Green Pastures, Cloak’s Front Porch, Equestria
50 Years After the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

The Crystal Magic had finally been mentioned. It was the elephant in the room for all who listened to Cloak’s story, looming over them all, and now that it was finally here, all questions fell silent. No one wanted to be the first to bring up the thousands of questions about the source and catalyst of the war. By this point, everypony had read about them in their social studies class or any recent history books that covered any major events from the period, such as the Siege of Canterlot, the Ascension of Princess Witching Hour, the official formation of the Wonderbolt Air Corps, and most certainly anything that discussed the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War itself. Somehow, though, they never seemed to be “real” in anything else discussed, partially because the descriptions of them always boiled down to the same vague and lackluster description: They were synthesized artifacts of Pain, one of the Vice Magics, and they brought power to those who used them, but at a terrible price. Certainly, it was a sore subject with the Princesses, given that Princess Hour’s own son died in the fight against such Vice Magics, and the use of such magic was one of the only crimes that carried a potential penalty of death, and the only one where such a sentence was carried out without trial.

“...What was it like to use the crystals?” asked Kingfisher finally.

“First picking one up?” chuckled Cloak darkly. “Pain… Pain beyond all imagination. For some, it lasted only a heartbeat. For others, it lasted minutes, even hours. For the most unfortunate souls, it never ended. After the hellish pain? It was… Power… Sheer, unadulterated power, almost euphorically so. Some even gained abilities with the use of a single crystal.”

“Just a single crystal?” asked Flare Glider. “I’d heard of the Shadowbolt Commanders getting special abilities from the three crystals they’d use, but just a single crystal?”

“Oh yes, even just one gave special abilities,” explained Cloak. “The grunts would gain enhanced strength and agility, the ability to make ‘shadow copies’, and the ability to fire energy blasts from their crystals. Just to name a few of the special gifts, Rapidfire gained a unique Disguise ability, I gained Perfect Concealment to mask my presence entirely, and Dagger gained Perfect Reflexes for combat.”

“Did Rat gain an ability?” asked Flare Glider.

“He did, and I’d say that in his hooves, it was probably the strongest out of all of the ones we saw,” replied Cloak.

“What was it?” asked Cold Snap.

“Well, it was called ‘Perfect Strategy’ but I always called it ‘Three Steps Ahead’...” replied Cloak.

Cirrus, Training Room Five, Equestria
Woodsday, 30 Gold Moon, 1001 Equestrian Era
Four Days and Six Hours Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“Ready to lose, Rat?” smirked Bane as he twirled his riot baton.

“Been ready the last fifty times that you all have tried, yet none of you have been able to manage it,” grinned Rat. “With the exception of Tank, of course, but he’s Tank.”

Bane scoffed while Hawk laughed Ever since they’d been gifted with Nightshade’s “new toys”, the Pack had taken to testing the limits of the new tool, quickly finding that Rat was now the pony to beat among the members of the Pack. Only Tank was able to bypass Rat’s Gift of Perfect Strategy, with Rat handily beating every single one of the other Pack members in one-on-one combat. In order to try and find the limit of Rat’s ability, the group had decided that multiple opponents would be the only solution besides simply throwing the Gentle Giant at the problem. Today’s opponents were Bane, Cloak, Dagger, Hawk, Phantasm, and Matchstick, each armed with a unique “training variant” of their preferred weapons.

The new training weapons were an interesting innovation by Hoxton and Patch within the last few years, designed to not only be safe but also properly mark hits. A rubber core supported a dye-soaked outer wrapping that would mark the coat of the target in a clearly visible fashion that could easily be judged by an external referee for multiple opponent scenarios. In their testing, Clover quickly volunteered to be referee, as she “had nary a snowball’s chance in Hell” of winning.

“Everyone get ready,” called Clover, hesitating a moment before calling out again. “Fight!”

Rat let the noise around him fade away as the crystal glowed briefly and his gift came to life. In his mind’s eye, he could see a pink outline of Bane attacking his own pink outline, observing the perfect counter to each strike and knowing the exact parrying move needed to be in position for each of his own strikes. Perfect Strategy was not a gift that physically enhanced his abilities beyond what the Crystals did naturally, but it allowed his perception of time to slow while he calculated up to a five minute window of actions and reactions to a desired outcome. Every move and counter-move was clearly on display, and a coherent strategy solidified as the gift pointed Rat to his desired goal of back-hoofing his team into next Metalsday.

Bane opened with the first strike of his baton, which Rat side-stepped and struck with his practice blade at Bane’s exposed left side across the ribs. Bane twisted out of the way by a fraction of an inch, moving his baton in a counter-swing at the back of Rat’s head. Rat artfully ducked before catching Bane’s wrist and flipping the stallion over his shoulder. Bane gasped as he slammed into the padded floor of the training roof and saw stars, the air forced out of his lungs in an instant. As the world shifted back into focus, Bane felt the rubber blade of Rat’s training knife against his throat, signaling his end of the fight.

“Bane is Out!” announced Clover from the sidelines.

Rat didn’t celebrate, knowing that the next strike would come from behind and not from Dagger or Matchstick. He didn’t even flinch as Dagger moved into attack, knowing it was a feint. He then heard the distinct sound of Cloak’s Perfect Concealment falling, a faint high-pitched whine, from exactly where he’d been tracking the stallion with the Wind-Sense he’d learned from Oracle mixed with input from Perfect Strategy. Cloak then made his move.

“WATAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAUGH!!!” yelled Cloak as he charged Rat and proceeded to be thrown into Dagger, knocking the twins off their hooves.

“Idiot!” snarled Dagger as she shoved Cloak to the side. “What the hell were you thinking by yelling out like that?!”

“Distraction,” grinned Cloak as Hawk made his move.

The orange stallion leapt forward with his training machete to perform a sundering strike at Rat’s wrist. At the same time, Phantasm lined up a shot with her training “rifle”, a modified paint pellet gun powered with pressurized gas, pulling the trigger. Rat twisted out of the way of both attacks, grabbing Hawk as a living shield for Phantasm’s follow up shots. Two in the chest, one in the gut, and a final in the stallionhood took Hawk out of the fight.

“Hawk is Out,” called Clover unnecessarily with a smirk.

“...fucking shit…” squeaked Hawk. “...every fucking time…”

Phantasm quickly moved to reload as Rat dropped Hawk and charged. The next “magazine” was loaded, with one in the chamber, by the time Rat closed the distance, gripped the rifle, and slammed it into the mare, causing the round to discharge at the ceiling harmlessly. Phantasm wheezed as she fell to her knees, helpless to prevent Rat from shooting Matchstick between the eyes twice, bright pink paint splashing over his goggles. Rat then turned the practice rifle on her and took her out with a quick double-tap.

“Matchstick is Out,” called Clover, hesitating a moment before continuing. “...Phantasm is Out. Two Opponents remaining.”

“This time, we take him together,” growled Dagger.

“You mean like we did last Metalsday?” snarked Cloak. “Sure, we can try that.”

Rat smirked as he picked up Hawk’s training machete into his off-hoof before nodding at the Twins to approach. Dagger struck from the left while Cloak struck from the right, training blades locking with Rat’s own blades. Rat kicked Dagger in the side hard enough to distract her while he looped behind Cloak and stabbed him in the back.

“Cloak is Out,” called Clover.

“Avenge me, Twin!” cried Cloak dramatically before being tossed aside.

“Why is it always down to us, Boss?” sighed Dagger.

“Take it as a complement to your own skill, Dagger,” smirked Rat. “Now let’s finish this before Hox gets here.”

The two pegasi charged at each other in a brief flurry of blades, with Rat matching Dagger’s every strike with a near perfect parry. Dagger growled in frustration as Rat continued to toy with her, finally seizing an opening to disarm Rat by striking his overextended wrist. Her eyes widened in shock as Rat threw his weapon upward with enough force to keep it suspended in place for five seconds while he moved his hoof aside, allowing her attack to pass by without touching him and putting his weapon beyond the range of where she could block or dodge it. A quick throat slash ended the fight moments later.

“Dagger is Out,” called Clover. “Rat Wins!”

“...Godsdammit,” swore Bane as Rat helped him to his hooves. “That gift is way too overpowered.”

“Well, short of having me fight the entire Cirrus at once, I think we’ve determined that there’s really no upper limit to how many I can fight, so long as I pulse my usage of the Crystal,” chuckled Rat.

“It’d be better if you didn’t use them at all,” grumbled Hoxton as he entered the training room. “Sure, they do provide you with power beyond all imagination, but is that actually worth your soul?”

“So you’ve concluded your tests on these things without even ever touching one?” asked Dagger skeptically.

“Didn’t bloody need to, what with all of the rest of the ship jumping on the bandwagon to use them,” shot back Hoxton. “Don’t forget what that bonding process was like, and what happened to the ‘rejects’...”

At this mention, everyone in the room winced. Being granted a Crystal was not a trivial matter, and the aforementioned “Rejects” were a very visceral example of that phenomenon. Driven to madness by the pain of accepting the use of a Crystal, these individuals were left in a near-vegetative state until Nightshade sent them away to an unknown location. Even though the number of Rejects was low, those that were accepted by the artifacts went through a grueling process to gain that acceptance. It didn’t help that Nightshade appeared to get off on the process, insisting that she be present for every single bonding. Hoxton sighed heavily as he ran his hoof through his mane.

“...Look, Rat, I know that the ‘gifts’ from these crystals can do some pretty powerful things, but magic like this always comes at a price,” began Hoxton. “There’s a balance that must be maintained, and the cost to maintain this balance appears to be far too high for my liking.”

“...You’re right, Hox,” sighed Rat. “They’re a powerful tool, but not one that we should come to rely on. We’ll hold onto them for appearance’s sake, but let’s not use them any more than absolutely necessary to keep each other alive. I take it that you did manage to confirm our suspicions?”

“They were definitely involved with the tampering we saw during Nightshade’s Challenge,” nodded Hoxton grimly. “In fact, if it weren’t for the other recording we watched, I would have said that Nightshade planned this to take over, just like Banshee implied. Without a doubt, I would say that we’re being used as pawns in some bigger game, and this Kayn Ost is the chessmaster.”

“Well, that complicates matters, to be sure,” frowned Rat. “I’m thinking that we may want to prepare for an early retirement. Let’s prepare some ‘bug-out’ bags with emergency cash, fake ID papers, and spare weapons so that we can go to ground if things go south.”

“But this has been our home for years!” protested Clover. “We can’t just abandon it-”

“Can you honestly say that it has been home since Dante died?” argued Rat. “My home is with all of you, for however much this bucket of bolts has played a part in that, so my first and only priority is keeping all of you alive.”

Tank grunted in affirmation, ending any sort of protest to the contrary, not that there would have been as Rat looked around at each of the members of the Pack. Rat certainly understood the pain they all must be feeling at the prospect of abandoning their home for nearly two decades. They wouldn’t even be retiring in the traditional sense that very few Shadowbolts who survived long enough did: They’d be abandoning the Code and the Shadowbolts, deserters at best, if not outright traitors at worst. They’d be renegades. Still, with how things seemed to be going, that didn’t seem so bad anymore.

Green Pastures, Cloak’s Front Porch, Equestria
50 Years After the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

The group felt a collective shudder run through them all as Cloak took another long drink from his lemonade.

“With that kind of power, why weren’t you used during the raid on the Wonderbolt Compound?” asked Cold Snap. “

“Three reasons spring to mind, as I think about it,” replied Cloak. “First, as I explained before, the rest of the Pack had decided that our time with the Shadowbolts under Nightshade was coming to an end, one way or another. We’d either retire quietly and disappear, or if she forced our hooves, we’d escape and defect to the other side, taking as many of our compatriots along with us as we could.”

“Second, Nightshade was a particularly vindictive mare,” continued Cloak. “It was a matter of offended pride to her, so when our mysterious benefactor presented an opportunity to soothe her bruised ego, she seized upon it instantly and decided to handle the mission personally.”

“Finally, Nightshade knew we weren’t best utilized in direct combat and extraction, even though we were fully capable of direct combat, as our little excursion into Nys’strova demonstrated,” concluded Cloak. “That being said, we made our own contribution to that effort…”

Canterlot, Palace Ballroom, Equestria
Woodsday, 1 Fire Moon, 1001 Equestrian Era
Three Days and Twelve Hours Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“Hey, Cloak?” asked Hawk suddenly. “What are we doing here?”

“You know Hawk, I think that’s one of life’s great mysteries,” mused Cloak. “I mean, is reality all just a cosmic accident, like curds formed from spilling lemonade and milk at the same time, or are we all just pastel characters acting out scenes of some shut-in god’s script? …I dunno, man, but it keeps me up at night…”

“...Cloak, what the hell?”

“Hmm?”

“I meant what are we doing here in the strongholds of our enemies here in flipping Canterlot!” snapped Hawk.

“Oh…” articulated Cloak. “...Did you fall asleep during the briefing too?”

“It’s an intel grab, Hawk,” explained Hoxton over the comms before Hawk verbally murdered Cloak. “At this point, we need to know what our enemies know about us, and without any Infiltrators positioned inside these two locations, you guys get the job.”

“So we’re sticking our heads in the lion’s mouth just because Nightshade said so?” snarked Hawk. “‘Trust’, my ass…”

“I do trust your ass, and everything else attached to it, friend!” quipped Cloak.

“So here’s my question,” asked Bane. “Why does Rat get to live it up at the Ball while we do all the fun jobs?”

“Someone needed to accompany Dust to the ballroom so she could make contact with Turncoat,” replied Rat softly. “Besides, there are two alicorns we need to keep an eye on so that you all aren’t turned to greasy spots by god-tier mages…”

“Speaking of Turncoat, does anybody else feel really weird about having Rapiddouche on our side?” asked Cloak.

“I mean watching him run into Rat again was certainly amusing,” chuckled Arclight.

“Something that I should be aware of?” asked Lightning Dust.

“Long story short, one of our ops got Rapidfire laid once,” chuckled Rat.

“...Well, that’s certainly a mental image,” replied Dust. “Sounds like quite the story, but I was under the impression that he didn’t need help with that?”

“Asshole relies completely on his status as a Wonderbolt and targets the naive fanfillies,” snorts Bane. “Without that, he’d be as sexless as a shut-in living in his mother’s basement.”

“To be fair, I do think a lot of those mares use him just as much as he uses them,” mused Cloak. “I mean, they can’t all be naive, right? There’s gotta be some of them that just want to jump the bones of a Blunderdolt and any Blunderdolt will do. He just happens to be the one that doesn’t have standards for that sort of thing.”

“Well, whether it’s mares simply looking to add a Wonderbolt to their bedpost notches or something else, Rat would still have Turncoat beat when it comes to track record for mares,” chuckled Hawk. “I mean, he’s seduced six mares in the past six years, and most of those were within the last six months!

“I count three,” frowned Cloak, confused.

“That adventurer archeologist, the spy, the companion, the thestral chambermaid, that waitress from the cafe earlier today-” listed Hawk.

“Does it really count as a seduction if there was no action, though?” asked Cloak. “I mean she did give him her address and bedroom eyes that could rival Hex’s, but Rat wasn’t gone nearly long enough-”

“As interesting as the Boss’s love life is, could someone explain the point of us gathering this intel from the Wonderbolt Compound?” asked Dust. “I mean, I get why we’re gathering what they know about us, but couldn’t we have just gotten that from Turncoat?”

“Well, we do need to know about the security measures for the Compound for the Op that you and Nightshade’s Crew will be running,” explained Rat. “And before you ask, these would be the sort of things that Turncoat wouldn’t know.”

“You mean the operation where we break into the Compound, smack Big Blue into the dirt, and drag him back with us?” asked Dust.

“...I mean yes,” admitted Rat.

“...That’s stupid and a waste of resources,” replied Dust. “I’ve got a better idea.”

Rat frowned, about to ask the mare what she meant, when he caught a glimpse of a blue pegasus stallion in a Wonderbolt dress uniform. Clearly, Dust had seen him as well. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where the mare’s thoughts were.

“Dust, what the hell are you doing?” hissed Rat into his lapel mic. “That’s Big Blue you’re approaching!”

“He’s the target, right? I can save us a lot of resources and effort with a few smiles and a sway in my hips,” replied Dust.

“That’s not our mission right now, Dust,” argued Rat. “Make contact with Turncoat before you get recognized. They know your face. Do not compromise the mission.”

“Relax, Rat,” smirked Dust. “I know what I’m doing. In more ways than one…”

“Dammit, Dust!” swore Rat, knowing it was useless as Dust had removed her earpiece.

“Is this one from Hex’s family tree or Cheshire’s?” asked Cloak.

“I’m going after her,” hissed Rat.

“Contact!” barked Phantasm over her link in her headset. “Elements sighted!”

Rat froze in horror as things spiraled further out of control. Prose had sworn up and down that the Elements had no interest in the Gala whatsoever after the previous year. For a brief moment, he wondered if they’d been betrayed, but dismissed the notion as too clumsy for Nightshade or even Pitch Tempest.

“Which ones?” asked Rat, hoping to confirm his suspicions.

“Magic and Loyalty just disembarked and are speaking with…Astro-Lady…” reported Phantasm, pausing briefly on Luna’s codename. “Hang on, Generosity spotted as well!”

“... Alright, they must have no clue we’re here, or we’d have a full set to face down,” justified Rat before he continued with his orders. “Phantasm, keep an eye on them and let me know what-”

Suddenly, Rat found himself abruptly shoved to the side as a rainbow and cyan blur of a mare pushed past him with a brief, yet sincere apology. It was only by years of experience and training that Rat found his balance again, placing no less than five wine glasses and a tray of appetizers in mortal peril before stabilizing. Nearby patrons applauded the display lightly, drawing further unwanted attention.

“...Loyalty inbound and coming in hot to your location,” replied Phantasm sheepishly.

“...Noted, Phantasm…”

“So if we’ve referenced Notes Art’s opera with Sarastro as Celestia’s codename, why are we calling Luna ‘Astro-Lady’ again?” asked Arclight.

“Because ‘Astrifiammante’ was too hard for Cloak to pronounce,” quipped Dagger.

“Oi! I resent that implication! I love Istallian!” protested Cloak.

“Istallian food, maybe,” snorted Hawk.

“I confirm nothing and deny even less,” deadpanned Cloak.

“Cut the chatter, guys,” chided Rat. “I need to get back to Dust and get her out-”

“...Dust reporting in. Target stormed off. Didn’t recognize me, but wasn’t able to convince him,” reported Dust blankly.

“What the hell were you thinking?” hissed Rat into his lapel. “Are you trying to get us all killed?! You could have compromised the entire operation!”

“...just wanted to help…” murmured Dust.

“...We’ll discuss this later… Privately…” relented Rat. “Get back to your assignment and make contact with Turncoat.”

“...Yes, sir…” replied Dust.

“Hey… Shake it off for now,” encouraged Rat gently. “We’ve got our job to do. Just… Listen to what I have to say?”

“...Got it, Boss,” affirmed Dust, her tone brightening a little.

Rat sighed briefly as he watched the mare approach Rapidfire and after a brief exchange of highly suggestive banter, if the other patrons’ scandalized gasps and spittakes were anything to go by, began to dance a provocative tango. He squinted slightly, catching sight of the primary target entering arm and arm with Rainbow Dash herself.

“Big Blue is taking the dance floor with Loyalty,” reported Rat. “Must be a significant connection there. Going in for a closer look-”

“...finding you a stallion to dance with and you are going to enjoy yourself- Oh hey there handsome!” called out a familiar voice. “Yes, you there, with the red mane! What’s your name?”

“Uh-” began Rat, hoping to end the conversation quickly as he concealed his earpiece in a movement that appeared to be rubbing the back of his head anxiously.

“Hey, Spitty! Haaaaave you met ‘Uh’?” grinned Fleetfoot as she pushed her captain into the equally confused stallion.

Any protests the two pegasi had died on their lips as the band struck up a new song. Wordlessly, Rat offered a hoof to the mare, almost on instinct. Spitfire responded in kind, almost just as mechanically. An awkward silence threatened to set in before Rat cleared it.

“Your wingmate seems very… enthusiastic about you dancing this evening,” chuckled Rat as he tried to mask his panic.

“I swear, I don’t know what to do with her some days,” sighed Spitfire in frustration. “At least I’ve kept her from bothering Soarin and Dash, I guess.”

“Was that the rainbow-maned mare that made a scene with your second in command?” asked Rat as deftly twirled the Wonderbolt captain in a brief spin. “They seemed rather… involved… with each other, to be frank.”

“Oh gods above, you don’t know the half of it,” chuckled Spitfire ruefully. “Soarin was moping for weeks thinking about her before tonight, but then lit up like a signal flare the moment she showed up here tonight. Dash wasn’t any better either, making like a bat out of Tartarus the moment she saw him. Honestly, if it were any other reason, I’d write him up for abandoning his responsibilities tonight, but she’s good for him. Besides, Rainbow Dash is the most promising Wonderbolt hopeful we’ve seen in a while.”

“They seem like they’d complement each other well, then,” mused Rat. “Pushing their flight skills to the limit while matching their temperaments well on the ground.”

“Almost makes the logistical fallout worth it,” sighed Spitfire. “Tabloids are going to have a field day that not even Squad Twelve could draw attention from, Dash will catch all kinds of flak from jealous fanfillies even before she makes her attempt to join the Wonderbolts, and baseless accusations of favoritism will fly the moment word gets out that she’s trying out.”

“It’s enough to make Discord himself cross-eyed, yes?” smirked Rat.

“...Sorry, that was a lot to unload on a complete stranger,” apologized Spitfire. “I don’t even know your name and here I am, burying you up to your eyeballs in Wonderbolt drama.”

“Eagle Eye, ma’am,” bowed Rat as the current song concluded and the next began. “And it’s no trouble at all. I can tell that they’re your family, in all the ways that matter. Of course you’re going to be concerned about them.”

“Still, a mare all tied up in her work can’t make for the best dance partner, right?” snorted Spitfire. “Certainly not what you came here for tonight.”

“Is that how you see yourself?” asked Rat with a frown. “Respectfully, and for whatever it’s worth from a stallion you just met, that’s not the impression I get from you at all.”

“Oh? Care to elaborate?” smirked Spitfire with a skeptical eyebrow.

“You love the family that you’ve found in the Wonderbolts,” replied Rat. “For all the shenanigans that they get up to, for however much they’re a bunch of idiots, they’re your idiots. You feel that you need to carry that weight in silence and with distance and decorum considered ‘appropriate’ for your rank. In doing so, you feel that you must make sacrifices, which is categorically untrue.”

Spitfire blinked owlishly for a moment. “Is this the part where you tell me you’re a sideshow psychic and you want to read my hoof?” snarked Spitfire with a nervous chuckle.

“Nah, it’s just something that we ‘crew chiefs’ can recognize at a glance,” replied Rat. “I’m the leader of my own band of idiots, so I get it.”

“What kind of team are we talking about?” asked Spitfire with a raised eyebrow. “Unless you’re military, I don’t really think it would be the same kind of idiots.”

“Charitable work foundation,” replied Rat. “Just got back from Thestral territory, but we’ve been to Sireberia, Saddle Arabia, Sirejevo, you name it. Just odds and ends work, helping with reconstruction, education, relief efforts, and even evacuations.”

“But no ranks in the group,” mused Spitfire.

“None whatsoever, which is why I know that putting that distance between yourself and your team is completely unnecessary,” nodded Rat. “Granted, habits do die hard, so maybe start with adding just one more to your current group that you let your mane down for.”

“And who would you suggest that ‘one’ should be?” smirked Spitfire. “You?”

“Oh gods no, I’m a strange stallion you just met,” laughed Rat. “No, I would say another Wonderbolt that’s not already in your immediate circle. Somepony from one of the other squads, maybe?”

“I mean, I do let my mane down with them occasionally,” murmured Spitfire before trailing off. The look in her eyes is one Rat recognized all too well.

“Ah… Well, that look is one that I’m still trying to find the answer for,” sighed Rat before chuckling at the irony the orchestra had brought upon them. “And of course, the band decides to punctuate this moment with a bit of Gershwinny…”

“I think I know this one,” frowned Spitfire. “It’s ‘Somepony to Watch Over Me’, isn’t it?”

“‘There’s a saying old, says that Love is Blind,’” confirmed Rat with a smile.

“‘Still we’re often told' Seek, And Ye Shall Find’,” continued Spitfire.

“Well, here’s hoping they both ‘put on some speed’ for us, yes?” smiled Rat.

“And how do we know that we’re not the each other’s someponies?” asked Spitfire with a laugh.

“You really want to invite this civilian in on the nonsense that is the Wonderbolts?” laughed Rat.

“No, but it was worth a shot,” smiled Spitfire.

“You’ll find that somepony soon enough, Spitfire,” replied Rat. “Just keep a sharp eye and be open to them when they appear.”

“Aaaaaand now it’s time to change partners!” grinned Fleetfoot mischievously as she pulled a very confused Wave Chill and an equally confused mare toward Spitfire and Rat. Before Rat could say another word, Spitfire was whisked away into the arms of the steadfast Second Commander. Once again, Rat offered a hoof to the mare on reflex, to which she accepted, also on reflex.

“This seems… Oddly familiar,” mused Rat idly. “Forgive me, but have we met before?”

“It is always possible,” the mare shrugged. “I remember not where or why though.” The cadence of her words had an odd lilt to them, as though Equestrian was not her native tongue.

“It’s probably nothing,” dismissed Rat. “Just a faint memory of another time the Silver Streak was more than a little tipsy.”

“She does this often… Though her aim must be lacking if she has managed to catch you twice now…” the mare smirked. “She prefers a variety of targets.”

“I wouldn’t say her aim is lacking,” chuckled Rat as he and the mare fell into an easy two-step. “Far from it, as I don’t consider myself to be an easy target. Still, in both instances, I feel that I was merely collateral damage.”

“WOOOOOOOOO! I FOUND A BIG PARTY PONY!!!”

“Oh gods dammit…” sighed Rat.

“You said something about ‘collateral damage’?”

“...You get yours, I’ll grab mine?” asked Rat, glancing back at the mare.

“Oh!” The mare’s eyes fell finally on the extremely large pony that had just entered and now had Commander Fleetfoot draped ridiculously from his shoulders. “I realized not that you were a friend of Mister Guardian. I am wondering if Mister Bird knows what his brother has gotten himself into… Commander Fleetfoot at a ball is a far cry from my young cousin in a park…” she commented, a laughing twinkle in her eyes.

“Well, I will certainly make sure that he’s made aware, Miss…?” chuckled Rat.

“Starbolt, Ensign of Squad Nine,” the mare offered, smiling easily. “Best we move quickly… The longer the commander is attached, the more difficult it will be to remove her…” she added, dropping her arms away from her dance partner and heading towards the scene.

“Indeed, and Guardian can be just as difficult to… motivate…” replied Rat, hesitating as a faint memory buzzed in the back of his head.

“He spent close to five hours playing with my cousin, despite Mister Bird clearly desiring to leave… And departed only when I had to take my cousin home,” said Starbolt, chuckling at the memory of a sunny afternoon.

“You know, I think I remember him saying something about that,” smiled Rat as he inwardly cursed at complicating the group’s civilian aliases. He now remembered where he briefly met this mare, and he’d not introduced himself as “Eagle Eye” at that juncture.

“That surprises me not at all,” she replied and then turned her attention to the very befuddled giant pony with the diminutive commander still hanging from his neck. She waved broadly to capture Tank’s attention and stop him from his continuous backwards circling, and then easily approached the pair, starting the delicate process of extricating her commander from the poor stallion’s neck.

“Alright, Big Guy, let’s go find your ‘brother’, shall we?” suggested Rat as Tank bent forward to assist Starbolt in removing the drunken Fleetfoot from his neck.

Tank snorted briefly in affirmation, but then frowned as something else caught his attention. Once the commander had been removed, Tank immediately began moving… in the opposite direction from what Rat had indicated.

“Well… I guess we’re moving that way…” frowned Rat. “A pleasure, Miss Starbolt, but if you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure another mess does not arise.”

Starbolt merely smiled and made a brief nod as she waved another pegasus in dress blues over to her, and the pair managed, between them, to haul the very inebriated Fleetfoot out of sight in the crowd.

Rat immediately moves to pursue Tank, briefly losing sight of the giant in the crowd, but eventually managing to catch sight of him.

“Guardian, you can’t just wander off like… that…” Rat trailed off as he caught sight of Tank glaring disapprovingly at two stallions who seemed to be at the brink of coming to blows prior to the giant’s arrival. “… What seems to be the trouble, gentlestallions?”

“Trouble? No trouble here,” piped up one stallion with a squeak, earning himself eyerolls from the two unicorn mares that were closest. “Did you see trouble, good sir?”

“No trouble at all, good sir,” replied the other stallion. “Perhaps you may have seen trouble over by the refreshment table, but we are certainly fine here, isn’t that right, ma’am?”

The two mares glower with disgust at their partners, unable to match the intimidation from Tank only because of their smaller stature. As one, they share a look of matched distaste and then, with a scoff from the white mare, and a snort from the pink-maned mare, they turn around, cutting the two stallions and stalking away together.

“...Well, I suggest that you two be on your way,” suggested Rat. “My friend has a nasty habit of sitting on those he does not approve of…”

The stallions were gone before Rat had even finished his sentence. Chuckling slightly, Rat walked Tank back onto the balcony.

“Rat reporting back in,” stated Rat as he placed his earpiece back in.

“So, does the Captain of the Blunderdolts make seven?” asked Hawk cheekily.

“… Bane, what’s your status on the Compound?” asked Rat, pointedly ignoring Hawk even as the rest of the group chuckled.

“Files located in Spitfire’s office and copied,” reported Bane, a hint of a smirk in his voice. “We’ve got the schematics for the Compound right now, and Clover is babbling about a ‘Nimble’ or ‘Nimbus’ or something, but we’ve identified the security vulnerabilities we need to catch them unaware.”

“Good work,” replied Rat. “Get out of there as quick as you can. Big Blue and Loyalty just left the ballroom, and they might run into you. Dagger, how’s-”

“AAAAAAAAAAUGH!” screamed Cloak.

“Cloak?!” exclaimed Rat. “What’s going on?!”

“DonotlookintotheSunortheSunstaresback…DonotlookintotheSunortheSunstaresback…” babbled Cloak over the comms.

“‘Look into’- Cloak, did you encounter VIP Sarastro?” demanded Rat.

“DonotlookintotheSunortheSunstaresback…DonotlookintotheSunortheSunstaresback…” Cloak continued to babble. “Here comes the Sun, doo-doo-doo-doo… Here comes the Sun, and I say… ‘It’s alright’? But it’s not alright. Daylight has become Nightlight. No amount of cake will fix this…”

“Dagger, grab him and get out of there ASAP!” ordered Rat. “We’re bugging out now-”

“No!” protested Cloak. “...No, I’m fine, guys. It was just… frightening for a bit.”

“What happened?” asked Rat. “What did you see?”

“What cannot be Unseen, Boss…” replied Cloak solemnly. “You know how we don’t talk about what Dagger saw in the training room when Patch was testing out the new Crystals?”

“I thought we agreed never to speak of that!” hissed Dagger.

“Let’s also not speak of this and leave it be!” protested Cloak.

“...Fine… If you have the intel we need, then get out of there,” ordered Rat. “Dust, make a convincing scene to get Turncoat away from the Gala and then meet back at the Safehouse.”

Canterlot, Safehouse Flashpoint, Equestria
Metalsday, 2 Fire Moon, 1001 Equestrian Era
Three Days and Six Hours Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Rat leaned against the railing at Safehouse Flashpoint, staring out over the lights of the city below. Clover was still in an excited babble even hours after they’d recovered the plans for the Wonderbolt compound, but all the crew could get out of her was something about a “sister ship” or some such nonsense. Still, Rapidfire had been briefed properly, the intel had been gathered, and their enemies were none the wiser.

“I guess it’s ‘later’ now?” asked Lightning Dust uncertainly, approaching from the kitchen to the balcony.

“...Do you know what bothers me, Dust?” frowned Rat. “Do you know why your actions made me so frustrated?”

“I disobeyed your orders, I know-” sighed Dust.

“I don’t give a damn that you disobeyed my orders, Dust,” interrupted Rat sharply. “I’m angry that you took an incredibly stupid risk, and to what end? We already had a plan with minimal risk-”

“Storming the Wonderbolt Compound is ‘minimal risk’?” asked Dust incredulously.

“Tell me the last time you heard of Wonderbolts in active combat versus the last time you heard of Shadowbolts in active combat,” deadpanned Rat. “Regardless, the risk you took was incredibly foolish. To be honest, I don’t care about the fact you could have jeopardized everything. What do you think would have happened if the Wonderbolts had caught on to your actions?”

“I would have been fine,” argued Dust. “Like you said, it’s the Wonderbolts, right?”

“You do realize how Celestia responds to clear and present threats to ‘her little ponies’, yes?” retorted Rat. “If not, I would suggest asking Discord or Queen Chrysalis how well that worked out for them. With that in mind, consider what Nightshade just tried doing to the hometown of her precious Elements, and consider the pressure you would be placed under as the only link to finding said threat?”

Lightning Dust winced, so Rat pressed forward.

“Even if it paid off this time, what would happen if you tried to pull this stunt on another mission?” continued Rat. “Against a foe far more dangerous than the Wonderbolts? Like Janus? Or the Rakyat?”

“I wouldn’t-” protested Dust.

“And how do we know you wouldn’t?!” asked Rat. “What would possess you to make that choice in the first place?”

“Because I didn’t want to be abandoned again!” blurted Lightning Dust.

The silence stretched on for long moments, with only the wind whipping by to break it.

“What- ‘Abandoned’?” asked Rat. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“When I was at the Academy, I pushed myself as hard as I could, but it still wasn’t enough for them,” whispered Lightning Dust. “I broke every record they had, and I still got drummed out. Nightshade, Descent, Starry Skies, your crew, the Outsiders, even Pitch’s crew! You’re on a whole different level than the Wonderbolts! It’s like you stepped out of some kind of spy thriller! If I wasn’t good enough for the frigging Wonderbolts, how the hell could I possibly measure up to you all without taking the initiative?! …If I wasn’t a Wonderbolt academy dropout, would the Shadowbolts even look at me?”

Rat said nothing. He looked up at the night sky, breathed in a slow breath of cool night air, and exhaled slowly. Slowly, he walked forward to the seafoam mare, deliberate steps punctuating every motion. He stared down at his hooves, not even looking up. Lightning Dust prepared to be dismissed from her new family, wincing and closing her eyes…

…And promptly received a wing to the back of her head.

“Ow! What the hay!” Dust swore.

“You’re a dumbass, Dust,” smirked Rat.

“Look, I know I’m not on your level yet, so there’s no need to rub it in!” groused Dust.

“You don’t need to be, Lightning Dust,” replied Rat gently. “As you pointed out, we’re not the Wonderbolts. You don’t have anything to prove with us.”

“But you’re… You’re all… so cool…” protested Dust. “Why would you want anything to do with me besides my connection to the Wonderbolts?”

“You know I was a pickpocket when Descent found me, right?” countered Rat. “Cloak and Dagger were two scared orphans in a burned out house. Hawk was just some random mercenary that Tank dragged along by the vest collar. Oracle was a frightened blind filly with a fishing rod. Do you think we all started out the way we are now?”

“Well-”

“We’ll not abandon you just because you’ve ‘outlived your usefulness’,” explained Rat. “There’s no ‘mandatory retirement age’. We don’t kill you when you’re done. We’re a clan. So don’t jump in over your head because you’re trying to impress us.”

Lightning Dust looked uncertain still, but seemed to take Rat at his word. Rat gave a comforting pat to Dust’s shoulder, to which the mare smiled weakly and made her way to her bunk at the safehouse. Rat watched her go for a moment, sighing briefly before turning back to the railing.

“You do realize that Nightshade is not that merciful anymore, yes?” commented a familiar voice once Dust was out of earshot.

“Yeah… I do…” sighed Rat. “A lot has changed with the Shadowbolts these days, hasn’t it?”

“Change is inevitable, regardless of the group,” replied Descent as he stood next to his former apprentice. “Some are for the better. Some are for the worse.”

“Nightshade’s attitude towards perceived ‘failures’ is certainly worse,” snarled Rat.

“I certainly hope that your words from earlier reached Dust, or else Nightshade’s wrath will find her instead,” replied Descent.

“Wrath that she didn’t even earn,” argued Rat. “Those crystals are poison, Descent. You know it, Hox knows it, and I know it. Nightshade was more than a little bent before, but now she’s become something…else. Something decidedly evil, or at least the servant of something evil.”

“You refer to our new mysterious benefactor?” replied Descent.

“I know Hox told you what we saw on the tape the night Dante died. Banshee may have been a traitor, but she was right. Somepony used a crystal to rig that Challenge,” replied Rat. “Somepony set all of this up for Kayn Ost, but for what?”

“I doubt we’ll ever know, but that’s just how we work, isn’t it?” replied Descent. “We’re Shadowbolts, after all.”

“Are we?” snorted Rat. “Somehow, I don’t know that I believe that anymore. We’ve changed, Descent. I’m sure you’ve seen it. We were once proud professionals who worked in secret, but now we’ve become little better than lap dogs for a shadowy benefactor. We’re puppets. We’re the new HTB now.”

“Are you saying that you’ll challenge Nightshade?” frowned Descent.

“Fuck the challenge,” replied Rat. “And fuck betraying the rest of the group because Nightshade has lost her mind. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m keeping my crew alive.”

“Desertion?” asked Descent in shock. “I never would have expected that from you. And after all these years?”

“What has that loyalty gotten us, Descent?” argued Rat. “A one-way ticket on a suicide express, and I won’t watch my team die if I can help it. We won’t sell them out, but we’ll take early retirement without asking. ”

“...I find myself unable to disagree with you,” frowned Descent. “Did you need me to turn a blind eye this evening?”

“No, we won’t be leaving until the Blunderdolt has been grabbed,” replied Rat. “Still, this conflict is going to get out of control, and we’ll be damn lucky to live through it… Just… Promise me that Dust will be cared for?”

“You could stay and see to it yourself,” argued Descent.

“Descent…” frowned Rat.

“...You have my word,” replied Descent reluctantly. “Whatever it takes to keep her safe…”

Rat nodded in thanks, looking back out over the railing. He could have sworn he saw the outline of a pegasus couple dancing among the clouds, filling him with dread. An entirely different storm was brewing on the horizon now, as the fog of war drifted over the land.

To be Concluded...

Author's Note

Here we go... One more until the end.