Operation Firework

The sky had a few telltale signs of orange by the time you both alighted at the Vanhoover station. Glancing around and spotting a street sign, Tempest Shadow turns to you and beckons you over.

"C'mon, the fireworks factory is this way."

Well, she's talking to you again! That's something. The walk to the factory itself was uneventful, though. You decide to save your apology and explanation until later tonight, when neither of you are on the job.

The factory manager, a rather irritable pegasus, was all too keen to let you pass once he saw your credentials. He even guides you to the scene of the crime - the brick wall of the factory's storage facility, all but torn asunder by something powerful. A wrecking ball? A killing machine? A monster of unfathomable tooth and claw?

"Are you're telling me nopony saw the culprit?" you interrogate - you mean interview - the manager as Tempest strolls right past and starts inspecting the damage.

"Sorry," he insists, "they struck at night, and we don't have night shifts! Especially during nights where rain is scheduled from the Weather Ponies."

Your Elite Operative's intuition tells you that the manager's speaking the truth, but you catch Tempest's equine ear flick when he mentioned the scheduled rain.

"Hey," she calls you over, "You're gonna want to see this."

You'd usually teleport right there, but since that seems to be a tender nerve with your partner, you decide to trot briskly instead. The manager hovers behind you, clueless, yet determined to prove he's somehow an important part of the investigation. Just inside the factory wall's gaping tear, you find Tempest Shadow and... and..!

"That's a pile of crumbly bricks in a puddle of water," you say dumbly.

And so it is. At the southern wall of the firework factory, there's a large, gaping hole, nearly eight feet in height and six in width. The bricks themselves are piled haphazardly, with half of them inside the building, and the other half outside. Some of them are kicked aside, as if a path was made through them. The ones at the bottom of the pile sit wet, surrounded by at least half an inch of clear water. Some are shattered. Others seemed like they just fell apart by themselves.

"Yeah, It is," Tempest switches her gaze to the manager. "Tell me, did any of the staff manage to get this far into the building?"

"Nope. I saw the damage and told everypony not to come in today," he declared. Again, you don't hear any hint of a lie from him. "And I made a point not to enter the place just in case it interfered with evidence." It's rare, but always nice when civilian ponies are considerate enough to stay out of an Operative's business.

"So," Tempest gives the manager a look that locks him in place, "why is there a pile of crumbled bricks, in a large puddle of water, in the middle of a firework factory floor?"

"W-well, like I said," he mumbles, "it was raining last night. Obviously the rain got in here after the wall broke."

"You think so?" she says flatly, "If that's true, why didn't my partner and I find any puddles in the streets on the way here?"

You cast your mind back to the walk here; Tempest is right!

"They dried, I guess?" the manager shrugs. "A whole day's past since the rain."

"Why isn't this puddle dry, then?"

"I- I don't know!" he recoils just a little, "It just dried slower, I guess? Why are you asking all these-?"

"And how do you make water dry slower?"

"I don't know!" the manager repeats, louder this time. "You're the ones investigating this, I was under the impression this sorta thinking was your job!"

"There's no need to grill him, Tempest," you decide to step in before things get out-of-hoof. "I can tell he's telling us everything he knows. There's no need to play hot-and-cold with him."

"Hot and...?" she hangs onto the last word there, expecting you to finish it.

"I said hot and..." your eyes drift to the soggy mess of bricks and water. "Cold." Finally, the penny drops.

"They didn't break the wall with force," you realise. "They did it with magic. A freezing spell, probably. It was raining, so the bricks were already wet. Then they froze the rainwater, causing the droplets between the cracks to expand into ice, and eventually crumble the whole wall. Years of ice-erosion in a matter of seconds. From there, they took the fireworks, threw them into a loading van and left, leaving just a pile of destroyed bricks and the melting ice."

"Bingo," the violet unicorn gives you a sly smile. "You got there eventually. So we know the culprit not only uses powerful ice-magic, but also has several friends in on the steal too. How else would they have hauled away all those fireworks in one night?"

"How would you organise a raid so effectively?" you ask. "You'd have to be really well-prepared for that sort of thing."

As she's thinking about the next step to take, Tempest's eyes suddenly light up. You have to admit, it's somehow cute when she gets an epiphany like that.

"The Vanhoover harbour," she exclaims. "Ponies are always lugging things around there, and where better a place to hide something other than a moving boat?"

You whistle in awe. "Strong, smart and beautiful. You're the whole package, aren't you?"

Her eyes widen, almost for as long as a blink, when you tell her that. You could've sworn the tiniest spark escaped her horn, too. After she recollects herself, she simply says "The harbour", and makes her exit.

You give thanks to the manager for what little trouble he was, and trot off towards the west side of town.

*******

The last hurrah of the orange sunset ripples on the waters of the Vanhoover docks. One or two ships are already circling the harbour, waiting to be docked and secured to the bollards for the night. The North Luna Ocean stretches onward, blanketed by a cloud of frosty mist that rolls in the distance.

Many boats were already docked there, currently being unloaded by hooves of all shapes and sizes. Occasionally some hoofless species could be seen taking their inventory, ready to peddle their homeland wares in Equestria for a tidy profit the next day. Surrounding the harbour itself are a few cafés, with awnings decorated with lamps to ensure business even after the sun had set. The moon and stars over the North Luna Ocean are known to bring in tourists of all kinds just because of the sky's clarity.

But despite the co-operation of nearly everyone you spoke to, not a single hint of a missing firework could be found.

"That was a waste of time," Tempest Shadow slumped in her seat, dejectedly flicking through the notes of various interviewees. "And we were doing so well with the clues from the factory."

"None of these so-called witness statements are going to help at all," you wrinkle your nose at your own notes, "Nopony has seen a thing to do with missing fireworks, or gunpowder, for that matter. And all the sailors do is complain about how chilly and misty the North Luna Ocean has gotten."

"That, or they try to flirt with you," the dark-violet unicorn adds.

"You didn't have to sock him right in the eye though."

Tempest laughs. It's hard to tell how wholesome that laugh is. "Yes, I did."

The two of you had decided to rest and regroup your thoughts via a stop at one of the harbour's café tables. Perhaps after organising your thoughts and perking yourself up with coffee, you'd be able to make another plan of action. You order your preferred beverage (you know the one) and Tempest, to your surprise, orders a sweet affogato mocha, complete with a thin layer of chocolate powder sprinkled on top of the cream in the shape of a love-heart.

"What, you thought I'd order a bitter, black coffee or something?" she teases before taking a sip. When she puts the mug back down, you notice a thin layer of cream remaining on her upper lip.

"You, uh, have a little something there," you gesture towards the offending dairy.

"I know," she replies.

With a sultry, half-lidded gaze that seems to pry into your very thoughts, Tempest licks the cream off her lips. Slowly. Deliberately. Never breaking eye contact with you. Her tongue slides across her lips with the calm, calculated dexterity one would expect from an exotic dancer. And all the more fun to watch.

You take a sip of your own drink in an attempt to hide your reddening blush.

"Can I ask you an honest question?" Tempest finally says once she'd finished enjoying your discomfort.

"Shoot."

"Do you hate me? For what I did under the Storm King's banner?"

Your eyes flick down towards your beverage, trying to avoid staring down such an awkward question. "Dunno what you mean."

"When we first met, you were mad about me replacing one of your lost friends, right?" Oh geez. You were bound to be asked about this sooner or later.

"Flintlock, yeah," you mutter. "He... perished in the Storm King's invasion of Canterlot. Celestia's not a fool, Tempest; as Elite Operatives, we knew there was a planned invasion coming two days before the attack. We just didn't know who, or where from. As such, she posted half of her Royal guard on the outskirts of Canterlot, hoping to intercept, and the other half disguised as regular ponies during the Friendship Festival."

You take a long draught of your drink before continuing. "Needless to say, the enemy slipped right past the guards outside of Canterlot thanks to that little storm cloud trick, and the other guards were unable to rally under any princesses due to most of them being turned to stone."

"Sorry."

You finally look up from your drink. Tempest's jaded expression makes her look so tired. Perhaps not a physical tiredness, but being tired of the guilt.

"Don't do that," you reply. "You already paid your dues when you took out that tyrant, and then again when you joined up with us. And if you really want to compensate for your past that much, helping me stop these firework thieves before they do something drastic will more than make up for that too."

The drinks had cooled down a little bit more. Both you and Tempest take a mutual swig from your respective mugs.

"To answer your question," you say finally. "I don't hate you. In fact, I'm surprised how much I do like you, considering how little we've known each other. You're smart, you're powerful, you're everything an Elite Operative should be."

"I'm also beautiful," Tempest adds. "At least, that's what you told me back at the factory. You called the mare with a scarred face and a broken horn beautiful."

"So did the sailor back there."

"No, he wolf-whistled at me from behind, then recoiled when he noticed my eye and horn. You called me beautiful. On the train, your little speech made me feel good about my scars."

"Good," you reassure her. "And I stand by that. Besides, I caught that flirty licking-your-lips thing. You already know you're hot, scars or no." Tempest's eyes look you up and down, as if carefully weighing your words. You take another swig of your drink to punctuate your point.

"Wanna have sex?"

"HRK!" You just barely manage to swallow your drink in order to avoid a spit-take. "A-whuh!?"

"You heard me. I know we haven't known each other for very long, but let's face it. You think I'm beautiful, I think you're... good enough."

"Wow. Thanks."

"And the longer we're in this mission, the more the sexual tension is gonna distract us both. So I suggest, since we're in a dry patch with the investigation, and there's a hotel nearby, we could, you know. Spend the night there. Share a room. Share a bed."

You never once imagined that she'd just straight-up ask to sleep with you in such a way. "Are you sure?"

Her eyes pierce yours again. Her tone becomes less flirtatious and more, well, commanding.

"Listen. The hotel is two minutes away. We spend another minute picking a room in the lobby, and another one getting to said room. In less than five minutes from right now, we could be doing it. If you really don't wanna go through with it, that's fine, but that's what I'm offering. I know I'm up for it; have been for the past two hours."

She calmly drops a few bits on the table to pay for the drinks, and pulls herself out of her seat.

"I'll say it once more," she extends a hoof. "Do you want to sleep with me tonight? Yes or no."