Jacked Up

-{Chapter 7: Reminiscing...}-

~~~~~

Thursday, May 1st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Garden District, Fancypants' Mansion

Ten hours and one syringe later, Denise was ready for action.

Night had fallen over the glistening city, with the upper neighborhoods settling in for the night, and the younger crowd shaking off their hangovers, ready to hit the clubs.  All the while, Denise and Conrad had been preparing for their meeting with the mysterious ‘Elder Morpheus’.  The message had come as a shock to both them and their benefactors, who had grown nervous about the proceedings.

Denise was in her room, stuffing her pockets with darts for her zipgun.

“You're sure you want to go through with this?” asked Fancypants, “It could easily be a trap.”

“I’m sure.  They don’t have anything to gain from setting us up - I think - so we should be fine.”

“You killed seven of their comrades,” Fancypants pointed out, “I would think they have an ulterior motive.”

Denise sighed, turning to face her host.

“I’ll be fine.  I’ve dealt with worse situations than this, believe me.”

Fancypants shot her an incredulous look.

“Look, you said it yourself,” she continued, “I’ve already killed seven of them.  If they’re gonna jump me, I should be able to handle them.  Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

Denise had no idea what she was doing, but she wasn’t about to admit that.  She had never been much of a ‘planning ahead’ type of person- more of a ‘jump in with the first plan that comes to mind and roll with the punches’ person.  If things went bad, she’d probably wind up doing what she did best- running in one direction and killing anyone or anything that got in her way.

For a moment, she remembered the last time she agreed to a meeting like this.  Four years ago, before she went to prison...

~~~~~

August 23rd, 2008

Newark, New Jersey

Industrial District, Abandoned Warehouse

Denise and Vladimir sat in the front seats of a beat-up cadillac, observing the warehouse they were parked in front of.

“This is the place.”

Vlad’s thick accent didn't mask his cold, stressed tone.  His hair, barely growing back after being shaved off a few months ago, had still managed to look unkempt from the stress of the past week.  His crimson turtleneck and black jacket were looking grimy- as was Denise’s attire.  Neither had changed in two days.  Too much going on to bother with that.

“I still think you should wait here,” Denise stated, nervous about the whole ordeal, “He said to come alone.”

They had been called to the warehouse by Uri Dumovitch, the head of the local mob, to negotiate a truce.  Denise had a slight edge of confidence- the 10th Street Cartel had been doing a number on the Russian mob lately, and she doubted their boss would try anything.  He had too little left and too much to lose.

“Fuck him.  He wants to see you, he has to see me too.”

Still, Vlad had insisted on coming with her.  He wound up making a big fuss about her putting herself in harm’s way, and how Uri was dangerous, and on and on and on.  She wasn’t about to argue with him, especially this close to their wedding, so in the end she agreed to let Vlad come.

Denise turned her gaze to the Russian, smiling slightly in spite of their situation.  Vlad was a stubborn bastard, but she didn’t hold it against him.  She knew he was just making sure she was safe.

“Thanks, baby,” she sighed, giving him a peck on the cheek before hopping out the door.  Vlad followed suit, checking the magazine on his pistol before stuffing it away under his jacket.

She inhaled deeply, trying to relax.  It wasn’t that bad- one extra guy couldn’t hurt, right?  Besides, Vlad probably knew how to approach this situation better than she did.

He was Dumovitch’s son, after all.

~~~~~

Thursday, May 1st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Garden District, Fancypants' Mansion

“Dee? You alright?”

Con was giving her a look- she had been staring off into space while he blocked off the path to the sewer from the wine cellar.

“I’m fine.  Just the M talking,” Denise replied, shaking the memory out of her head.  Reminiscing wouldn’t do her any good right now, she had to focus.

“You gotta quit the morphine, Dee,” Con sighed with a shake of his head, “Shit’ll kill you.”

“Con, can we not have this conversation now?  Or ever?”

Con rolled his eyes, giving in.

“I swear to god, I’m gonna have an intervention one of these days,” he mumbled, starting down the stairs.

The duo headed down into the sewers, holding a pair of lanterns aloft with their magic.  Neither had bothered with their disguises for the meeting- their new friends were changelings too, after all.  As they descended, Denise took a moment to examine the sewer in more detail than she had ten days ago- though the only thing she seemed to have missed her first time down there was just how horrible the smell was.

“So...” Con sighed slowly, “Did your guy tell you where to go?  Because mine just said the sewers.”

“Same,” Denise stated simply, “My guess is they’ll-”

“Find you?”

The duo spun around, alarmed.  Behind them stood two changelings, both blue-eyed, one obviously younger than the other.  Strangely, the older of the two actually seemed nerve-wracked, while the youngster held an air of contempt about him.

“It was fairly obvious, considering you’ve been staying in the same place for over a week,” explained the young changeling.

“Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” gasped Conrad, still alarmed by the changelings’ sudden appearance.

The changelings said nothing.  Instead, the young changeling motioned for them to follow, walking past them and into the sewers.  Con, Denise, and the adult changeling followed in silence.

“Well, considering you two already know us,” Denise asked, trying to break the ice, “you mind telling us who the hell you are?”

“The same ones who spoke to you before.  In case you’ve forgotten, my name is Swap-Out,” hissed the youngster, “And don’t be mistaken- Picture here only thinks he knows who you are.”

“Whereas you do?”

“Elder Morpheus consulted the spirits about you.  Not to mention I’ve been watching you since Mirror’s gang attacked the manor.  You aren’t exactly subtle.”

Denise winced slightly.

“Yeah, I’ve never been good at that.”

Swap glanced back at Conrad and Picture, the latter of whom remained almost reverently silent.  Making sure they were both out of earshot, he slowed his pace, moving closer to Denise.

“And as for what you are...” he stated, looking into Denise's eyes, his voice dropping into a whisper.

“... I know enough, Hartman.”