Section 1: The Extortionist
Dear Reader;
If you have come across this document, then it has been done so with the explicit consent of Princess Celestia herself. Please note that the following account of my most recent mission in service to the crown is strictly confidential, and must not be shared with any unauthorised third party, under penalty of execution for crimes of high treason.
The first thing you should know about me, is that my name is Melody Light. Though this is not my true name, it is the name I go by throughout most of my day-to-day life, and so I should always be referred to as such unless otherwise explicitly stated. To get one of the most obvious questions out of the way first, no, “Melody Light” is not a particularly threatening name for one involved in my line of work, but I should hope that some of you have already figured out that this is entirely the point. It blends in seamlessly with the rest of pony society. Those who know me, the real me, are the ones who can give you their word that I am much more dangerous than the name implies. It would not speak well of Princess Celestia if the general public knew why such information is limited to a very small circle of ponies.
For those not yet in the know, I am a changeling, and prior that faithful day when my kind invaded Canterlot nearly two years ago now, I was as much a slave—no, drone—to Queen Chrysalis as the real Melody Light was to me. Though to use a pronoun such as “me” would be a gross overstatement. I was not me back then, not the changeling who has pledged his eternal loyalty to our dear Princess of the Sun. I had no other purpose in life beyond doing exactly as the Queen commanded. Attempting to describe life as a drone would be a fruitless task. It would be like if you tried to explain the first two years of your own infancy; void of any real sense of self beyond the basic instincts to survive. The difference being, of course, that foals are usually not commanded by their parents to feed on the emotions of others for the purposes of fuelling the greater hive.
Since the Canterlot invasion, many of my kind have experienced what you may call an awakening. In reality it is little more than an amalgamation of memories and ideas stolen from other ponies, fusing together to form a personality that was previously repressed by the magic of the Hive Queen. But then again, if you stripped down all personalities to their basic traits, categorizing them into neat sections, could you not say that all personalities are simply a fusion of defined attributes anyone could have? To say that I have pondered this question a lot would be an understatement. How does one go about deciphering the meaning of individuality when not twenty-four hours before, the entire concept of being any different from the hundreds of other identical beings within your hive was incomprehensible to you?
And so here we are, two years later, now an elite on the specifics of changelings who have defected from the hive. While some have taken on the lives and identities of the ponies they had once killed, I myself have chosen a different path, which in my opinion does an even greater service in ensuring the continued peace between equestrian society. I am an assassin. I kill ponies – specifically, high profile criminals who pose the greatest threat to the stability of the Crown. While it is true that the six harmonists of Ponyville have saved Equestria more times than I care to count, they are just ponies. They have their own lives to live, and cannot keep track of every threat to our kingdom. Not even Princess Celestia has that power. What the Princess needs is intelligence. Ponies on the inside who can mitigate any risks for any individuals becoming powerful enough to rival the harmonists under the muzzle of the Princess.
And that, dear reader, is where I come in. I am here to recount one mission that I remember particularly well. It all started on one sunny mid-morning at the Tasty Treat.
The bright rays of Celestia's glorious sun greeted me as I gradually returned to the waking world. It had become a bad habit of mine to start the day by gazing out of my bedroom window, observing the daily lives of the predominantly unicorn population. This always came at a risk, considering that I change back into my true form when I sleep. Nothing good would come if somepony spotted a changeling staring at them from out of a window! Even so, it was a risk I was willing to take, as it reminded me of the ponies I protect with my service to Celestia.
Jumping off my bed and trotting over to the mirror, I wasted no time in casting my transformation spell. In a burst of green fire, my shape changes from the black mishmash of both ungulate and insectoid features, to a stocky yellow unicorn with frizzy brown hair and aquamarine eyes. I shifted my body from side-to-side, admiring my handiwork in re-creating the image of a pony lost in time. It was impossible to make the disguise perfect, as there would always be small imperfections. While other ponies never seemed to notice—caring only that the ray of sunshine cutie mark I wore remained consistent—the longer I stared in the mirror, the more of these imperfections I began to notice. Small things here and there, like the length of my horn, the thickness of my thighs, even a birth mark that wasn't in the exact place were a stark reminder that I was not, and would never be, the real Melody Light that everypony once knew.
Thank Celestia for the sharp knock on the door snapping me back to reality, otherwise I could have spent hours adjusting my magic in a futile reach for perfection. “Just a second!” I called in a strong Trottingham accent, nearly stumbling over the bedside table as I reached for the door.
Pulling it open, I met my boss' eyes and could instantly tell all was not well. The sweat rolling down her face, which was starting to make her black eyeliner run a little bit, compared with the frazzled state of her normally wavy black mane made her look as if she had ran a marathon in her work outfit.
“Is everything okay ma'am?” I asked. “You look out of breath.”
“I'll be fine, Melody,” Saffron replied, levitating her red scarf to dab the sweat off of her face, her voice cracking slightly. If this was what she called “fine”, I'd hate to see her in a foul mood. “It's just... that me and my father...” She swallowed, trying to catch her breath. “...are dealing with a troublemaker who tried to steal my jewellery, claiming it was payment for our 'insurance'.”
My eye began to twitch. I had a strong inkling as to who the pony in question was, but I hoped I was wrong. “Lead me to 'im ma'am. I'll make sure the other customers remain calm while you call for the royal guards.”
Without another word, we bolted down the stairs, galloping through the kitchen into the dining area. Coming to a swift halt, I was confronted with the sight of Saffron's father—a stout and heavy-set pony with a black moustache named Coriander Cumin—already squaring up to the intruder, whom was unfortunate exactly the pony I suspected it to be.
Puffing out his chest and grinning in the smuggest way, a chubby turquoise unicorn in a mismatched black jacket and black fedora by the name of Punch Light sized up the restaurant owner. “Now now mistah, there's no need to be unreasonable,” Punch spoke with a forced Manehatten accent that was thicker than a Prench trifle; in a manner which made me wonder if it was even possible to come off as more condescending. “In case ya haven't noticed, but I'm kind of a big deal around here, being the Black Quill gang's latest recruit.”
Gesturing to the aforementioned black quill in his hat, several customers began to murmur among themselves, though from what I could make of it they were more interested in questioning if this was all some kind of elaborate prank. If I didn't know better myself, I would have agreed with them. Unfortunately, Punch Light really was that arrogant.
“For the last time, we do not, and have never owed you anything!” Coriander yelled, digging his hooves into the carpet. “Now get out of my restaurant!”
“I have alerted the Royal Guard, Father,” Saffron said, sounding anxious. “It won't be long until they arrive.”
“Well, er, that's gonna be a bit of a problem, ya see,” Punch light replied, stroking his chin. “The Royal Guards are gonna be a little tied up at the moment, as they got some of my pals to deal with first. You know as well as I do that I ain't leavin' until you fess up and pay ya dues. After all, ya wouldn't want any, shall we say, 'unfortunate incidents', would ya?”
This was the third time this month Punch Light had waltzed into the Tasty Treat, demanding special benefits or payments of some kind, usually coupled with some kind of half-hearted blackmail. And of course, each time he would get shot down without a moment's hesitation.
“You will get nothing from us, and that is final!” Saffron yelled, thrashing a metal serving spoon at the mobster with her magic. “Now get out before I throw you out!”
“H-Hey!” Punch stuttered nervously. “P-put that thing down! D-don't you know who I am? I'm the all-powerful Punch Light! One strike of my fist and BOOM! Out go the lights of any pony who gets on my nerves! Celestaia forbid that happen to you...” Punch Light turned his gaze to Coriander, a sly grin growing across his face, though I could tell by the stressed muscles on the edges of his mouth that it was false. “Or perhaps, your old man?”
That was the last straw. I had to deal with this moron before the situation escalated. Dashing back into the kitchen, I threw on a spare apron and checked the order listings for the day. It didn't take me long to spot several orders for the special soup of the day - spicy tomato with a pinch of garlic! Saffron and Coriander always had a knack for knowing just what food to advertise as a special for the day, and with at least three pots of the stuff just waiting to be served, there was no better time than now to give the customers exactly what they wanted, in more ways than one.
Levitating one of the pots, I carefully trotted back out into the dining area, and by the looks of things, I came just in time too. Punch Light looked as if he had finally developed a backbone, charging at Saffron with intent to tackle her, but only managed to land a small cut to Saffron's yellow shirt sleeve, getting whacked several times with her ladle. Show time!
“Who ordered the...erm...spicy Saddle Arabian Tomato Soup aga-whoops!” Cutting myself off mid sentence, I deliberately tripped myself over my front hooves, sending the soup flying right into Punch Light's face.
As Punch staggered around blindly, screaming in pain, about half of the restaurant burst out laughing. Though he tried to rub his eyes in an effort to clear his vision, it only succeeded in making the pain worse. With a quick flick of my hooves, I sent the now empty pot skidding across the floor in his direction, perfectly timing its trajectory for Punch to trip on and crash headfirst into a table. I must admit, it took allot of effort on my part to avoid cracking up at the calamity.
“Get out of my restaurant you worthless excuse for a unicorn!” Saffron screamed, smacking Punch Light with a flurry of blows. I'd never seen her so angry before, but I am still impressed to this day how pent up with rage she had was! The second Punch was gone, the entire restaurant erupted into applause. While both Saffron and Coriander took a bow, I used the opportunity to slip away and head back to my room, where I could clear my head and plan my next move. In spite of the humorous nature of a well orchestrated pratfall, I could not let myself forget why Punch Light was here in the first place. Though this particular pony was little more than a bumbling fool—far too caught up in his own ego fuelled to achieve anything beyond minor annoyances—it was an unequivocal fact he was part of a grander scheme. While in the short term it was entirely possible he would leave us alone, how many in the mob would turn up at our doorstep because of him was an unknown factor. I could not risk letting Punch Light getting back to the gang's headquarters. This was a situation that I could not allow.
“Melody?” I turned towards the door to see Saffron, giving me a look of concern.
“Oh, sorry boss,” I said. “Guess I drifted off for a little bit there...”
Saffron breathed a sigh of relief, sharing a small chuckle with me before I piped up again, rubbing my hoof against the back of my head awkwardly. “Sorry about the mess I made before. I was just on my way to clean it up once I calmed down a bit.”
“Not to worry,” Saffron reached over and patted me on the shoulder. “I have already taken care of it. I actually wanted to offer you a promotion, as a thank you for being such a dedicated member of our team, even in the face of adversity.”
It took a moment for me to process what she was saying, but I already knew I was in too deep. I will freely admit that the Tasty Treat had become my home over the short time I had been working there, and although my heart ached to accept Saffron's gesture of kindness, I knew that I could not.
“Thank you so much, Saffron,” I replied, tears welling up behind my eyes. “But I just cannot accept it, as I won't be here for much longer.” Watching the smile fade from Saffron's face was something I never want to see again. I knew this would hurt her, but alas, it could not be avoided. If only she knew the truth...
No, I cannot risk such thoughts. I must serve the greater good.
“I'm sorry.”
Before Saffron could object, my horn flared into life with changeling magic. I must confess, as a drone, I had never paid any attention to how ponies reacted when under my influence. But now, fully aware of my actions as I was, it is a sight I will never forget. Saffron's eyes went white as a ghost, her mind surrendering all control to me as I fed her the thoughts I needed to keep her off my trail. I had her locked in a trance, completely under my influence, as if she was now just a drone herself. For one brief moment, the memories of the original Melody Light all came flooding back to me. I could see her as clearly as I had the day she died, the look of sheer terror was I wiped her mind to claim it as my own, leaving her as little more than a thoughtless shell. My stomach wrenched. I had to suppress those memories, and fast, or run the risk of feeding my own anxieties into the very pony who I was trying to deceive. Upon being released from my spell, Saffron glanced around the room and rubbed her head, looking very confused.
“Ugh, my head,” she groaned before noticing me. “Oh, I'm sorry Melody. I don't know what came over me. What was it you were saying again?”
“About my parents visiting Canterlot for a few weeks,” I said. “My mother has fallen quite ill. I'm sorry I have to leave you at such short notice, but my father will need all the help he can get looking after poor mama. I'm sure you understand.”
Saffron responded with a respectful nod. “Of course, you do what you must for the sake of your family. Please send her my good wishes, and let her know they are always welcome at the Tasty Treat.” In spite of the slight croak in her voice that revealed her disappointment, Saffron's words were no less genuine. Since my redemption, I never asked for very much beyond the basic necessities for peaceful livings during the downtime between missions. However, just this once, I whispered a quick prayer to Celestia, hoping that could rid this dedicated pony from the shadow of the mob and put a stop to their threats.
With one last hug, we said our goodbyes. Now it was time to track down Punch Light, as I had a few choice words that he would be dying to hear. It was easy enough to find him again. A fat unicorn covered in tomato soup wasn't exactly what you would call inconspicuous. The moment that I caught up with him, I dashed into an ally behind a building, making sure that nopony was watching, In a flash, my shape changed again, this time assuming the shape of Saffron herself. The way of changeling deception is not always about hiding in the shadows, but rather, it is about choosing the right time to get noticed. With damp eyeliner running down my face from the stream of fake tears I cried, it didn't take long to capture Punch Light's attention.
“Well, well, well,” he said with a smug sense of triumph. “Seems the pretty lady remembered why she shouldn't be gettin' so hysterical about little ol' me.”
“Please don't hurt me! I-I'm so sorry for how I acted!” I whined between heavy sobs, mimicking the Saffron's heavy accent perfectly. “Please, I'll pay you whatever you want! Just don't send any more of your cohorts to my business! Dear Papa, he can't take any more stress!”
The devious smirk on Punch Light's face told me that he bought my sob story hook line and sinker. “I'm glad ya could see it my way. And since you asked so nicely, I'll give ya a bit of a discount. Fifty bits a week, all in one payment. That's the minimum amount it'll take to protect you in dangerous times like these. Anythin' beyond the basics? Well, we can work that out later. It may require somethin' a little more than just money, if ya catch my drift...”
I wanted to cringe so hard as he wiggled his eyebrows at me. Either he had been watching too many movies, or he'd been learning from some rather slimy comrades to say the least. My whole body ached with desire to inflict as much pain on him as I could. Thankfully, I was able to restrain this impulse just long enough to finish my act. “Here, take it! Take it all!” I wailed, throwing a heavy sack of bits at Punch Light as he stumbled forward in an awkward attempt to catch it.
“Pleasure doin' business with ya,” He said, tipping his hat in my direction. By this point, I was certain he had to be mocking me. “I'll be back same time next week for the next payment.”
The second that he turned his back on me, I took my opportunity to attack. Within the blink of an eye, I yanked out a dagger from my hair and threw it into the back of the mobster's neck. If I said to you that I did not enjoy the act of killing, it would be a lie. I chose this path in life, and the sound of snapping tendons to this day is music to my ears. Unfortunately, just as before, I was unable to escape the memory of Melody Light. I could already feel the image of her face, twisted in terror, staring back at me as the realisation of what she had gotten herself into dawned on her. I had to make this quick, lest I start to see the face of Melody in front of me instead of the arrogant unicorn who threatened the lives of those I hold dear. This single attack was not lethal. I had not expected it to be. However what it did achieve was getting Punch Light's attention. Turning round to face me was exactly what I was hoping to do, leaving his neck exposed for me to pull out my second dagger and jam it right into the centre of his throat. Any scream he would have made became drowned out as a gurgling wheeze of blood flooded his windpipe, dead before he hit the ground.
“Pleasure doin' business with ya indeed, pal.”
I can't tell you how satisfying it felt to say those words with all the heavy sarcasm Punch Light had been subjecting me to this whole time. Lowering my horn to meet his own, I called upon my magical fire to envelop the dead unicorn's body, incinerating it while I simultaneously take on his identity as my own.
No sooner had the first charade ended, a second had begun. My assimilation of Punch Light's form was complete. I was almost tempted to feel sorry for him - a rookie trying his hardest to join the big leagues in the world of crime, not only failing to get anywhere, but to have his very existence erased from Equestria. Though lets be honest here, if I started to get bleary-eyed over every dumb thug who thought it was a good idea to make a living by terrorising local ponies, I wouldn't be particularly good at my job. There was no more time to waste. Punch Light's boss would be waiting the report on his mission, and I had best not keep him waiting.
Author's Note
Inspired by epics such as Harmony Theory, Monsters, and Forged Anew. I hope to explore themes of identity and regret within this story, so constructive feedback is welcomed!
Section 2: The Sharp Needle
It took longer than I thought to get to get used to Punch Light's body. His mannerisms weren't so much of a problem, as I would say this was one of the easiest disguises I've ever pulled off. He practically gift wrapped them for me with his arrogance. No, it was more to do with just how heavy Punch was, compared to the forms I had been wearing for the past several months. The proportion of his wide girth compared to his stubby limbs resulted in a few trips and awkward steps before I could settle into a comfortable walking pattern. For the first quarter of an hour or so, I had to use my magic to assist in getting around, but soon after I managed to keep myself stable without much effort.
Punch Light did not carry many personal belongings on him, but I only needed one item from him anyway. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, I pulled out a business card. It advertised one specific diner, “The One Horn Grill”. Upon reflection, it really wasn't surprising that the name of his favourite restaurant was rather generic. Considering the diversity of eating establishments that sprang up overnight here in Canterlot, some places would have a way to go yet when it came to establishing their own identity. More importantly, it was a perfectly unassuming place for a hideout. If anything, I would have been more surprised if they had made the location of their headquarters blatantly obvious with neon signs reading “Evil Lair”. The back of the card listed a short series of numbers, each proceeded by a hash to discern them as separate from one another – an important detail to remember.
It was only a short walk between the Tasty Treat and the One Horn Grill, a couple of minutes away at most. No wonder why Punch always came to my workplace first, as even the laziest of mobsters could make a show at a place like that. The diner itself was designed in a much more clean and minimal style, almost the complete opposite to the exotic decorations of the Tasty Treat. Chequered floor tiles, white walls, red leather seats, the works. Even if the décor didn't stand out in any meaningful manner, business was booming regardless as the queue leading up the counter very nearly stretched the entire length of the place. Upon entering, I did get a few glances thrown my way from the customers, but none of them reacted to my presence beyond that. Good. The longer I can remain just another pony, waiting his turn to grab some late lunch, everything was going according to plan. One stand out feature I noticed among this crowd compared to other restaurants in Canterlot was that most ponies ordered their food using the numbers listed in the menu, as opposed to the correlating food names. Double checking the back of my card, I found that each of these numbers corresponded with several listed meal codes. When it was finally my turn to order, a brown-and-white earth pony waiter greeted me with a bright smile.
“Welcome back, Mr. Punch Light, sir. What can I get for you today?” he asked.
“Good to see ya too, pal,” I replied. It was such a relief that he recognised my form, as it meant I didn't have to risk using changeling magic. “I'll be takin' the numbah twenty five, thirty four and eighty six ta go, if ya please.”
A startled look overcame the waiter's face for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. Leaning over to an adjacent waitress, he whispered something in her ear about “taking care of business”, before turning back to me.
“Right this way, sir.”
If the waiter hadn't still been looking directly at me, I would have swiped a hoof across my head in relief. “Yeah yeah, let's just make this snappy,” I said, following the waiter towards the stock room in the back. “Don't wanna be keepin' da boss waitin' now, do we?”
“Of course not, sir,” He replied, attempting to hide the nervousness in his voice. After a quick glance around the room to ensure that nopony else was looking, the waiter trotted over to a pile of wooden crates, tapping them in a rhythmic code. As the fake crates folded away, they revealed a stairway that lead down to a rather fancy looking lobby, much more extravagant than anything else within the building. The immediate room was small, no longer than two ponies long and three ponies wide, though the general lack of furniture beyond a small sofa and a marehogany door gave it the illusion of being bigger.
“After you sir,” the waiter said, extending his hoof.
Though there was nothing immediately obvious about either the waiter or the lobby that looked like it could contain hidden dangers, I still took my time walking down the stairs.
“Would you like some tea while you wait to see the boss, good sir?” The waiter asked once I was seated. I simply waved my hoof in response.
“No thanks pal. Just let the boss know I'm here.”
“Yes sir, right away,” the waiter said, bowing as he slipped behind the door. The second that he left, I let out an irritated cough that I had been holding in for hours. I have no idea how Punch Light managed to keep up such a ridiculous accent, considering how poorly his vocal chords are suited to producing it. It didn't take long for the waiter to return, followed closely behind by a magenta-coated Pegasus mare. She had her curly blue hair held up into a bun with two long hair pins, and a lanky frame initially made her look less threatening than I expected her to be. It was her cutie mark—a white skull with needles in place of crossbones—that spoke volumes about her combat prowess. I knew I would have to keep a close eye on her if she needed to be eliminated.
“About freaking time you showed up!” The mare snapped with an accent that was posh even by Canterlot standards. By the scowl on her face, I could tell she was not exactly pleased to see me. “You were supposed to show up half an hour ago!”
Less than five second into infiltrating the black quill gang, and already I was making enemies. That had to be a new record for me. It seems Punch's laziness was coming back to bight me in the flank. “Don't sweat it doll,” I said with a huff, rolling my eyes. “What I go for da boss will more than make up for it. I tell ya, he's gonna wanna hear what I've noticed about some of the restaurants I paid a visit to today!”
The Pegasus mare planted her hoof in her face and groaned. “Just get to the bosses office and get this over with. Consider yourself lucky Hefty Hoof assigned me as your supervisor. ”
“Yeah yeah, I get ya,” I replied nonchalantly, before trotting past her with my head held high. In some respects, it was a relief that I wasn't the only one who found Punch Light to be a rather irritating individual. As annoying as it was for everypony, including myself, it is just another aspect of life as a changeling that I had to get used to. I looked forward to when I could finally tone down Punch's arrogance, but for the moment, keeping my character consistent was of the highest priority.
“Will that be all, Miss Needle Point?” the waiter asked, trying to hold his shaking hooves steady.
“Yes yes, feel free to toddle off and go back to whatever it is you do.”
The door slammed behind us, with the waiter galloping back up the stairs as fast as his hooves could carry him. Needle hadn't even said anything particularly vicious, and yet already she was shooting terror into the hears of innocent ponies!
The hall way ahead was noticeably more lavish than the waiting room. Various statues and ornaments from the four corners of Equestria and beyond lined each side, but it was the selection of paintings in particular that caught my eye – as all of them depicted the same Crystal Pony stallion with exaggerated front hooves, standing on various heroic poses. The artists must have spent an exceptional amount of time getting those...things in proportion with the rest of the stallion's body. Now that I knew the boss's name, it didn't take a genius to figure out who the pony depicted in these paintings was supposed to be.
I slowed down to allow Needle time to catch up. “So, toots, how are things developing in your neck of the woods?”
Needle let out a huff. “What do you care?” she said. “You seem so proud of your success already. At this rate I'll be rid of you in no time.”
“Aw, don't be like that babydoll, how am I s'posed ta learn all the tricks of the trade if my own mentor won't tell me about the crazy skills she's been usin' ta get her work done?”
Needle shot me me a furious glare. It seemed as though I had made a rather poor choice of words, even by Punch Light standards. “First of all, don't ever call me that again or I will personally have your eyeballs shoved so far up your rear-end, you'll be getting the best view of your own large intestines anypony will have seen in over a century!” In spite of her display of anger, flared wings and hoof shakes included, I could tell she was holding back. If her cutie mark was anything to go by, Needle was a mare who didn't waste any time in killing those who got on her nerves. The fact that my neck remained unbroken was a testament to how much self-restraint she had. For now, as long as she kept talking, I was safe. “Second, if you keep running your mouth off like that, you'll end up blabbing to the kind of ponies who won't hesitate to shut you up. You want my advice? Pay some bucking attention to who you're talking to. Do I make myself clear?”
I gulped, grinning nervously as if I was trying to hide my fear of Needle. With how she kept her whole body taut, trying to launch an attack behind her back like I had with Punch Light would undoubtedly be suicidal. This one, I hoped, would be quite a glorious challenge to kill! “Y-yes ma'am,” I stuttered, a few drops of sweat rolling down my head. Sweating on command is actually easier than many ponies give it credit for. All you have to do is stiffen up, keep your eyes open and know which muscles to stretch in order to raise your body temperature, much like forcing yourself to cry.
Before I even had a chance to blink, Needle jabbed her hoof at me, stopping less than an inch away from my face, licking her lips as she locked eyes with me with. She was enjoying the fear.
“Good, I'm glad you see things my way,” she said in a self congratulatory manner. “The boss will see you now.”
Flicking her hoof away from my face, she gestured to a large set of golden double doors, both of them featuring a striking insignia of a white hoof and a black quill smashing into the earth.
I'll be honest, when I first laid eyes upon the boss's office, it was a lot less elaborate than I had expected, given the ego this guy must have to commission so many portraits of himself. Now that I look back on everything, the mood of Hefty Hoof's office had a clear, yet understated aura of authority. The deep violet walls contrasting with black leather chairs, all lit by a single lamp on the mahogany desk. No paintings, no ornaments, just a lamp, a wall clock, and a large stallion sitting at his desk, impatiently tapping his hooves as I walk in. You would be forgiven for thinking, as I did, that the size of Hefty's hooves was exaggerated for effect. That was not the case. The boss of this gang really did live up to his name, being almost twice the size of a regular pony, with even the lightest tap on the table making an audible “clunk”.
His ivory white coat and gelled back mane glimmered with a reflective sheen, bouncing back even the smallest amount of light emitting from the lamp. Seeing a Crystal Pony in the position of a crime boss is the last thing many would expect encounter. But for changelings, an open mind is the most essential trait one could have. I've seen Griffins, Diamond Dogs, even dragons commanding ponies to do their bidding, all the while hiding behind the facade of a genuine day-to-day business. Even though every single Crystal Pony I had ever met up until that point has been nothing but kind, welcoming, and honest, I knew by now that not letting go of all preconceived notions would only hinder my task of learning the key traits of my targets. With a pony like this, it simply meant that I would have to be a little more careful when the time came to end the life of the big boss.
Hefty leaned forward, staring at me with an unreadable expression. He did not appear to be angry, but I would not exactly describe him as pleased either. His mouth neither rose nor fell, not even blinking as he swept his eyes up and down my body. Putting his hooves together, elbows leaning on the table, all three of us sat in silence. I took a brief glance at the clock to see how long we had spent without beginning the conversation, yet I found myself unable to look away from Hefty's eyes for more than a couple seconds at a time.
“So,” he finally said in a well-spoken voice. “Would I be correct in my assumption that you have a good reason for your delay?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. It was if my vocal chords had been somehow frozen in place, preventing me from making any sounds. The rest of my body didn't fare much better, as if I had been chained to the chair with an invisible force.
“You may speak,” Hefty said.
With a swipe of his hoof, I was free from my paralysis, the words spilling out from my mouth like a bursting dam. “You bet I do, sir! And boy oh boy, do I ever have some tasty information for ya today.”
“Really now?” Hefty said, leaning back in his chair. He took one glance at Needle, who had been gritting her teeth the whole time, yet she still keeping her hooves held tightly across her chest, holding herself back from lashing out at me.
I grinned. At least I had Hefty's undivided attention for the moment. “I gotta tell ya boss, some of these here restaurant owners? They ain't all they're cracked up ta be! That little lady at the Tasty Treat tried ta act tough, thinkin' she could boss me around. Ha! The moment I laid eyes upon her daddy, she collapsed to her knees and begged me to protect her. I got a lovely sack o' bits for my troubles,” I took out the bag of gold from my pocket, shaking it lightly in my hoof to make the coins inside jingle. “So even though it took longer than I thought it would, I knew my persistence would make 'em crack eventually.”
Hefty Hoof slowly reached over and took the gold pouch from my hoof. Pulling open the top, he poured out the bits onto his desk, separating each one to evaluate if it was worth as much as I was implying.
“Fifty bits, paid in full. Called it insurance, I did! Made sure ta tell those suckers at the Tasty Treat that they won't runnin' into any...” I paused for a second to think of the most dramatic way to express the ruse. “Complications with their business, shall we say. Man, I wish you coulda been there ta see their faces! It was priceless I tells ya.”
Hefty pushed the coins back into the bag and gave a simple nod. “Well, I certainly do admire your enthusiasm. Credit where credit is due, you are already proving yourself effective using intimidation tactics.”
“No sweat boss. I can get even more money for ya next ti- “
“However,” Hefty continued, cutting me off. “While your efforts are indeed admirable, your methods are still exceptionally sloppy. Your lack of punctuality and your tendency to run your mouth can potentially give away vital secrets. That leaves loose ends. Miss Needle, could you show Mr Punch here how we deal with loose ends?”
I didn't even have a chance to react before Needle tackled me to the ground, hoof wrapped around my neck and jabbing one of the long hair pins into my side. The force of it knocked the wind out of me, but if that wasn't bad enough, I also found myself unable to inhale, my lungs paralysed from the nerve which Needle struck. If Hefty didn't want me dead, he absolutely would if I couldn't maintain this disguise. I had to find a way of breaking free from this hold, and fast. Though I ran the risk rousing suspicion, it was still a far better option than dying there and then. Tilting my head back as far as it would go, I summoned as much magic as I could muster, directing the ensuing eruption of arcane power directly into Needle's face.
Needle snapped her wings forward, aiming for my eyes in an effort to interrupt my casting. Too late. The force of the magical blast catapulted Needle across the room, sending her crashing into the doors with an almighty crack. With my throat released, several spluttering coughs burst out as I gasped for air, hoping to Celestia that my changeling magic had resisted the assault. I could see Needle recovering with ease, looking more enraged than ever, with her wings fully spread in preparation to launch her second attack.
“CEASE!”
Hefty Hoof's bellowing voice echoed throughout the room, freezing us both in place at his command. Standing up from his chair, he began clapping his hooves together in applause.
“Bravo!” He cheered. “An excellent show of force! I must say, Punch Light, you have exceeded my expectations when it comes to your magical prowess. There's hope for you in this organisation yet! Needle, would you kindly show this gentlecolt the way to the dojo? I think we're on to a winner here.”
Rubbing her head upon release, needle replied with a reluctant nod, gritting her teeth as she slid her hair pins back into place. “Get moving, newbie,” she said to me. “And try to keep up. You'd do well not to waste any more of the boss's time.”
Once I could properly breath again, I hastily nodded and trotted after the Pegasus enforcer. In spite of these scary setbacks, for now, everything was going according to plan.
Author's Note
The next part will take longer to release, as I already had the first draft of part 2 written when I published part 1.
Section 3: The Controlled
Part 3: The Controlled
The journey through the halls of the hideout was largely spent in silence. I'm certain that even Punch Light wouldn't be stupid enough to provoke Needle yet again – not after what she almost did to me in Hefty's office. With just how many different directions the corridors spiralled, I started to wonder just how far underneath Canterlot this labyrinthine complex stretched. Finally, after dozens of twists and turns, we arrived at a single wooden door, unassuming apart from the symbol—two ponies clashing their weapons together—displayed proudly front and centre.
Wow, Hefty really puts the 'B' in subtle with this place, doesn't he? I thought to myself as Needle pulled the door open.
“Get in,” she said bluntly. The room was almost completely empty—no furniture, no ornaments, not even wall paper to cover up the solid rock. There were only three objects in the room to signify that it had a purpose; a drab red rug in the centre of the wooden floor, an identical wooden door at the other end, and a small lamp providing the sole source of light. Slamming the door behind her, Needle shoved me forward, pointing to the rug.
“Sit.”
I did as she asked, but not before padding my hoof over it to check that this wasn't some kind of obvious trap. While it turned out to be safe, by the way Needle still looked at me with a deep scowl, I gathered that she wished it wasn't. Sitting down next to me, she pointed towards the lamp, which emitted a faint amber glow, barely strong enough to light the whole room.
“Your opponents are being selected,” Needle said. “Once Hefty has decided which opponents are best suited to challenge your particular skills, you will be expected to defeat them all, by any means necessary.”
“You got it pal,” I replied. “This'll be a piece of ca-”
Yet again Needle cut me off by raising her hoof, pointing to the light as the colour changed from amber to white.
“It is ready. You had better not disappoint Hefty by losing. After all, you wouldn't want to prove that you're really just a loose end, would you?”
I gulped hard. I absolutely didn't want to go through that painful experience again. Or at least, not while I had to restrain myself from fighting back. She'll get what's coming to her in time, I reassured myself. The sooner I get this trial over with, the sooner she will fill me in on Hefty Hoof's grand plan.
Upon entering what I thought was supposed to be a training room, it became apparent that the term “Dojo” was a bit of an understatement. The bright lights revealed the shape of the room to be more akin to an arena than anything else, longer than a hoofball pitch and even more spacious than the Royal Canterlot Opera Hall! When the door slammed shut behind me, I realized that the appearance of a wooden door was entirely cosmetic. I could hear the clanging of bolts sliding into place, locking the iron structure into the rock face. The sound of Needle laughing from behind the door was enough to send a chill down anypony's spine, but what I heard coming from the other end of the room was a far more disturbing sound. Out of the three doors that I could see, a constant sound of heavy slamming against the central door made it abundantly clear that whatever was behind it was getting desperate to escape. Crouching as close to the ground as my body would allow, I twitched my legs in time with the pounding rhythm, readying myself for the moment of the creature's escape. Even standing in the centre of the room, I could see the metal door beginning to bulge and break – barely able to contain the raging thing within.
With an almighty bang, the door gave way, snapping clean off its hinges as a raging bull-like creature slammed head first into it. If this thing had been any smaller, the impact would have shattered its skull. But as the hulking bipedal mass of muscle and sinew revealed itself—towering over me with the height of a small dragon—I knew that even a glancing blow could cause some serious pain. The Minotaur's gigantic club scraped along the floor behind it, the weight of the weapon breaking the wooden floor beneath it. As the immense creature slowly raised its weapon, it left its guard wide open, giving me an easy opportunity to take the first strike. In a flash of magic, two of my Kunai daggers were flying through the air, piercing the Minotaur's chest before its club was even above its shoulders.
The Minotaur bellowed a deafening roar, more out of rage from the attack than any inflicted pain. One look at the Minotaur's face showed me that any expectations of facing a sane opponent were to be abandoned immediately – there was no life in those eyes, only the look of primal rage of the bestial nature that drove it to seek out its prey. Hefty Hoof had done something to it. I couldn't say what, but the absence of all emotions in its face beyond the ferocious lust for battle meant that there would be no use using my changeling magic to subdue it. There would be no reasoning – all that was left in the Minotaur's mind was victory or death.
Facing its charge head on, I stood my ground without hesitation, carefully watching each pound of the creature's hooves to time my counter attack correctly. At the peak of the weapon's swing, I sprang into action, leaping to the right as the massive club came crashing down. Another flash, another dagger armed, drawing blood from the Minotaur's ankles. This was my first mistake – one that I am not keen to make again. Much like what Needle had done to me before, the nerve that the dagger struck caused the reflex of the Minotaur's hoof to kick me straight in the diaphragm, the force of the blow sending me flying across the room.
Twisting my body around in mid-air allowed me to land on my hooves, even if it was not what I would call soft. When I finally came to a stop, I could already feel the damage dealt from the blow – a series of violent hacking coughs, spewing up a nasty splatter of green blood. Only then did I notice the presence of another squishy material next to me; the mutilated body of the yellow unicorn stallion who, by the presence of the broken iron chains draped across his torn open stomach, had tried and failed to restrain the Minotaur. With his horn snapped in half, there was no doubt that he had been the one to perform the mind wiping spell, immediately paying the price afterwards.
Though the Minotaur—in this state at least—had little situational awareness beyond what was right in front of it, its sense of smell was still the strongest of any race in all of Equestira. It kept sniffing the air, trying to pick up my scent. Though it still had its back turned to me, I didn't want to risk going for a sneak attack, lest I end up giving it another opportunity to break more of my ribs, or worse. However, I realised that my first attempt at offence was not a complete failure. All I needed was some level of predictability in the Minotaur's attacks, then the rest would fall into place. Firing up my magic, I concentrated on the bloody wound of the recently deceased pony, pushing open the gash on its belly to tear out some of its punctured guts. The squelching sound of tearing organs is enough to make anypony sick, but I had long gotten used to such bloody sights.
“Hey, Torro!” I yelled as I galloped towards my foe. “Come get me ya long horned freak!”
In truth, it didn't really matter what I said, as the beast was likely to respond more to the tone of my taunts than any of the words contained. The ears of the Minotaur percked up, and with a roar that made the floor shake from the force, it swung its weapon forward, stampeding into its second charge. Just as before, I waited for the right moment to attack, flinging the intestines out like a cracking whip right into its face.
“Over here, ya big dummy!” I teased, sweeping to the side with my daggers in hooves. The Minotaur swung its club around, using the momentum of the first attack, determined to hit me. Rolling beneath the attack, in one fluid motion I plunged a dagger into the Minotaur's arm, the beast's limb snapping back as my blade pierced the muscle. The more predictable I could make the Minotaur's movements, the better. Now off balance, I rolled away to directly avoid the kick of the Minotaur's leg, stabbing my off hand weapon just above its ankle. Now it had been prone, the beast could do nothing to stop itself falling on its face – a chance to attack once more that I absolutely could not waste.
Though perhaps I shouldn't have gotten so cocky. My first dagger did once more hit its mark, right on the Minotaur's lower back, but even if the beast wasn't able to stand, it was still able to roll. I managed to leap off the Minotaur, but my previous attack had left it just a second too late, as that brief second in mid-air brought me face to face with the spiked club swinging around over me. I fired up my horn, levitating my daggers up to parry, just in time to push the club slightly off course, striking me just off centre from my chest. I could hear yet more ribs cracking from the force of the blow, my body locking up from the immense pain as the Minotaur slowly hauled itself back to its feet. The parry had saved my life, but I was hardly out of danger yet. Dropping my weapons, I weaved a quick healing spell, just to make sure that I wasn't at risk of puncturing any vital organs. Thank Celestia I had been allowed to learn unicorn magic under her service. Even so, this was only a temporary measure, as I knew that unless I could force my body to move, I would be done for. Barely able to stand, the blood lost from the Minotaur's stab wounds were finally beginning to take their toll. Huffing with deep breaths, the Minotaur's muscles were visibly tense, using the last of its strength to raise its weapon and bellow one last war cry. This was it, my last chance to attack. In a flash of magic, I enveloped a dagger in green aura, sending it flying across the room to hit the Minotaur right between the eyes. As the sound of the heavy club dropping to the floor echoed throughout the room, the Minotaur staggered back several feet, taking far longer to die than I could ever have expected. I slumped back, my breaths short and deep as I fought to remain conscious. My magic reserves were starting to run dry, and unfortunately, the Minotaur was still standing somehow. Staggering towards me with its hands wide open, I have to admit that in that moment, I truly thought this was the end for me. Just as I forced myself back on my hooves, ready to face the end, the faint chime of a bell rang from behind the Minotaur, and with it, a new voice calling out from the open door.
“Prepare to die, foul monster!”
The Minotaur barely got to glance at the new opponent before it met its end. It was only after the finishing blow was dealt—the Minotaur's head slicing clean off with a single swing of a gladius—that I got a clear view of what I would be facing next. A tawny furred griffon with red feathers and a yellow beak—wearing what looked to be a mixture of chain mail and a leather cuirass—stood triumphantly over the dead Minotaur, its blood clotting on the ground. Sheathing his sword, the griffon extended his talon out to me.
“I could hear your battle from the other room,” The griffon said in a regal voice. “That was indeed an excellent duel. Here, allow me to help you to your feet.” With some resistance—half due to still feeling stiff from my injuries, half from caution towards what could be another mob guinea pig—I extended my hoof to accept the Griffon's talon.
“Thanks pal, ya really saved my hide the-” in spite of my earlier efforts to mitigate my wounds, I still winced from the pain. Perhaps I should practice healing spells more often, as the one I cast earlier was much less effective than I had expected it to be.
“Oh my, it looks like you have sustained quite a nasty injury,” the griffon exclaimed. It had been a long time since someone other than Saffron had shown genuine concern for me, and I didn't need to use my changeling magic to know that this griffon meant every word of it.
“I may not have any medical supplies, but I can at least use some of my magic to heal you.” By the emblem the Griffon had engraved on his chest armour—a golden eagle with its wings spread over the sun—his allegiance was unmistakable. This warrior was a proud paladin of Solsticia, a light worshipping clan that made their homes far to the north, on the highest peaks of the Griffonstone mountain range.
“Eh, I've had worse. Thanks for the offer, pal,” I replied, though the pain wasn't quite as easy to shrug off as I insisted it was at the time. “But I'll be fine once I get these ribs back inta place.” With one punch to my side, I felt another nasty crack as the curved bones snapped back to their original position. Hardly ideal, I will admit, but given the situation it was the best I could do.
“Oh no, that will not do at all,” the Griffon insisted, kneeling to get a better look at my injuries. “I know we are to conduct our duel on borrowed time, but I simply cannot insult the honour of such a dedicated combatant. Please, at least let me provide you with a flash heal. I wouldn't want you to lose because of a handy cap, after all!”
Shrugging my shoulders, I reluctantly accepted the paladin's offer. Considering that there was one more door left to be opened, I figured it would have been a better gamble to see if this holy warrior was as dedicated to his oaths as he claimed to be. Closing his eyes, the griffon circled his talon over the bruised area, and true to his word, a flash of light washed over my wounds, the pain vanishing in an instant as if it was never there. He repeated the process on my other side, opening his eyes again once he finished. Flexing my back and legs to test the state of my body, there was no doubt that the Griffon had done as promised. My body felt as good as new!
“Wow, thank ya very much for that,” I said with a warm smile, giving a short bow before the holy warrior. “I s'pose I'd better introduce myself. My name's Punch Light, newest recruit of the Black Quill gang. A pleasure to be meetin' ya.”
“A pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Punch Light,” the griffon replied, shaking my hoof with his talon. “I am Sir Graton of Solsticia, paladin of the Celestial order, XVI Regiment.”
“A paladin of Celestia, huh?” I said, rubbing my chin in feigned curiosity. “I 'spose I gotta ask though, what's a noble griffon like you doin' in a shady gang's underground lair like this? Woulda thought it'd be quite dishonourable ta be associated wit' mobsters.”
“I had those very same first impressions,” Graton said, letting out a small chuckle. “But that was before I met Sir Hefty Hoof. He tells me he's had quite the difficult job protecting the good pony folk of Canterlot from some unsavoury spies, all of whom have been threatening ponies across the city with extortion and bribery of the royal guards for months! He couldn't tell me the full details, but he is undoubtedly fighting for the political stability of the city, which I cannot deny is a noble cause.”
How gullible is this guy? I thought to myself. I could tell by the way Graton maintained eye contact, combined with his relaxed posture that he believed every word he spoke as absolute truth. I didn't know how Hefty had duped him, but I knew for a fact that the scenario he described couldn't be further from the truth. For now, though, I would play along. If I could get him talking later, perhaps he could be the key to uncovering more of the boss's secrets.
“Wow, they must really trust ya if they told ya that much right away,” I said, faking a look of surprise. “Say, I know we have ta get on with our duel an' all, but do ya mind if I prepare a little extra somethin' first?”
Graton nodded. “Of course, what do you need?”
“Just a moment ta prepare some bettah weapons. I don't think these puny daggers are gonna do much against a proper sword like yours.”
“Oh, absolutely. Although how are you to obtain new weapons without a visit to the armoury?”
“No worries pal, I got this.” Pulling out my daggers from the corpse of the Minotaur, I focused an intense amount of magic, enveloping the blades and morphing the material into something larger. Though both of my newly crafted weapons were still smaller than Graton's gladius, the longer blade and wider cross guards would put this fight on much more even terms. Picking up my arming daggers with my front hooves, I took up my combat stance and stepped back several paces to give myself room to charge – an action which Graton mirrored. Pacing from side to side, the first two minutes of our battle were spent sizing each other up, carefully analysing the subtle changes in body language to gauge what would be the best way to get around each others guard.
Graton was the first to go on the offensive, yelling a war cry of “En Guard!” as he leaped at me. It was easy to match this initial charge, swapping strikes in a way that looked like mirror images. The first clash of our blades was just a test, my daggers crossed over to catch his blade in between as we continued to learn more about each other's strength. Sliding my weapons inwards to cross each other in a scissoring motion, I pushed Graton's gladius back with all my might, attempting to knock the blade from his talon by bending his arm back to its physical limit. Though as expected, Graton was a highly skilled combatant, trained to cope with such a basic manoeuver. Leaning back with the push, Graton swung his shield, bludgeoning the underside of my arm, forcing me to disengage.
This guy was just as good as I expected, if not more so. I would have to stay alert if I was to beat him. Graton's next attack was a cross swipe, his shield held close to his chest, ready to pre-emptively block any retaliating blows. I managed to dodge the swipe with relative ease, but yet again found myself in line for a shield bash, forcing me to parry if I wanted to avoid being knocked back. Clashing my off-hoof dagger against the shield, I swung the other around to take a stab at Graton's arms. Time to reveal more tricks Graton had up his sleeve, just as I expected. A sudden flap of his wings threw off my aim, resulting in my dagger scraping harmlessly off of his armour. However, I was not done yet, as there was now an exposed limb that was free for me to attack. Twisting my body around, I reversed the direction of my attack, stabbing directly into the sensitive wing membrane. Lurching back from the pain, Graton did disengage, but it wasn't for long. As I rolled back to my hooves, the holy griffon's gladius was already chopping down from an overhead strike, much too fast to block properly. Nicking the flat of my dagger, Graton's gladius slid down, bypassing the guard and skimming my front leg, leaving a nasty gash. After that exchange, we both needed to step back and assess our wounds.
“You have some impressive combat skills, I must say,” Graton complimented, already breathing heavily from the amount of expended stamina. Though to be fair, so was I.
“Thanks pal,” I replied. “Ya ain't too shabby either.”
That was the truth. It had been a long time since I found such an evenly matched opponent. To this day, it is still one of the best duels I've ever had! No sooner had we caught our breaths than we jumped back into the fray. Here we were, two expertly trained warriors from different castes, each trying to outdo each other for the same cause. Or at least, what was assumed to be the same cause. I found it hard to believe that such a noble paladin—a devotee to Celestia, no less—could be so easily tricked into believing that a crime boss was fighting for any kind of righteous cause. I needed to loosen up the griffon's tongue and find out more.
Lunging forward, I made a feint attack for Graton's heart, soon coming face to face with his shield, just as anticipated. At the last second, I swept my dagger past the bronze armament, instead stabbing towards Graton's wrist. Taking a wide step back, Graton swung his sword up to parry my own, leaving my left hoof free to swing attack his wrists with my second dagger. His brute strength being greater than my own, he managed to push my primary dagger forward just enough for the second to hit above his elbow, giving him leverage to swing his shield into my right shoulder.
“Such amazing skills!” I said as we locked blades once more. “Ya musta fought in many holy crusades in yer time, haven't ya?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Graton replied, a prideful grin growing on his face. “I fought long and hard against the returning Night Guards upon Nightmare Moon's escape. I was key to banishing their dark magic from Solsticia, just as my ancestors did lifetimes before my own!”
Another slash of my blades, maintaining the stalemate. “I'm guessin' ya were promised ya'd be given the same glory by takin' out terrorists, huh?”
“You read me like a book, good sir,” Graton confirmed. How right he was. “I would give my life to be a hero again, not just for the ponies of Canterlot, but all of Equestria.”
'Again'? Interesting answer. I flared my horn's magic for a split second, just long enough for me to ensure this holy warrior would continue to rant about his past, hopefully including more about how he got here in the first place.
“Oh, tryna recapture some of yer former glory then?” Good thing I used my changeling magic when I did, otherwise Graton may have become suspicious of that question.
“Well aren't you the clever little pony?” Graton's voice was starting to show more than a hint of sarcasm. Seems I struck a nerve with that last comment. “Those fools back in Solsticia are far too blind to see what kind of dangers dark magic can bring!”
“Ya think other Griffons ain't appreciatin' ya enough for ya service?”
“You don't know the half of it,” Graton spat on the ground in disgust “Those fools are as gullible as the Griffonstone elite. What do they think will happen when they ally themselves with the Night Guards? How can magic from a source of such great evil be somehow redeemed overnight, especially after a thousand years of plotting to usurp the light?”
“Beats me pal,” I replied, picking up the pace with my attacks. It was time to start making more pressing inquiries. “But even if they ain't followin' the light like ya say they should, I dunno how Hefty Hoof will be much bettah. Can't say I've seen 'em use any holy magic like you have.”
“How could you not?” Graton asked in surprise, backing away from combat momentarily. I couldn't let him sit and ponder for an answer though. If he wouldn't press on with our duel, I would have to force his hand. The quicker Graton answered, the more he'd be likely to tell me everything I wanted to know. “I saw Sir Hefty healing his underling's wounds with my own two eyes. His assistants even displaying the unmistakable crest of Celestia's holy order!”
A good question indeed. I was telling the truth when I said I hadn't seen anything that would suggest Hefty Hoof to be a religious pony. I've seen how all kinds of holy warriors fight - none of whom attempt to stab you to death with elongated needles. “Well pal, I'm not questionin' ya sanity or anythin'. I'm just sayin' that the boss didn't look particularly holy ta me. In fact, I coulda sworn I saw one o' his pals showing the crest o' Princess Luna. She was very proud of it too!”
Now that was a lie, but it was one that was already having the desired effect. Graton's face scrunched up in disgust. “No! That cannot be! No member of the Night Guards can be exposed to holy magic and be unharmed.”
Throwing open his wings, Graton charged at me with a fury to rival the Minotaur he had previously slain. “I will not be denied a chance to regain my honour! In the name of Celestia I will purge the heretics from this land!”
Gotcha. With a religious zeal like that, Graton couldn't have been a difficult griffon to trick. It was time to end this duel. With his guard wide open, I slipped under the chop of his sword and stabbed Graton twice; once at his belly, and once at his wing. A shame I had to win the duel through bruised egos, but I had a job to do, and there was no more time to waste. In that moment, it was over. When Graton landed, he dropped his sword and shield, breathing heavily as he cradled his wounds.
“Well played, good sir,” Graton said, smiling as he turned to face me. “It seems I got a little bit too carried away. I concede this duel to you.”
To be honest, I didn't really want to kill Graton. As prejudiced as his disdain for the Night Guards may have been, his heart was in the right place. Alas, Graton would soon have to realise that Hefty Hoof was not quite the noble pony he thought he was, so it would be much more merciful for me to end his life now. There was no telling what Hefty Hoof could potentially do to him if he realised the truth. I sheathed my blades and extended a hoof out to shake Graton's talon. Suddenly, the ring of another bell chimed, and the entire room was plunged into darkness.
“What in Celestia's na-”
Graton never got to finish that sentence. All I heard was a loud snap, and then complete silence. Lighting up my horn with magic, I was greeted by the sight of Graton's corpse, his head almost completely reversed as it hung limp from his broken neck. A brief woosh of air behind me caught my attention, but I was too slow to see what had caused it. It was only when I turned back to examine the fallen griffon that I came face to face with the creature that murdered him.
A fang toothed mouth blasted me in the face with an ear piercing scream, the creature's bat wings fluttering in mid-air as its red eyes glowed in the darkness. As if by reflex, the light from my horn shone even brighter—reflecting off the bat pony's polished steel cuirass—and in a flash, the creature was gone. At least now I had an idea of what I was fighting. When I mentioned to Graton that I had seen Night Guards under Hefty's service, it was less of a lie, and more of a half truth. I hadn't personally seen any disciples of Luna among his ranks, but as it didn't surprise me that there were some under his influence. I had never fought a bat pony directly before, and through what I experienced in this battle, I do not wish to again. They are masters of espionage and assassination, perhaps more so than any changeling could ever be. From the moment that darkness fell, it was their domain, relying less on sight and more on echo location among other strong senses to hunt their prey.
This could not have been a more inopportune time to experience a flashback, but alas, my mind had other plans. One look into Graton's eyes brought the memories of Melody Light flooding once more. That look...oh that look. Confusion and terror towards a being they could not comprehend. Graton had feared that a member of the Night Guard would one day turn traitor, and it appeared he was right. Even after everything I had seen Princess Luna do to ensure that her warriors would follow a strict code of conduct, it wasn't enough. The way Luna peered into the very souls of each new recruit with her magic, each bat pony becoming as stern and devoted to the crown as any royal guard would be. I had only ever seen one Night Guard disobey their Princess – a well intentioned yet heavy hoofed attempt to break up a tavern brawl. He had nearly executed one of the drunkards on the spot, the resulting trauma which the perpetrator faced leaving them in a state of perpetual paranoia for more than a year afterwards.
I had personally witnessed the dishonourable discharge of the overly aggressive Night Guard. If I'm honest, if I had been the one to deal with that fight, then the pony wouldn't even be alive to be taken to hospital in the first place. No matter how much that bat pony begged and pleaded for a second chance—to prove himself capable of better self control—Luna would not risk it. The magic of the night was drained from him instantly, his mind wiped of all memories of his days in the Night Guard. How Princess Luna could achieve such a procedure, I don't ever want to know. I try to bury any curious thoughts about Alicorn magic deep in the lowest recesses of my mind. But try as I might, I could not forget this. It had been done, and I'd seen it happen. From then on, the former Night Guard was just an ordinary Pegasus, living in Cloudsdale, working with the weather ponies in their day to day environmental tasks.
Somehow, there was one that got away. Here was a Night Guard who had, without a second thought, murdered a paladin in cold blood. She was loyal to an organised crime mob, and no amount of Princess Luna's magic would be stopping them. Hefty Hoof was a powerful pony indeed. Whatever he had done to this bat pony, he could easily do to me. I didn't know how quickly it had taken to break the lunar pegasi, but if I ever faced Hefty again, how long would it be until I became his next victim? Would I abandon all my loyalty and dedication to the crown, simply going back to being yet another drone? A puppet for any evil doer who would come along to pull my strings? Everything I had worked for to be free from Queen Chrysalis, was it all for nothing?
The sound of cutting flesh and a malicious, high pitched giggle snapped me back to reality. It was only a tiny wound, but it was enough for me to know that this former Night Guard was thrilled with every drop of blood she spilled. Closing my eyes, I spread a thin aura of magic around my body, enhancing my senses of hearing and touch to give me some kind of early warning for the bat pony's attacks. As the sound of flapping wings came ever closer, I could feel the force of air brush against my fur. Suddenly, I felt a spike in the air pressure, just what I needed to slip to the right as a metal claw just narrowly scraped my left hoof. For a brief second, I could see the glowing red of the bat pony's eyes before she vanished into the darkness once again. Time was running out, and so was my magic. The weapon transmutation spell had used up quite a bit of my arcane reserves, and maintaining a sensory enhancing aura was not exactly the most efficient way to go about combat. I had to explore my options if I was to survive, and fast. So I decided to try and do what I do best – get the bat talking.
“Well aren't ya the sneaky little batsy then?” I said in a mocking tone. “Ya don't seriously think that you can beat me, the magnificent Punch Light, with such harmless little tickles like that, do ya?”
“Oh please, try something more original,” a posh voice came from behind me. Though as I turned around to attack, lighting up my horn, there was nopony there. “After over a millennia of being rejected and treated like monsters by the day walking pony society, are you so dense as to think we'd never developed thicker skin?”
I kept the light on my horn going, looking around the room to mimic the appearance of a lost pony trying to find their way through the dark. Of course, as long as I heard the bat pony talking, I could eventually squeeze information out of her. “Shoulda known. Takes a mighty fine warrior to get the attention of ol' Hefty Hoof. You musta been pretty exceptional in ya field to get noticed by him!” I barely had time to finish the sentence when I felt the bat pony's claws scrape at the back of my hind legs. I winced in pain. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle, but I forced myself to scream regardless. Give my opponent doubts about my strength, and they won't be expecting a cleaner attack.
“Stroking my ego will prove fruitless as well,” the bat pony said again, from where I could not exactly tell. “I've heard it all before. 'Oh Dusk Fall, what a bright little pony you are. What a big and strong girl you've become. Why did you join with those monsters?' and so on and so forth. If you don't already know the magnificence of Princess Luna, then there's no reason for me to teach you.”
Dusk Fall, eh? A familiar surname at least. I was getting somewhere. “Oh I know all about how amazing Princess Luna is. I woulda signed up ta become a Night Guard the second I got the chance if I'd been born a Pegasus!” Another slash, this time across my shoulder. Dusk could have easily killed me by now, but clearly chose not to. Didn't matter why, as long as it continued to give me the advantage of information.
“Well, too bad you aren't one. But even if you were, I'd still have to kill you.”
“Ya mean ta tell me that Princess Luna can't make fancy bat forms for Unicorns? Guess she ain't that great after all.”
With those words, I set my plan into action. With a poof of magic, I teleported away, dodging the overhead strike from Dusk as she came face to face with the searing ball of light. The sounding of hissing as she covered her eyes was my cue to attack, but even when temporarily blindness she still had some amazing reflexes. Despite thrusting my dagger right behind her, Dusk still managed to fly up quickly enough for my strike to miss her wing, instead puncturing a vain just above her hoof.
“How did you see me?!” Dusk yelled in frustration.
“Enhanced senses through magic,” I replied as smugly as possible. “Oldest trick in the book. Thought ya would've caught on by now.”
Without another word, Dusk flew back into the darkness, but I didn't care. Now she was playing my game, expecting me to be just another bumbling wannabe gangster who got a lucky break with weak magic. Oh how wrong she would find herself to be. Though I did summon another ball of light, what changed was the distance I kept it away from myself. When Dusk dived to attack, she found herself yet again faced only with a magic orb, minus the pony who conjured it. She wants to toy with me? Then I will toy with her. Give her a taste of her own medicine. A carefully placed stab chipped her wing, and a second later, I juggled spells to teleport to a random side of the room. After the fourth repetition of this tactic, I started to get suspicious. Something wasn't right, as Dusk really should have caught on by this point. Was it really this easy to taunt her, after how quick she was to proclaim she wouldn't fall for simple taunts? I needed to figure out soon, as I was already starting to feel the drain on my magic weakening the effectiveness of my spells.
As I prepared to deliver the killing blow, Dusk's head snapped round, staring at me with wide eyes glowing brighter than ever. The moment that our gazes met, my body froze on the spot. It was the same sensation I had when I had first met Hefty Hoof. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't move – unable to even blink as I became captivated by those deep red eyes. Dropping my daggers from my hooves, Dusk blew out my magical light with one flap of her wings. With each step she took towards me, I took a step back in return. My body was moving on its own, exactly how she wanted it.
“Hefty Hoof promised me that the end of Celestia's reign is near,” Dusk said with a mad grin pinned to her face as she licked her fangs. “The Children of the Night have been persecuted—forced underground, hiding from the light of the stars that is rightfully ours to rule over—for far too long. Even our dear Mother Luna has been pacified by her tyrant of a sister! I could not see that as a Night Guard, but now everything is clear. All of Celestia's servants must die, and you will be among those whoes blood I will feast upon to sustain my powers of darkness!”
With each word she spoke, vivid images transcribed from her rants flashed through my mind. I have experienced dreams that appeared all too real at the time—not least in my efforts to aid Luna's cleansing of the Tantibus from her own soul—but this was different. With dreams, there will always be those small inconsistencies which reveal their unreality. Not so with these visions. The way they replayed with each spoken word from the bat pony was like a photo album brought to life. The details were all so rich, so exact that it was as if I were experiencing memories of an event that I had witnessed first hoof. Yet, there was one stray thought that was completely out of place compared to everything Dusk was describing. Before I even realised what I was doing, this stray thought materialised as words, bursting out of my mouth.
“Hail to the Hive.”
In that instant, the false image of Punch Light vanished, revealing my true form as a changeling. My horn erupted in a concentrated beam of green fire, searing at the edges of Dusk Fall's flesh. Whatever it was that Dusk had triggered within me that day, it revealed emotions that I had never seen from a bat pony before. In that moment, she was not the bloodthirsty crusader for Nightmare Moon she had proclaimed herself up to be with such vigour, nor was she the hardened warrior of Princess Luna that would patrol the streets of Canterlot every night. All of her fury, all of the mad joy she gained from the hunt, it dissolved before my eyes, leaving a scared little filly squaring up to a monster. Her thin wings were the first to go, erupting into flames with the fury of a forest fire. The thick muscles just beneath her thin flesh only added fuel to the fire, disintegrating under the heat until even her bones began to melt. The more the fire raged, the more Dusk wailed in agony, searing the red hot metal into her flesh.
But no matter how much she screamed, I did not stop. I could not stop. I drank deep of her sweet emotions like a dehydrated pony at a desert Oasis. Though I am not exactly proud of what I did, I would be lying if I said I was not enjoying every minute of Dusk Fall's suffering. I don't recall exactly how much time had passed until I finally regained enough self control to end the torture, but when I did, there wasn't a single recognisable feature of Dusk Fall left. Her entire body had been burnt to a crisp, charred and blackened to such an extent that I wondered how she was still breathing. She was laying on her back, her lidless eyes staring up at me with a blank expression. I couldn't immediately tell if she was conscious or not, but it was certain that even the most skilled of doctors wouldn't be able to restore her back to the pony she once was. She would forever be crippled, likely needing twenty-four hour care just to stay alive, to say nothing of the brain damage she would have sustained.
Some may say she got what was coming to her, or that she brought this punishment on herself. I am not one of those ponies. Whatever circumstances lead to her being here, I knew for certain that she had been brainwashed by Hefty Hoof. Even if she joined entirely out of her own desires to restore evil, nopony deserves to die the way she did. At this point, the kindest thing I could do for her was to quickly end her suffering. Changing back into the form of Punch Light, I picked up my arming daggers and prepared to execute her.
“Wait...”
I stopped my blades mid stab. It will forever be a mystery to me how Dusk was able to speak in that moment, considering how much of her face had been burned off. But she was, and after the horror I just put her through, it was only right for me to listen.
“I...have...failed...Princess Luna...” Dusk said weakly, her voice barely loud enough for me to hear. “Tell...her...I'm...sorry. Avenge...me. Kill...Hefty...Hoof...”
I nodded. “I will. I swear to Princess Luna, your death will not be in vain.”
“Thank...you...”
“Glory to the Night.”
And with those words, I plunged my dagger straight through Dusk's heart, hearing the wheeze of her final exhalation.
Several minutes later, the door I had entered through swung open, and in trotted Needle Point, mouth hanging open in shock.
“H-how...” She stuttered. “How in Tartarus are you still alive?!”
I really shouldn't be surprised that Needle was more concerned with Punch being the victor than the bloody and burnt bodies littering the arena. As heartless as ever. Even if it pained me to do so, I tipped my hat towards Needle, and resumed the smug grin that she knew me for.
“All in a day's work,” I said, hiding the fact that I felt sick to my stomach. “I shoulda warned ya before, the mighty Punch Light ain't goin' down so easily! These guys were amateurs compared to me.”
Needle raised her eyebrow at me, still looking sceptical about my success. She took a deep breath and let out a disgruntled sigh. “Perhaps I did underestimate you after all.” Walking over to each of the bodies, Needle withdrew one of her hair pins, and with surgical precision, removed the heads of both Dusk Fall and Graton, collecting them both along with the Minotaur's.
“Here, take these,” she said, tossing over the severed heads of the three gladiators. “Now follow me. Hefty will be wanting to see what became of his top fighters.”
Catching the heads in a levitation spell, I followed Needle out of the room with my head held high, somehow still having plenty of magic to spare. I swore to myself there and then that I would never allow myself to fall under Hefty Hoof's control. I refused to become just another pawn in his games. He would never become another Queen Chrysalis, not if I had anything to say about it. Though I left the arena with far more than I bargained for, my mission was still to uncover vital information about the Black Quill gang. And so far, collateral damage be damned, I was succeeding.
Author's Note
I will be taking a small break from writing this story in order to work on more analysis videos and convention stuff. But this story isn't over yet! Hopefully once I've recharged my creativity a bit, I will be able to bring Dance of Death to its thrilling conclusion.
