’s get started.”

The crowd gave its favourite four syllables again. Giving the side of Bon-Bon’s face a grandmotherly pat, President Lynn said, “Of course. Thank you, Comrade Bon-Bon. We’ve barely met you, and already we owe you so much.”

The chanting began anew. The president walked out of Bon-Bon’s field of vision. The strapped-down earth pony’s ears flicked around, and heard a spell. Two robed figures separated the front of her robe, exposing her belly. The chanting intensified as the president returned, holding some oblong object wrapped in a white velveteen cloth in her telekinetics. Bon-Bon blinked at the aura; it seemed different somehow than the times she’s seen Lyra move things about with her horn. The cloth fell away to reveal a black crystal. It was long, semi-transparent, and exhibited a hexagonal pattern. The president rotated the crystal so that it was perpendicular to the ground, hovering over Bon-Bon’s belly. Bit by bit the crystal descended as the chanting continued, nearing a fever pitch. The confectioner tensed up, holding her breath, unable to look away. For a brief moment she thought the crystal had a slight green sheen to it. The president whispered into Bon-Bon’s ear, “Brace yourself, Comrade.”

The crystal touched Bon-Bon in the middle of her navel.

Bon-Bon convulsed in the restraints, as her midsection suddenly felt pain on a level she never dreamt possible. Her belly button felt like it was under a blowtorch, or that it were stuffed with dry ice, or both at the same time. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing happened. Only the chanting sounded in the room, reverberating inside her skull while her navel cried out helplessly.

Bon-Bon felt her skin split as the crystal cut through. Her belly felt as it were boiling away, or dissolving, as the excruciation kicked itself up another notch. Her entrails were shoved aside, amplifying her writhing even more. Still she could manage no scream.

The last of the crystal pushed through, closing her navel behind it. The paradoxical pain of freezing and burning in unison continued while she perceived it turning itself to lay sideways, nestled amidst the looping of her small intestine.

Suddenly everything went quiet for her. Bon-Bon saw the mouth of the president chanting with the crowd but heard no noise.

Then she heard a voice, a threatening, malevolent, airy baritone whispered inside her own mind, “Hello, Bon-Bon. Thank you for the body; I’ll be putting it to very good use.”

Bon-Bon fought against what felt as though she were losing control of her own body. She ordered her limbs to pull against the restraints, but they eased. She dug in deeper, desiring only the sight of the mare she loved with all the force she had to act of her own will. Her body responded, although the muscle twitches were accompanied by the pain of fire and ice in her belly. As it happened and as she fell from the conscious world, she saw black mist come over her face.

It was as though the black mist had come from her own eyes.

As she floated aloft at the centre of a complex magic circle, a certain mint-coloured unicorn bolted upright; a gasp and a tear escaped her as in her mind, and not from her imagination, she heard Bon-Bon voice in a most frantic, desperate whisper:

Lyra...help me....

Author's Note

Fourth chapter, and it's getting a little hairy.

Fumbling In The Dark

Shadow-Walker paced around the situation room, following customary stops at different stations under the low lights. Today he wore a blue blazer with a white shirt and a black tie. He stopped back at a central chair with a side desk, and sipped from a steaming mug. Fallow Fields had handed over the reins a good seven hours ago, emphasizing again how important this night was, how many good things were likely to happen. Shadow-Walker himself had already had two cups of coffee, and was well through a third. The same could be said of most of the rest of his shift’s staff; a few had more. But it was quiet, and all had been quiet all evening.

Sudden movement at a station got his attention. A young-ish stallion suddenly sat forward, pushing in his earpiece forcefully. His was a pale gray coat with a near-black mane and tail, with brown eyes, and a cutie mark of a few metalworking tools over a sheet of copper. The stallion turned and urged, “Sir, we’re getting a distress call from Team B! The local tribes have banded and are attacking the camp!”

“What!?” shouted Shadow-Walker as he got up and ran to that station.

A few buttons pressed, and the crystal ball’s image splayed on the wall. A frazzled tan earth pony stallion with gray mane and tail, and a blood splatter across his face, hollered, “Command, this is Team B! We’ve got some local colour, to the tune of thirty-five to one! We need Evac!”

Shadow-Walker’s eyes widened and breathing accelerated. Chunks of dirt sprayed behind the pony in the projection. “Acknowledged,” said Shadow-Walker. He looked at the stallion beside him and commanded, “Redsmith, dispatch extraction teams to the Stirrup Steppes encampment, Code 4, now!”

Redsmith tapped a few buttons and spoke indistinctly into a receiver while the projected image fizzled into static for a moment. When it returned, the same stallion dodged a spear thrust, then head-butted the water buffalo that held it. He continued against his assailant out of the projection. A few thuds sounded, then a snapping crack. This stallion returned to the screen, breathing hard. Shadow-Walker asked, “What set them off?”

“We think we may have found it,” panted the field agent. His gaze darted around as he said, “We were about to comb the area in the morning.”

“At least that’s good news,” huffed the assistant director. “Hunker down and hold them off as best as you can until the extraction teams arrive.”

The frazzled stallion urged, “Sir, we’ve already lost Hutch, Shoeshine, and Pennybags!”

Stunned silence ensued. Redsmith looked at Shadow-Walker. The black stallion stood unmoving, his face between horrified, rage, shock, and disbelief. He uttered, “...just you and Webber left...?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Send the data you have, just in case,” Shadow-Walker said emptily.

“Yes sir,” said the field agent. He fidgeted with a few papers while another bit of ground burst behind him while a few blue spell rays shone.

With a hoof to his earpiece, Redsmith turned to Shadow-Walker and said, “Extraction Team ETA, three minutes!”

Shadow-Walker shouted, “Hold on, Dusty! Just hang on a little—”

“Data’s away, sir! Tell my wife I love her!” Dusty said, dodging a spell ray.

“Dusty, don’t talk like—behind you!” Shadow-Walker hollered.

A spear ripped out of Dusty’s chest. As his eyes glazed, he gurgled, “...aaaggh....”

Dusty fell, leaving the image of a bull water buffalo behind him, one with an Oriental red hat of some kind and robes of a pale yellow, spring green, and brown from the same culture. The bull charged up a green aura in his horns, then the projection was nothing but static. Shadow-Walker sighed low and long, closing his eyes. Redsmith looked up at him. Shaking his head, Shadow-Walker murmured, “...dammit....”

“Data transfer complete, sir,” Redsmith said solemnly. Shadow-Walker slowly turned towards the mission operator. “He got it all off.”

Shadow-Walker nodded slowly. He walked over to the central table, took off his hat, and flopped haphazardly into the awaiting chair. There he took the steaming mug and downed its contents. Shadow-Walker stared at the few grounds that slipped past the filter and came to a stop at the bottom of the cup. He set it back on saucer, but not evenly enough for it to stay put. As the mug clattered against the table Shadow-Walker stood up with an angry sigh. Redsmith, who had been watching him this whole time, timidly asked, “Sir?”

Shadow-Walker continued to look downward. He mumbled, “...get me the next-of-kin contact info for Dusty Roads, Silk Webber, Maple Hutch, Shoeshine, and Heavy Pennybags....”

Redsmith nodded. He sighed himself, and turned back to his station. “...of course, sir.”

“Chin up, Redsmith. We have to carry on, for their sakes,” Shadow-Walker said somberly as he returned to the centre table, righting his mug.

“I’m trying, sir,” said Redsmith. He looked over at his boss. “How do you do it?”

“With difficulty. Wish this was the first time I’ve lost somepony on a mission,” grumbled Shadow-Walker, fumbling through the drawers.

A door closed somewhere. The younger stallion asked, “Does it get easier, sir? Dealing with the loss?”

“No, Redsmith. It doesn’t.”

“Shadow-Walker, why does it feel like I just walked into a funeral?” Fallow Fields asked. He had on a wrinkled polo shirt and pajama bottoms.

“We lost Field Team B, sir. All of them,” Shadow-Walker lamented. “The native tribes of the Stirrup Steppes wiped them out.”

“Damn...,” frowned Mr. Fields, his eyes narrowing.

Shadow-Walker pressed a few buttons on the central desk. A hoof-drawn map appeared on the main viewer. Numerous markings lay about, labeled “village.” Shadow-Walker said, “They managed to send us their data before the natives annihilated them.”

Near the top of the image was an irregular-shaped area, enclosed by a dotted line, with “Blue Shard?” written in the middle. Scratching his chin, Fallow Fields said, “They think they found it, huh?”

“Yeah. We should send a night scout to verify, what with all the local resistance. They weren’t kidding when they said there were more natives than the initial scouts reported; that’s...what, twenty, twenty-five villages? They originally thought there were only nine,” said Shadow-Walker. A tapping on his shoulder stopped him. He looked and saw the mission operator bringing him a large, yellow envelope. “What’s this, Redsmith?”

“Next-of-kin contacts.”

Fallow Fields took the printout in his telekinetics before Shadow-Walker could get it. He said, “I’ll make the calls in the morning, Shadow-Walker. We don’t need to rouse them now in the wee hours, since there’s nothing they can do.”

“Of course. I’m surprised you woke up,” Shadow-Walker said.

“Remember what I said earlier?” prompted the director. He rubbed his eyes with a long sigh. After a quick glance around the room, he muttered, “May as well get the full update, since I’m already down here.”

“Ah yes. Local watch reported it was as though Celestia disappeared altogether, again,” Shadow-Walker said. Fallow Fields’ eyes widened as his lips tightened and nostrils flared. “Just vanished in her own library, didn’t teleport or anything of the like. She reappeared a few hours later, still in the library, much to the surprise of the Night Watch.”

“Please tell me you have something good to report,” Mr. Fields growled.

“Well,” Shadow-Walker sighed and shook his head. “That’s the thing.”

“Team A?”

“No change.”

“C?”

Shadow-Walker gestured to a different set of workstations. “Transport vehicle is still en route; ETA is 8:35am Canterlot time.”

“Well, I suppose unchanged is better than a setback,” muttered Mr. Fields. “And the Lone Ranger?”

“Last data we received from her was an image an abandoned school building. That was almost five hours ago. All has been quiet since,” Shadow-Walker reported.

“Nothing at all?”

“No, sir. Nothing.”

Not exactly suppressing a grin, the director triumphantly accused, “Finally showing some concern for her?”

“Too much rides on her not to,” grumbled Shadow-Walker. He sighed, looked his boss in the eye, and confessed, “You were right. There are so many ways this could go wrong. The waiting for an update is trying.”

Nodding, Fallow Fields answered, “I know all too well. And, what about Ms. Heartstrings?”

A picture of a high-rise hotel appeared on the main viewer as Shadow-Walker gestured commandingly to Ms. Weaver. “Checked into the Iron Hills Inn about five and a half hours ago, room 316. Some reported a bright flash slipping around the edges of the room’s blinds.”

“Get a spell-reading team over there, stat!” Fallow Fields snapped with a glower.

“Already there. There’s a very strong field coming from her room,” Ms. Weaver reported. “When they arrived twenty minutes after the flash, there wasn’t anything. Half an hour later this field came up. They can’t get a reading from the outside, and it’s too risky to try barging in. Said something about dangers of disintegration spells, with the current power readings.”

The director spat on the floor with a growl. “Looking more and more that we should’ve stopped that train.”

“I still think Ms. Heartstrings’ presence will be worth the hassle,” said Shadow-Walker without a shadow of a doubt in his expression and tone.

Fallow Fields turned to leave, growling, “You’d better be right about this, Shadow-Walker....”

Bon-Bon came to. She found herself in a dark and xerothermic place, with a semi-prismatic swirling haze drifting around, weak in the oranges and yellows, and totally devoid of green. All was black behind that. She tried to stand up and found no surface, nor a sense of falling. There no ambient noise of any variety. She could see her legs through the mist but could not feel no trace of its presence. Yet her legs weren’t darkened as one would expect in low light. There was nothing there though, just a black a void with an odd billowing fog that had neither feel nor substance.

“Hello...?” Bon-Bon tentatively called out.

Silence answered her. She twisted herself around and found minor variations in the mist’s ebb and flow in every direction. Nothing appeared brighter nor darker, closer nor further. All was empty.

“What is this place?”

“You are nowhere, and this is nothing,” answered the wicked male voice from before.

Bon-Bon slowly turned her head as her blood turned to ice. She still saw nothing there but the haze. Her eyes continued darting about as she demanded, “Who and what are you!?”

Sounds of evil laughter came at her from all sides. “Wouldn’t you like to know...?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t!” Bon-Bon snapped.

“Hmm...what kind of answer can I give? What kind of answer would you like?”

Her eyelids twitched. Still looking around, she shouted, “The truth!”

The same malevolent voice replied, “Well, that’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over.”

“Like hell it isn’t!”

“Seriously. You can sit back and relax while I do the work. Take a load off,” the voice somewhere in the mist suggested.

“No! I have work to do!”

“And I’ve got it covered.”

Bon-Bon scoffed. Spinning about and flipping, she yelled, “You don’t know why I’m here!”

“Oh, but I do. Better yet, do you know why you’re here?” the evil voice asked. “I don’t think you do.”

“Bullshit!” spat Bon-Bon.

“Such language! Temper, temper, Bon-Bon. You really need to take it easy.”

The little pony’s eyes welled up in anger. She scratched at the teardrops before they drifted away, snarling, “What do you even want from me?”

“You will get me blood,” said the blackness. It paused, then added, “Not yours, so don’t sweat it. Just pop a squat.”

“I will not!”

“Will too,” it answered, and would have sounded petulant if it weren’t for the threatening overtones.

Wheeling about, but unable to stop her angular momentum, she said, “No! I’ll take this straight to Her Majesty, and end the schemes of the Elevens, and you!”

“If you could just hear yourself! You really don’t know why you’re here,” the menacing baritone said, even snider than before. “Just relax, as I’ve said. You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

Bon-Bon screwed up her face as she barked, “Why don’t you go play a nice little game of ‘Hide & Go Fu—’ aaaAAAAAAAAAGHH!!”

She clutched her belly through the shriek, the infernal combination of searing, freezing pain wracked her body, centred on her navel. A mocking laugh sounded around her, and the voice ridiculed, “Aw, you went and hurt yourself. What did I tell you about the language?”

“What is your problem!?” Bon-Bon cried, unable to withhold the tears.

“You will learn obedience,” commanded the voice.

“Not to you!”

Another bark of laughter rattled against Bon-Bon. Somewhere a lyre sounded, but far in the distance. The male voice said, “Give it time, Bon-Bon, give it time. You will assist in bringing about a new world order, and see to it that one and one are one. Now we will get to work.”

“No! I will—AAAAAHHH!!”

The music tickled at Bon-Bon’s brain as it grew louder, sounding familiar. The voice turned downright demonic as it declared, “You will assist. I am your master now, and you will do as I say.”

Lyra!? Is that you? I thought I recognized the piece!

Bon-Bon focused all her will at seeing the warmest smile of them all as she screamed, “I AM NO ONE’S SLAVE!!!”

And all went white.

Bon-Bon opened her eyes. She was in a dingy, decrepit classroom well-after dark, with old school desks shoved and piled in a corner. The chalkboard had a lesson about who to call for a good time, and depictions of male anatomy. She pushed herself to all fours. Her ears pricked up. She still heard the lyre. Tears struck again as she whimpered, “Lyra...?”

She knew this music: Whinninov’s Study In E Major. Lyra played it all time. It was a solo piece for the lute, but Lyra transposed the key signature for the lyre. Bon-Bon walked out the door. She still heard it playing, with the same pacing and inflections that Lyra used when playing the piece. Bon-Bon looked up and down the hall. She was still in the old elementary school. She turned left, and the music quieted. An about-face later, it picked up its volume again. She started towards it. The icy, burning feeling returned, but she pushed through it. She saw the black mist again.

I don’t care. If that’s Lyra, I’m gonna find her. Burn and freeze me all you want; I’m not stopping!

And so she went. Following the music, she turned down street after street, ignoring the pain, and her black mist...

...down some major thoroughfare...

...by the White Wings stadium...

...past downtown...

...right by six hoodlums who took cover at her approach...

...past Grand Central Station...

...to a high-rise hotel. The sign above its entrance read “The Iron Hills Inn.” The pain had not ceased. She pushed open the double doors into its luxurious foyer and lobby. She walked toward the counter. The concierge pony stood agape while the night attendant slipped behind a pillar. Bon-Bon stopped the night attendant from sneaking away. He hyperventilated as her black mist skittered across the floor at his feet. She said, “I’m looking for a mint-coated unicorn mare.”

“Oh. Yes. Um...wait, what’s your name, miss?” he sputtered.

“Bon-Bon.”

His face didn’t ease, but his voice forced some cheer into itself. “Oh! You’re the one she was waiting for! Room 316. Here, let me get you a key.”

A few tears leaked out of her eyes, and the mist stopped. The attendant returned with the key. She barely had it in her hooves before she galloped away and up the stairs, the crying truly taking hold as she shouted, “Thank you!”

She was out of sight, up the grand staircase, before the attendant could open his mouth. He shut it again, and looked at concierge. His colleague simply shrugged. A few quick blinks, and he halfheartedly quipped, “My pleasure? Um....”

Lyra played a neoclassical piece on her lyre from memory, sitting on a barstool in the middle of a seven-pointed magic circle. This one was markedly smaller than the circle Celestia described. The music was one of her favourites, especially by Whinninov. His Study In E Major was one of a few pieces she knew where she didn’t have to imagine the rest of the orchestra. She had already played it a good two dozen times this evening, and had just finished it again.

Please reach her...please, Bonnie, hear me....

Lyra sighed. Her mane floated freely in the magic circle’s circumference. She looked down at her lyre. A teardrop hit her leg, passing between the two rightmost strings. She looked at the new wet mark, and how quickly it blended in with the others. Lifting the instrument again, she started playing the piece once more.

Whinninov’s Study had been a practice for the composer in invoking bittersweet emotions. Over the course of playing through it so much in one night, Lyra’s interpretation had shifted towards the bitter, sad end of the spectrum. This time around was close to a lament. And the tears kept coming at their slow pace.

The piece wound its way into the E minor variation of its theme. Lyra played in more of lacrimoso tempo and play than an ordinary adagio as marked on the sheet music. She even held notes longer than usual as the tears sped up.

A scraping of a key in the lock was immediately followed by the door flying open. Lyra stopped the music and turned. There in the doorframe stood a tearstained Bon-Bon, still crying, and breathing heavily. Lyra gasped as their eyes met, and her tears flowed freely. She tried to speak but only a garble came out.

Bon-Bon’s crying picked up the pace as she barely could whine, “Lyra....”

Gulping air, Lyra sobbed, “Bonnie....”

She dropped the lyre as she rushed and met Bon-Bon halfway. The door closed on its own. The two very best friends hugged tightly with wracking sobs, hugging as if this would be their last time. Neither one could speak, nor did they try. Cheek-to-cheek, their tears intermixed as they refused to let go.

Gaining control over breathing did not occur for another twenty minutes. They managed to sit down on the bed, still with one hoof around the other, and the other held together in their lap, both of them as if they were bipedal, leaning their heads on each other’s. They rubbed each other’s free hooves, and face. Their eyes met many times, content just to look into each other’s freely. Two sets of cheeks turned red during a long gaze after they had the sobs and waterworks in hoof. Bon-Bon’s breathing shuddered while Lyra just held her breath altogether. Their faces inched closer together, meeting nose to nose. Lyra stared longingly, though Bon-Bon’s eyes trembled. Bon-Bon moved in and nuzzled her muzzle against Lyra’s. Their eyes closed as they held the side of the others’ face. Lyra pressed in as she finally exhaled with a contented coo. Bon-Bon wrapped her over hoof around Lyra’s shoulders.

As they lifted their heads and sat back to a normal distance, their lips brushed against each other’s for split second.

Faces flushing crimson, eyes widening, and hooves darting over mouths all came in unison with the gasps. Their breaths were both uneven. The two sat petrified, nothing more than blinking occasionally, for a good minute or two.

Lyra’s voice quivered, “B-B-Bonnie-e...?”

Bon-Bon breathed, “Ye-e-es, Lyra...?”

The two held their mutual wide-eyed stare at the other. Both sets of cheeks became even redder. Lyra stammered, “I...uh....”

“Um...,” Bon-Bon trailed off.

Lyra broke the eye contact, starting, “Yeah...that, uh, was—”

“Lyra, I’m so sorry!” Bon-Bon interrupted with a shout, burying her face into Bon-Bon’s neck. “They summoned me, and—”

“It’s okay,” Lyra reassured her very best friend, stroking her mane.

Bon-Bon rose up with a hoof on Lyra’s chest, protesting, “It’s not okay! I missed our Friendiversary because of this! I....”

Bon-Bon started crying again. She leaned forward as she hid her face in her hooves. Lyra began to choke up, saying, “Bonnie, it’s not your fault.”

“But Lyra-a...!” Bon-Bon stuttered over her tears.

“Shh,” whispered Lyra as she pulled Bon-Bon in close. “It’s okay, and it’s not your fault.”

Rocking slightly, the two sat a moment. Bon-Bon moaned, “I didn’t want to go back...I didn’t....”

“I know,” Lyra said.

Bon-Bon sat upright again, her face very serious. She winced a moment, got up, stood in front of Lyra, then gravely started, “Listen. They di-i-idd...ow.”

Bon-Bon exhaled hard with her mouth in a perfect “O” as a puff of black mist left each of her eyes. Lyra gasped. Her face and voice were a quaking, unsmooth blend of alarm and worry, blurting, “Bonnie...??”

Bon-Bon took a deep breath, and tried again, “They impla-a-a-a-aaAAAGGHH!!”

Bon-Bon clutched her stomach and gritted her teeth as black mist poured out of her eyes. Lyra’s countenance was a horrified one. Both her hooves covered her mouth. A few tears leaked as her hooves then went behind her head. She murmured, “Oh no....”

Barely audible, Bon-Bon half-hissed, half-whined, “Lyra...help me....”

Lyra got up and held Bon-Bon tightly as her tears resumed at full steam. Gasping for air, she whimpered, “We’ll get through this together. I’m not gonna leave you.”

“How are we gonna ge-e-ett-t thro-o-ough this? G’aahh...,” yowled Bon-Bon, almost falling down as she writhed.

“I don’t know...I wish I knew,” Lyra sobbed. She looked Bon-Bon in the face with tears and determination. As she retook control of her breathing again, she suggested, “Maybe we’ll be able to think clearer in the morning?”

Bon-Bon sighed in fatigue with a slow nod. Cracking a small grin, she muttered, “Sleep sounds wonderful.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does,” said Lyra, almost sounding normal. “Do you want the bed closer to the window?”

“Well...please don’t freak out...,” Bon-Bon said, biting her lip.

“Uh...oookaaaay...??”

“Could...could we share a bed?” Bon-Bon asked as her cheeks flushed again. The redness quickly went away as fear suffused her words, along with growing physical agony, “I can’t stand the thought of being alone, not a-a-after what the-ey did! I’m so scared, Lyra! I ca-a-an’t...aah...!!”

Bon-Bon gasped breathless, falling to a knee. More of the black mist dissipated out of Bon-Bon’s eyes. Lyra shook as she pulled her back onto her feet. Terror took over Bon-Bon’s face and voice as she whispered, “Please....”

Lyra stood shaking in her hooves. Bon-Bon’s pleading expression held on as she brushed Lyra face. The unicorn gave a sad smile as she said, “...yeah. We can do that.”

Bon-Bon lay awake in the bed as Lyra’s steady breathing was the only sound in the room. The earth pony’s left forelimb had become the unicorn’s nighttime plushy. Bon-Bon stared into the darkness. She had not slept. She tried closing her eyes numerous times, but her fears kept niggling at her brain.

I don’t know what we can do, Lyra. I wanted so bad to tell you everything, but that thing they put in me...it hurts so bad, whenever I tried to speak. How did it do that? Why does such a thing even exist?

“You’re starting to get it, aren’t you? Took you long enough,” echoed the baritone from before inside her head with a chuckle.

Bon-Bon’s eyes shot open wide as her lungs stopped. She shuddered in the bed. Her breathing returned, but hyperventilated. She stammered, “Wha-a-at are you s-s-sa-aying?”

In her mind she heard the wicked laughter, and the voice said threateningly, “Do what I want you to do, or stuff I could give a damn about, and everything’s peachy. Do what I don’t want you to do, and you’ll hurt yourself. You’ll have it down soon. And if not, well...I could intervene.”

“What do you want from me?!” she growled softly. Bon-Bon looked over as Lyra smacked her lips, mumbling indistinctly.

“Obedience. That is all.”

Bon-Bon snarled, “You’re barking up the wrong tree, and you kno-o-oow...aaagh...damn....”

As she winced and held her belly with her free hoof, the other presence said, “You were saying? I will have your obedience, one way, or another. You remind me of the fight David Buckham put up against me, but his will was stronger than yours. Caused himself an awful lot of undue pain, but he, too, gave obedience. Will you learn from his mistake, or repeat it? We’re in this together, whether you like it or not.”

Bon-Bon stared off vacantly for a moment as her mouth went dry. Lyra clung onto Bon-Bon’s forelimb tighter. “And the blood you spoke of earlier? That’s what we’re doing ‘together,’ is it?”

“Again, it’s not yours. Stop being such a worrywart,” demanded the voice, sounding more annoyed than before, but just as evil.

“Whose blood are you after?” Bon-Bon hissed, her voice a mixture of anger and fear.

The baritone mocked, “Go to sleep. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Bon-Bon’s jaw clenched and her right eyelid twitched as she scoffed. In a whisper she spat, “Why won’t you give me a straight answer!?”

“Well, there’s no need to get your bridle in a twist over such trifles. Get some rest. I’ll get you to work in the morning. I may just give you a little gift, once you start to get it right. It is, after all, a question of when...,” it answered, followed by some wretched snickering.

Bon-Bon’s limbs went limp. Her eyes rolled back a little and stared at the top of the headboard as she sighed in frustration, exhaustion, and defeat. She gazed at nothing again for a moment, then turned her head. A magic-powered alarm clock shone in red, “03:38 AM.”

Bon-Bon sat up, freeing her foreleg and looking at the old wallpaper. Still asleep, Lyra muttered, “...but mom...she’s my world....”

A blush edged into Bon-Bon’s cheeks. She stared at the sleeping Lyra for a moment. She felt a grin coming on.

Well...sounds like she feels the same...ah, to hell with it. I want her, and since that thing is bound and determined to take over my body....

“Lyra...,” Bon-Bon called, unable to mask the nervousness.

The minty unicorn’s eyes fluttered open with an incoherent, “Huh...wha?”

Bon-Bon urged Lyra with a head gesture. Her blush had not let up. Lyra cocked her head to one side and rubbed her eyes, then blinked several times. Bon-Bon sighed with a slight grin, and said, “Please sit up.”

Lyra did so with a look of confusion, which continued in her voice, “Bonnie, what’s wrong?”

“There’s something I have to do,” said Bon-Bon with a gulp.

Lyra hesitated with scrunched eyebrows. “Right now?”

Bon-Bon slowly began to lean in. “Yes, right now.”

“Um...,” started Lyra as her cheeks turned red. “Uh...right now, er....”

“Lyra...while my mind’s still my own...let’s just do what we’ve always wanted to,” said Bon-Bon as she held Lyra by the side of her head.

Their lips met.

Lyra’s eyes may as well have been pie plates. She held her breath while the rest of her face was of total disbelief. She saw Bon-Bon’s eyes were closed. Breathing through her nose, her shoulders eased, followed by her eyes, and then they just closed as well while her own hoof cradled Bon-Bon’s face. The two were still, taking in the softness of the others’ lips, their own pounding heart, and the quiet ecstasy racing through their minds.

Lyra felt something else wet hit her hoof. Slightly opening her eyes, she saw Bon-Bon was crying. Lyra blinked, then broke the kiss and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared to death about what they did to-o me-e,” Bon-Bon said, hurting. “I don’t kno-ow ho-o-o-oOW LO-ONG I...aahhck...I ca-a-an fi-i-I-IGHT I-I-IT...!” She took several deep, quick breaths while Lyra watched, fretting. Bon-Bon looked up at Lyra, begging in agony, “Please, come what may, stay with me....”

Lyra noticed her hoof was still on the side of Bon-Bon’s face. She gently stroked the earth pony’s cheek and nodded. “Come what may,” she said, and leaned in for another.

Found But Still Lost

Shadow-Walker tossed and turned on the dull mattress in his bland quarters. Nothing adorned the walls. Very little separated the room in appearance from a psych ward room, or a university single dorm, except the lack of window, the excellent mattress and pillow, and the 1,200-thread count sheets. Groaning, he opened his eyes and rolled out of bed. Shadow-Walker threw a fluffy white robe around himself without bothering to tie nor straighten it. He grunted again as he opened the door, eyes squinting as the wave of light poured through.

Minutes later he stumbled out of the lift door into the situation room. Fallow Fields turned to meet him, wearing a black business suit with cadet blue pinstripes. He snorted at Shadow-Walker’s approach and nodded. Ponies at their work posts all seemed abuzz with excitement, except three, who were worried. Mr. Fields telekinetically opened his desk’s central drawer and retrieved a bottle of a name brand antacid, placing it on the desk. Shadow-Walker took two with a small, appreciative smile.

“I told you sleep would be a thing of the past,” said Fallow Fields.

Shadow-Walker nickered as he shook his head. Glancing around the room again with hard blinking, he muttered, “The body will force the issue eventually.”

“May as well update you,” Mr. Fields said with an honest grin. “It’s been a heck of a morning.”

“So...what’s the buzz?”

“Your night scout returned, and Team B was right. The Blue Shard is there. We’ll need an unorthodox extraction to get it out of there with all the unfriendly natives,” said Fallow Fields, gesturing to where Redsmith sat the night before.

“Good, good,” Shadow-Walker said with a healthy dose of self-satisfaction.

“The Golden Desert does have the Yellow Shard. However, getting to it...that’s a tricky task,” Fallow Fields said with an overwhelmed chuckle.

Frowning, Shadow-Walker huffed, “How bad are we talking?”

Fallow Fields shook his head. “Not right now, old friend; you should get back to bed soon. Explaining all that would ensure it’s not soon.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

The director motioned toward another work station. They smiled as Mr. Fields said, “Team C arrived home and moved the Indigo Shard into the Fillydelphia safe house without rousing anypony. We’re giving them extra time off for a job well-done.”

Shadow-Walker cracked a wide, surprised smile. “Two shards found and another now in safe storage...I’m beginning to see why everypony’s so chipper.”

“Oh, good sir, we’re not even to the best part yet!” Fallow Fields laughed.

Grinning, Shadow-Walker teased, “Am I supposed to sleep at all?”

“This will help ease your mind.”

“I’m listening,” said Shadow-Walker, raising his eyebrows.

Fallow Fields led his assistant to the central table. He tapped a few buttons. On the main viewer was the image of a large, multi-pronged, multi-twinned, jagged red crystal. Next to it was a portrait of Lightning Dust. Mr. Fields cheered, “In keeping watch in the wilds around the Crystal Empire, one of ours happened across the Red Shard about seventy leagues north of the city! It’s much bigger than the others, but still movable.”

“That’s great news, of course, but what the hell was that agent doing that far out in the frozen north?” Shadow-Walker asked, grinning and rubbing his eyes.

Fallow Fields snorted, “A question for later, doncha’ think?”

“Fair enough. Only the Violet remains hidden...,” Shadow-Walker trailed off as his eyes found the three downtrodden. He looked at his boss, then back to those three, and frowned. “So then, what’s the fly in the ointment?”

“There’s a private airship that took off from The Iron Hills Inn. It arrived fifteen minutes after shift change,” Mr. Fields said curtly.

“Yes...and?”

“It’s heading southeast.”

Shadow-Walker shrugged. “So it’s not going to The Crystal Empire. Why is this a problem, sir? Both Canterlot and Ponyville are plausible, even probable, destinations.”

“Do you know who’s on it?” asked Fallow Fields, most unamused.

“Undoubtedly Agent Sweetie Drops and Lyra Heartstrings. I told you she’d be helpful,” said Shadow-Walker with a grin.

Mr. Fields growled, “Shadow-Walker, let me make this clear: this mission is about to be either a spectacular success, or a spectacular failure. It’s not gonna hit any points in-between.”

“You kept telling me to have faith in Sweetie Drops, but now that the cards are down, you’re having doubts?” Shadow-Walker returned with indignation.

“Sweetie Drops isn’t who concerns me. It’s this Lyra Heartstrings,” Fallow Fields said pointedly. “We still don’t know what she believes. Will she help us, or hinder us?”

Shadow-Walker punched up the buttons by the central desk’s crystal ball. A map of Equestria shown on the main viewer. Some blue dots came out of Detrot, headed down and to the right, to a white dot. Red dashes arced from there, with one particular town in them. Shadow-Walker pointed at it and said, “Sir, their course has them headed straight for Ponyville. That’s helping very nicely.”

“Yes, exactly. But! But...what would Ms. Heartstrings have Sweetie Drops do when they arrive? Will she continue the mission, or will the two star-crossed lovers ride off into the sunset together?” Fallow Fields asked flatly.

Shadow-Walker scrunched his eyebrows. “I think you’re exaggerating their relationship. They look like they’re best friends to me, not—”

Fallow Fields cut him off with a wave of the hoof. He, too, typed away at those buttons. A fast-forwarded video of Lyra’s hotel room showed her playing on the lyre, Bon-Bon’s arrival, their cuddling, and then kissing a bunch. Fallow Fields halted the clip there. Shadow-Walker’s head jerked back, and full of surprise he said, “...oh. Maybe not. That explains her angle.”

The screen went dark as Mr. Fields hit another button. He frankly said, “Yes indeed, and so the question remains: what does she believe?”

Shadow-Walker said, “Don’t know. Either way, we should dispatch a heavy combat team to Ponyville.”

Fallow Fields chuckled. Tapping the buttons yet again, another clip showed, this shot of a unicorn, a draught unicorn, a draught earth pony, and a pegasus, all very physically fit, eating and laughing in Sugar Cube Corner. He looked at Shadow-Walker and coolly said, “Already done.”

Bon-Bon groaned and stretched, kicking off the sheets. She opened her eyes, and paused. Blinking a few times, she gazed around the room, then sat bolt upright. This wasn’t the same hotel room. Instead of old wallpaper, this wall appeared recently painted, and in a light beige instead of a slightly yellowed light blue. The bed was a king-sized, too, instead of just a full-sized. Nor was there a second bed. Fake wood drawers and counters were now real wood with porcelain tops. There was also an odd mechanical droning from somewhere, but it was quiet.

Bon-Bon stretched again with a long yawn. Smacking her lips, she helped herself down from the bed. The carpet was a deeper pile, and of a brown colour instead of the typical bland beige of hotels. She rubbed her eyes, muttering, “Okay, how did I get here? And where is this?”

Her ears perked up as a smile broke over her face. There was distinctive humming coming from the next room, Lyra’s. She wobbled on her feet as the floor shifted for a moment. Bon-Bon blinked in confusion. Gathering her balance, she turned to a nearby mirror, and pulled on her face to expose more of her eyeballs. An eyebrow raised, and she said to herself, “Nope; didn’t think I drank last night so...what the hell was that?”

Bon-Bon walked out the door. Here was a sitting room of sorts, furnished similarly to the bedroom, with a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling window. At the window sat Lyra, still humming to herself. Butterflies in stomach, Bon-Bon walked over to her, then fell back on her haunches. There was sky in front of her. The ground was some ways below, and at that, a wilderness scene steadily moving to the left. Bon-Bon spewed, “What the...!? When did...how...why...when did...? An airship?!”

Lyra looked over at her with a cheeky grin, and faux-pouted, “What? No ‘good morning, sweetheart’ or anything?”

Bon-Bon’s eyelids twitched, her gaze still fixed straight ahead at the laterally moving scene. It was not at a slow pace. They could easily be moving twice as fast as a train. Still looking at the conifer forest below going by, she blurted, “Wha...? Huh? What is...?”

Lyra’s face fell some as she asked, “After last night?”

Bon-Bon turned to Lyra. No words came, only blinking. Her expression was stuck.

Lyra’s ears drooped as she tiptoed toward Bon-Bon apologetically. Her voice carried how vulnerable she felt as the waterworks threatened to begin again. “Please don’t tell me last night was just a one-time thing....”

Bon-Bon slowly turned to look Lyra in the eyes. Her expression still remained as it was. Lyra’s face pleaded for something, anything, from Bon-Bon. She waited. Bon-Bon did not blink. Lyra’s jaw shook as her breaths fragmented. Before she could sob, Bon-Bon’s eyes fluttered as she took a deep breath. Lyra sat with bated breath, then Bon-Bon softly asked, “When did we get on an airship?”

Lyra swallowed hard. “Early this morning. Before crawling in bed, I contacted Twilight, and—”

She stopped suddenly as some of the black mist came from Bon-Bon’s eyes. Bon-Bon winced for a moment, then said, “Sorry. Please go on.”

Lyra paused, then continued, “Well, arrangements were made. The ship arrived about half an hour after you fell asleep. I teleported us up here, along with our things. Then we...we cuddled up again, and, uh, you kissed me, and...and I kissed you, and, um....”

Lyra trailed off in a defeated tone. Bon-Bon, though, sounded like she was lost in thought. “I...don’t remember that at all.”

“Oh,” Lyra whimpered as she hung her head. She turned and started to walk away.

Bon-Bon reached out and snatched Lyra by the tail. “What I do remember...,” she started, as Lyra looked back, “...was waking you up, because I wanted you, and wanted to know we were together while I knew I still had contro-o-ol of my-y-y mind. And I asked you to stay with me...,”

“...come what may,” finished Lyra as a tear rolled down her cheek, watching Bon-Bon’s face flinching.

Bon-Bon felt a tear of her own welling up and running down the side of her face. The two gave each other a long look. Lyra rushed in and held Bon-Bon close, who happily returned the hug. Lyra nuzzled her, whispering, “You’re my very best friend....”

Bon-Bon whispered back, “I think we’re more than that now...my love.”

Their heads moved back. A brief look in each other’s eyes, and they locked lips, kissing with an endearing passion, and weakening restraint, never wanting to let go.

Midday approached as Lyra emerged from the shower. Bon-Bon met her at the bathroom door with a towel still around her own head. With doting eyes cast back and forth, they giggled as they embraced there. Bon-Bon whispered in Lyra’s ear, “I think they’re about to bring up lunch, dear.”

Lyra smiled and said, “That sounds great....” She trailed off, and pursed her lips a moment. Then she continued, “Erm...babe? Honey? I don’t know what I should call you.”

“I always liked it when you called me ‘Bonnie.’ But ‘babe’ or ‘honey’ would be fine,” said Bon-Bon as she wrapped her tail in Lyra’s as they walked out into the sitting area.

“Is there anything you absolutely, positively don’t want me to call you, honey-babe-sugar-darling?” Lyra asked with a snicker.

Bon-Bon shoved Lyra as she smiled and shook her head. “That’s overdoing it. But as an honest answer, please don’t call me ‘sweetie.’ I’d rather leave the past in the past. Bad memories of bad times.”

“I gathered. This trip being one of them?” Lyra asked.

They sat down on a semi-circular couch with a high wall behind it, though Lyra sat as if she were bipedal as always. A round coffee table sat in front of them with expertly arranged flowers in a white-glazed ceramic vase. Bon-Bon flapped her lips as she shook her head, then said, “Until you showed up, this trip was the worst of them.”

Lyra’s ears drooped. “What happened?”

“I’d really like to tell you, but I can’t.”

“Why?”

Bon-Bon flinched as some black mist puffed from her eyes. She paused, and hesitantly said, “I can’t talk about the missions. They’re classified.”

“Then...why did you start to say something last night?” Lyra asked in confusion. Bon-Bon looked down. As she did, the tip of Lyra’s horn rapidly flashed a pinpoint of near-white light.

More of the black mist leaked out. “Huh?” Bon-Bon blurted, as the outpour increased.

Lyra frowned. Her horn flashed quickly again as the mist slowed and stopped. She withheld a sniffle, and said, “You started to say something last night, twice, and were cut off by sudden pain and black mist coming out of your eyes.”

Bon-Bon whimpered and held her stomach again as the flow resumed. Her face blanched as she muttered, “Um...let me think....”

“Bonnie...,” pleaded Lyra, as she took Bon-Bon by the hoof and rubbed her fetlocks.

The mist stopped suddenly, and was replaced by tears. Bon-Bon took deep breath, and started, “They put a-a-A-A-A-A-A THI-I-I-ING...!! G’ahhh...oh goddess....”

Lyra gasped as Bon-Bon twitched with clenched teeth. She stroked the side of Bon-Bon’s face, pleading, “Bonnie, please....”

“A bla-a-A-A-ACK CRY-Y-YST-T-TA-A-AL...!! Aaaghh...holy shit, that hurts...,” Bon-Bon screeched as the mist nearly flooded the room. She cried as she held her belly, slumping down until her head rested in Lyra’s lap.

Lyra choked up. She desperately stroked Bon-Bon’s face, and up and down her neck, wiping away her love’s tears with her other hoof. Bon-Bon clung to Lyra’s waist. They sat there for a moment as Bon-Bon’s sobbing slowed. Lyra sadly said, “Oh my love...I’m so sorry. I can’t believe it.”

Lyra leaned down and kissed Bon-Bon on the cheek. The earth pony pulled herself into a closer snuggle. Lyra continued stroking Bon-Bon’s neck. Her horn flashed again. She sighed long and low, then asked, “Why would anypony want to do that to you?”

“I guess they liked me, and thought I could ca-a-ar-r-ry out their pla-a-a-ans. Owww...,” Bon-Bon said through pain.

Lyra’s horn blinked again. She frowned, and with cautious tones, asked, “A black crystal, you said? Did it look green for a moment?”

Bon-Bon sat up and stared at Lyra, bewildered. She grimaced, producing another small pop of the black mist from her eyes. In an aching voice she asked, “How could you have known...??”

“Twilight told me about what happened to David Buckham, and that she, Princess Celestia, and Princess Cadance successfully removed a black crystal from his belly,” Lyra explained. A growl left Bon-Bon’s mouth as the mist flowed again. Lyra paused as this happened, then said, “She said the crystal looked green in the right lighting. You remember the stormball game, right?”

Bon-Bon looked down. Guiltily she said, “Yeah. I still feel bad about calling you a—”

“Let’s not dwell on that,” interrupted Lyra. Bon-Bon sadly nodded. Lyra opened her forelimbs, into which Bon-Bon readily threw herself. Lyra rubbed Bon-Bon’s shoulders as she continued, “He had black mist coming out of his eyes, just the same what’s happened to you.”

“The black mist...,” Bon-Bon evasively mumbled as the stuff oozed out again.

Lyra nuzzled Bon-Bon’s as she held her, pleading, “Please, honey...you have to fight it....”

“I-I-I-I-I’m tr-r-ry-y-y-yi-i-i-ing...,” yowled Bon-Bon as the mist returned from her eyes in force.

Bon-Bon sobbed. Lyra held her close, rocking them slowly. She held Bon-Bon’s face, looking her in the eye, and kissed her lips. Bon-Bon’s sobbing ceased as the mist’s flow faded to nothing. They nuzzled a moment as Lyra whispered, “I know. I know you’re trying.”

A knock came at the door. The two stood up and shed the towels from their manes as a butler-like pony in a crisp suit entered carrying a covered platter. He walked along the window. Most of the way to the table, his nose flicked a moment as his gait slowed for half a step. In unison Lyra and Bon-Bon looked at each other wide-eyed, then to where he slowed, then back to each other. He set down the platter, and removed its domed lid. Inside were two plated meals. One was a tall salad with three varieties of apple, walnuts, and cranberries, and a side plate of grilled asparagus. The other was sautéed carrots and parsnips on a bed of steamed spinach and rice pilaf. He set the carrot dish in front of Bon-Bon, and the other before Lyra, with a quick description of each.

He stepped back and bowed, and courteously said, “If you require anything else, good ladies, please do not hesitate to ask, even if you wish to simply not be disturbed. Bon appétit.”

He quietly and quickly exited. Lyra and Bon-Bon looked at each other again, then back to where he paused. Chuckling nervously, Lyra tore her eyes away from there and tucked into the asparagus. Bon-Bon looked around the room uneasily as Lyra chomped away. She took a bite of a parsnip, and asked, “How have your days been, since I was summoned? You haven’t talked about that.”

“I’ve been worried sick about you, desperate to find you before it was too late. I sure hope I found you in time,” Lyra said sadly.

“Honey, please, I’m begging you, can we talk about something else and maybe get a nap? It hurts so ba-a-ad. Aagh...I can’t ha-a-and-d-d-dle i-i-I-I-ITT!!” Bon-Bon said, becoming aching as the black mist returned. She braced all her weight against the table. Gulping air she pleaded, “My Celestia it hurts, Ly-yra. Please....”

Lyra slowly nodded slowly as another tear escaped. She murmured, “Okay. We can do that....”

Bon-Bon awoke in Lyra’s embrace in the late afternoon. The forest below had turned to a purely deciduous one, and there were markedly more hills, with mountains in the distance. Bon-Bon felt the hug tighten around her warmly as Lyra said, “Hey you.”

“Hey,” Bon-Bon said with a smile. She sat up as her brow furled. “I...huh. It doesn’t hurt as bad.”

Lyra kissed her on the cheek and said, “While you were asleep I got ahold of Twilight, and she told me how to cast an anesthetic spell.”

“Oh. Tha-a-at’s good. Not perfect, but a big help. Ow,” Bon-Bon said through a dull ache.

“Thank goodness,” Lyra said with a sigh of relief. “I just wish it’d also remove the black mist.”

“Tell me ab-b-bout it. Geez. That gets old,” Bon-Bon grumbled as another burst of the mist came out of her eyes.

Lyra nuzzled Bon-Bon as she said, “Twilight said the black mist comes whenever you’re resisting the crystal. She learned that when helping Buckham.”

“I noticed.”

Lyra sighed. “It kills me, seeing you hurting like that. I wish I could do more.”

They got up. Lyra walked over by the window as Bon-Bon stared at the vase. With a sigh, the earth pony lamented, “I know you would, and I would too if our places were switched. And I’m sorry.”

Lyra looked back at Bon-Bon with a sad smile. “You have nothing to apologize for. They tricked you.”

“That crysta-a-al, you mean?” Bon-Bon through gritted teeth.

Lyra sighed with tightened lips. Bon-Bon started her way wearing an intensely interested expression. In thought, Lyra began, “It’s...where do I start...?”

“Well, you could start by not beating around the bush,” said Bon-Bon as her face turned to a mothering one.

“As you wish, dear,” said Lyra. She exhaled hard, paused some more, then started over. “Um...when the B.P.P. summoned you, I—”

“What??” Bon-Bon suddenly said as her head jerked back in surprise. Her mouth fell open as her right eye squinted.

Lyra raised an eyebrow. Her eyes flicked between which of Bon-Bon’s eyes they gazed into, as she asked as one does when the statement seemed clear enough the first time. “The B.P.P.?”

Guardedly, Bon-Bon said, “Lyra....”

“The Bureau of Peace Preservation?” Lyra asked in the tone as before. Bon-Bon just stared instead of saying something. Lyra continued, “The monster-catching agency you worked for?”

Even more cautious and slow, Bon-Bon said, “Lyra?”

“Yes, love?” Lyra answered with a tilt of the head.

Bon-Bon bit her lip for a moment, then quietly said, “I never told you the agency’s name.”

“I know,” said Lyra matter-of-factly. Bon-Bon scrunched her eyebrows again while Lyra paused. “You never did, and I respected your privacy.”

Bon-Bon turned her head ever so slightly as she asked with suspicion, “How did you learn...Twilight...!” Bon-Bon’s face turned to one of sudden but displeased understanding. The mist leaked out of her eyes again for a brief moment. “What did Twilight say? You skirted that part of your last few days.”

Lyra nodded slowly. Her horn pulsed rapidly again. She walked over to Bon-Bon as she said, “Yeah, because you asked for a reprieve from the pain.”

“And it’s great she taught you how to numb said pain, or at least take the edge off of it,” Bon-Bon said as she hugged her marefriend. “How did she do that?”

Lyra grinned, “Have you seen that spell I’ve been using, the one that’s just a point of light rapidly blinking?”

“Yeah, what spell is that?”

“We came up with it at school, but never named it. The spell creates some text in the field of vision of a pony of my choosing, but only if I know where she or he is.”

Bon-Bon raised an eyebrow. “I guess you know she’s at home.”

“Yep,” said Lyra. A sly grin crossed her face. Her horn blinked like that again, but this time something left a golden-yellow tinge in part of Bon-Bon’s eyes. She deeply flushed.

“...that was you, wasn’t it?” Bon-Bon asked quietly, almost silenced from embarrassment.

“Well, it’s true!” Lyra declared with a smile.

“Tha...thank you, Lyra,” choked Bon-Bon as her head lowered, blushed clear up to the bottom of her ears, but her eyes remained on Lyra. “I’m...happy you think I look good....”

“Honey, ‘good’ doesn’t begin to cover it,” Lyra said with a doting grin. Bon-Bon covered her mouth with a hoof. Lyra blinked a moment, then asked, “I take it nopony’s told you that before?”

Bon-Bon shook her head slowly. Lyra scooped her into a hug and kiss, and said, “Really? You haven’t seen it yourself? You haven’t noticed the way heads turn when you enter a room, or walk down the street? Or the jealous scowls other mares get when you’re dressed up? Honey, we have mirrors at home! Everypony can see you’re gorgeous!”

Bon-Bon could barely look up at Lyra as the blushing invaded her ears. She squeaked, “I’m glad you think so.”

“It’s the truth, Bonnie! I’m not exaggerating.”

“It just...makes me happy...even if you’re laying it on pretty thick,” murmured Bon-Bon as the crimson began to retreat.

Lyra gave a fake scoff, and playfully huffed, “Am not!”

The blushing had almost completely left Bon-Bon’s face as she worked her jaw a moment, then said, “You did too, and you know it. But still, it makes me happy, and you make me happy.”

This time it was Lyra’s turn to flush. She quietly squealed a “yay.” They kissed again, quick and sweet. Bon-Bon said, “I take it you’ve been reporting to Twilight how it’s going?”

“And Princess Celestia, and Princess Luna, and Princess Cadance, on orders from Princess Celestia,” Lyra said bluntly. Mist came out of Bon-Bon’s eyes. “You okay?”

“It do-o-oesn’t, ow, like that,” answered Bon-Bon with a twitch and more mist. “It doesn’t like talk of the princesses at all.”

Lyra powered up her horn, and a ray spread over Bon-Bon with a spring green glow. She said, “I gathered that.”

“I’ll keep talking if you can keep numbing the pain,” said Bon-Bon. The mist stopped as she asked, “Hey, do you think you could include the director in on this? His name is Fallow Fields, and he’s—”

Bon-Bon stopped short as Lyra eyed her suspiciously upon hearing the name. Bon-Bon asked, “What’s wrong with that?”

Lyra hesitated, then flatly said, “I promise I’ll get to that shortly.”

“Okay?” Bon-Bon quipped. “So, let’s tell the princesses what’s going on?”

“Sure,” said Lyra, kissing Bon-Bon before she could start.

Bon-Bon smiled giddily. She lifted her head with a deep breath, and clenched her leg muscles. She started, “They sent me to infiltrate the Elevens, or if you want their full name, ‘The Order of Eleven.’ It’s a ridiculous name.”

“...yeah, I’d agree,” muttered Lyra, giving a weirded face at the name. Her horn blinked.

“The organization’s go-o-o-O-OALL IS-S-S...!!” gasped Bon-Bon, holding her belly. She took a few deep breaths, and grumped, “Goddamn, that smarts....”

“That they want one country under one princess?” Lyra filled in.

“No.”

Lyra’s brow scrunched up as an eyebrow went up. She opened her mouth, and after a moment said, “But, that’s what—”

Bon-Bon waved a hoof. “Whoever told you that didn’t have all the info. They want a democracy, and are willing to ki-i-i-ill all five princ-c-cesses to get it,” said Bon-Bon in pain.

Lyra’s jaw fell slack as her eyes widened. She shrieked, “...what!?”

“Even little baby Flurry Heart,” said Bon-Bon gravely, leaking mist and rubbing her ears.

Lyra could not find words, in spite of her jaw’s best efforts. She stood there looking like a bad puppet show for a number of seconds before her brain could finally assemble, “But....”

“Their president is an elderly mare named Stall Lynn. She’s a red unicorn with a yellow mane and tail, and is very strong, if can move that bla-a-ack—oh, knock it off!!” Bon-Bon said, but ended as her snapping. “She already knows you’re i-in my bel-l-l-ly!”

Lyra watched mystified as Bon-Bon’s face went through a series of angry expressions at nothing in particular, and not pointed at her but at other random points around the room. After a minute of this, Lyra’s horn flashed quickly for a moment. Then she said, “We have to get that thing out of there. What kind of crystal is that? I’ve never of anything of the like it.”

“I don’t kno-o-ow,” Bon-Bon said with a wince and a puff. “They didn’t say.”

Another flash of the horn, and Lyra asked, “Why wouldn’t it want you to tell me that they didn’t say?”

“Don’t kno-o-ow that eithe-er,” cringed Bon-Bon. She gasped and took several deep breaths as a tear escaped. She looked back up at Lyra and grumbled, “Good heavens, how bad would this be without the anesthesia?”

“I don’t want to try to imagine,” said Lyra, looking slightly overwhelmed. She sadly added, “It’s too soon to cast it again. I don’t want to cause nerve damage.”

Put off and slightly worried by that last bit, Bon-Bon muttered, “Ah. Glad you don’t want to do that.”

“A sentient crystal...so weird,” Lyra mused as her horn blinked brightly again. Outside the window, the horizon raised up as the airship began its descent and slowed. “If it’s hitting you this hard already, I’d hate to feel what Buckham went through.”

“Dear,” said Bon-Bon in the tone that makes coltfriends everywhere freeze in worry. “I’m still wondering who tricked me and how. We got sidetracked.”

“The Elevens did,” Lyra said bluntly.

Bon-Bon shot her a very confused look. “When? The B.P.P. sent me to infiltrate them, and—”

“Bonnie...,” Lyra interrupted, sounding more than just concerned.

“What?” Bon-Bon griped. “I don’t see how the princesses could know they tricked me, when I’m on a–”

“Bonnie...,” Lyra interrupted again, this time with more emphasis.

“Yes?” said Bon-Bon with no small amount of impatience. “I really don’t get it.”

Lyra waffled, taking deep breaths, her eyes darting around. “Uh....”

“Honey, spit it out!” barked Bon-Bon.

Lyra huffed a deep breath, then gave Bon-Bon a serious, worried look. Then she spoke in the tones one uses when bringing some bad news. “...the B.P.P. never reopened.”

Bon-Bon stood unblinking, unmoving. Her voice had no weight. “...what??”

“They never reopened,” Lyra reiterated, just as uneasy. “Princess Celestia herself told me. Proof of—”

Bon-Bon cut her off fiercely. “That’s not—”

“Bonnie!” Lyra interrupted in turn, very distraught. “You have to let me finish!”

Bon-Bon shouted in disbelief, “You can’t be serious!”

“Honey, please!”

“I’m sorry, dear, but I can’t believe that!” hollered Bon-Bon with a wide-eyed incredulous face. “I was there at HQ!”

Lyra shouted in exasperation, “I believe you, but that doesn’t change it!”

“How!?” screamed Bon-Bon with an open forehoof.

“Bonnie, listen to me,” Lyra said firmly as she grabbed Bon-Bon by the shoulders and shook her. She blinked agape at Lyra’s very insistent expression, who continued, “Several communications have been intercepted. Celestia herself sent me a carbon copy of the report. They try to recruit former agents of defunct government agencies, including the B.P.P., since those ponies are the angriest at how things have gone. The Elevens recruited a number of disillusioned former B.P.P. agents you’ve had contact with in the past, including Breezy Rays, Tinker, Mineral Eyes, Furlong, Shoeshine, Dusty Roads, Red Tape, Shadow-Walker...and Fallow Fields. That’s why I wouldn’t include him on this conversation.”

Bon-Bon plopped into a collapsed sitting position. Lyra removed a few sheets of carbon paper from a saddlebag, levitating them over to Bon-Bon. She read through them at speed, and partway through the second she slammed them onto the floor, shrieking, “What!?”

“Former B.P.P. agent Tapped Lines now works for Equestrian Intelligence,” Lyra said softly. “She tracked down all of them.”

Bon-Bon thumbed through the remaining sheets. She had confused, defeated stare as she mumbled, “...yeah, that’s her signature and hoofprint...but....”

Lyra’s horn flashed a bit longer than usual. Bon-Bon continued to slowly collapse, coming to a rest as her head stopped on one hoof, eyes turned toward the carpet, still without blinking. Lyra lay down next to her, threw a hoof over her shoulders, and said, “Bonnie, did you see any of them?”

“...you have to tell me, Lyra, are you serious? Are you telling me the truth?” Bon-Bon asked dryly, still staring at the same point.

“As certain as I love you, I’m telling you what I know by five veritas spells in unison on those papers to be true,” Lyra insisted with a nuzzle to Bon-Bon’s cheek. “The Bureau of Peace Preservation never reopened. The Elevens used it as a ruse to sucker former agents into their fold.”

Bon-Bon shook her head discontentedly. She slowly stood up and looked at Lyra. Drearily she said, “I have seen a few. At the schoolhouse I ran into Breezy Rays, and at HQ, I met with Mineral Eyes, Tinker, and Fallow Fields, and that son of a bitch Shadow-Walker.”

“What did this Shadow-Walker do that upset you so?” Lyra asked as she also got back to her feet, with her horn blinked quickly.

“The bastard let another agent die during a mission,” Bon-Bon fumed. “She was a nice young mare, full of promise and potential, and she loved everypony, even those who had—”

Bon-Bon suddenly cut herself off. She turned crimson again and both forehooves went over her mouth, eyes wide, unblinking, and fixed on Lyra. Bon-Bon backed up a few steps. Lyra’s eyes widened and forehead furled as Bon-Bon stood there with a tear forming in her left eye. Lyra said, “Who had...what?”

“...you...you said that...that you...love me? You love me, not like ‘very best friends’ or even sisters, but you love me-love me?” Bon-Bon gasped, her face just as red as before.

Lyra’s hooves shot over her mouth too as her cheeks lit up. Barely audible she whispered, “I didn’t just think that but actually said it!??”

Both stood there with wide eyes and red cheeks. Lyra froze for a moment, then after some gulping deep breaths, she quietly confessed, “...I...I do. I love you. I really do. It’s...um, if I’m honest with myself, I’ve been in love with you for over a year, but refused to admit it. But I do now. I’m yours, Bon-Bon, come what may.”

Bon-Bon melted into Lyra’s awaiting forelimbs. The two laughed and cried there a moment with kisses and wiping away of tears. As they settled down, Bon-Bon softly said, “...I...I love you, too. I...I can’t not love you...ever. Nopony’s ever truly made me free and happy...until you came along. Oh, Lyra....”

Lyra went to putty in Bon-Bon’s already-present embrace. They just held each other there for a number of minutes, right through the airship coming to a complete halt. Off to the left in the window and a good ways away was the Sweet Apple Acres farmstead house. The two sighed happily together, before Lyra asked, “Why are those three little words so hard to get out?”

“I don’t know, dear. How many...wait, we’re home?” answered Bon-Bon, her tone changing after she looked out the window and sat upright.

“Yeah. Let’s go see Twilight,” Lyra suggested as she started toward the door. “She’s gotten one of those crystals out before; I’m sure she can do it again.”

Bon-Bon started to follow, but froze with an intense look upon her face, staring at nothing at all, with a badly startled gasp. She sounded terrified as she said, “Lyra...?!”

“What’s wrong?” Lyra answered as she wheeled around.

“I...,” murmured Bon-Bon. She began to tip and convulse as the black mist started up again. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she took a step back.

“Bonnie...be strong,” urged Lyra as her tears started up. She held onto Bon-Bon in a hug as her horn flickered again.

“I’m...,” Bon-Bon gurgled. The mist’s flow accelerated considerably as braced herself again the round coffee table. The vase fell over and shattered.

“You have to fight it!” shouted Lyra through the sobbing, clinging onto her marefriend.

“I’m...,” uttered Bon-Bon as her eyes glazed over, both out of focus and not even looking at the same thing. The black mist covered the lower part of the sitting room enough to have both mares’ hooves that were on the ground over.

Desperately kissing her, Lyra cried, “Bon-Bon, my love, please! Don’t give in! I love you! Please!”

“I’m...,” said Bon-Bon, much more clearly. Her swaying stopped a little at a time, but her eyes focused together quickly. A greenish hue swept across her scleras for a moment. Bon-Bon blinked hard with a hard exhale, and shook her head.

Lyra stared at her as the tears continued to flow. She stroked both sides of her face, breathing hard and fast, until Bon-Bon looked up at her. Bon-Bon blinked several times, breathing hard again. The black mist continued to roll. Lyra looked her square in the eye, and pleaded, “Bonnie?”

“I’m...,” said Bon-Bon, sounding like her normal self. Just then the whites of her eyes shifted to a bright green. “...I’m sorry, Lyra.”

Lyra’s face scrunched confusion as she began, “Sorry? What—”

A hiss sounded as a gas pellet hit the floor. Lyra’s horn blinked briefly as she dropped, murmuring, “...come...what may....”

The mist’s flow multiplied several times over, quickly filled the compartment, up to Bon-Bon’s neck, while she looked at Lyra imperiously until the mist covered her. Her green scleras seemed to glow. Slowly she started for the door. As she got there, it opened, to show the butler from earlier. His usual controlled snobby demeanor broke to shock as his eyes met the black mist. He looked up at Bon-Bon in time to see the knife plunge into his neck, making a red splatter. Black mist continued rolling out of her eyes as she moved through the hallway. Coming to a dead end, she kicked in the door. Both pilot and copilot jumped. The black mist flowed out more as she stabbed the copilot in the eye. The pilot tried to tackle her and pin her limbs. In the black mist, Bon-Bon head-butted him. She pointed her watch at him, and a gout of fire left the minute hand. The pilot screamed and writhed, but not for very long. The black mist was nearing her shoulders as she left the cockpit, where there was sparking and a blaze on the rise. She turned and went down a flight of stairs, to a door with a thick wheel.

Outside the airship, the external door flew off the side of the hull and bounced into a tree twenty metres away. There was Bon-Bon, reared up, and still dumping black mist from her eyes in copious amounts. She set herself down and stepped out, taking the road that led into town. Glass shattering sounded as the cockpit windows burst, framing the orange flames and billowing smoke which leapt through the opening. Fire began spreading across the hull. The mist from her eyes slowed and eventually stopped, but the green remained where her eyes should be white. Flicking the shades out and onto her nose, Bon-Bon marched down the road with a determined frown on her face, toward the west.

Toward Ponyville.

Toward Twilight’s Castle.

Author's Note

So...didja' see that coming? It's about to get heavy. What about Lyra? Stay tuned to find out.

Thanks for reading.

Assault on The Castle of Friendship

Shadow-Walker and Fallow Fields stood in surprise as they watched a video of a luxury airship going up in flames. The other staff in the situation room looked on as well, commenting or chuckling indistinctly. Shadow-Walker turned to his boss and said, “Same old Sweetie Drops. I’m surprised she left Ms. Heartstrings in there.”

“Eyes on the mission, as always,” Fallow Fields said as he shook his head. With a satisfied smile, he turned to the closest workstation. “Redsmith, contact the combat team. Inform them to meet Agent Sweetie Drops at her house, and prepare to engage the monster.”

“Comrade Fields, why are you still here?” a mare’s voice tersely asked from somewhere in the back.

Everypony stood up and looked to the lift doors. President Stall Lynn stepped off the lift, still in her regalia. Everypony else saluted her. She walked up to the director, who fidgeted at her approach. He said, “Ma’am, I have not received the parcel.”

“Then it is well you have not left, for I brought it here myself,” she said, stifling a cheeky grin.

“Ah. Thank you, ma’am,” said Mr. Fields with measurable relief. “I’m...now confused why you asked me why I hadn’t left.”

“Simply put, Comrade Fields, I’ve watched as you’ve been chomping at the bit over this nearly as much as I have. I was concerned you wanted it so badly that you were about to dash out the door without thinking,” said Stall Lynn as she slowly approached the central desk.

Fallow Fields breathed, “I confess your concerns were not unfounded.”

“If only all of our number had your enthusiasm,” President Lynn said with a smile. She hoisted an iron lockbox lined with intricate runes glowing pink, pale yellow, and peachy orange.

Fallow Fields took the box in his telekinetic aura the colour of a very healthy lawn, but almost dropped it. With a grunt, he said, “Thank you, Madam President.”

“Remember the incantation, Comrade Fields. Comrade Bon-Bon will need help, if what I’m seeing is correct; it appears our quartered friend overstepped his bounds again,” Stall Lynn said sadly, with a touch of empathetic heartache. “Ms. Heartstrings had Comrade Bon-Bon by...well, her heartstrings. She will be heartbroken, or worse.”

“Comrade ‘Bon-Bon,’ not ‘Comrade Drops,’ ma’am?” Fallow Fields asked.

“She has not thought of herself as ‘Sweetie Drops’ in years, nor does she introduce herself by that name,” corrected the president with a disapproving eyebrow.

“I see.”

“Barring unforeseen difficulty, prepare a landing pad for my arrival once the monster is down,” said Stall Lynn. She grimaced, then added, “Just in case the unforeseen does happen, leave your red key with Comrade Walker.”

The director took a deep breath as he levitated a card key with a broad red stripe across it. “Of course. By your leave, ma’am.”

Fallow Fields deeply bowed, took the lockbox on his back, and exited the situation room. Shadow-Walker shoved the card key into his pocket. Some in the room started to talk quietly to each other.

Stall Lynn stepped up to the central desk, and with authority announced, “Comrades, I will oversee this last part of the operation, but Comrade Walker will continue his excellence in command this night.”

The situation room thundered, “Yes ma’am!”

“Standby for Relocation Order Beta,” the president ordered. She sat down in the central chair as several ponies at different workstations looked at each other worried. She turned to Shadow-Walker and said, “Comrade Walker, as you were.”

Behind Bon-Bon in the distance was an explosion, and a fireball curling over the treetops. Her face was steely and her eyes behind her issued shades, calm and collected, as she walked slowly down the road. Within her mind a storm raged, lost in a void of swirling prismatic mist, with neither feel nor substance, except the vicious, overbearing dry heat.

“NO!!!! NOOOOOOO!!!! LYYRRRRAAAAA!!!!!!!” Bon-Bon shrieked as the tears came so thick they clouded her vision. She convulsed as she wailed, sobs breaking up her scream. “LYRA-A-A-A-A!!!!!!!!”

“Do you get it now? Defy me, and you will have pain. You defied me; now you have pain. She is dead because of you. She died in a fire, and it’s your fault, and yours alone. You will live with the pain that you killed the mare you loved. You set the fire with your watch’s attachment, you left her in there, and now the airship is no more,” the baritone scolded on all sides. “Who’s to blame?”

Bon-Bon continued in howling cries. She roared in rage many times as the tears just kept coming. The voice asked again, “Who’s to blame?”

“...fuck you...,” whimpered Bon-Bon as the torrent continued out of her eyes.

The voice boomed, “Who’s to blame, Bon-Bon?”

She pulled her voice together to shout, “You are! You took over my body without permission and used to do something I never would!”

“And you were warned what would happen if you disobeyed. Did you listen? No. Did you obey? No. Did my warning come to pass as a result? Yes. Ergo, the fault is yours. I will have your obedience, or you’ll have more pain,” growled the baritone.

Bon-Bon cried, “How much more can you take from me!?”

“Shall we find out?”

She sobbed, “Oh Lyra...I’m so sorry...please forgive me....”

The voice snarled, “Answer me! What’s gonna be?”

Shaking her head, Bon-Bon blubbered, “Okay...you win...I’ll do it...I’ll help...I’ll work with the Elevens....”

“No, you’ll work with me, and soon, when their goals and mine part ways, you’ll help me, not them. Capiche?” said the voice angrily and threateningly.

“Huh?” Bon-Bon blurted, blinking through the tears. “If you’re not part of them...who or what are you?”

Whatever the crystal’s sentience was laughed maliciously, and said, “As I said, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head over that. Just do what I tell you, and everything will be swell. At least, for you.”

Bon-Bon looked at the park bench on her and Lyra’s front porch. Ears drooping, she pushed open the front door and closed it behind her. A coppery glow from a unicorn shone, and the room was illuminated. Bon-Bon surveyed the scene. A maroon unicorn stallion sat in chair as he held the coppery aura. He wore a black cattleman-style cowboy, and gave her no more than the indication of a nod. A gray draught earth pony mare with a curly black mane and tail stood by the kitchen door. Beside her was a dappled khaki-tan pegasus stallion.

“The moon rides high tonight,” said a bass voice behind her.

With a flat expression, Bon-Bon recited, “Because we cut it a path through the darkness.”

She turned and saw a draught unicorn stallion with a fiery orange coat and pale blue mane and gray eyes. His cutie mark was an explosion. Bon-Bon shook her head at him with a small smile. He said, “Sweetie Drops, my old compadre, you think you’ve got one more in you?”

“One last mission,” Bon-Bon said. “I don’t go by ‘Sweetie Drops’ anymore, Fireballer. Call me Bon-Bon now.”

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Bon-Bon, huh? I’ll try to remember that.”

“Who’s the crew? You’re the only one I recognize,” Bon-Bon said, sizing up the other three.

Fireballer pointed to the only other mare, who curtsied. Her cutie mark was a tilled field. “We have Deep Plough. Don’t make any crass jokes about her name or cutie mark; she might break your neck for it. She’s a close-combat specialist and excels at downing aerial opponents.”

“Good to know. We will have Wonderbolts to deal with,” Bon-Bon said, masking her guilt.

Fireballer and the others nodded. He said, “Undoubtedly. Do you know how many?”

Bon-Bon thought for a moment, then answered, “There are five here on clandestine assignment that I know of.”

“Names?”

“Thundercracker, Stormbringer, Cloud Billows, Gale, and Rainbow Dash.”

“Gotcha,” said Fireballer. He then pointed to the pegasus, whose cutie mark was a black cloud with twin pale blue lightning bolts coming out its bottom. The pegasus nodded as Fireballer said, “Here’s Blitzsturm. He was born in Pferdland, but grew up in Cloudsdale. Blitzsturm is about the best eyes in the sky we can hope for who can still do well in a scrap.”

Bon-Bon nodded slowly, then said, “Rainbow Dash will be trouble for him. She’s as fast as they come.”

“Trust me, I know how much she can book it when she wants to. I was there for her first Sonic Rainboom at flight camp,” Blitzsturm said. His voice had no hint of an accent.

Bon-Bon raised both eyebrows as she half-disbelieving said, “Really.”

“Yes ma’am. I was one of the camp counselors, and oh goddess did we all get chewed out for allowing that race to happen,” he said with a nostalgic smile.

“That I don’t doubt,” Bon-Bon said. “And the other unicorn?”

“High Noon,” answered Fireballer with a gesture to the other unicorn. High Noon tipped his hat silently. His cutie mark was a lasso around a six-gun. “He’s a sharpshooter from Dodge Junction. Very accurate and very quick. Rarely speaks, though.”

“A sharpshooter? Excellent,” Bon-Bon said with a nod. She gave them another lookover. “Is everypony aware of what we’re doing here, and what we’re up against?”

A series of nods answered her. Deep Plough’s voice was a high, filly-like clear soprano. “We’ve been waiting for The Master Stroke for a long while, and are thrilled we were picked to carry it out. We’re pretty sure we’re ready to take down that monster.”

Bon-Bon firmly said, “She’s not alone. Princess Twilight will doubtlessly he accompanied by Spike, a baby dragon, and her personal pupil, Starlight Glimmer. Starlight’s spells have much more punch behind them than the average unicorn.”

“I think we can handle an extra unicorn,” quipped Fireballer, rolling his eyes.

“That’s not all,” Bon-Bon continued. “Any of the other Element bearers could show up at any time without warning. All of them are forces to be reckoned with.”

Snorting, Blitzsturm said, “Um, seriously? You have met Fluttershy, right?”

“Yes; it’s why I can tell you plainly that once she’s angry, she’s a bigger danger than Applejack, Rainbow Dash, or Rarity,” said Bon-Bon in irritation. Blitzsturm jerked his head back with an eyebrow going up. High Noon still had not moved a muscle since tipping his hat. Bon-Bon continued, “She is also close friends with Discord. Chaos magic is about the last thing I want to at the receiving end of tonight. Pinkie Pie is simply unpredictable, and is known to break laws of physics.”

“You don’t say,” Fireballer said dismissively, frowning.

Bon-Bon ignored him. “There’s also that Twilight can contact the other princesses and her brother Shining Armour. Any or all of them could teleport here at a moment’s notice. Remember the Wonderbolts I mentioned as well. It’ll start with only three, but that can very quickly turn into over a dozen. Odds already are that at least one of us will be dead before she’s brought down. If she gets that much help, none of us will see tomorrow.”

“Charming,” muttered Deep Plough, nickering and shaking her head.

Fireballer said, “So keep it short and sweet.”

“Exactly. We have to keep quiet for as long as possible,” Bon-Bon said, looking through them again. “I can try to talk to Twilight and show her abdicating would be best, but no promises.”

Blitzsturm scoffed, “About all the good that’ll do give us a few extra moments to take up better positions.”

“That may be enough,” Fireballer said. “The element of surprise is paramount with monsters, especially this.”

“It is. Wait for sundown. Then we move,” Bon-Bon said firmly, before starting toward the kitchen.

The dark of the new moon hung over the land when they stepped out of Bon-Bon’s house. Above, their galaxy’s next spiral arm provided most of the illumination. Bon-Bon led them around the edges of town, away from the streetlamps, picking their way towards The Castle of Friendship. The long way around took an extra twenty minutes, but went without incident. They approached the lower balcony, which was not as well illuminated as the frontal or upper balconies. Bon-Bon and Deep Plough both stepped forward, and almost in unison threw grappling hooks up. Both caught on the railing with a dull clunk apiece. The two mares pulled themselves up the ropes, with both unicorns just behind. Blitzsturm flitted upwards, looking around in all directions as the other four ascended. He hovered a moment staring upward, then turned back to the climbers. Deep Plough reached the lower balcony first, and began pulling up the rope. Bon-Bon was just behind her. As High Noon and Fireballer finished their climb, Blitzsturm softly landed. Bon-Bon and Deep Plough quietly but quickly looped their ropes, tying their hooks in. They started toward the door.

Blitzsturm wormed into the middle of the group, and sharply whispered, “We’ve been noticed.”

“Go figure,” grumbled Bon-Bon.

“Then there’ll be Wonderbolts in the halls. Quickly now!” Fireballer urged.

Deep Plough silently closed the door behind them, and assumed rear guard. The hallway was silent and dark. A single, dim light source lay an unknown distance around a bend some ways ahead. They hurried on. Bon-Bon approached the bend. She peered around the corner. There was another hallway, with light coming out of a door most of the way down and past a stairway.

“Ooooph!” Blitzstrum gasped as a loud thud sounded.

Bon-Bon whipped her head around to see Blitzsturm under a purple draught pegasus stallion, wearing a Wonderbolts wingsuit. As she reached for a sleeping gas pellet, coppery pulses hit the Wonderbolt in rapid succession. She looked and saw High Noon firing off a series of small magic bolts. Soon the pulses passed completely through the Wonderbolt, who fell down unmoving. A pool of blood spread from his body.

“Who was that?” asked Fireballer while High Noon lowered his hat back over his horn.

Bon-Bon blinked. Black mist leaked out of her eyes for a few moments. As that stopped, she looked over at the rest of the squadron and said, “That was Stormbringer.”

“Hey, you okay?” Deep Plough asked Blitzsturm, sounding like a worried lover as she wrapped her hooves around him. Bon-Bon sniffled.

Blitzsturm nuzzled Deep Plough as he said, “Yeah, I’m good. Might feel it in the morning, but that’s it.”

They continued. Bon-Bon nudged Fireballer, whispering, “Are you sure it was wise to bring a couple to a high-risk fight?”

“No, but it wasn’t as unwise as it’d be to keep those two apart because of a mission,” he whispered back.

Bon-Bon waved for the others to stop as they approached the door. Fireballer motioned to the rest of the squad, and they spread out toward other doors. Twilight’s lecture voice echoed indistinctly out the door. Bon-Bon looked over at Fireballer, who nodded at her, propped against the wall.

Bon-Bon peeked her head in the door. She lightly knocked, and quietly said, “Twilight?”

Twilight Sparkle halted mid-sentence and turned. Derpy Hooves and Starlight Glimmer were here, along with a few mobile blackboards marked heavily with complex mathematics and a few drawn diagrams and pictures of clouds over cross-sections of hills, cliffs, and mountains. Starlight appeared stumped. Twilight and Ms. Hooves looked at Bon-Bon, then each other, then back at Bon-Bon. Derpy started pushing the blackboard away as Starlight came to, and levitated a number of blackboards up to the room’s balcony. Bon-Bon’s ears flicked for a second.

Sounded like somepony’s whispering up there.

Looking around for a moment, she saw plenty of other wheeled chalkboards up there, but nopony on the balconies. Bon-Bon slowly entered the room as Twilight cautiously said, “Bon-Bon? Are you okay?”

“I...,” she trailed off. Another burst of the black mist left her eyes. Starlight gasped. Out of the corner of her eye, Bon-Bon thought she saw Muffins gesturing, but saw nothing of the like when she turned her head towards the gray pegasus. Bon-Bon winced another flow of the black mist left her eyes. Starlight backed up a step. As the mist picked up, Bon-Bon whimpered, “No-o-o. I’m not. Help me-e-e....”

“Of course. Keep fighting it. I’ll do what I can,” said Twilight sadly, rubbing Bon-Bon on the withers.

Who was...?

For a moment Bon-Bon could’ve sworn she saw somepony on the balcony, somepony white and pink. She blinked as she looked around up there. Not a soul on the balconies. There...weren’t as many blackboards now as there were a moment ago. Bon-Bon dug at her eyes and shook her head.

“Can I ask you a question?” Bon-Bon asked with a pained blink.

Twilight nodded. The tip of her horn rapidly flashed in a near-white. Bon-Bon said, “Have...you thought about abdicating?”

Twilight gave Bon-Bon a hard, disapproving look for many seconds before the tip of her horn blinked like that again. She said, “Bon-Bon, I think you know I didn’t ask for this, nor did I want it. But Celestia had other plans.”

Bon-Bon jerked her head back in surprise, shooting Twilight the most incredulous look her facial muscles would allow. She shook her head, then glanced at the balcony again.

Focus. Listen.

What?

Do you hear them? Focus.

Bon-Bon felt her own audio acuity sharpen. There were four mares whispering somewhere, voices she did not recognize.

“...they really did get her. I saw the black mist....”

“...come on...wake up....”

“...I’m working as quickly as I can. That stuff’s strong....”

“...this spell isn’t healing a large enough area at a go...she needs hospital care once this is done....”

Bon-Bon looked up again. All the blackboards were gone. She asked, “Wait, she did that? I thought that was your destiny.”

So, you have other targets upstairs once you’re done down here.

What are you on about?

After you kill Twilight, track down the ones upstairs and kill them. No witnesses.

No! I’m not killing another of my friends!

Yes, you are.

Twilight sighed, and said, “At first I thought so too, but the more I think about it, it was Princess Celestia’s doing.”

Remember how this went last time? You have support; rely on them for now. You’ll take care of them later.

No!! I can’t do this!

Fine; I’ll do it, and figure out what penalty you deserve later. Maybe your dear little sister, hmm?

You can’t be serious!!!

Oh, but I am. Watch me.

“Twi...!” Bon-Bon began, but crumpled, curling up fetal as she screamed in pain with the mist flooding the room. Starlight slowly wheeled around with wide eyes and rapid, shallow breaths. The mist gushed forth, but eventually slowed, then stopped. Bon-Bon pushed herself to a sitting position, hanging her head, and breathing hard, deep, and fast.

Twilight backed off a step. She warily asked, “Bon-Bon...?”

Bon-Bon looked up as her breathing came under control, though her face was still twitching. She harshly whispered, “Twilight...run....”

Her scleras turned green again. Twilight jumped back, barely in time to evade the knife. With her other forehoof, Bon-Bon threw a pellet at Starlight’s feet, who collapsed into chemical slumber just as she was powering up her horn.

The other four charged into the room through different doors. A coppery haze filled the room. High Noon took cover behind a pillar as the other three went straight at Twilight. Fireballer’s horn took up a blood red aura, then fired a pulse. Twilight’s horn charged. As the pulse approached, she suddenly looked worried, then a magenta spherical shield surrounded her. The red pulse struck and burst into a fiery explosion. Twilight’s shield appeared undamaged. Fireballer smirked. “Teleportation interdiction field. You’re not getting away, and you will answer for the oppression of the populace!”

“Look, I don’t know what in the hoof you’re talking about!” Twilight shouted as she leapt to her right before Deep Plough could push through her shield. “The crown picked me, not the other way around! I just want what’s best for my subjects!”

Blitzsturm began pushing through the shield from above, shouting, “Then step down! Go back to your studies, and let the people govern the people!”

“Get out!” a raspy alto shouted. Blitzsturm looked up just in time for a prismatic blur to strike him in the face. Pulling up and into a hover was Rainbow Dash, also in a Wonderbolts wingsuit. She snapped, “Nopony’s interested in letting terrorists rule the country!”

Dash quickly found a number of unfriendly spell rays coming her direction. She swooped down, closing on Fireballer, still evading his bursting magic attacks. Twilight took to the air and out of Deep Plough’s reach as she shouted, “If democracy is, in fact, what the ponies want, I won’t stand in the way! But what you’re doing isn’t democracy; it’s regicide! How do you expect to convince everypony, if you’re trying to kill rather than talk like civilized ponies!?”

“We have tried talking! And what did we get? Arrested for heresy!” Deep Plough shouted back as she circled below. “How are we supposed to talk if we get thrown in jail for even suggesting a different way to be?!”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened in recognition of whom she wrestled midair. “Blitzsturm?! You’re one of them!? What the hell, dude!? You were the coolest one at flight camp, and now you’re a terrorist!”

“Terrorist, or liberator?” fired back the older pegasus. “It’s a matter of perspective, and history is written by the victors. Don’t be on the wrong side, Rainbow Dash!”

“I won’t! I will never abandon my dearest friend in her time of need!” Dash shouted, unable to get the upper hoof.

A scream sounded in the halls, but not that close. Twilight blocked a hefty volley headed for Rainbow Dash, from Fireballer, High Noon, and Bon-Bon’s watch attachments. Dash turned, allowing Blitzsturm to push past, and used his inertia to whip around and throw him against a pillar. He slammed hard into it, and began to peel away in a stunned daze. Dash zipped to him, grabbed him around the waist, and turned toward the floor, leading with Blitzsturm’s head. Deep Plough started running toward them, screaming, “No!!”

Dash took less than two seconds to reach the floor fifty metres below, slamming Blitzsturm into the dense crystal head first with a stomach-churning snap. He lay there motionless as Dash took off toward High Noon. Blitzsturm’s eyes were unfocused. Some blood slowly leaked out of his mouth. Deep Plough sprinted, choking up and desperately pleading, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, please no...no...goddess please....”

Deep Plough stroked the side of Blitzsturm’s face, but he did not react. His neck was twisted in a direction not normally possible. She started to sob, cradling his lifeless head. A boyish soprano screamed, “Twilight!! Stormbringer, he’s dead! He’s dead!! He’s in...what...what is...?”

Every awake pony except Deep Plough turned to see Spike stop dead in his tracks, agape, his eyes of two different degrees of open, twitching all over in no discernable pattern. Several coppery spell bolts struck him, bouncing harmlessly off his scales and into the floor and wall. A magenta ray struck High Noon and knocked him into the close door jam. He got up and put his hat back on, ducking behind the same pillar as before while Twilight evaded a red blast that erupted into a six-metre burst of flames. Growling, Deep Plough turned toward the ceiling, where Rainbow Dash eluded High Noon’s blasts. The draught earth pony stood up and shrieked, “YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!!”

“Oh? You wanna go!?” Dash sneered.

Tears streaked Deep Plough’s face as she gritted her teeth and ran into the middle of the room, her glare focused on the Wonderbolt. Snarling, she gave Dash an obscene gesture with her left forehoof and mouth. Rainbow’s eyes narrowed with a snort. She tore downward, right at the tear-stained mare. As Dash moved to tackle-punch Deep Plough, the earth pony sidestepped her with a punch of her own, right into Dash’s throat. The Wonderbolt tumbled across the floor as Deep Plough charged after her. Twilight shouted in alarm, “Dash!!”

Fireballer stepped between Twilight and Deep Plough, putting up a barrier that negated the princess’s spell rays. Deep Plough was atop Rainbow Dash, slamming her huge draught hooves into Dash’s face and body over, and over, and over, still streaming tears. Rainbow yelped with each hit, becoming more frantic and hurt in tone as the beating continued mercilessly. Bones broke under her furious assault. Twilight screamed out for Dash, and broke Fireballer’s barrier, only to have another cast by High Noon. Deep Plough threw Dash against a pillar, who was sobbing in physical pain. She could not sit up.

“Now...,” began Deep Plough as she gasped out of breath. “You get what you’ve goddamn-well earned.”

The draught mare reared up and pushed back her fetlocks, revealing a watch similar to Bon-Bon’s. A liquid sprayed from it, all over Dash. She screamed and writhed on the floor as an acidic hissing sound emanated from there. Rainbow feebly held up a wing in front of her face as the spray continued.

“No! Dash!!” screamed Spike, taking off full speed toward her. He lowered his shoulder and slipped past High Noon’s barrier while parts of Dash’s wing began to dissolve and slough off. Spike leapt in-between Rainbow Dash and Deep Plough, covering his eyes with his arms.

Twilight hollered, “Spike!!”

The acid sprayed over the young dragon, pooled, and fell to the ground in drops. His scales gleamed from the wet droplets in the torchlight. Deep Plough’s watch ran out of acid. As the spray halted, Spike looked over his arms, into Deep Plough’s eyes, glowering. He turned back to Dash. She was still gasping in broken, agonized moans while the hissing continued at a slower rate. Her left wing had lost nearly all its feathers, most of which lay on the floor in varying states of dissolution. Dash’s coat and skin had deformed, looking in many places like a partially melted candle. She could not fully close her left eye.

Spike shook the droplets off him as he ran to Dash and dragged her out of the puddle, choking up as he pleaded, “You’re gonna be okay, Dash...you’re gonna make it...you have to make it....”

“No, she doesn’t, and no, she won’t,” snapped Deep Plough as she stomped toward the little dragon. She fiddled around with her watch some.

The colour drained from Spike’s face as Deep Plough raised her foreleg again, pointing it at him. He rattled a gasp. He took a deep breath as he let go of Dash, closed his eyes, and screamed, “No!! Leave her AALLLOOOOOOOONNNE!!!”

As he screamed the long O sound of “alone,” a stream of fire left his mouth. It started green, but quickly turned to a terribly bright yellow-white cone, missing Starlight Glimmer by about a twenty degree arc. The others still awake in the room had to cover their eyes from the sheer brightness. The flames engulfed Deep Plough. She screamed in agony, flailing and running away, but not for long. She soon dropped, still on fire, and moved no more.

Spike opened his eyes to see Twilight, Bon-Bon, Fireballer, and High Noon all staring at him in shock as he stopped yelling. His eyes turned toward his left. A shrieking gasp left him at the sight. There lay the mostly-charred remains of a large pony, the overwhelming majority of the entrails and abdominal region incinerated and gone, completely unrecognisable, with flames still dancing along its side, back, and neck. Spike convulsed as his eyes went wide. His breathing broke, shaking heavily. The stinking odor of burnt flesh wafted up his nose. He wringed his hands as shuffled toward the corpse some twelve metres away. High Noon shot at Spike with a number of harder pulses, but these, too, merely reflected off his scales. He did not acknowledge the shots either. A red pulse hit at his feet, enveloping him in a small fireball. But he did not notice, nor change his pace. His scales were not even dirtied. Spike continued his shaking amble, still unblinking and wringing his hands, until he stopped beside the burnt remains of Deep Plough. He fretfully stammered, “I...I just...did I really...oh...oh no...oh my God...I...I...oh God, why did I....”

A thwack, and Spike’s eyes rolled back into his head as he toppled over onto what was left of Deep Plough. Behind him was Bon-Bon, lowering her right rear leg from an extended kick. The back of Spike’s head had a small scuff mark right at the base of his skull. Bon-Bon’s eyes were still green where they should have been white. She looked over at Fireballer and High Noon, and irritably said, “Clearly you two need to do some reading on dragon scales and how tough they are.”

“Spike!!” shrieked Twilight. She flew down and landed, running toward him.

Fireballer stepped between the princess and Spike. The two took to wrestling. They shoved, pushed, tried to tackle, tried to bite, with spell rays striking at point-blank range. Bon-Bon and High Noon stepped back, circling slowly around the two. Fireballer shoved Twilight to the ground belly-first with her head under his chest, and tried to stand on her back. The princess started to push up against him, then suddenly thrust backwards with a hard wing stroke. As she came loose, she flapped forward and lifted her neck, driving her horn through his throat. Fireballer staggered and gurgled, his eyes as if he were staring at something a kilometre away. Twilight growled, “Get out of my way!”

A magenta burst came from her horn, blowing apart Fireballer’s neck. His head tumbled a little ways before unceremonious bouncing and rolling on the ground, leaving a scarlet trail. Twilight turned toward High Noon. A plop sounded at her feet, and she fell as the gas pellet hissed. Bon-Bon’s forelimb was still out from the throw. A soft clip-clop over another’s hoofsteps echoed somewhere in the hall as Bon-Bon slowly walked up to the unconscious princess. The green in her eye seemed to glow as the black mist returned in force. Her pace was slow. Bon-Bon drew the knife and held it in her right foreleg as she stood over Princess Twilight. The mist began to pile on the floor, making Twilight sink into the black mist as it deepened. Bon-Bon slowly reared up, bringing the knife over her head. Stepping forward, High Noon waved his forehooves parallel to the ground in disapproval. Another hiss sounded. Bon-Bon looked down at the pellet at her feet...one of a different colour and moving the black mist aside. Then she saw a grass green telekinetic aura rip the gas mask out of his nostrils, and she fell to the floor, dropping the knife harmlessly.

The mist dissipated as Fallow Fields walked up behind her, still with the rune-covered lockbox on his back, and the lawn-coloured glow at his horn and around the mask. He let it drop on the floor. With an approving smirk he said, “Seventy-nine for seventy-nine. Sweetie Drops pulled through again.”

“‘Tain’t no success, when three of yer fahve dah,” said High Noon in his gravelly low tenor, stepping out from behind his favoured pillar.

Fallow Fields nodded sadly as he set the box down on the floor. The two dragged the unconscious Twilight and Bon-Bon away from the messiness, laying them side by side, and on their backs. Somberly Mr. Fields said, “I understand all too well how you’re feeling and what you’re thinking. But losing three now, to save a thousands later, maybe more...it’s better in the long run.”

“He was meanin’ tuh ask her ‘bout gettin’ hitched. Was waitin’ for the next full moon,” High Noon retorted with a sad sigh.

Fallow Fields shook his head slowly. He murmured, “Damn. I was looking forward to their wedding.”

High Noon glared at him imperiously. Mr. Fields’ horn glowed, and the box popped open. There was a diagram on the inside of the lid, including a depiction of two ponies laying on their backs. There was another lid of sorts there, with the runes across it the upper lid lacked. High Noon slowly started toward the box. He stopped, turned, and said, “Wait jes’ a goddamn minute! You ain’t tore up none, yet yer’ sayin’ you was wantin’ tuh be there! Which izzit!?”

Fallow Fields snorted. His horn glowed brighter as he closed his eyes and deliberately muttered a series of inaudible syllables. The bright runes faded to dark etchings on the iron box, and the inner lid opened. He looked over at High Noon and said, “Forgive me for seeming callous. I’ve lost...I don’t know how many during these operations; I couldn’t keep count. Many good ponies over the last four years, gone, some without meaning, some in valiant efforts, and every point in-between. I’ve become mostly numb to it.”

The two peered into the box as a soft pop echoed from somewhere distant. After pulling away a cotton sheet, there sat three black crystals, not at all unlike the one in Bon-Bon’s belly. High Noon blew a long whistle. “We really fixin’ tuh do this? We ain’t dreamin’?”

“It’s time,” said Fallow Fields laden with anticipation. “Coulja’ make a slightly curved incision across her lower belly, not too long? We need the last part.”

“Uh huh,” High Noon said. He picked up the knife as his magic left an arched glow just above Bon-Bon’s pelvic region. Carefully he began cutting at even pace. Wicking away the blood with a spell, High Noon lengthened the incision gently as Fallow Fields horn powered up to a double-layered aura, slowly raising the black crystals. High Noon completed the cut, and cautiously peeled back the skin and muscle. He began rummaging in her entrails.

“Don’t touch it!” the director barked. “Do you want the trouble of having to retrieve it out of you too?”

The maroon unicorn withdrew his hoof with a grimace. “Fahne.”

High Noon braced Bon-Bon’s legs as Fallow Fields grunted and gritted his teeth. Something moved below the surface of her stomach. It pushed up, and slipped toward the incision. The black crystal emerged, contained in a green aura. All the blood and such on the crystal slipped off into a single stream that left neither straggling droplets nor hint their presence. Fallow Fields ordered, “Patch up her belly. After her years of service, it’s the least we could do. Especially after this.”

High Noon released Bon-Bon’s hindlimbs and stood up. His coppery spell ray eased Bon-Bon’s evenly cut diaphragm and skin back into healed tissue without much difficulty. After wiping away the last of the blood, he looked up as the four black crystals shifted close together, all parallel to each other. Fallow Fields took a deep breath, then began muttering words of some unknown language. Three of the crystals turned, each by sixty degrees, and none along the same axis. Sparks flew off Fallow Field’s horn as he raised his forelimbs, rearing up, coming to nearly a shout of these seemingly random syllables. One by one, the turned crystals edged toward the one that did not. In a flash the first two combined into one, though the unturned seemed to grow in size. The same happened for the next two, but the final flash was far brighter and lingering longer as the last crystal made contact. As the illumination returned to regular lighting, there was by one larger crystal, one that exhibited three angles of twinning, carried a slight glow, and was no longer black. This crystal was bright green.

Fallow Fields exhaled hard, then turned toward High Noon and said, “Breathe easy, my friend. It’s about to be a dark, dark night, but the morning after will be all the brighter. We will all be free, and very soon.”

High Noon blinked at that crystal a few times. “Well, shut mah mouth ‘n paint me red.”

“What’s the matter?” asked Fallow Fields, as he levitated the large green crystal towards Twilight’s unconscious body.

High Noon’s ears perked up a moment, then he said, “As violent as she was actin’, I reckoned y’all gave Sweetie Drops here the Or’ng Shahd. But Ah see this here’s th’ Green.”

“Are you nuts??” Fallow Fields squawked. “Didn’t you see the report on how the Orange Shard’s test went?”

“Uh huh. But Ah thought y’all was mighty worried ‘bout what Twahlaht could do,” answered High Noon. His ears perked up again. “What did they do wid’ th’ Or’ng Shahd, anyway?”

The Green Shard slowly lowered towards Twilight’s belly, towards her navel, which gently rose and fell steadily in her subconscious breathing. Sweat beads rolled down Fallow Fields’ forehead as he grunted, “They moved it to the Fillydelphia Stronghouse.”

High Noon’s eyes narrowed. He growled, “Git ready. Somepony’s a-comin’.”

The two scanned the various doorways leading into this gallery room. A second set of hoofsteps rang out, along with some excited but muffled whispers. All became quiet. Not even the chirping of crickets echoed anywhere. The room was still and silent, not a hint of motion except those knocked-out ponies’ and baby dragon’s breaths. They continued looking among the doors.

A wide magenta ray ripped through a closed door, right at Fallow Fields. He barely raised a barrier before it hit. Hooves sliding against the crystalline floor, he ended up ten metres from where he was before the beam halted. Mr. Fields’ suit was partially unraveled from the ray. The Green Shard was not even three centimetres above Twilight’s belly. It continued to sink, but a magenta kite shield coalesced in the way which the shard could not penetrate. The lower register of a high tenor threateningly boomed, “Leave my little sister alone!!”

In the door stepped an alabaster unicorn stallion, with dark blue mane, tail, and eyes, and wearing a full suit of purple barding. His lip curled into a snarl as his eyes oozed with rage.

As Fallow Fields opened his mouth to speak, the pulsating ring of another attack spell sounded through the room, as did a yelp from High Noon. He dropped to his knees, clutching his right forelimb just above the fetlock. He was bleeding, from where a small hole bore through his leg. Out of the shadows stepped another pony, another unicorn. The muzzle’s girth showed it had to be a mare. She was scorched, and had lost most of her coat and mane. She had been magically healed in circular patches, but not fully. The coarse hairs of her tail were also all singed off. But what remained of her coat was an unforgettable minty green, and her golden eyes were full of hate. Surrounding her horn was a two-layer aura the same colour as her eyes, throwing sparks.

“Get the fuck away from my marefriend....”

Author's Note

Seventh chapter, done! And it's time for a little two-on-two unicorn battle. Hey, were it my little sis in trouble, I'd run to her aid. And don't get me started on the hells that await the person who tries to harm my wife. :ajbemused:

The question remains, then, what are these shards, and why do the Elevens want to use them so badly? The answer will come, in time.

Thanks for reading. :pinkiehappy:

The Master Stroke

“Get a second heavy combat team scrambling to Ponyville, now!” Shadow-Walker barked, standing over Redsmith’s shoulder. On the main viewer was Prince Shining Armour in full battle armour and a fully charged horn, firing shots that impacted upon and cracked a green shield. Beyond that, a series of golden and coppery shots flew back and forth originating from outside the viewscreen’s area.

“Yes sir!” answered the operating tech as a scrolling list of dossiers appears on the wall in front of him. Highlighting a unicorn stallion’s face, Redsmith continued searching through the list.

Stall Lynn stepped forward. “Comrade Walker, wait. Check the surrounding area first.”

The president hit a few buttons on the central desk by the crystal ball. On the main screen appeared an exterior shot of Twilight’s Castle. There was something moving. She tapped another button, and the video paused. The image zoomed in on one of the moving things. Firing up her horn, Stall Lynn’s magic adjusted the colour on the screen. The figure in focus, without a doubt, was Fleetfoot, in her wingsuit. Further back in the image were two of Princess Luna’s bat-winged guards. The image zoomed out. There were easily two dozen aerial ponies circling the castle.

“Oh...ooh,” muttered Shadow-Walker, looking a little sheepish. “Never mind on the second combat team.”

The president laid her robe and regalia upon the central chair. Her cutie mark was a stone mason’s hammer and a farmer’s sickle crossed perpendicular in an X. “We shall have to hope Comrade Fields and Comrade Noon can hold on for a moment.”

“Ma’am, where are you going?” Shadow-Walker asked as she stepped toward lift doors.

President Lynn’s horn lit up and revealed a hidden panel. Lifting its lid, she tapped a few buttons. A faint aquamarine-ish coloured circle appeared on the floor, not much wider than a large pony. She stepped into its middle as she said, “To see to it they succeed.”

“Ma’am, are you sure?” Shadow-Walker asked with trepidation.

She curtly said, “We cannot allow any of the Shards to fall into the enemy’s hooves no matter what; they are dangerous enough without enemy analysis.”

“Of course.”

“Comrade Walker, you are to oversee Relocation Order Beta. Carry it out upon execution of The Master Stroke,” said the president. The room fell silent at her command. She looked across the ponies there, all of whom watched her intently. Somberly she continued, “If the worst is to come, you are to assume command of the Order and oversee its operations. Make sure The New Dawn comes.”

“As you wish, Madam President,” said Shadow-Walker with a heavy breath of anxiety. The president disappeared with a soft pop. He moved her regalia from the chair and set it on the desk, then plopped into the chair while shaking his head and holding it. He pulled out a bottle with a transparent cyan fluid and took a trio of gulps straight from it.

In a slightly queasy voice, Redsmith asked, “No tonic, just gin, sir?”

“Yeah. It’s one of those kinds of moments,” Shadow-Walker said as he set the bottle down. His entire face scrunched as he stuck out his tongue. “Eugh...that’s really not good straight....”

“Sir, what’s wrong?”

Shadow-Walker chuckled in disbelief. He shook his head, gave the bottle a hard look, and said, “Did you hear the tone in her voice?”

Redsmith blinked. “Yes...why? What are you getting at?”

“Redsmith, my good sir,” Shadow-Walker began with denial in his voice, “it sounds like she thinks she’s not coming back. I think she just named me President.”

Fallow Fields leapt to the side as magenta blast shattered his shield and smashed a chunk of the wall into rubble. Shining Armour advanced on him as his barding turned away coppery pulses that came from the side. A grinding noise sounded from The Green Shard pressing into compact shield over Twilight Sparkle’s unconscious body. A heavily burned Lyra fired lightning bolts at Fallow Fields a moment too late, as he had brought up another heavy spherical shield. Against the far wall lay High Noon’s hat with part of it missing and still smoldering. The director glared at her, snarling, “I knew we should have stopped that train!”

“By ‘stop,’ you mean ‘destroy,’ don’t you?” she snapped. Something off-white appeared in the pupils of her eyes momentarily.

“So what?” Fallow Fields dismissively answered.

Shining Armour fired off another barrage into Fallow Fields’ shield, causing cracking again. Two glowing white orbs, no bigger than a shooter marble, revolved around Lyra’s horn as it powered up. She barked, “There were hundreds of others aboard!”

“Again, so what?”

Shining Armour spat, “‘So what!?’ You’re actually asking ‘so what’ to that!? You’re a monster!”

“And you’re unfit to lead, if you can’t make the hard decisions and sacrifices necessary for the continuing peace and prosperity of this country!” Fallow Fields fired back. The aura around The Green Shard intensified, as did the grinding sound. Noise of something slowly splintering echoed as the kite shield over Twilight started to spider web like a rock hitting a window.

High Noon intercepted one of Shining Armour’s blasts, but missed two others, as he said, “He’s raht ‘n y’all know it.”

“Terrorism isn’t sacrifice; it’s mass-murder!” Shining Armour growled as his shots made another of Fallow Fields’ shields go to pieces.

Mr. Fields put up another spherical shield. From the front pocket of his suit coat he pulled out a vial with some pearlescent fluid in it, which he downed. The prince shattered that new shield with a single blast. Fallow Fields promptly raised another, which took some more hits easily. He rolled his eyes and said, “You ponies sure love to throw that ‘terrorism’ word around. If you could hear yourself talk!”

Lyra cast her oddly-charged spell. The pulse traveled slower, still with the small balls circling it and a low rumble as it traveled. Scoffing, she shouted, “I don’t know about you, Shining, but I’ve about had enough this!”

“What’re ye tryin’ tuh say?” High Noon asked. He jumped and rolled away as Lyra’s spell burst, which created spiky ice bursting out radially, centred on where he was. The very edge of the ice spikes stuck him in the back of his hind legs shallowly. He took cover again, casting a wound-sealing spell over where she got him.

“I’m sick this, I’m sick of you, and I’m sick of him! I’m ending this in a minute or less!” Lyra snapped. Most of her pupil filled with something in the same off-white. Her face shifted to horrified shock as she muttered under her breath, “My Celestia, Moon Dancer, what book are you in, and why does Twilight even keep that?”

High Noon fired on Shining Armour again, but the prince easily blocked his shots. He mockingly shouted, “The odds’re even; makes that some bold talk, ‘specially from bald dahke!”

Lyra’s eyes shot wide, then her face slowly melted into unbridled rage with a quaking jaw, twitching lower eyelid, and curling lip. “...charge your horn, you son of a bitch!!”

Lyra stepped out into the open as a tertiary aura coalesced around her horn, sparks freely flying. High Noon also stepped out, his own horn in a similar state. “Fahne, have it yer way....”

Thick rays of copper and gold struck each other head-on in the middle of the room. The chamber shook. Multicoloured sparks sailed from the point of impact. High Noon grunted as he squinted. Lyra growled, then roared. The golden beam began pushing back the copper, then quickly overpowered it entirely. Lyra’s spell struck High Noon. He disappeared in a burst of steam and a loud bang as bones fell to the floor where he stood. No blood, no flesh, no organs, just a full set of dry bones were left behind with some fine metallic dust drifting in the air’s eddies. Lyra gasped as she wearily panted, falling to the floor. She yelped and held her side in a spot between healed patches. Her eyes turned toward Bon-Bon, still laying there in chemical slumber, and started crawling her way.

Shining Armour, who had been watching, turned back to Fallow Fields. He unleashed another volley, saying, “Give up! You stand alone!”

“Incorrect.”

Fallow Fields, Shining Armour, and Lyra all turned to the centre doorway to see an elderly unicorn mare, red with a yellow mane and tail, enter. Her horn was already charged. A pulse left it and headed towards Twilight, but was intercepted by one from Lyra. Around The Green Shard the telekinetic aura changed from a green one to a yellow. Fallow Fields simply looked floored. Shining Armour struck while the director stood in his stupor, the heavy shot leaving Mr. Fields as a smashed lump where the wall met the floor. Lyra forced herself back to her feet as she blocked two more shots from the elder mare. Stall Lynn smirked as Shining Armour turned around. Another pulse fired. Lyra tried to block it with one of her own, but the yellow spell swerved and avoided the counterspell. Shining Armour also attempted to stop it to the same effect. The yellow pulse struck Shining Armour’s kite shield over Twilight, which flashed white once and disappeared. Laughing, Stall Lynn shouted, “And so it begins! It will be a dark night indeed, but we will have The New Dawn for ponykind at last, and those who remain will finally know freedom!”

As she spoke, The Green Shard descended and touched Twilight’s belly. It immediately glowed, and a white-ish flow with green edges splashed upward from where it touched, almost like upwelling water. Twilight’s body stiffened.

In the situation room, everypony clapped and cheered loudly at the top of their lungs. The main viewer showed the image of The Green Shard and Twilight, as the crystal slowly sank into the watery effect between it and the princess. Hugs went all around, even a few kisses, as the celebratory atmosphere swelled. Shadow-Walker smiled broadly as he walked in front of the viewscreen. The image cut away as he motioned for everypony to simmer down. The cheers and applause diffused with no sense of urgency. Shadow-Walker’s smile remained as they finally quieted down. He announced, “As much as we’d all love to party right now, myself included, we have an order to carry out. Relocation Order Beta is a go! That’s fifteen minutes! Once we’re to the Fillydelphia Safe House, drinks are on me!”

Laughter and cheers filled the room again as ponies busied themselves, hastily packing things around them. Shadow-Walker took out the red-striped card key, and tapped a few buttons on the main desk. A slot opened. He stuck in the card key and removed it. Everypony ignored the klaxon as a timer showed a fifteen minute countdown.

Shining Armour grunted and growled, with his horn charged to a quaternary aura and a magenta glow around The Green Shard. Sweat poured down his face. Lyra hobbled toward Stall Lynn with her own horn powering up. The president continued to laugh. “It’s no use! You’re too late! Try as you might, you cannot slow it down!”

A quarter of The Green Shard had disappeared, and it continued its slow descent. Lyra stood in the face of the cackling Stall Lynn and glowered. She growled, “Give me a reason I shouldn’t kill you right now!”

“Because, Ms. Heartstrings,” began the president, “it won’t make a difference. The outcome won’t change, what’s to come won’t change, and we will all have our freedom! All you’ll get is another life on your hooves.”

Lyra looked down, then struck Stall Lynn across the face. Even as the old mare hit the floor, she still laughed. “Go ahead! Pour your derision, your hatred, and your malice on me! The future still refuses to change!”

Lyra snapped, “Fine! I’ll tie your ass up, and when the authorities get here, they’ll—”

Stall Lynn laughed again, cutting off Lyra’s threat. She blinked at the elder mare, then demanded, “What’s so damn funny!?”

“Ms. Heartstrings, once that thing is in her, it’ll take control. Do you really think any of us are getting out of here alive?” Stall Lynn asked with a smile. Lyra went agape, blinking quickly. The president cackled, “And it’ll be perfect! Several Wonderbolts including one of her inner circle, former government agents, members of The Order of Eleven, a few concerned citizens, and even her brother, all teamed together and tried to stop Twilight Sparkle when she went mad, and they all died for it! And then she’ll do the same to the Wonderbolts and Lunar Aerial Guard outside the castle!”

Two-thirds of The Green Shard were gone. Lyra fell back on her haunches, staring vacantly at nothing in particular. Stall Lynn got up, still jovial and snickering. She stood in Lyra’s face, and sweetly said, “And then, everypony will see what we’ve known for years: there should be no one ruler, but the ponies themselves. Why? An individual can easily become corrupted. Luna threatened eternal night. Mi Amore Cadenza can control love, and through that she could selectively breed us all as she sees fit. Celestia plays nice when everypony plays by her rules, but turns absolutely ruthless when she is disobeyed; just ask Luna. You’re about to see Twilight Sparkle for what she’d be in time, once she follows studies down roads she should’ve left alone. You know just as well as I do she’d horde all the books she could and will read them, even those with a hidden darkness within. Then there’s Flurry Heart: that little filly shattered an artifact from an infantile screaming fit! What’s she gonna do when she reaches The Terrible Twos and Threes? What will she be when she’s older?”

“Clearly you don’t know my wife at all, if you think that’s how she thinks, or what she does, or even her power! She awakens love that’s already there whether it’s latent, sleeping, or in remiss; she doesn’t just make two random ponies fall in love!” Shining Armour snapped as he ran over. “And don’t dare assume my little filly will be some vindictive monster like you who never received her parents’ love!”

“Will she know her parents’ love, since they’ll both be dead before she reaches age one?” Stall Lynn said snidely, grinning wickedly.

Roaring, Shining Armour reared up and stomped on Stall Lynn’s shoulder. She fell to the floor again with a splintering sound. The president yelped. She agonized and blinked, but looked up, and chuckled again. Lyra and Shining Armour turned to see the tip of The Green Shard sink into the upwelling light source, which, too, sank into Twilight. They stepped away from Stall Lynn. The room had become silent again. Shining Armour stared at his sister with worry. Lyra look to her, then at Shining Armour, and back to her school friend. There was no movement except for the breathing those still living.

Twilight stirred, but remained laying on her back with closed eyes. There was a bright flash of light, and part of reality near Twilight bent as if it were folded, leaving an opening into a black nothing. Through the gap stepped Discord, slamming it back in place behind him to the sound of a door closing. He was not smiling, not laughing. Nothing in his demeanor gave even a hint of mirth. Everything about Discord, his face, movements, tone, all conveyed heavy worry and anxiety. He stood over Twilight, scratching his chin as he muttered, “What did they do to you?”

“You! What are you doing here!?” demanded Shining Armour, advancing on the draconequus.

Discord did not even look at the approaching prince. “You forgot, I can sense changes in the balance of magic. Something just happened here, something big, and something not good. Out of concern for my friend here, I came to check on her. It’s not a problem that I’m friends with your sister, is it?”

Shining Armour glared at Discord and said nothing. Discord sighed, “Well, don’t get your knickers in a twist over this.”

Yelping, the prince looked at himself. His armour had been replaced with knotted-up frilly undergarments, all too tightly around. Stall Lynn snickered. Lyra just stared at him in confusion.

“Discord!! This really isn’t the time!” Shining Armour hollered.

The Spirit of Chaos scoffed, “Oh geez, you’re no fun at all.”

In a flash Shining Armour’s barding returned to normal. Twilight moaned, “Uuhhhh....”

They all turned their attention to the rousing princess. Twilight Sparkle flopped around, gasping desperately. Her eyes remained closed. With a flap she rolled onto her side towards Bon-Bon. Shining Armour cautiously walked forward as she rolled the other way onto her other side. She grunted, “Ugh-a-a....”

Twilight got a hoof on the ground. With another push her wings, she finally got her belly side down. Stiffly she pulled her hooves underneath of her and set them all to the floor. She groaned and snorted as she gingerly pushed up with her limbs, and staggered. Her head remained low as she got herself back to standing, breathing hard.

“Twily?” Shining Armour cautiously asked.

Twilight did not answer. She continued to breathe heavily with a heaving chest and hanging her head with closed eyes. She began to straighten her legs. Discord’s neck stretched out, appearing and splashing as though it were a thin fluid. His head sidled alongside of Shining Armour’s. Discord said, “Maybe you should ask her for a glass of water.”

Shining Armour merely growled in response. Twilight’s breathing slowly slowed and came under control. She sighed, long and relieved. As she slowly brought her head up, eyes still closed, Discord began, “Twilight...do you need a glass of...”

Her eyes opened. They were green where they should have been white. She sneered angrily as her horn charged up, and shot a thin ray into the floor off to one side.

“...wa–” Discord started to say, but was cut off as the floor erupted into a dragon’s fist that decked him. It had burst forth whence Twilight’s spell struck the floor, punching only once but at an impossibly fast speed. This fist was of the same material as the floor and as big as a stagecoach on each side. Discord flew backwards, rapidly spinning. He flopped and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop in front of Lyra. He lay unmoving, mouth and eyes open. His red pupils had changed shape, one becoming a “K,” and the other an “O.”

“Shut up...,” Twilight growled in a voice that did not entirely sound like herself. The fist crumbled and turned back into the floor, leaving no trace it ever existed.

Shining Armour backed off half a step. “Twily...what’s wrong?”

A hard punch from her right forehoof connected with his jaw cleanly as Twilight closed the distance in a flash. Shining Armour staggered and fell down. She muttered, “You too.”

Twilight flared out her wings as she marched straight toward Stall Lynn, ignoring Lyra altogether. The elder mare coughed and chuckled in unison. Shining Armour shook his head in a daze as his sister stopped in front of the president. The princess, still sounding not completely of herself, jeered, “What a fool you are, thinking I would obey you and your plans.”

“For such a rebel, you sure have seen to it that everything fell together per my design. I knew you’d make a foolish assault on the princesses at the Ponyville stormball game, and planned around it. I knew right where your missing quarter would resurface, and was there to recover it. I knew which princess would be the wisest to put under your control, and now you possess her. And I know once you reassemble yourself, you would destroy the others of your own accord,” said Stall Lynn with a defiant smile. She coughed heavily, and spat out a chunk of phlegm.

Twilight openly laughed much deeper than her natural voice would normally. “And there’s where you’re mistaken. After I reassemble myself, I will abandon this weak puppet and return to the hand of my master. Then, we will destroy all the princesses, all at the same time if we must, and then we will rule over this world. Your feeble attempt at democracy paved the road for our worldwide totalitarian empire. The irony is delicious.”

“How do you expect to reassemble yourself if you don’t know where the other shards are?” asked the president. She snickered and coughed again. “We know where five of the others are, but there are no clues left about the whereabouts of The Violet Shard.”

“You don’t know where my violet part is. I, however, do,” Twilight answered with a sneer. She charged up her horn again. A spell’s beam drilled a hole through Stall Lynn’s neck, who gasped and gurgled, struggling to keep her head up and failed. Twilight turned away from her, and as an afterthought said, “Oh, I also heard everything you said about how I’d kill everypony in here. Wrong again. It’s a waste of material to kill several able-bodied slaves: the stallion and the dragon for my master’s works, and the mares for my master’s pleasure. You, however, are neither able-bodied nor able-minded, and thus of no use. Feel the pain, and die.”

Twilight blasted a hole through the side of the castle, flying off in a flash. Lyra was knocked down from the gust. She gasped hard, and struggled to get back to her feet. She looked at Bon-Bon again, who still lay in the same place. Stall Lynn coughed up blood. Shining Armour gave Lyra a shoulder to lean on as they started toward the president. Many other footfalls echoed. In through the door ran Minuette, Twinkleshine, and Lemon Hearts, carrying a book. From a flash on the book jumped out Moon Dancer. The six gathered around Stall Lynn, who wheezed and gasped with every breath. Shining Armour looked at the others and irritably said, “You all are here too? Where were you when things got crazy in here?”

Minuette said, “We were in the library looking through Twilight’s evocation books, and sending to Lyra how to cast those spells.”

Shining Armour was unamused. “None of you thought to lend a hoof more directly?”

“None of us are warriors, Shining,” said Twinkleshine. “We just aren’t. We use our magic for our lines of work; our trades don’t call for battle spells.”

Lemon Hearts said, “But we know enough to do other things, like saving Lyra from that burning airship, waking her from that sleeping gas, and healing her burns as quickly as we could.”

Stall Lynn choked and coughed up another gob of blood. She muttered, “How lovely of you all.”

Shining Armour held the dying president up. He snarled, “What the hell was that thing you put in my sister!?”

Stall Lynn’s eyes went out of focus. She murmured, “Nothing you can stop...nothing you’d be wise to pursue or fight...but know this...it is ancient, it is powerful, and it is evil...it has been stopped before...and we have the very thing...that did it then....”

Shining Armour opened his mouth to speak, but the president’s eyes opened wide as she twitched. Then she went limp as the air eased out of her lungs. Her limbs flopped as Shining Armour set her back down. He snorted. Looking around at the five younger mares, he ordered, “Help me get the survivors to the hospital. Not Ponyville’s, but Canterlot General; they’ll need state-of-the-art facilities. You know the address?”

They stared vacantly, except Lyra, who limped as quickly as she could toward Bon-Bon. Shining Armour looked across them again, then barked, “Rainbow Dash is nearly dead, Lyra needs to be seen at a proper burn unit, Bon-Bon and Starlight should be detoxed, and that’s the only hospital that has any chance of helping Spike or Discord! Move!”

Lyra teleported out with Bon-Bon as the other four mares scrambled around the wounded, and one by one teleported away with them. Spitfire landed in the hole and saluted as Shining Armour walked up to her, speaking inaudibly. Soarin’ and Fleetfoot soon landed after. Spitfire shrieked, holding her head. She collapsed in tears. Her two lieutenants attempted to console her, while the prince also teleported away from The Castle of Friendship.

The iron door labeled “Magic Dampening Chamber” swung open as the alarm blared. A timer showed less than twenty seconds. Shadow-Walker stepped into the dark room that buzzed with strange magical fields. On a pedestal was a lockbox with runes on it, bolted down upon its pillar. He punched a few buttons on the pedestal itself. A card key slot rotated outwardly into plain sight. Shadow-Walker stuffed the red key into the slot, and the lockbox popped open. Something covered by an off-white square of coarse cotton sat in the middle. A new alarm sounded. Shadow-Walker looked up to see the timer had reached all zeroes. Explosions sounded somewhere below. He picked up the object in its rough cloth cover. Looking around, he saw a dark corner. He walked over toward those shadows, backed into them, and disappeared.

Along an empty street of a rougher part of town, Shadow-Walker emerged, walking out under a streetlamp. He looked at the cotton-wrapped object, and began unwrapping it. He stopped after a moment, staring at it. He muttered, “They said it’s ‘ancient,’ but that might not be a strong enough word. How old is this thing?”

“Don’t know, mate, but I’m sure I can find somepony who’ll pay handsomely for whatever it is,” jeered some voice.

A pony with facial scars and tattoos stepped into the light, with a knife out. Shadow-Walker saw him and backed up. He followed, but found Shadow-Walker had disappeared after he stepped out of the light. The thug looked around confused. Shadow-Walker reappeared on the other side of the streetlamp’s lighting. He quickly moved in and snapped the thug’s neck. Looking around, Shadow-Walker backed out of the lit circle again.

The new president reappeared along a different road, in a far wealthier neighborhood. He walked along the road, turned a corner, and found North Station. Shadow-Walker booked a ticket for Fillydelphia and hopped aboard the next train, along with many others from HQ. He walked through the cars to the sleeping car, and his assigned berth. The train started moving as he sat down. Reaching into his coat’s inner pocket, Shadow-Walker pulled out the object. He set it down on the small table. Peeling back the rough cotton, Shadow-Walker took a hard, intensely interested look at what lay within. The object on a thin gold chain was old, simple, battered, and chipped. It was a large ruby-red heart-shaped locket.

...to be concluded....

Author's Note

So...yes. Things aren't well. But then again, here we are, at the end of Act II of a 3-act play. George Lucas once said that at the end of the second act the characters should be in about as bad a place as they could imagine getting themselves.

Who's got speculations as to what Shadow-Walker is holding? And what happened to Twilight?

Act III will be coming. Glad you've enjoyed it so far, and thanks for reading.

Epilogue

“SHE’S HERE!?! SHE’S ALIVE??! WHICH ROOM!!?” Bon-Bon screamed in shock and joy as she slammed her hooves on the triage desk.

The nurse there blinked, and scratched out the inside of her ears. The sign above them read, “Welcome to Canterlot General Hospital, where compassion meets excellence.” She inhaled deeply, forced a neutral expression, and exhaled. The nurse flipped through a clipboard, then checked a chart on the wall. She said, “East Wing, Room N651.”

“Thank you!” yelled Bon-Bon as she took off. She left her discharge papers unsigned on the triage desk, which lazily drifted over the side from her sudden upping and going.

She reached a full canter before long. Bon-Bon sidestepped many a pony in her scramble. Rounding a corner, Starlight Glimmer, who telekinetically carried a few papers, pressed herself against the wall to avoid a collision. Bon-Bon skidded as she approached the lifts, but could not stop in time. She slammed into the left lift’s doors. Not dazed, she backed up and hit the Up button. She shed a few tears as her breathing deepened, waiting on the lift. A ding, and she rushed through the doors without looking into a fortunately empty lift.

Moments of sterile muzak later, the lift doors opened on the sixth floor. Bon-Bon took a moment to look at the floor plan before dashing away. She had another exercise of evading random ponies and medical equipment. She slowed down as the numbers neared N651. Bon-Bon came to a stop in front of the door. She dug at the papers in the slot. In a typewriter’s font she found at the top:

HEARTSTRINGS, LYRA

Bon-Bon sniffled as she slowly pushed open the door. Tiptoeing in, she looked around. There was a pony laying in the bed here, asleep, and with an IV stand that had four bags on it. There was no coat left nor any mane that Bon-Bon could see, though it appeared as if this pony had some treatment for the burns. Bon-Bon judged from the width of the muzzle this was a mare. Her eyes welled up as she edged toward a chair beside the bed. She murmured, “Lyra...?”

The sleeping pony’s eyes twitched, and slowly opened. Bon-Bon’s throat made a gasp and squawk in unison. Those golden eyes were unmistakable. The burned pony weakly and sleepily smiled and said, “Hey gorgeous....”

Bon-Bon sobbed as she threw her forehooves around Lyra. The bedridden pony grunted, “Ow, careful babe. I’m pretty banged up...got an IV and everything.”

Bon-Bon howled with a heaving chest. Lyra struggled to free her right hoof and returned the hug as best as she could. Bon-Bon wailed, “I thought you were de-e-ead!”

Lyra rubbed her marefriend on the back of the head. “Came close, from what I could tell. But I’m still here.”

Bon-Bon gasped for air as she took control of her breathing. “How did you escape that airship?”

“I sent an S.O.S. with the texting spell as that gas put me under. When I awoke, my old schoolmates were around me. They said Moon Dancer got there first and got me out,” explained Lyra. “They took me to Twilight’s castle, because she thought me being there and awake would be necessary to get that crystal out of you. But...things didn’t go as planned.”

Bon-Bon leaned in and kissed her, soft and long. The two stayed there a moment, with a tear from each. As they broke, Bon-Bon scrunched her brow. “I...can’t remember what happened after...after that thing made me put Twilight to sleep.”

“Well—” started Lyra hesitantly.

“Actually, let’s not talk about it right now. I...I just need you. Just hold me,” whispered Bon-Bon.

Spitfire closed the door behind her as a nurse went on past with an IV stand in tow. She was puffy eyed and stared down at the floor in shocked disbelief as she trudged her way to a visitor’s waiting room. Sitting there were Soarin’, Fleetfoot, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Scootaloo, Shining Armour, and Spike, all of whom looked up at her expectantly.

Scootaloo hopped up and met Spitfire just inside the door. With tears welling up, she asked, “Is Dash gonna be okay, Captain?”

Spitfire wiped away a tear as she said, “In time. She’s asleep and her dad’s in there with her. That acid did terrible damage. The first surgery and skin graft is scheduled for tonight. They expect they’ll need to do at least two more before she can be released. Rainbow will be bedridden for three months, if not longer. She’ll have to retrain herself to fly. They think it’s gonna be nine months to a year before she’s back to her old self.”

Tears broke from most of the gathering. AJ took off her hat, both Shining Armour and Soarin’ bowed their shaking heads with closed eyes, and Rarity fainted. Spitfire looked down at the sobbing filly in front of her. She shifted uncomfortably for a moment, then opened a wing. Scootaloo accepted the offer and clung onto Spitfire in a tight hug. The captain grimaced, stroking the torn-up filly on the back.

Shining Armour stood up with a sigh and walked out of the room. He started down the hallway, and had gone twenty meters before a high-pitched voice called out, “Shining, wait!”

He turned to see Spike running after him. The little dragon caught up and asked, “Where are you going?”

Shining Armour continued on his way as he curtly said, “To find my sister.”

“I’m going too!” Spike insisted, jogging to keep pace with the agitated prince.

“No, Spike. It’s too dangerous. Besides, Twily would have my head if anything happened to you,” answered Shining. They turned a corner. Starlight Glimmer was filling out some paperwork at a window.

Spike grumbled, “I can’t just stand by and do nothing! I’m coming!”

Shining Armour sighed, but didn’t slow down. Starlight Glimmer shot them a confused look as the prince chastised, “Spike....”

“I have to! If I don’t, she won’t be around to have your hide for taking me!” Spike demanded as they walked by that window.

“But you can’t,” answered the prince.

As they passed triage, Spike complained, “Why can’t I?”

Cadance met them at the door as they entered the lobby, holding little Flurry Heart. She looked at her husband reproachfully, asking, “What are you two arguing about?”

“I’m sorry, dear. I have to find Twily. I have to help her,” Shining said to his wife with a nuzzle. Flurry cooed and babbled incoherently as her little legs started flailing at the sight of her daddy.

Starlight Glimmer came out the triage doors as Spike pouted, “He’s trying to leave me behind! I’m going!”

“Spike...,” started Shining.

Cadance shook her head and sighed. “Dear, he’s going to go, whether you take him or not. I’m not faulting you for going to help her; heaven knows I want to go too. But if it’s what power I fear it is, I’ll just be a target. Besides, we can’t both leave. I’ll take care of Flurry.”

Shining kissed his wife. “Thanks, dear. And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just promise me you’ll bring her home safe and sound,” said Cadance. Flurry Heart began to fuss.

“Are you taking me?” Spike pressed with crossed arms.

Shining gave a sad smile. “So insistent.”

“She may as well be my mother, Shining,” scolded the little dragon with a touch of petulance.

The prince sighed. Masking defeat and forcing cheer, he said, “Then, hop on your Uncle Shining’s back, Spike.”

“Wait!” shouted a high alto. They looked to see Starlight Glimmer running up to them. “Please let me come too! She saved me from myself; I have to do the same for her.”

“Starlight, we’re not trying to save Twilight from Twilight. We’re trying to save Twilight from an ancient evil that possessed her body,” Cadance said firmly.

“I know, I know. Still, she’s my mentor. I can’t do nothing,” said Starlight.

Cadance grimaced. “There are many ponies who feel a strong connection to Twilight Sparkle. Any of them could lay a claim to join the quest.”

“I don’t doubt that, but who can say they need to redeem themselves after they failed to protect her right then, when they got her?” Starlight asked.

“I can,” grumbled Spike.

“I can too,” Shining Armour said unhappily.

Cadance sighed, shaking her head dissatisfied. She closed her eyes with a frown. Baby Flurry fussed, reaching for Shining Armour. Cadance scoffed, “Okay, fine then. Go.”

Shining Armour kissed his wife again. “We’ll bring her home as quickly as possible. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Shiny. Don’t forget,” Cadance said with a tear in her eye.

Biting back tears, Shining said, “Tell Flurry that daddy loves her too every day.”

“I will,” she said sadly, brushing the side of his face. She sobbed for a second, and urged him, “Honey, we’ll be doing this all day and night if you don’t get a move on.”

“I know....”

Shining nuzzled Cadance again, then stepped over to Starlight and Spike. She asked, “Where do we start?”

“Twilight’s Castle, where it started,” answered the prince. Spike climbed up onto his back. Shining turned toward Cadance, who had tears rolling down her face. Flurry had begun sobbing. Shining looked her in the eye and said, “You are the world to me, darling.”

“And you’re my world, too,” she answered.

Shining Armour straightened his posture, and the three disappeared in a magenta flash. Cadance nearly fell down with wracking sobs, but managed to keep from dropping Flurry. She murmured, “Please bring her home....”

A doctor knocked at the door. He stepped into room N651 looking over a clipboard. Looking up, he stopped suddenly. In the hospital bed he found his patient, but she was snuggled up with another mare. The cuddling visitor had a beige coat and two-toned mane. Both of them were asleep. His patient would need her saline solution bag replaced in about an hour, but three medication bags would hold until late into the night. He rocked his head side to side, chewing on his tongue. He watched as his patient sighed contentedly, nuzzling this other mare. With a smile crossing his face, he quietly backed out of the room, silently closing the door behind him.

The sun approached the horizon behind her as Twilight Sparkle soared high in the air. The ocean was far below, and as far as the eye could see. Black mist flowed out of her eyes, eyes that were bright green where they should be white. The black mist left a long trail behind her that slowly dissipated. She stared straight ahead, her face in a steely glare, masking the raging war within.