The camera mare rushed herself down the stairs towards the manor’s main doors. Somepony has been knocking on it for a while now. It’s probably Octavia. A pink hoof pulled open the doors’ right half, revealing the musician herself.

Octavia looked refreshed. Her mane and coat were brushed properly. And she’s now sporting a pink bowtie that clung to a neat white collar. She was carrying a large picnic basket, probably the breakfast she promised to bring last night.

“Good morning!” She greeted the mare while showing her the basket. “I brought breakfast. Is the agent already up?”

“Uh, yeah.” The camera mare said softly.

“So where is he?”

“He’s upstairs, preparing to...torture the thestral?”

“He’s what!?” Octavia said as she broke into a run with breakfast in tow. The camera mare followed Octavia as she ran upstairs. But when they reached the hallway upstairs she looked back to the camera mare as if to ask her which room Rockwell was in. The camera focused the shot on the middle room and that’s where she bucked her hind leg into. As it turned out, the door was not exactly locked.

They were presented with the image of an occupied Rockwell that looked like he just woke up. His mane was unkempt. He’s not wearing his jacket and his shirt’s been modified for extreme comfort, the buttons near the chest were undone, his tie was loose, and his sleeves were rolled up the elbows. Despite his messy look, he had a new band-aid attached on his snout. He looked like a member from a one-hit rock band or an overgrown student from an all boys academy. But nevertheless, his look yielded a brief smile of amusement from Octavia. But it faded away once she remembered the reason why she rushed here in the first place.

The camera focused its shot on the thestral next to him. She was sitting on a stool with three separate ropes tying her wings, forelegs, and hind legs, just like Rockwell instructed earlier. Her face a bore a hard look similar to the one the royal guards use, but her gentle features contradict with the face she was currently making.

“Agent Rockwell!” Octavia angrily called. “What are you doing to the mare!?”

Rockwell stopped fiddling with whatever it is he’s fiddling. It appeared to be the phonograph from the living room. “And good morning to you too.” He said groggily, a definite sign that he just recently woke up.

“I thought you’re only going to interrogate her?” Octavia asked. She sounded really concerned for the mare.

“I did.” Rockwell rubbed the back of his head. “But she’s a tough a nut to crack so I’m just going to soften her up for a bit.” She looked down at the bound mare. The mare glared back, doubling her hard look. She’s pouting now. And her tiny fangs were now protruding from her upper lip.

Rockwell looked at the camera with a faux serious face. “Behind that squishy face lays a vault made of iron, very hard to breach.” The camera focused its shot on the thestral again. When she realized that she’s on camera she puffed her face up to appear more intimidating. It resulted doing the opposite.

Rockwell’s early morning quipping did not work on Octavia. She still remained upset. “Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe she’s inno-”

But before she could continue, Rockwell shushed her up with a hoof and then rested said hoof on her withers. He slowly guided her out the room and into the hallway. The camera followed them from behind.

“Let’s talk outside shall we?” Rockwell whispered to the now wary Octavia. Rockwell let his hoof go from Octavia’s withers once they’ve reached the hallway. He took a glance at the bound mare inside the room before looking back to her. “Are you thinking that this mare’s innocent because she’s not answering my questions?” He said in a low voice, probably to not let the thestral hear what they’re saying.

“Not thinking, I’m definitely sure she is!” Octavia retorted in hushed fury.

“Oh really? Here, let me show you something.” Rockwell marched back into the room while gesturing to Octavia to look what he’s going to do next. The bound mare whose features softened once they’ve left the room hardened again as he got in. Using the fact that she’s sitting and he’s standing, Rockwell made himself look intimidating to the mare by towering himself over her.

“I’m going to ask you again.” Rockwell said in a different voice. It sounded cold and menacing, way different than the laid back one he’s always using. It even creeped Octavia out upon hearing it. “Who are you?” He left a brief moment of silence for the mare to answer. She did not. “Why are you spying on us?” There’s another brief moment of silence, but still no answer. “Who do you work for?”

Knowing that the mare won’t answer anyway, Rockwell exited the room again. He looked back at Octavia who was still creeped out from his ‘interrogation voice.’ “Did you see that?” He said in his normal tone while pointing back at the thestral.

“I see nothing but more proof of the mare’s innocence.” Octavia said flatly.

“Didn’t you notice anything strange in our interaction?” He said, now whispering again.

Octavia raised a brow. “Strange? What do you mean?”

“On normal circumstances,” Rockwell began. “When innocents get questioned, the first thing that will fly out of their mouths is that they would say that they are innocent and has nothing to do with the situation they are currently in. And they will constantly repeat that like it’s a mantra for the scared until they’re let go or got rid of. But this girl, acts nothing like a normal scared pony would do under such conditions. But instead she acts like a captured soldier who’s willing to take her secrets to the grave.”

Rockwell gave a small smile before continuing. “Now I don’t know what kind of cult of or organization made her act like this but it’s both endearing and hilarious at the same time.” He took another glance at the mare before looking back at Octavia. “Look at that. She’s so adorable, steadfast loyalty and all. I tried squeezing her fluffy cheeks but her teeth are very bitey.”

Octavia donned a pondering look before replying to Rockwell. “Well, maybe your claim does hold a bit of water in it but it’s still not grounds for torturing her!”

“Oh believe me it is.” Rockwell replied in an overly casual manner. “It’s just that the Bureau has a lot of ways in a making the mutest of ponies speak and you can freely pick from their plethora of selections, both painless and excruciating. And since physically hurting the locals is a violation of code number nine in the public conduct section of the BoS operations rulebook, we’ll just have to choose from the former half of the selection.”

“Former half?” Octavia raised a brow. “You mean painless tortures? I don’t even think such things exist.”

“You’d be surprised.” Rockwell said as he went in to the room again. He made himself intimidating to the mare once more by towering over her. He gave a small cough before speaking, as if to adjust his vocal chords or something.

“This will be the last time I’m asking you this.” Rockwell said to the mare, now switching to his interrogation voice. “Who are you and who do you work for?” The mare replied with a violent hiss while attempting to struggle herself free. Rockwell pointed a hoof at the mare while looking at Octavia as if he’s presenting this as proof to reinforce his claim earlier. He lowered his hoof and looked back at the mare. “You’re not going to talk? Then so be it.” He trotted towards the phonograph, which was located at the drawer on the right side of the queen sized bed. “We’ll see about that an hour from now.” He pushed the needle on the record and it started playing.

“The Chronicles of Agent Rouser.” The record played. “Conqueror of A Thousand Nether Regions. Narrated by Agent Haven Burrow. Book Six: Thestrals.”

As the record continued playing, Rockwell trotted briskly out of the room. Once he’s out, he quickly slammed the door shut. The sound coming from the room could not be heard anymore. Once he realized that, Rockwell gave a sigh of relief.

“Agent Rockwell, is that a recording of a book you’re playing?” Octavia asked. There’s a hint of interest in her voice.

“No, it’s the torture.”

“What.”

“I see you’ve brought breakfast.” Rockwell said, attempting to change the topic while pointing a hoof at the mare’s basket.

“Yes.” Octavia answered. Her eyes narrowed while doing so. “Yes I did.”

“Let me help you set it up in the dining room.”

The group was now sitting at the table in the manor’s dining room. Octavia’s basket was now emptied off of its contents. A dozen slices of still warm toast were placed on a long rectangular plate. Two sticks of butter were on a small saucer next to it. A thermos flask containing coffee was standing beside the plate of toast and was surrounded by three empty cups. Six pieces of freshly baked muffins were huddled together in a plate. And a couple of fresh, red apples were placed in a glass bowl. Several packets of cream and sugar were hastily piled near the thermos.

Each pony was provided with a plate and some matching utensils. Octavia poured herself a cup of coffee while Rockwell was busily writing on a piece of scroll. The sounds of flowing liquid and scratching of quill on paper were the only things the camera could hear.

“So how do you like your coffee, Agent Rockwell?” Octavia asked once she’s done stirring hers.

“Lotsa cream, lotsa sugar.” Rockwell replied while still scribbling on the piece of paper.

Octavia complied, grabbing an empty cup and poured it with the dark brew. She then picked three packets each of cream and sugar. With her teeth, she ripped the corner of the packets and poured all of their contents on Rockwell’s cup. She stirred the liquid thoroughly with a teaspoon and hoofed it to the agent. Rockwell received while mouthing ‘thanks’ to her and took a small sip from the hot beverage. He then raised his mug to her as a gesture that he liked it, similar to the one he did with Violet and her cocoa. He took another sip and placed it on the table to continue writing.

“Which reminds me,” Octavia said, which opted for the agent to raise his head from the piece of parchment. “Where are Cirrus and Violet?”

“Ghosts disappear during the day.” Rockwell answered matter-of-factly.

“I see.” Octavia said, now buttering her toast. She took a bite from it before continuing. A small crunching sound can be heard. “So um, what do you think is happening to the thestral right now?”

Rockwell took another sip from his coffee. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear the stuff while having breakfast, it’d just make you throw it all up afterwards. So let’s change the topic. Let’s talk about your marefriend and her cabal for a change.”

“She is not my marefriend!” Octavia quickly shot back.

“A friend who’s a mare, but a whatever.” Rockwell grabbed himself a muffin and placed it on his plate. He tore a chunk out of it and tossed it in his mouth. He took a sip from his cup after. “So you checked on them, huh? Tell me what happened to them after we left for the manor.”

“Oh yes.” Octavia took another bite from her toast. She wiped the crumbs off her lips with a white hankie. “They went on their separate ways after the brief skirmish was over, but not poor Cliff Hanger, unfortunately. Vinyl had him meet up with her at our house where he was given a stern talking to. She relayed a message to me from him saying that he apologizes for accidentally hitting me with his sword, as he was really aiming for that ‘no good stupid policy blurting prick in a suit.’ His words not mine Agent Rockwell, although saying those lines at your face does bring me slight joy.” She took a sip from her cup afterwards.

Rockwell stopped himself from scribbling. “Okay. Now I’m offended.”

“Really?” Octavia tilted her head. “Now?”

“Well yeah.” Rockwell replied with a shrug. “You can call me whatever you want, just don’t talk (beep) about our policies. Those things are our babies.”

“I’m adding that one to my list of ridiculous Bureau of Secrecies facts list.” Octavia said as she drank her cup empty in one go.

Rockwell chuckled at her answer. “So that Cliff guy must really hate me now, huh?”

“Hate is a pretty light way to put it, Agent Rockwell.” Octavia said as she refilled her cup. She refilled Rockwell’s as well. “Vinyl said that Cliff made it his life’s mission to best you in combat.”

“That’s pretty bad indeed.” Rockwell said as he softly blew on his cup before taking a sip. “I really don’t know what to do.” The sarcasm in his voice was weak but it was still there. “So what other things are there?”

“They’re planning to hit the werewolves again. The date’s not yet set but Vinyl said it’s happening soon.”

“Not when I’m around they’re not.” Rockwell said as he started writing again.

“That’s what I said.” Octavia held her cup with both hooves. “And then Vinyl retorted that there’s a possibility that they will only do the deed once you leave town.”

Rockwell sighed as he stopped writing again. He leaned to the back of his chair. “Guess I’ll have to resolve this real quick.” He took one more sip from his cup. “Did you tell her about the potential third party being behind all of this? I thought about their feud earlier and I think that they are being pitted against each other as well.”

“Yes, I did tell all about it to her, and in great detail if I do say so myself.” Octavia stared at her reflection in her cup as she continued. “But you know Vinyl and how stubborn she can be. She remained unconvinced despite having the facts laid down before her.”

Octavia looked back at the agent who was now scribbling again. But once he felt that he was being stared at, he immediately raised his head and looked at Octavia again. “And I also have this hunch that even if we found out who the saboteurs are, Vinyl would still hit the werewolves and then deal with them after.”

Rockwell raised a brow while drinking his coffee. “That’s a very pessimistic thought coming from you.”

“I can’t help it.” Octavia shrugged. “It’s just the way Vinyl rolls, I guess.”

“How about this.” Rockwell set his cup down. “To put your bad thoughts at ease, how about we search all over town today for any evidences that the perps may have left or hidden? It’s good exercise too, considering that you’re always out of breath every time we started running.”

“No I do not!” Octavia cried defensively. “Although I do love to join you in your search but I’m going to our rehearsals later so I’m afraid I’ll have to take a pass. Sorry.”

Rockwell waved a dismissive hoof. “Don’t be sorry, you brought us breakfast! We should be the ones saying sorry here since we barely touched it.” He looked at the camera mare while gesturing to the food laid on the table. “Come get your hooves full with the food here. Miss Melody’s been slaving herself off making these and we’re treating it like table ornament.” The camera mare instantly complied and filled her plate with muffins and apples.

“So what are you writing in that scroll anyway?” Octavia said, pointing Rockwell’s paper with her cup.

“I’m ordering the tower agents to send a message to the aliens that the outskirts ghosts did not sabotage their ship. But somepony did and we’re still finding out who they are.”

Octavia giggled. “You know, when you say it like that it sounded like somepony wrote it after snuffing out a generous helping of doob.”

Rockwell smiled back. “If you think that’s trippy, then you should read my reports. What’s written inside looks like it’s taken straight out of a six year old’s attempt at writing novels.”

Octavia gave out a hearty laugh at Rockwell’s quip. The agent just continued to smile at her, but it hinted some feeling of longing in it. He then rolled up the scroll and loaded it in his flare gun. Once the gun was loaded, he kept it in his jacket and went for the toast. He also reached for the butter knife and slathered the piece of bread with the soft, creamy spread.

Octavia was about to take another sip from her cup when a thought struck her. “Wait, why do you have to search all over town when you already have a potential lead in your grasp?”

Rockwell gestured to wait as he downed his coffee. “That’s why I’m waiting for her to speak first before I start searching. To narrow things down, you know? And even if she resists, which is impossible because of the method I chose by the way, there’s still a great chance that her allies will come get her. Which means that they’ll reveal themselves to me or at least give a lead on who they actually are.” He leaned in to Octavia and made an exaggerated whispering pose. “I don’t know about you but I had a feeling that it’s going to be a group of thestrals.”

“Very funny Agent Rockwell.” Octavia said, rolling her eyes as she got up. “I’m going to check on the mare before I leave.”

“I’m going with you.” Rockwell also got up but not before grabbing an apple from the bowl. “Just a little heads up though.” He said while polishing the fruit on his sleeve. “Before you open the door to the room, cover your ears and nose first.”

Rockwell’s last words made Octavia look back at him with obvious confusion. She shook the thought off and proceeded to head upstairs. Rockwell idly followed her as he bit on his apple, although he opened a window and fired his flare gun first. The camera silently tailed both ponies but took a glance at her unfinished plate before continuing to tail them. As the group reached the manor’s second floor, Rockwell gestured to Octavia again to cover her ears and nose before entering. Octavia still doesn’t understand what he meant and opened the door.

The group was welcomed with the thestral mare writhing and struggling with her bindings. Frustrated moans and groans were all the sounds coming from her. She looked like a mess, with her dishevelled mane and coat that was damp from her sweating. The surface of the seat she was sitting was soaking wet, like she peed on it. Some of the clear liquid was dripping to the floor.

The phonograph beside her was still playing. “Rouser’s hips moved in a blur. His thrusts were unrelenting; it sent every fiber of her being in pure bliss...”

Octavia slammed the door to the room, silencing all the noises inside. Her face glowed red like coal, eyes remained staring at the doorknob, lingering to the piece of metal latched to the door, as if she was attempting to replace her recent memory with nothing but the innocent images of the brass knob.

“It smells in there.” She murmured. Her eyes were still on the doorknob, she’s gripping it tightly now.

“I know. That’s what I told you to cover yo-”

“YOU’RE TORTURING THE MARE BY HAVING HER LISTEN TO EROTICA!!?” Octavia exploded on the agent. Her head looked like a giant piece of ember from her blushing.

“Yep.” Rockwell said flatly.

“That doesn’t make sense!”

“Let me explain.” He took another bite of the fruit. Octavia’s face looked redder than the apple’s. “I did promise to do so earlier.” His words sounded mumbled due to him talking while his mouth was full. “What you saw in that room right now is a form of torture called the ‘Rouser’s Method.’ So basically, what we do here is to read the subject a book from the ‘Chronicles of Agent Rouser: Conqueror of-‘”

“-A Thousand Nether Regions.” Octavia said rapidly. “Yes, I know. I had the misfortune of hearing it earlier. But please get to the point. Tell me how an erotic work of fiction which was supposed to provide pleasure is used to torment ponies!?”

“It’s the bindings.” Rockwell took another bite. “It keeps them from getting themselves off. And once they’ve reached the point where they can’t take it anymore, they will now willingly trade any secret information they’re hiding in exchange for their release.” He took another bite again. “They usually crack in the third phase. Our thestral just entered phase two.”

The disgust on Octavia’s face was apparent. “That’s a very underhoofed tactic, Agent Rockwell.”

“Eh.” Rockwell shrugged. “It’s harmless so I’m not really worried.”

Octavia looked back at the door again. “I’m going to set her free.”

“No you’re not.”

“But she’s suffering.”

“No she’s not.”

“You’re being rather cruel.”

“No I’m not. Listen,” Rockwell said with a concerned tone. “We’re this close to getting some answers that could save your friend’s life and several others and you’re just going to let it all go?”

“There are other ways.” Octavia replied, although her face looked conflicted.

Rockwell bit on his apple. “But not as amusing as this one.”

“We’re in the middle of something important and you’re being childish still!?”

“To be honest,” Rockwell shrugged. “I wouldn’t exactly call it torture. It’s more like a glorified edgi-”

Everypony ceased what they’re doing when somepony suddenly knocked on the manor’s door. The group’s attentions were directed downstairs, where the knocking sounds were coming from. Both Octavia and camera then focused their shots on Rockwell. But the agent was still occupied with his apple. He gestured for them to wait as he gulped down the chunk of fruit he’s chewing.

“Darn it, they’re here.” He said flatly as he tossed the apple away and entered the room.

“Who’s they?” Octavia asked. All the anger in her voice was replaced with confusion.

“The ponies she’s with.” Replied Rockwell as he turned the record player off. He quickly untied the panting mare and ran back to Octavia and the camera. He closed the door again. “They chose the non-violent way.” He said to them. “So they might disguise themselves as friends or family to retrieve her. And they will then use the same excuse every time that the mare we caught got way too adventurous or curious for her own...”

A loud screeching sound coming from the room cut Rockwell off.

“...good.”

The agent proceeded to open the room’s door once more and was presented with the sight of a thestral lying on the floor with a hoof on her mons pubis and a satisfied look on her face. Both her eyes were rolled up and her tongue was lolling out. A hind leg also appeared to be slightly twitching. He carried the limp mare on his back and trotted out the hallway and into the stairs.

“Now let’s go down and meet our suspects.” Rockwell said as he passed the two mares. Octavia didn’t even reply, she just stood there with a look that’s like a distorted mix of amusement and disgust. It took them a brief moment to react but they eventually followed the agent to the living room.

As they stood the before the door that was currently knocked upon, Rockwell passed the now passed out mare to Octavia who appeared to be not too enthusiastic with the circumstance she was given. And her face looked like it’s about to cry when it appeared that something soaked her flanks. Rockwell also gestured for the camera mare to hide in the window next to the door. With that done, he opened the doors’ right half.

“Mayor Inkwell, what a surprise.” Rockwell said with his signature sarcastic tone.

The camera mare attempted to sneak in a shot through the window’s corner. Rockwell was standing in front of the mayor and the thestral that gave them the keys to the manor.

Rockwell looked to the mare beside the mayor. She had a short silver mane and a coat of purple. A teal scarf adorned her neck. And her yellow eyes seemed to be permanently locked in a grit. “And Blurry right?” The mare gave a silent nod.

“Good morning, Agent Rockwell.”Greeted the mayor. “So how was your stay at the manor?”

“It’s a pleasant experience overall.” Rockwell said while stretching a foreleg. The bones were no longer cracking. “Although it does get spooky at times, but it’s probably just the wind amirite?” The mayor’s eye twitched as she heard his reply. “One weird thing happened last night, though. A thestral suddenly crashed herself into the manor! She remained unconscious since last night. I wanted to ask who she was or where she lives so we can take her home but she’s conked out so, yeah.”

“Oh that’s our dear Grey Star!” The mayor perked up. “She lives with her mother, Blurry in the Outskirts. We were told that this was the last place she was seen. We do apologize for the trouble she caused you. She can be quite...adventurous sometimes. But now we’ve come here to take her off your hooves. Once again, we’re terribly sorry for the all the trouble she caused.”

Rockwell gave a dismissive wave. “Nah, don’t worry about it.” A jet of green flame flew into his jacket out of a sudden. The mayor and the thestral leapt back in surprise, but Rockwell just remained in his place like nothing surprising just happened. He then pulled out his flare gun and took out the scroll inside, skimming over it.

“Was that dragon fire just now?” Blurry said.

For some odd reason, Blurry speaking was the thing that startled Rockwell. “That’s a secret.” He turned to look at the mayor who was still shocked after seeing a stream of fire get inside his body and he didn’t even react about it. “Grey’s currently in the couch, sleeping. Let me go get her for you.” He closed the living room door and jogged towards the couch and back. He had Octavia pass the mare she’s carrying onto his back. He opened the door again.

“Here she is.” He said as he transferred the sleeping mare to Blurry’s back. “Still sound asleep.”

“What’s that smell?” Blurry said as she started the sniffing the air within Grey Star’s vicinity.

“It’s cider, I think. She was probably drinking when she came here last night.” Rockwell’s reply earned a suspicious glare from the thestral.

“Now that we’ve gotten what we came here for, I think it’s time for us to leave.” Mayor Inkwell boldly stated. “And I’m really sorry for disturbing you this early in the morning.”

“No worries. Have a good one as well.” He gave a half wave as both ponies trotted away from the manor. He then closed the door and peered at the window.

“I can’t believe it.” Octavia said as she approached the agent. “Mayor Inkwell is the one who’s behind all of this?”

“I know right?” Rockwell replied sarcastically. He turned to look at the camera. “Who knew it would be her?”

“I-I don’t understand.” Octavia placed a hoof on her head. “What does she have against us?”

“Guess we’ll just have to find out ourselves. Wanna come with us and stalk her?”

“I can’t.”

“Oh right, day job."

Author's Note

Four chapters in a month is a new record for me. Maybe this quarantine stuff did me some good for once. As always, thank you for reading.