CRISIS: A Royal Affair

Chapters

Chapter Two: Teenage Troubles
Chapter Three: Secret Sojourn
Chapter Four: Fascinating Foray
Chapter Five: Building Bridges
Chapter Six: Heading Home
Chapter Seven: Depressing Discoveries
Chapter Eight: Quaint Questions
Chapter Ten: Royal Revelations
Chapter Eleven: Insidious Injuries
Chapter Twelve: Violent Vengeance
Chapter Thirteen: Amorous Admission
Chapter Fourteen: Learning Love
Chapter Fifteen: Just Jewelry
Chapter Sixteen: Wonderful Waltz
Chapter Seventeen: Emergency Exodus
Epilogue: Mystery Mares
Chapter One: Precocious Princess
Chapter Nine: Ominous Observations

Chapter Two: Teenage Troubles

One Year Later

The hospital room was white and mostly empty, save for various pieces of medical equipment, a single chair, and a large, comfortable bed that definitely did not belong in a hospital. There was a guard - an orange-coated, green-maned earth pony mare - stationed just outside in the hall; inside the room was another guard, Shining Steel, who stood at attention in the corner. The room had no windows.

In the bed itself was King Flashfire. His coat had dulled in the past year, and his mane was thinning terribly. His once broad, healthy frame had weakened greatly, leaving him gaunt and pale. He was hooked up to several of the machines to monitor his health, none of which had much positive information to say. Flashfire himself was breathing normally, but was clearly tired.

There was a slight commotion from the doorway, and Blackburn stepped into the room. She’d gotten taller over the past year, and wore a long, white, high-collared jacket and her gold-and-green striped scarf. Gadget and Crossfire remained in the hall. The latter had had a growth spurt and was almost as tall as the adult mare outside; the former, not so much.

Blackburn approached the bed and pulled the lone chair over to sit in. “Grandpa. Good to see you.” She tried to smile, but found it difficult.

Flashfire smiled weakly and held a hoof up to her face. “My not-so-little ray of sunshine. How are you today?”

“Doing well,” she lied. “Came as soon as you called.”

“Of course you did, sweetheart. I knew you would. I got something for you.” He gestured at Shining Steel. “Shining.”

Shining nodded and moved over to the side of the bed, fishing a gift-wrapped, bottle-shaped package from underneath. He passed it over to Blackburn, who looked it over curiously.

“Go on, dear. Open it.”

Blackburn unwrapped the package. Inside was a wine bottle labeled “Hundred-Year Burgundy”. Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Wine? Not old enough to drink, grandpa.”

Flashfire smiled. “It’s not for right now, sweetheart. It’s called ‘Hundred-Year Burgundy’ for a reason: it’s best after being aged for one hundred years. It’ll hit that year when you’re of age. Save it for then, share it with somepony special.” He put his hoof on hers. “I shared a bottle of this with your grandmother the night we met. It was a gift to me from Obsidian, our mutual friend from the Checkpoint.”

Blackburn gave a slight smile. “Wish I’d been able to meet her…”

“I wish so too, dear… she would’ve loved you so--” He stopped to cough into his hoof, letting out harsh, wheezing coughs. Blackburn rose to tend to him, but he waved her off. “Don’t mind me, don’t mind me. Just a little fit, nothing more. Have you spoken with your father recently?”

Blackburn frowned and took a deep breath. “Still not speaking with him. His fault momma’s gone.” Flashfire pat her hoof, and she held his hoof tight as she started fighting back tears. Flashfire pulled her in for a hug. “Don’t want to lose you, too, grandpa…”

“I know, sweetheart… I know… but we all have to go someday. My time is coming, but I don’t want you to cry for me. You have so much life left ahead of you. Don’t waste it mourning an old stallion like me.”

Another commotion at the door, and this time Stormchaser entered the room, dressed in a regal coat. Flashfire’s expression soured as he walked in, and he started coughing again.

Blackburn noticed and turned to see her father had entered the room, and her expression soured as well. She turned to Flashfire and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Goodbye, grandpa. Will visit later.” She turned and headed for the door.

“Blackburn, honey, where’ve you been all--” Stormchaser started. Blackburn pushed past him without a word, leaving the room in a huff. “--day.” He shook his head and turned back to his father. “I don’t know what’s wrong with that girl.”

“Really? You don’t know what’s wrong with her?” Flashfire scoffed. “And you wonderwhy I never trusted you to raise her, why I made sure she was raised right. It’s because you are a blind fool. She blames you - rightfully, I might add - for Blue Blitz’s death.”

Stormchaser scowled. “That wasn’t my fault and you know it. It was a technical malfunction in her engine. A freak accident, nothing more. I’m tired of you trying to pin it on me because of Crimson Dust’s incompetence as an engineer. You know damn well he ran because he thought he’d be blamed for it, which obviously he is.”

“And I’ll tell you again that witnesses said he was seen fleeing the scene before the explosion. All the evidence we have suggests the Rainbow Blitz was tampered with.”

“As if I’d trust the clues you put together. I wouldn’t put it past you to have your loyal subjects fudge the data to serve your ridiculous narrative. Stop acting like I don't care that my wife is dead.”

“You really are an idiot. I’m not the one who put the clues together; your daughter did.” Flashfire shook his head, disappointed. “She figured it out immediately after it happened, and it was her testimony that helped us put together the truth. She probably would’ve figured it out before it happened if you hadn’t been your usual self--”

“You’ve turned my daughter into a paranoid freak!” Stormchase snapped. “Normal ponies don’t talk the way she does! Normal ponies aren’t obsessed with the things she is! No matter what I did, she always listened to you, you old fool. You took my little girl from me!”

“This old fool built the most successful settlement in the Wastelands in hundreds of years. This old fool gave the ponies of Pandemonium a beacon of hope to look to, protected them, let them prosper. This old fool gave you everything you could ever want in life and all you did was show contempt--”

Flashfire coughed fiercely, and leaned back on the bed. After taking a breath, he continued. “You are a disappointment as a son, and a disappointment as a father. If you were even half the stallion I am, Blue Blitz would still be alive.”

“If you weren’t such an obsessive nutcase, mom would still be alive!”

Flashfire sneered, and turned to Shining Steel. “Shining, slap my son for me.”

Shining didn’t hesitate, slapping Stormchaser hard across the face with his armor-clad hoof, nearly knocking the prince to the ground

Stormchaser glared at his father’s bodyguard, placing a hoof to his jaw. “You… you dare strike your prince?”

“I dare to follow my king’s orders, Your Highness,” Shining said, unperturbed. He turned to Flashfire. “Shall I strike him again, sire?”

Flashfire snorted. “No, that’s quite alright.” He turned back to his son, eyes narrowed. “Get out. I have nothing more to say to you.”

Stormchaser straightened himself. “Fine. I said my piece.” He stormed out of the room.

Flashfire sighed and turned to Shining. “I shouldn’t have had you do that, Shining. He’s going to make life hell for you when he’s crowned because of that.”

“I’m not worried,” Shining said with a slight grin. “The wife and I already planned on taking a vacation in Newhaven after he takes the throne. Maybe we’ll make it a permanent move, raise our daughter someplace sunny and warm.” He paused a moment. “You know, Flashfire… it’s not too late for you to do something about Stormchaser taking the throne. You’re the king, you could appoint anypony you want to be your successor.”

Flashfire frowned and stared at the ceiling. “I know I can… but I couldn’t. The ponies of this city have come to expect Stormchaser to succeed me when I’m gone. He’s the rightful heir. If I put somepony else on the throne, even if just to keep it warm for Blackburn… I fear that there would be some that consider her rule illegitimate, and my son would make sure of it. There might be unrest. I can’t put her through that.”

“Fair point.”

“Sometimes makes me wish you’d all nominated me ‘president’ or something less constricting than ‘king’,” Flashfire added with a laugh. He coughed into his hoof. “I wish I could ask you to watch over my granddaughter. I know she’ll be safe… but I worry…”

“Don’t worry, sire. I’ve watched her grow up just as much as you have. If there’s anypony in this world that’s more capable of keeping herself safe than her, I’d love to meet them.”

Six Months Later

The royal wedding chapel was exquisitely decorated with whites, blues, and purples. Hundreds of flowers of varying kinds lined the aisle and scented candles sat at the edges of the room, all combining to give the chapel the smell of a pleasant spring afternoon. All of the pews were packed tight, save for an empty spot near the front row on the groom’s side. Half a dozen camera crews had taken up spots throughout the chapel: one at the back near the doors; one halfway down the aisle; two on the ceiling, one above the doors and one above the altar; and two more near the altar, one facing the groom, the other facing the bride.

The groom himself, King Stormchaser, stood proud and confident facing towards the camera crew that was focused on him; his tuxedo was pressed and clean, and the collar was high and decorated with the red-and-gold of Hope’s Point. Six groomsmen stood at his side, all well-dressed stallions in dark gold tuxedos with impeccable grooming. Opposite them were six bridesmaids, all lovely mares in periwinkle dresses, their manes decorated with white and gold flowers. The officiator of the ceremony was an older stallion dressed in ceremonial military gear.

Then, the traditional Bridal Chorus played, and the entire crowd’s attention turned towards the chapel entrance. Entering the room was the bride, a gorgeous pearl-white unicorn with a luxurious dark pink mane, dressed in a long, flowing bridal gown decorated with glittering gemstones. As she approached the altar, the crowd and cameras followed her with their eyes the whole way. When she reached the altar, she met eyes with Stormchaser and gave him a loving smile, which he returned, then took her place.

The music stopped, and the officiator addressed the crowd. “Friends, family, and compatriots, we are gathered here today to bear witness to the union between these two, King Stormchaser and Lady Silver Glow, in matrimony. If anypony can show just cause why these two should not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Stormchaser glanced out into the crowd, fully expecting Princess Blackburn to speak out. However, when his eyes drifted over to her reserved seats, the seats were empty. Blackburn wasn’t there.

*****

Princess Blackburn sat at a table in a small diner on the city surface, situated off in the corner away from the crowd that had gathered near a television set above the bar. She was dressed in a red jacket with the hood pulled up, no scarf. Across the table from her were Gadget and Crossfire, dressed in similar jackets - Gadget’s blue, Crossfire’s green. Between them, on the table, were mostly-emptied plates of food; there was evidence that they’d all ordered hay fries, that Blackburn preferred hers with ranch dressing, Gadget with ketchup, and Crossfire plain.

Also set up was a deck of cards. The trio was in the middle of a tense game of poker; the flop currently held a four, five, and six of spades. Blackburn’s pocket cards consisted of a nine of clubs and a ten of hearts; Gadget’s was a two of hearts and a three of diamonds; Crossfire’s was a two and three of spades.

Blackburn’s poker face was unreadable; her expression was that of a pony who was half-awake and trying not to fall back asleep. Gadget’s wasn’t nearly as perfect, because her eyes kept darting from Blackburn’s face to her own cards, her mouth curled in the tiniest of grins. Crossfire, meanwhile, was trying too hard, keeping a dumb grin on his face but shifting his eyes excitedly between the other two.

Unsurprisingly, Blackburn’s pile of chips was the largest. She pushed ten more chips into the pot. Gadget put ten as well; Crossfire put fifteen. Gadget then drew a new card, the turn: a three of hearts. Blackburn, expression unchanging, pushed five more chips in; Gadget added ten, Crossfire another fifteen. Gadget drew the last card to add, the river: a nine of spades. Blackburn pushed forward forty chips.

Gadget hesitated; Blackburn didn’t even acknowledge it. Gadget took a breath, then placed her cards face-down. “I fold.”

Crossfire was sweating. He licked his lips, checked his pocket cards again, then took a deep breath and placed his cards face-down too. “I fold too.”

Blackburn leaned forward in her seat and shrugged, tossing her cards face-up onto the table before pulling the pit towards herself.

Gadget rolled her eyes. “Sonuva... not again.“

Crossfire groaned and put his hooves to his face as he leaned back in his chair. “Dagnabit! I had a dang straight-flush!”

Gadget looked at him incredulously. “You had a straight flush and you folded? The heck is wrong with you, Crossfire? That’s the best hand you could possibly have here.”

“I had the two and three. I thought she had the seven and eight!” He stared at Blackburn. “You’ve got a killer poker face, Blackburn. How in the hay do ya do it?”

Blackburn shrugged. “Just comes natural.”

She tilted her head towards the crowd at the television, where she could see that the display was focused on the royal wedding. At present, rings were being exchanged. Then, the bride and groom kissed to seal the deal; the crowd applauded and cheered. Blackburn, meanwhile, just huffed.

Gadget turned to see the display for a second, then turned back to Blackburn. “Guess it’s finally official, huh? You gonna be okay, Blackburn? I know this whole thing is… awkward.”

“Awkward nothin',” Crossfire said, shaking his head. “The three o’ us know dang well that this whole thing ain’t right. ‘Tain’t right at all…”

Blackburn snorted and sunk into her chair, but did not respond for a long time. “Changes nothing,” she muttered at long last.

This poker face wasn’t nearly as good.

One Year Later

Hope’s Point had, over the years, attracted a great many ponies from all walks of life in Pandemonium City: the downtrodden and well-to-do, the desperate and the simply curious, the brave and the meek. And, be they earth pony, unicorn, or pegasi, there was an opportunity for prosperity in Hope’s Point only surpassed by the southern Utopian continent itself. Nearly half of the ponies that came to Hope’s Point eventually left south to make better lives for themselves and their families.

Those that remained in Hope’s Point were expected to contribute to the city’s well-being and thriving society in whatever manner they could. Some had entrepreneurial spirit and opened businesses that catered to the wants and needs of the city’s population. Some had the money to provide for themselves from the get-go, and provided a much-needed influx of currency into the city’s economy. Some had skills or talents that led them to working in the city’s numerous fields of labor both menial and not: engineers, lawyers, doctors, soldiers, technicians, plumbers, reporters, etc.

Of the latter group, the most favored and most important were pegasi with a talent for flying, for they could serve the city as pilots in its fleet of airships. The ships were ostensibly used for the transport of cargo or passengers between Hope’s Point and Utopia, or Utopia and Pandemonium City, which in every case required them to travel south through the Belt of Tranquility, the ironically-named storm of chaotic magic that stretched along Equestria’s equator.

These pegasi pilots were trained and equipped at Fleet Headquarters, a large building in the underground levels. And it was at Fleet Headquarters that Bramblejam now waited in a lonely training room on one of its many floors dedicated to the service. The room was equipped with dozens of pieces of training equipment, most prominently an elevated glass tube connected to a series of mechanical contraptions.

Bramblejam himself was a golden pegasus stallion with an orange mane, currently dressed in a simple green jacket. His wings were a little longer than those of the average pegasus, so when they drooped at his side as he paced to-and-fro, they dragged along the ground. He constantly looked at the time displayed on the clock above the door; currently it read 11:56 p.m.

“What’s got you all in a tizzy, dad?” asked a younger pegasus stallion in the room with him. “Flight lessons make newbies nervous. They made of glass?”

The younger pegasus was similarly colored, though his coat and mane had more of a healthy luster to them. He was dressed in a green-and-gold flight suit, and his wings, too, were much longer than the average pegasus his age; his primaries stretched out behind him.

Bramblejam turned to his son and licked his lips. “More like steel. I suppose since she’s gonna be here any minute, any second, maybe even right now!” he said with a long exhale. His vision glazed over. “To be honestish, a long-a-rino time comingly, you know, milad--”

The younger pegasus furrowed his brow briefly with concern, and quickly slid a wingtip forward hard, flicking his father’s forehead.

“Sorry,” Bramblejam coughed. “Anyway, since she’s gonna be here soon I think it might be a good idea, prudent even, to let you know just what, or rather who, yes, who, we’re giving this lesson to: her royalful princessly Princess Blackburn!”

The young pegasus’s eyes widened. “We’re giving royal lessons?! Why am I just finding out about this now?! Is my mane okay? How about my breath? Acceptable for princessliness?”

Bramblejam covered his son’s mouth. “Shhhhshhshh! Keep quiet, son, we can’t let anypony know about this, okay? This is very hush-hush-hushed, tip-to-the-top secret, confidential, and dare I say it, classified. Princess Blackburn doesn’t want anypony to know, least of all His Majestical Majesty himself. So you keep your lips tight, hmm?”

“Yeah, tip-to-the-top, sure thing dad, whatever you say,” the son replied with a nod. “Whoo, the Princess wants private flying lessons. From us. Whoo.”

Just as the clock on the wall turned to midnight, the door opened, and Princess Blackburn strode in with Gadget and Crossfire in tow. Bramblejam and his son bowed immediately upon the entrance, which earned a polite nod from Blackburn, who stepped in front of the two. Crossfire moved to close the door and stand guard nearby; Gadget made for the myriad devices that filled the room, giving them scrutinizing looks.

“Captain Bramblejam,” Blackburn said as she gestured for the older pegasus to rise. “Punctual, excellent. Eager to get started.” She turned to the younger pegasus. “Briarthorn, your son and assistant. Pleasure to meet you.”

The son - Briarthorn - nodded and smiled. “Pleasure to meet you too, Princess. I didn’t know we were having royal company tonight, so this is a nice surprise, if you don’t mind me saying so. I didn’t think many ponies even got to interact with you.”

Blackburn turned to Bramblejam. “Good, secret has been kept. Whatever happens here stays between us.” She then turned to the equipment that Gadget was examining. “As said: eager to get started. Shall we?”

Bramblejam held up a hoof. “Certainly, absotively posilutely, and we’ll get started right away your Princessfulness, but you're not gonna blast off just yet, no sir. I know you’re royalicious and all that jazz and such but… uh…” He suddenly paused, a faraway look in his eye as he stared off at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Captain?”

Briarthorn cleared his throat. “Sorry about that, he gets like that sometimes.” He poked his dad hard in the side with his wing. “Dad! Hey!” He even stomped his hoof to punctuate it.

As if nothing had happened at all, Bramblejam continued. “But I’ve gotta keep to my teacherly lesson plan or I’m just setting a bad bad bad example, you understand?” He clapped Briarthorn on the shoulder. “My son here’s gonna demonstrate the equipment first for you while you get suited up.”

“Am familiar with equipment already,” Blackburn stated matter-of-factly. “Learned from… from my mother.”

Bramblejam’s expression softened. “Yeah… yeah, I figured Blue Blitz probably showed you a few things before…” He caught himself and cleared his throat. “Still, lessons are lessons, and rules are as rulesy as water is wettish, and I can’t just go… uh... “ Again, he stopped, this time tilting his head to the side as he looked at a particular spot on the ceiling.

Briarthorn poked him again. “Dad! Focus!”

“Can’t just go breaking my system, even for you, Princessy,” Bramblejam finished. He shook his head to gather his wits. “Sorry, had a flight earlier tonight and came straight here afterwards, so I’m a little wibbly-wobbly-woozy. Should’ve stopped to wet my whistle, have a little nip, and perhaps even paint the town red first.”

Blackburn was given pause, but realized what was going on: effects of Diffusion sickness. It was an illness that affected the crew ponies on the various flight teams that flew for the Diffusion system that kept the ships protected from danger. The system’s side effects caused severe organ damage after repeated use, and though developments had been made to reduce the effect, it was still lethal after ten or so years of constant exposure.

Bramblejam had been the Diffusion flyer aboard the Blizzard, one of the larger cargo ships in the fleet, and a valuable member of their team. His mother, Rosethorn, had also been a Diffusion flyer, aboard the first passenger vessel the fleet had built, the Cloud Nine. Her father, Briarpatch, had invented the Diffusion system along with some help from Solarian, an adaptation of the same technology used to make the city’s defense shield.

Briarpatch died young; heart attack was the official diagnosis, but Blackburn knew the truth, just as her father did, and her grandfather before him. Same with Rosethorn: kidney failure officially. In truth, it was the Diffusion sickness that had finally taken its toll on their bodies, as it would do to every Diffusion flyer in the fleet, eventually. Flashfire forbade his medical staff from revealing this information, afraid that nopony would volunteer for the Diffusion positions, which were crucial to the fleet’s operations. Stormchaser upheld Flashfire’s secret, and Blackburn continued the trend.

So she knew what was wrong with Bramblejam. But she also knew she couldn’t tell him; he didn’t know. All he and the other Diffusion flyers knew was that Diffusion flight caused discomfort and headaches, but that alcohol cleared that right up, a treatment discovered by Doctor Berry Syrup, Rosethorn’s husband. There was no cure, and no technology advancements were available to prevent it.

Blackburn maintained her poker face. “Fair enough, will not dispute it,” she said with a nod. She turned to Briarthorn. “Ready for demonstration.”

“Aye aye, Princess,” Briarthorn said with a salute.

Briarthorn smiled and nodded, then flew up to the glass tube. Bramblejam walked over to one of the many machines, pressed some buttons and flicked some switches, and the entire collection came to life. A monitor on one machine flickered on, but didn’t display anything just yet; the other machines hummed softly as various meters, dials, and displays began showing readings.

The glass tube opened and Briarthorn stepped into it, whereupon the tube closed over him, and after a few seconds, a black aerosol sprayed from the ceiling onto his wings, coating them in a liquid-like black substance that clung to his feathers. A panel opened on the ceiling and a green visor descended over his face. After it did, the monitor below flickered a little before an image appeared on screen, showing viewers exactly what Briarthorn was seeing, which was currently the room as-is.

Bramblejam cleared his throat. “First of all, that aerosol spray on the wings--”

“Developed by Solarian,” Blackburn finished. “Liquid is conductive sleeve, connects to ship’s flight controls. Allows pegasi pilots to control ship’s flight accurately.”

Bramblejam nodded sagely. “Correctamundo. Well-spoken and informative. Learned that from the ol’ super-science sage himself, did you?”

Blackburn shook her head. “Mother told me.”

“Well, moving on to the next part.” Bramblejam pulled a small green visor from the top of the nearby control module, though this one was inactive. “These visors serve as a virtual, visual, and also video aid, a sort of camera if you will, that allows the pilot to see around the ship they’re piloting as if their body were the ship itself. Regardless of how big or small the ship is, it will… uh…” He became fixated on a smudge on the floor.

Blackburn looked between him and Briarthorn, then gently nudged Bramblejam in the side. “Captain?”

“It will adjust itself to give the pilot the sensational sense of being in complete control,” Bramblejam continued, “especially when combined with their now liquid-coated wings.”

Gadget whistled. “Golly, Solarian is a real genius. Some of this stuff is more advanced that anything I worked with when I was under Spark Plug.”

“Tippity top top top-of-the-line and nothing below it,” Bramblejam bragged, puffing out his chest. “That’s our motto in the Hope’s Point Fleet.” He turned back to Blackburn and gestured towards Briarthorn as he himself turned one of the dials on the control panel. Once he did so, the sound of rushing air filled the room.

“Now,” he continued, “the pilot’s chamber is filled with an air substitute, a fake breeze if you will, that simulates the wind conditions outside of their ship. You can’t see anything different right now, of course, because I haven’t turned on the simulator yet” He paused, then gasped. “Oh! Silly me, I forgot to turn on the simulator. Uh, let’s just skip right ahead and move on to that step now, shall we?”

He pushed another button on the panel, and the monitor flickered before displaying a new image: the airfield on the surface, devoid of any other ships. Briarthorn looked left and then right; as he did so, the wings of the “ship” that Briarthorn was supposedly piloting came into view.

“And with that, let’s start our engines and get all revved up. Briarthorn’s going to do a run on our most basically-basic simulation course to show you what it’ll look like, and then you can go get suited up and give it a raring-good run yourself. Sound good?”

Blackburn nodded and turned her attention solely to the monitor. “Proceed.”

Briarthorn saluted, then took to the air within the tube; his ship on the monitor did the same, and as he tilted himself forward and beat his wings, the ship moved forward, though its wings did not “flap” - the motion was just a gesture to indicate forward movement.

The basic simulation course was rather simple. A multi-colored ring appeared above the city in front of Briarthorn as he took off, which Briarthorn made for immediately. As he passed through it, another ring appeared further ahead and just off to the left; Briarthorn shifted his wings slightly to tilt the ship to the left, sailing through the ring easily. Every time he passed through a ring, another would appear elsewhere in his vision, requiring more and more effort and maneuvering to pass through as he flew a course around the simulated city.

When at last he had passed through thirty rings, they had directed him back to the airfield, where he descended and made and easy landing. As soon as he landed, the simulation ended and the view of the room returned to the monitor. Briarthorn removed the visor, causing the monitor to go dark.

“How was that, Princess? Impressive, huh?” Briarthorn called down to her. He brushed his chest a little with his hoof. “Yeah, if this thing kept records I bet I’d have the high score,” he bragged. “Gonna be the best pilot in the fleet someday, just you watch.”

Blackburn nodded. “Skilled flyer, will agree. Take after your father.” She turned to Bramblejam. “I wish to try.”

Bramblejam gestured towards a small door in the corner of the room. “Locker room is over there. Go ahead and get changed into a flight suit, Your Princessfulness, and we’ll get you all hooked up, strapped in, and all that hullabaloo. You even get to pick your color!”

Blackburn nodded and headed behind the curtain. A moment later, she came back out in a red-and-gold flight suit that clung tightly to her body, though she’s kept her scarf on; in the time she’d been changing, Briarthorn had left the tube, the black substance on his wings no longer present.

Gadget grinned as she gave Blackburn a once-over. “Looking spiffy, Princess. Golly, you look like you were made for that suit.”

Bramblejam put a hoof to his chin. “The scarf is a nice touch, adds a touch of panache, a little swigger-swagger to the whole deal, real flashy-like. Not really supposed to be wearing anything else but the flight suit while flying though, pretty much against regulations and protocols, or rules if you catch my drift.”

Blackburn frowned and held the scarf in her hooves. “Gift from mother, lucky scarf. Always wear it when not incognito. Must I remove it?”

“Hmmm… well, to be frank it’s not really a rule so much as a suggestion, a guideline if you will. So as long as it’s not interfering with your wingdings I don’t see the harm in wearing it,” Bramblejam said with a shrug. “Anyway, looking like… uh…” A sound that nopony else could hear suddenly attracted his attention to a few different locations in the room.

Blackburn poked him in the side.

“Looking like hot stuff in those suits isn’t all there is to being a top-notch stunt pilot, my Princessly pilot-in-training, you’ve gotta walk the walk as much you look the look… though I guess it’s more fly the fly? Eh. Whatever. Head on up, Princess, let’s get you all hooked in.”

Blackburn smiled and flew up to the glass tube. She didn’t notice Briarthorn gawking at her as she flew. She entered as Briarthorn had, and waited for the tube to close. When it did, it sprayed the black aerosol over her wings; the sensation was awkward to her at first, like dipping her wings in maple syrup, and it smelled like mint and lavender; after she got used to it, it was a pleasant feeling. She picked up the visor that Briarthorn had discarded and placed it over her head. Presently, it was no different than putting on a cumbersome headset and goggles.

After Bramblejam turned on the simulation, however, she felt a sudden rush of a light breeze inside the tube, and the sensation of being out on the airfield as this nameless, featureless “ship”. She looked to her left and right and Briarthorn had done to see what it felt like from her perspective; lifting her left wing, she saw flaps on the ship’s left wing adjust to match her motions.

“Whenever you’re ready, Princess, you can take off,” Bramblejam said. Despite him being in the same room with her, it sounded more like it was coming over a comm channel in her ear.

She nodded, and mimicked Briarthorn’s motions from earlier to perform the take-off maneuver. Suddenly she was filled with the sensation of a brisk breeze rushing through her mane and wings, of her scarf flapping gloriously behind her and flicking her tail. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to get accustomed to the feeling that she was the ship, and that the ship was her; they were one.

As she lifted off further, she caught sight of the multi-colored ring in the sky ahead. She flapped her wings quickly to pick up speed and flew through the ring like a rocket, and the next ring appeared just after that but slightly to her left. She banked and tilted herself to the left enough to clip through the ring. The next ring appeared below her and to the right, but rather than bank right, she continued tilting left and pulling up, making a tight roll that swung her through the ring gracefully.

Outside the simulation, the other ponies watched her perform the course with an almost practiced precision, clipping through the rings slower than Briarthorn had done but with much more advanced maneuvers. Bramblejam wordlessly nodded in approval as she swung, twirled, and darted through every ring in her path with all the flair of a practiced pilot. Gadget and Crossfire, too, watched in admiration of their Princess’s performance.

Briarthorn, meanwhile, watched with mouth agape as the Princess, who was supposedly coming here for lessons, completely outclassed his earlier display, which had merely been to demonstrate the simulation; granted, he’d done it faster and more directly, but she was still making it look good.

“She’s… how is she doing that?” he asked, turning to Gadget. “Figuring out where the rings are gonna be, I mean. Most first-timers have to do several loops around the course in one run just to get all the rings.”

“She’s had a lot of practice,” Gadget said, watching Blackburn pull off a loopdeloop to swing through one of the rings rather than just fly straight through it. “That and she watched you perform the course first. She memorized it.”

“After just seeing it once?” Briarthorn asked, astounded. “It took me ten runs to get that course memorized enough to start beating records, and I’m at the tippity-tip-top of my class. I didn’t even get all the rings on my first lap on my first try.” He paused, then stuck up his nose. “Took me two, if you’re wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m impressed and all, but… why’s she doing it the way she is, with all the flashy maneuvers? If she’s got everything all memorized she’d finish faster just going straight through, like I did. Not fast enough to beat my time, of course, but--”

“Yeah, well, you’re not Princess Blackburn, and she’s not one for simple solutions,” Gadget chuckled. “No offense, you’re good - she wouldn’t have said so if you’re weren’t - but remember who her mom was.”

Briarthorn nodded. “Blue Blitz, yeah… I remember. I used to watch vids of her stunt shows when I was a little colt, just a teeny-tiny novice flyer. She was amazing… best pilot I’ve ever seen.” He turned to Gadget directly. “She trained the Princess, didn’t she? That would explain, like, everything. Hot dang… to be trained by Blue Blitz herself, what an honor, no, a privilege! An honored privilege, even.”

Blackburn finished the course, and without much ado she removed the visor and ended the simulation. “A… unique experience. Never felt anything like it,” she muttered. She turned to Bramblejam and the others. “Would like to continue training. Unsatisfied with completion time.”

Bramblejam glanced at the clock above the door. 12:45 a.m. He shook his head. “Not tonight, my dear Princessfulness. As much as I want to, all equipment is supposed to be shut down at 1:00 a.m. so the maintenance crews can do their routine checky-checks and so on and so forth and such. You might have time but, since you’re trying to keep this all incognito, all super secret, somepony else might see you.”

Blackburn nodded. “Very well. Will schedule next appointment for tomorrow night, same time. Preferably different room. Wish to test advanced simulations if possible.”

“Yessiree, I’ll see what I can get cooked up for you, Princess,” Bramblejam said with a smile. He turned to his son and nudged him. “You wanna come along, kiddo? I’ll book the dual-simulator room next time, maybe we can set up a little competition, a contest, a head-to-head so they say.”

Briarthorn beamed. “Heck yeah, dad, that sounds awesome! Amazing! So cool, I get to hang out with the Princess on her super-secret flight training sessions with my dad. Oh wow oh wow, this is like… I mean, I never even dreamed this would happen so not like a dream come true, this is like, winning a contest you didn’t even enter. And the grand prize is getting to hang out with the Princess!”

Blackburn looked around the glass tube and flexed her still-coated wings. “Um… how do I--”

Bramblejam slapped his forehead. “Whoopsie! Let’s get you out of there, Princess. One sec. You might feel an odd tingly-tingle when that stuff comes off.”

He flipped a switch on the console, and another spray filled the gas tube. As it did, the substance on Blackburn’s wings hardened, then crumbled away to the floor like powder. As this happened, Blackburn shuddered and bit her lip; the sensation was incredibly exhilarating, not at all like it had felt having the liquid sprayed on in the first place. If that’s what it felt like every time she finished a flight, Blackburn thought, it was no wonder the pilots loved their jobs so much.

She exited the tube and fluttered down to the rest of the group. “Time to leave,” she said, turning to Gadget. “One moment while I change.” She made for the changing room.

Bramblejam nudged his son. “You too, squirt, go get changed. We’ve got an early day ahead of us, what with your mother wanting to try out that new pancake joint that opened on Fifth Lane. I hear they’ve got really-real pancakes on some kind of hush-hush menu, like you need a password and everything.” He hummed. “I wonder what the password would be? Maple? No, waffle!”

Briarthorn saluted. “Aye aye, roger wilco sir!” And he made for the changing room as well.

Gadget swiftly grabbed him by the ear with her magic. “Whoa whoa whoa, buster, where do you think you’re going?”

Brairthorn squirmed in her grip. “Hey! What gives?”

Blackburn turned at the commotion and narrowed her eyes. “Wait your turn.”

Briarthorn raised an eyebrow. “My turn? What do you mean ‘my turn’? We don’t take turns in the changing room.” He turned to his father. “Right, dad?”

Bramblejam cleared his throat. “Strictly speaking, locker rooms are communal, even intermutual amongst all flight teams in the fleet. Even Blue Blitz shared a locker room with us when she and I were still on the Marvelbolts. Typically we didn’t bother taking the time to ‘take turns’ - kind of makes it difficult to do when you’re in a hurry, y’know? Wouldn’t want to be taking off your clothes in the middle of a dangerous situation. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

“See?” Briarthorn said, giving Gadget a told-you-so look. “The flight teams are like sports teams, and they share locker rooms too. No sense in getting all fidgety about it. I get changed with the other students all the time. It’s perfectly normal.”

“To be fair, to be fair,” Bramblejam added, “her Princessfulness isn’t an official student here at HQ, nor is she looking to join an official flight team, nor would she be any position to want or need either of those things what with being of the royally-royal persuasion and all. I can’t really expect to impose our… traditions? No no, our, uh… habits? Yeah, habits. Routines, you might say. We can’t really impose those on her if she doesn’t want to.”

Blackburn pondered this for a moment, then nodded. “Mother was official pilot, shared lockers with her flight team. Signed up for full educational experience. Acceptable.” She turned to Gadget. “Release him.”

Gadget’s jaw dropped. “Princess, you don’t need to--”

“Need, no. Want, yes. Helps develop camaraderie.” She turned to Briarthorn. “That is intention of sharing lockers, yes? Camaraderie?”

Briarthorn nodded. “Yes, ma’am, your Princessfulness.”

Blackburn turned back to Gadget. “Release him.”

Gadget rolled her eyes and dropped her spell. “As you wish, Princess.” She poked Briarthron in the side. “No funny business though, you got that?” She gestured to her sidearm. “This baby’s got enough voltage to put down stallions twice your size, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Briarthorn tensed and held up his hooves defensively. “No funny business, got it, roger that, yes ma’am.”

Blackburn snorted in amusement, then turned and made for the changing room, Briarthorn right behind her.

They changed in silence, and Blackburn noted that Briarthorn was true to his word - no funny business - though he did glance in her direction from time to time. She only knew this because she found herself just as unable to stop glancing in his direction while he got undressed. She got a good view of his cutie mark, a bronze shield with a golden “V” emblazoned on it, decorated with two white-gold ribbons that trailed down his leg. She blushed as she turned away, just as he glanced in her direction, desperately hoping she hadn’t been caught staring.

She didn’t know why she cared, really.

Three Months Later

King Stormchaser strode through the royal halls with an air of disdain, accompanied by his bodyguard, a dark blue earth pony stallion with a silver mane. Servants and guards bowed just slightly as he walked past, but he replied with no gestures of his own as he went. He passed through hall after hall, climbed stair after stair, until he reached a room at the mid-level of the easternmost tower of the palace. The guards outside the door bowed and opened it for him, revealing a small meeting room.

A table was set up in the center of the room, surrounded by chairs which were filled with assorted ponies in important positions within the city’s hierarchical structure. Stormchaser knew their names and duties well enough but with few exceptions didn’t know them personally; he had to take stock of the room to make sure he could recall what he knew of everypony present.

Spark Plug, Chief Engineer. An orange earth pony with a stocky build and a neon blue mane, dressed in a blue jumpsuit. He was responsible for running the city’s power plant, with particular focus on the systems that kept the defense shield operational. A genius with anything mechanical in nature.

Solarian, Chief Science Officer. He wasn’t responsible for much these days except for consultation purposes, and within the last several years had served as personal tutor of Princess Blackburn. Stormchaser blamed him for his daughter’s bizarre manner of speech, but knew he couldn’t fire the stallion for that; he was too critical to the city. Instead, Stormchaser just made sure to keep his influence minimal.

General Avalanche. A rock-gray earth pony with an impressive build, his black mane cut short, decked out in his medal-strewn dress uniform. A defector from New Pandemonium’s military, appointed to his position mere weeks before the passing of King Flashfire and placed in charge of the city’s respectable ground defenses. Stormchaser hardly interacted with him, and didn’t care to anyway; military matters didn’t interest him.

Secretary Featherfree, Chief of Sanitation and Infrastructure. A butter-yellow pegasus mare with a pink-and-white streaked mane, dressed in a neat dress suit. Stormchaser knew her well enough since she was always trying to get more funding as the city grew more and more populated, insisting that if they continued their work they could make the city’s surrounding geography livable for plants and animals - a pipe dream, really, everypony knew that. She was meek, but eager to help.

Concord, Ambassador to Newhaven. A green earth pony with an orange mane dressed in an impeccable suit and tie. He’d made the journey here from Newhaven, where he spent most of his time in the past few years as the little town slowly expanded its port to include proper accommodations for Hope’s Point’s larger airships and even an official embassy. Stormchaser knew him as an excitable stallion but one who got the job done, and since he rarely butt in on matters in the city proper he’d been given a great deal of autonomy in his duties abroad.

Fleet Master Skyrocket. A powder-blue pegasus with a dark blue, windswept mane dressed in a neatly-pressed flight jacket. He was in charge of maintaining the city’s fleet of stunt flyers, cargo ships, and the new heavier transports they were developing. Stormchaser had assigned him to the role himself after his predecessor, Sonic Boom, retired, but only because the stallion was one of the few pilots in the fleet with experience in management. The position had originally been intended for Blue Blitz, and everypony knew Skyrocket was a distant second choice, even Stormchaser, but especially Skyrocket; the stallion was so eager to please and prove himself that he was easy to manipulate.

And lastly, Evening Glitz, Chief Intelligence and Enforcement Officer. A light purple unicorn mare with a dark blue-and-pink mane that she kept tied in a bun, wearing a sharp dress suit and glasses. She was in charge of maintaining the city’s security, both at the gate into the city and throughout the streets. She was a paranoid mess most days, a result of a close working relationship with King Flashfire, but Stormchaser knew she was retiring within the next year or so and he could assign somepony more reasonable and less obsessive.

After Stormchaser took stock of everypony, he cleared his throat. “I hope I didn’t keep everypony waiting long? This is our first council meeting since I took the crown and I forgot where the room was. It’s been a while.”

“Only one hour, fifteen minutes, forty-two seconds,” said Solarian, checking his watch, not a hint of sarcasm or hesitation in his voice. “Not long at all, sire.”

Stormchaser snorted, took his seat at the center of the table and turned his attention to the crowd. “Let’s get this over with then, shall we? My Queen and I have plans for this evening and I’m hoping to make it back by dinnertime. What’s the first order of business?”

Evening Glitz was the first to speak, clearing her throat with a punctuated, “Ahem!” She lifted up a folder full of papers, opened it, and without missing a beat began to speak. “Well, Your Majesty, the Department of Intelligence and Enforcement has been requesting extra funding these past few months and I believe it’s time we addressed that request. It's sort of the main reason we called this council meeting.”

“What sort of extra funding?”

“We’re looking in the realm of--” She read through her papers. “An extra eighty-eight thousand bits for the current year, and an additional forty thousand next year. A total of two hundred and sixteen bits over a two-year timespan, then we can cut back to current funding.”

Stormchaser looked at Glitz like she was from one of Equestria’s moons, probably the smaller one. “What in Equestria do you need that many bits for?”

In one breath, Glitz presented her case: “Upgrades to security systems, particularly improvements to the database system as suggested by Chief Science Officer Solarian to better collect data from New Pandemonium’s registration and documentation network with particular focus on the more guarded files in the NPAF, NPPD, and FIB - military, police, and intelligence bureau, respectively - as those are the most frequent sources of infiltrators.”

Solarian nodded. “The system would improve our precision in spotting infiltration attempts. There would be an accuracy increase of forty percent, bringing us to a new total of eighty-one percent. Further influxes of data would further increase accuracy. Our estimate to reaching a perfect accuracy is within five years of the implementation, at least by our original projections.”

Stormchaser grumbled. “And why is this system costing over two hundred thousand bits?”

“It requires undetectable surveillance equipment implanted into New Pandemonium servers. The technology is expensive, and the mission is risky.”

“But as said, with this new system, within five years we could spot imposters at the gate with near-perfect certainty,” Glitz chimed in. “The sooner we get it installed, the better. We can never be too careful.”

Stormchaser shook his head. “No, too expensive. We need those bits to further the development of the new ports on the cliffside to accommodate the increase of air traffic in the past two years.” He turned to Featherfree. “I believe you put in that request, Featherfree?”

Featherfree gave a nervous glance to Glitz, who was giving her a stern glare. “W-well, yes, sire, I did. Our current stock of hangars can, um... barely service the influx of airships we currently take in on a daily basis, and m-my department’s estimates are that we’ll have to begin placing a limit on incoming traffic within the next six months if we don’t expand.”

“But if we take in that many new ponies, it’ll be harder to profile them to make sure they’re not a threat,” Glitz pointed out. “Our current system is already having difficulty keeping up with the influx of new residents, and the budget cut we got last year didn’t help matters whatsoever. My ponies are understaffed and overworked with inferior equipment.”

Solarian hummed. “Here’s a suggestion. Use the airfield as a sort of temporary housing for the city’s incoming traffic while our security improvements are implemented. One year maximum.”

Skyrocket bristled at this. “Hold on one dang minute, you’re not taking my airfield just because you need time and bits to whip up some fancy doohickies. Where are all of the stunt flyers supposed to park?” He turned to Stormchaser. “Sire, this is a ridiculous suggestion. Not to mention that we’d need that influx of traffic in order to increase the city’s income so that we can even afford these ideas in the first place.”

“I agree,” Stormchaser said with a nod. He turned to Glitz. “I’m turning down your request for additional funding, Glitz. We’ll discuss it again at a later date… if you’re not retired by then,” he added with a smirk. “Though I’m sure your successor will be glad to carry this torch of yours.”

Glitz’s eye twitched. “Your Majesty, really, this is a matter of city security I’m trying to improve here. It is of utmost importance that we implement improvements to the detection system: rumors suggest the New Pandemonium is developing improvements to their A.M.P. Troopers to bypass our current systems and might finish within the next six years. This new system needs to go into effect sooner rather than later. This year is the last chance to get it in before--”

“I’m sure our ground forces can handle any of those robots if they make it into the city,” Stormchaser snorted before looking to Avalanche. “General?”

Avalanche nodded. “Certainly, sire, my troops can handle anything those rusty bolt-buckets could possibly throw at us. However, if they infiltrated the city without prior knowledge, innocent civilians may come to harm before my troops could arrive to handle the problem. I’m not suggesting we follow along with Solarian’s earlier suggestion, but perhaps other alternatives could be considered?”

Glitz pointed her hoof at Avalanche. “Thank you! Finally, somepony’s taking this seriously besides me and Solarian.” Spark Plug cleared his throat, and Glitz rolled her eyes. “And Spark Plug, since his department would be developing the device and he’s already signed off on the project if it gets greenlit.”

Concord raised his hoof. “Honestly, sire, the flow of air traffic into the city could certainly be slowed for a time while security measures are improved upon. I’ve spoken with a few ambassadors from Utopia itself and they’re making plans on sending material and personnel to Newhaven to speed along further port development. We could accommodate travelers for a time.”

“Out of the question,” Stormchaser said, shaking his head. “All the ponies making the detour to Newhaven might just decide to stay in Utopia and then we lose the major portion of our potential income. My decision is final: no additional budget to the Department of Intelligence and Enforcement. I’m approving Featherfree’s request to make additions to the cliffside ports; the increased traffic flow will help us afford these sorts of fanciful endeavors in the future.”

Featherfree gave Glitz an apologetic look and shrugged. Glitz shook it off, it wasn't Featherfree's fault.

“Any further objections?” Stormchaser asked.

Nopony at the table spoke up.

Somepony in the corner, who Stormchaser had failed to notice because he hadn’t really looked throughout the room extensively, did speak: “Decision puts city in undue danger.”

Stormchaser scowled and turned to the corner, where Blackburn sat in a small chair with her usual entourage of Gadget and Crossfire. “What are you doing here, Blackburn? This is a private council meeting and you are not on the council. Not since last I checked anyway.”

“Always sit in at meetings when able,” Blackburn said matter-of-factly. “Acquaint self with process, acquaint self with those in hierarchy. Improves understanding of city’s inner workings. Thus, improves quality of rule later in life.”

“What do you mean you ‘always sit in’?” He turned to the other council members. “You all knew she was here the entire time and said nothing? Why?”

Avalanche scratched his chin. “Well, sire, I don’t know about ‘always’, but she was present at most of the council meetings King Flashfire held in the later years of his life. And this is our first council meeting since you became king.”

“I know that, but these meetings are supposed to be between the king and his advisors only!” Stormchaser said with a sneer. “You’re telling me you all just let her sit there this whole time? None of you even thought to point her out to me, did you?”

Spark Plug bristled. “Frankly, Yer Majesty, I bloody well figured ye knew since yer father allowed it. Why in Harmonia’s name are ye getting all in a tizzy for it, eh? The lass isn’t botherin’ anypony, now or before. I actually like havin’ her around, if ye don’t mind me sayin’ so; gives me a chance to speak with my former student again.” He winked at Gadget, who smiled back and waved.

“Furthermore, she’s always punctual,” Solarian said with a slight grin.

Stormchaser glared at Solarian. “Keep running that mouth of yours, Solarian, just you watch, and I’ll make sure you’re writing your shitty little science papers from a three-by-five cell!” He turned to Blackburn. “And you, young lady. You’re not the queen of this city, not yet, and you do not get to sit on my council meetings without my permission. Understood?”

Blackburn merely stared at her father, her expression unreadable. “Why?”

“Because I am the king, dammit!” Stormchaser snapped, punctuating his words by slamming his hoof on the table. “And I am your father, and you will listen to me. Your grandfather may have given you permission to be here, but you do not get to assume that I would do the same. Leave. Now. We’ll discuss this more later.”

Stormchaser was breathing heavily, but Blackburn just shrugged and started for the door, Gadget and Crossfire right behind her. “Very well. Decision made. Will no longer attend meetings, father.” She subtly glanced at a few of the council members as she walked out: Solarian and Evening Glitz in particular. Stormchaser didn’t notice.

Solarian discreetly twisted a dial on his watch, activating a recording device that wouldn’t be detected by the room’s sensors that should prevent that sort of thing; after all, he’d designed them and knew how to circumvent them, and had done so at King Flashfire’s request in case he suspected anypony on the council was compromised. More importantly, he’d told some of Flashfire’s most trusted associates: Evening Glitz, who slid her hoof along her glasses to activate her own recording device; and Spark Plug, who’d of course built the sensors to Solarian’s specifications and would keep his mouth shut.

Blackburn would never attend another council meeting while her father was king.

Blackburn would never need to attend another council meeting while her father was king.

Three Months Later

Blackburn waited patiently in an empty, dusty room of a nondescript building on the city’s surface, dressed in her typical incognito hooded jacket, this one a dark green. The floor of the room was covered in dust-caked mats; the walls and ceiling were cracked and falling apart. A wall of mirrors on one end of the room reflected its contents, but most of the mirrors were cracked; some were missing, revealing the rotted wood behind them.

Crossfire, in his own green jacket, relaxed with his back against one of the walls, absently fiddling with a broken chair leg he’d found in all the debris. Gadget, also in a green jacket, paced back and forth in front of the mirrors, trying not to look at herself in her nervous state.

“Y’know, you really don’t need to do this, Blackburn,” Gadget said with some trepidation. “You’ve got me and Crossfire for a reason. I know I’ve said this a lot already--”

“Thirteen times, have counted.” Blackburn shrugged. “True. However, emergencies happen. Example: we are separated. Another example: you both are injured. Need to account for such situations. Grandfather completed basic training in NPAF. Cannot replicate experience. Thus, next best thing.”

“Ya really think some self-defense class is as good as professional military trainin’?” Crossfire asked, tossing away the chair leg. “No offense ta Mister Savage - I helped ya pick the guy out - but I don’t really see the connection.”

“Already have proficiency with small arms; learned from one ‘Crossfire’, if you recall,” Blackburn said with a grin.

Crossfire rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I showed ya how ta shoot a gun an' y’all’re a decent shot, but obviously that ain’t good enough for ya.”

“Naturally. Must account for various possibilities. Unarmed combat next logical step.”

“Okay, look, you've obviously got your mind set on this, Blackburn,” Gadget said with a sigh, putting her hoof on Blackburn’s shoulder. “But did we need to come into this dump to do this? I swear, if I get tetanus because of you, I’m gonna shock your royal ass.” She punctuated the last part with a flourish of her new sidearm, a larger pistol-like device lined with odd attachments.

“Have ya even tested out your new doohickey, Gadget?” Crossfire asked, giving her a curious look.

“As a matter of fact, I have tested my new ESP-2100,” Gadget said, twirling the weapon around in her magic. “Got it fitted out with two settings depending on what I need to do to the target. One: stun ‘em with fifty-thousand volts of pure electrical mayhem. Two: pump enough electricity through ‘em to power a city block for a week, give or take. That one’s lethal, by the way.”

Crossfire rolled his eyes. “Yeah no shit.”

There was a knock at the door. “Enter!” called Blackburn.

The door opened and in walked a hulking, golden-yellow earth pony stallion with a dark gray mane, bushy mustache and full-chinned beard. He wore a purple tank top with lavish frills and an overly-large pair of sunglasses, both decorated with sparkling sequins, and carried a large duffel bag with him. He looked about the room with some disdain, but nodded after a few moments, removed his glasses, and set them on his duffel bag in the corner.

“Princess,” he said with a low bow. His voice was gruff and deep, but he was rather loud. “It is an honor and a pleasure to be here, in the service of the most royalest of royals, the cream of the crop, her highest of highnesses.”

“A pleasure, Hulk Savage,” Blackburn said with a polite nod. “Thank you for punctuality and secrecy.”

“Oh yeah, you can always count on me to keep your secrets nice and tight. If I might ask though, Princess, what exactly are you hopin’ to accomplish here? You’ve got two mighty fine bodyguards there with ya, seems to me you don’t need no trainin’.”

“See?” Gadget said. “Even he’s confused.”

Blackburn rolled her eyes. “Wish for training in self-defense. Learned to use small arms, hoof-to-hoof combat next logical step.”

Savage grinned and pounded his chest. “Well then you picked the right stallion for the job of teachin’ you the art of being a rough and tumble mare who’s too hot to handle and too cold to hold. Oh yeah! You got trainin’ gear on under that jacket there, Princess?”

Blackburn nodded and removed her jacket; she too was dressed in a tank top, though hers was not nearly as flamboyant as his. Meanwhile, Savage opened his duffel bag and removed a device, which he set up on the floor. He pushed a button on it, the top opened up to reveal an inflatable pony-shaped dummy.

Savage settled into a very basic fighting stance, and gestured for Blackburn to mimic him, which she did - dominant foreleg forward, hindquarters raised, ready to strike - in front of the dummy. “Okay then, little Princess, I’m gonna assume you know how to buck like a bronco, so let’s start with something more useful: a basic spinning kick. Like so.”

He put all his weight into his dominant foreleg to lift his hind legs off the ground and spin in one swift motion, then put weight into both forelegs to kick the air - punctuating it with an “OH YEAH!” - then returned to his original position. “Your turn, Princess,” he said.

Blackburn took a deep breath, and mimicked his maneuver to the best of her ability. She whiffed, kicking far too early, and nearly tripped trying to get back to her original position.

“Try again,” Savage said.

Blackburn settled back into her stance and tried again. This attempt, she struck the dummy but this had the effect of pushing herself forward; she lost her balance and hit the floor.

“Get up. Try again.”

Blackburn took a deep breath, settled back into her stance, and tried again. This time, she kept her balance with the kick and managed to get some force into it, and was able to swivel around and almost get back into her original position.

“Good,” Savage said with a nod. “Again. Keep at it ‘til you get it smooth as silk and strong as steel, ‘til you feel like a tower of power, oh yeah!”

Blackburn practiced the kick several more times for nearly thirty minutes, and by the time she was done, she could kick the dummy with enough force to knock its head back several inches. They moved on from the basic spinning kick to a leaping spinning kick, to a leaping stomp.

Then, it was time for holds and throws. For this, Blackburn needed a partner; Savage was too big, but Crossfire was just the right size and was asked to step in. He wasn’t dressed for it, but it was good enough. Blackburn practiced several holds and throws, each rougher than the last, but Crossfire was a durable pony and took the beating like a practiced professional. If anything, he was glad Blackburn was eventually tossing him around; it meant she was getting better.

However, one throw attempt did not go as smoothly.

As Blackburn lifted Crossfire up, she lost her balance and tripped, sending her and Crossfire straight into the nearby cracked mirror. Crossfire’s back slammed into it hard enough to crack the glass that hadn’t yet been cracked. Blackburn hit it face first, right on a nasty crack that was already there; the glass sliced her face as she slid down, tearing into the right of her muzzle all the way across to just above her left eye. She fell unconscious.

“Blackburn!” Gadget yelped, rushing over as quickly as she could. In a panic she got a good look at the blood trickling down Blackburn’s face. Her own face paled. “Shit, that’s a… a lotta… blood...” Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she passed out, falling to the mat like a load of bricks.

Crossfire, none the worse for wear, grunted and rose to his hooves. “Gadget? Hey! Get up ya dang--” He shook her with his hoof; she didn’t stir. “Dagnabit.” He turned to Hulk Savage, who was staring at the situation developing before his eyes like a deer in headlights. “Okay, Mister Savage, here’s how this is gonna go…”

*****

Blackburn lay in bed in her room later that night, holding up a mirror to her face. She put her hoof up to the fresh stitches; the cut was still sore but at least it wasn’t bleeding anymore. It was certainly going to leave a nasty scar when it healed, but she knew the medical staff at Hope’s Point could almost certainly touch it up enough that nopony would ever know it was there, if she decided to have it touched up at all.

Gadget - when she came to and could bear to look at the injury - was of the opinion that it should be fixed so that she wouldn’t have to tell everypony the embarrassing story of how she got it when she tripped while trying to suplex her bodyguard. Crossfire thought she should keep it and wear it with pride, arguing that she could fudge the facts about how she got it and that the scar looked “cool as hell”.

There was a slight commotion at the door; Blackburn heard the muffled voice of Crossfire - who was currently on watch duty while Gadget got some sleep - speaking with somepony else, but she couldn’t tell who. He was certain it was her father, come to scold her for her accident and likely to punish Gadget and Crossfire for letting her come to harm.

She was wrong.

The door opened, and Queen Silver Glow - her stepmother - entered the room. She was as regal and beautiful as ever, dressed in a lavish purple nightgown that sparkled with glitter, her mane done up in an exquisite bun. While she’d been all smiles when she entered the room, her expression faltered briefly when she saw Blackburn’s scar, but only briefly before regaining her composure.

“What are you doing here?” Blackburn asked, eyes narrowed.

Silver Glow faltered again, just briefly, before clearing her throat and giving the best smile she could manage. “I just wanted to check on you, dear. I heard about your little accident.”

Blackburn snorted and set her mirror down, letting Silver Glow get a better view of the scar. “Come to gawk, then.”

Silver Glow approached the bed. “Oh no no, darling, not at all. I wanted to make sure you’re okay, that’s all. Your father is, um… too busy to come himself, so I figured maybe I should do this in his place.”

“Ah, not to gawk. To reprimand. Not your place.” Blackburn shifted in the bed to hide her face. “Not my mother.”

Silver Glow frowned, paused, then: “May I sit?” Blackburn grunted in response, not really in the affirmative or negative, so SIlver Glow sat. She leaned over to try and get a better look at Blackburn’s face. “If you don’t want to show me, dear, I understand, but… I assure you I’m only looking out for your well-being.”

Blackburn grunted again and rolled back over so Silver Glow could see the scar up close. “Better, my Queen?”

Silver Glow winced at the sight. “Oh darling, that is a most ghastly-looking cut, no wonder dear Gadget fainted. Are you sure you’re alright? It looks like it still hurts. And all those stitches!”

“I’m fine,” Blackburn stated flatly.

“How in Equestria did this happen, dear? This looks like a lot more than just a simple trip on the pavement.”

“That’s all it was,” Blackburn lied. “Save concern, doesn’t hurt. I take responsibility as well: wasn’t watching where walking. Gadget and Crossfire--”

“Oh hush, dear,” Silver Glow said with a reassuring smile. “I’m not here to dole out any silly punishments to your friends just because you had a nasty fall, if that is what caused all this. How many times must I say I’m just here to check on you and make sure you’re okay?” She pat Blackburn’s hoof gently. “But if you insist--”

Blackburn pulled her hoof back. “I do.”

“Then I’ll let you get some much-needed rest.” She rose from the bed and let out a breath. “And when you get those stitches out, if you’ll let me, I’d like to take you to Doctor Sugarcane to have that scar patched up. She does wonders with that sort of work, at least according to my friends; never had any work done myself, I assure you,” she added with a grin. “All secondhoof information.”

Blackburn huffed. “Haven’t decided if ‘patching up’.”

Silver Glow raised an eyebrow. “Oh? But darling, surely you’re not even considering keeping that scar, are you?”

“Why not?”

“Why, because it’s a most dreadful mark on your lovely face, sweetheart. I don’t think your father wouldn’t want you walking around with something so unbecoming for a lady. It wouldn’t be proper to have such a disfigurement.”

Blackburn scowled. “Disfigurement. Tone implies ugliness. You think scar will make me ugly.”

Silver Glow frowned. “That’s… that’s not what I meant, dear--”

“Hadn’t made decision before, making it now: keeping scar. Spites father, spites you.” She pointed her hoof at the door. “Leave.”

“But… Blackburn, darling--”

“Stop feigning motherly concern. Disgusts me. You are not my mother.” Blackburn pointed at the door more insistently. “Never will be. Leave.”

“I was just…” Silver Glow frowned, sighed, and nodded. “Good night, Blackburn.” She left the room without another word.

Blackburn snorted, rolled over, and gripped her pillow tight as she tried to get some sleep.

Six Months Later

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire stood and waited in a line outside Hope’s Point’s only movie theater, dressed in their typical incognito attire. Blackburn’s scar had healed, but it would always be there unless she decided otherwise; she'd decided on using makeup to cover it instead. The building took up nearly a third of the city block and was a bright and colorful affair, complete with neon lights of a staggering variety of colors. The line stretched around the block, mostly teenaged ponies like them but with a fair amount of young adults dressed in costumes or carrying merchandise, and young fillies and colts with their parents.

Gadget checked her watch. “Ugh, movie time in twenty minutes. When are they gonna let the line start moving? We’ve been here for like two hours now and my hooves are killing me. Just absolutely killing me.”

“Patience,” Blackburn said. “Can’t be much longer.” She tilted her head to scan the crowd not in line. “More concerned about our fourth. Should be here by now.”

“Don’t ya worry one hair on yer head, Blackburn,” Crossfire said, clapping her on the shoulder. “He won’t be late.”

“He better not be,” Gadget snorted, glancing at her watch again. “You know how much trouble it was to get these tickets without invoking our special privileges?”

Crossfire rolled his eyes. “Well aware, seein’ as ya remind me ‘bout it every twenty minutes. Just be patient, like Blackburn says. He’ll be-- there!” He pointed up a ways into the air above the crowd, where Briarthorn, wearing a green flight jacket with a fluffy collar, was fast approaching.

Blackburn brightened and waved her hoof to get his attention. “Over here!”

Briarthorn swooped over with a smile, landing right next to Blackburn. “Hey hey hey! Sorry it took so long to get here, dad’s last client wanted a demonstration on the level seven course before we got out and you know how long that sucker takes.”

“No worries, you’re here now.” Blackburn grinned pulled him close with her wing to hug him, pecking him once on the cheek. “Excited?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been looking forward to this movie for the last two years!” He pulled open his jacket to show off a t-shirt with the movie’s logo on it. “Finally get to see how the trilogy ends, so yeah, I’m excited. Excited, excited, so excited. Nobody’s a bigger fan than me, not a soul. Go on, find someone that’s a bigger fan, I dare you.”

Gadget snorted. “Have you looked behind us in the line, Briar? There’s a guy back there dressed just like Lord Blood with his laser sword and everything, top notch costume, had to cost like two hundred bits, easy. A lot bigger deal than just a t-shirt,” she added, pointing at his shirt. “I think I even saw a mare back there with a tattoo of Star Junction on her neck.”

Briarthorn tapped his chin and shrugged. “Okay, fair, I don’t have a two-hundred-bit costume, or anything permanent like a tattoo, but, but, that doesn’t mean they’re bigger fans, just that they have bigger budgets. I mean, I could afford a costume or tattoo if I was on a pilot salary but I’m still just a student. Best student ever, sure, but it’s not like I’m getting paid to help my dad teach a bunch of newbies how to fly an airship.”

Blackburn slapped his chest. “‘Best student ever’? Beaten some of your records.”

He smirked and nuzzled her neck. “Besides you, of course, and you haven’t beaten all of the records yet. But technically, technically, you’re not a student at HQ. Private lessons don’t count.”

“Then technically, you’re the best pilot in the fleet,” Blackburn said with a grin. “Will make fine Captain someday.”

“Yeah, maybe. Still, I’ve kinda had my eyes set on joining a team as a Diffusion flyer, like my old man, and like his mother before him, and her father before her. Bit of a family legacy, y’know?”

Blackburn maintained her poker face. On the inside, she wanted to tell him to stay as far away from the Diffusion position as possible, even if he had to settle for being a Cadet until he got promoted to co-Captain or something. But she knew she couldn’t without telling him why. Subtle nudging would have to do for now.

“Beneath your skill level, hun,” she said, pressing her nose against his. “Best pilot in the fleet should Captain a ship. Captain Briarthorn… mmm, sounds sexy...”

He leaned up and whispered in her ear. “Wanna schedule some private lessons with ‘Captain Brairthorn’ for after the movie? I’ll show you how to do an unloaded extension. Maybe a little rolling scissors?”

Blackburn blushed and giggled - actually, honest-to-goodness giggled like a schoolfilly - before pushing him away. “Easy, tiger. Not here.”

Gadget and Crossfire shared a look between themselves that the other two couldn’t see, so preoccupied were they with their lovey-dovey public display of affection. Crossfire rolled his eyes and put his hoof to his head, miming a gunshot; Gadget made a gagging motion, followed by miming herself hanging from a noose.

An usher approached the front of the line and unhooked the rope, allowing those at the front to head into the theater. Blackburn’s group was near the front and followed along, entering the theater lobby. They moved straight for the concession stands, buying a few large tubs of popcorn, several boxes of candy, and soft drinks for all four of them. They then entered the theater proper and took their seats, which were in the back corner.

The quartet sat through the previews of coming attractions: a highly-anticipated comic book superhero film that explored to origins of a fan-favorite mare who hadn’t gotten her own solo film; a thrilling action film focused on two hardass stallions facing off against a genetically-engineering supervillain, a spin-off from a popular franchise; another thriller about a trained assassin that had to face down his clone out to kill him starring an actor that hadn't had a good performance in ten years; and a live-action adaptation of a popular animated film from thirty years ago that didn’t change anything about the original, just cast live actors - a blatant cash grab.

Gadget and Crossfire waited patiently as the previews played; Blackburn and Briarthorn were too busy putting their hooves all over each other and kissing, taking advantage of the dark theater to get as frisky as they liked without even Blackburn’s bodyguards noticing too much. They almost missed the start of the movie.

Chapter Three: Secret Sojourn

Two Years Later

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire had gathered in Gadget’s room at the royal palace in the early morning before anypony that could or would bother them was awake. The royals’ personal bodyguards, Gadget and Crossfire included, were granted meager private chambers on the palace grounds under the sensible justification that they needed to be available at a moment’s notice for their royal charges. Considering that Gadget and Crossfire were also friends with Blackburn, she’d pulled strings while Flashfire had been alive to have them furnished with everything they’d need to be both of better service to her, and more comfortable when alone.

The trio had at last grown up and out into mature adults. Blackburn had gotten taller but was still lithe and nimble, barely able to fill out her jacket; her scarf was no longer so long compared to herself that it risked dragging on the floor. Crossfire had filled out his armor, which over the years had been improved dozens of times by Gadget to accommodate techno-magic accessories; in full armor he was easily one of the largest stallions in service to the crown, and even without it he was bigger than all but the biggest; he’d also cropped his mane short. Gadget, meanwhile, had stopped growing taller years ago and didn’t look to be catching up. The tip of her horn barely rose past Blackburn’s chin; she had, however, generously filled out her coveralls.

At the moment, the trio were reviewing a checklist that Blackburn was reading aloud from.

“First order of business: supplies,” she said, shifting her attention to Gadget. “You have procured all we need?”

Gadget nodded. “Absolutely.”

With her magic she lifted up one of her floorboards to reveal a hidden compartment, which contained three suitcases. She lifted them out one at a time, and opened them one at a time to reveal their contents: sets of clothing for all three of them including dress clothes and more casual wear, passports, accessories - glasses for herself, sunglasses for Crossfire - a healthy supply of bits, umbrellas, toothbrushes, combs, and shampoo. Everything needed for a little vacation.

Then, Gadget lifted up a secret compartment in her case, which contained not-so-vacation-y materials: Gadget’s latest weapon, a magnum-sized sidearm with braces along the barrel; a set of surveillance equipment, including a camera, sound receiver, and motion detector; and a set of communicators, easily inserted into the ear. In Crossfire’s was a spare set of armor made of a lighter, softer material that, through some of Gadget’s ingenuity, could fold up to fit in the compartment and still function fully. In Blackburn’s, as well as her own and Crossfire’s, were another set of passports.

Blackburn nodded in approval at the collection. “Excellent, everything accounted for. Continue: falsified passports.”

Gadget lifted out the three other passports from within their hidden compartments, which had their photos on them just like their real ones, but they each had a different look about them. Each of them was dressed in simple casual clothing in their photos. Blackburn’s mane was tied back in a long ponytail; Gadget’s was tied up in a tight bun. Their expressions were more dour as well, as if they weren’t enjoying having their pictures taken. The rest of the information displayed was fabricated.

She passed Blackburn hers to look over first. “You are Thunderbolt, owner of a small tech firm called ‘Crown Spectrum’ that you operate out of your own home. You’re originally from Inner District, Arcadia, moved to Utopia with your parents five years ago, and are now moving back to start your business, which means getting a fresh start with a new office space and everything. Your parents were stockbrokers: High Roller and Diamond Chain. You were homeschooled by about a dozen private tutors.”

She lifted her own next to show it off; she’d already seen it. “I’m Tinker, your new assistant and tech specialist. I’m originally from the Mid-West District, West Plaza, but have been moving around for the last six years and never really settled in one place for more than a few months. We met at the C2 Convention last year and you hired me on the spot. I specialize in conductors and magnetics, but also dabbled in transistors. My dad, Goldwire, was an engineer for Akklaim Electric, now retired in Newhaven in Utopia; I never knew my mother.”

Last she passed Crossfire his so he could go over it. “And our big guy here is Fireblast, from Newhaven in Utopia, who you met en route to the city and hired on as a bodyguard since your parents told you that you weren’t likely to get a place to stay in the Inner Districts right away and worried for your safety. Family history is irrelevant but if anypony asks, they owned a restaurant.” She gave him a little wink and whispered: “Gave you the easy one.”

“‘Preciate it, Gadget,” he replied with one hundred percent genuine sincerity. “Never been much fer actin’. I can lie just fine but I ain’t gonna be able ta keep much o’ that kinda stuff straight like y’all can.”

“Confirmed that falsifications are in the New Pandemonium system?” Blackburn asked as she examined her false self’s photo, putting a hoof to her scar as she did. The makeup on her face, like that in the photo, hid it almost perfectly.

Gadget nodded as she started shuffling things back into the suitcases. “Affirmative. Hacked them into the system this morning before you got here, so the three of us are now officially citizens of New Pandemonium City. The groundwork has been laid and we’ve got most everything we need, so it’s just a matter of getting into the city itself now.” She turned her gaze to Crossfire expectantly.

“Excellent.” Blackburn also turned to Crossfire. “Our itinerary?”

“Our flight to Newhaven leaves at sundown,” Crossfire said, pulling three tickets - digital devices, not paper - with their real names out of his pocket. “We’ll arrive there early in the evening, stay the night ‘n’ most o’ the next day in town, then we catch the New Pandemonium flight at midnight the followin’ day. Can’t judge when we’ll arrive in though, their ships ain’t so precise, but I hear we’re lookin’ at like five hours or so.”

He then pulled out three more tickets - also digital - and set them down on Gadget’s bed so they could see that their fake names were on them. “Sure as shootin’ we’re all covered on gettin’ there.”

“Good call on the stopover, Crossfire,” Gadget said with a nod. “Ponies’ll see us arrive and get a place to stay, even hang around for a bit, but they won’t see us leave. Even gives us some time to get in the right state of mind.”

Crossfire smirked. “Yeah I thought y’all’d like that. Wasn’t easy to keep it hush-hush, but the two of y’all ain’t the only sneaky ones ‘round here.”

“Good, all preparations made for departure and arrival,” Blackburn said with a nod. “Last order of business: secret keeper. Saved for today, lessens risk of discovery. We move after breakfast.”

*****

Solarian was alone in his office, a simple affair with little more than a desk, a computer, and two chairs on either side of the desk. It only served the purpose of being a place where he could have peace and quiet so he could write his science papers. He still published articles in Pandemonium under a pseudonym, Moonsparkle, in an attempt to extol the virtues of science and drop subtle hints to attentive readers that they should move to Hope’s Point and bring their skills and talents with them. He wasn’t sure how many newcomers were the result of his efforts but he figured, if it was even one, he’d made a difference.

He preferred to be in his lab, but in the past year or so he spent less and less time there thanks to King Stormchaser’s attempts to subdue his influence and input on the council, mainly because he wasn’t developing much of use. But Solarian was not deterred, even when his greatest ally on the council, Evening Glitz, retired from her seat and was replaced by a know-nothing know-it-all, Gleaming Star, who was totally loyal to Stormchaser’s lax ideals. If there was one thing he’d learned from decades of experience in both Pandemonium and Hope’s Point, it was that diligence was key, and he was very diligent.

There was a knock at his door. “Enter!” In walked Princess Blackburn and her entourage dressed in their typical hooded jacket incognito attire. “Princess Blackburn. This is a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure? Let’s see, you’re dressed incognito, so this clearly isn’t an official visit.”

Blackburn took a seat at the desk. “Will make this brief: planning secret excursion to New Pandemonium. Leaving tonight under pretense of ‘vacation’.”

Solarian raised an eyebrow and nodded. “And you trust me with the knowledge of your true location. An emergency precaution, I assume? You’ve anticipated the possibility of needing an extraction.”

“Correct.”

“Now, I can certainly venture a guess as to why you’re doing this, probably get it ‘right on the money’ as they say, but I’d prefer to hear it from you.”

“Father’s policies: mixed results. One hoof, prospering economy, burgeoning population; other hoof, increased security breaches, smuggling trade losing traction. Unacceptable compromise. Need your help.”

“So this is an attempt to fix the latter conditions without disrupting the former ones,” Solarian finished with a nod. “Understandable. Commendable, even. You need more than secrets kept, though, otherwise you’d have other options to keep this secret. My specific assistance is required. Not for the lattermost reason, no, it’s not my specialty. You need something from me.” He grinned. “The database constructor?”

“Correct.”

“Hmm… I never got funding for it. ”

Blackburn leaned in and smiled. “No, but possess plans. Have top-tier engineer on team.” She tilted her head towards Gadget, who gave a cocky smirk. “Will construct device ourselves. Falsified identities ideal for acquiring resources, materials. Won’t attract suspicion.”

Solarian gave a knowing smile, then reached into his desk, pulled out a small datapad, and directed his look towards Gadget as he placed the datapad on top of his desk. “Unfortunately, I am under royal orders not to provide these plans to anypony. The plans are certainly not on this datapad, since it would easy to steal them if the datapad were to be left unattended.” He rose from his seat and rounded the desk. “I think I’ll take an early lunch. I heard they have some new items at the cafeteria.”

He left the room without another word.

*****

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire sat patiently as the elevator descended far, far down into the cliff of Hope’s Point. All they had with them were their suitcases; they were dressed in casual, comfortable, yet classy clothing in preparation for their “vacation”. Blackburn: a blue sun shirt and a white skirt, plus her lucky scarf; Gadget: a white floral sundress and big sun hat; Crossfire: an orange aloha shirt and sunglasses, otherwise unarmed and unarmored. They certainly looked the part they were playing for now.

The trio did not remain silent as they rode down, and in fact were in quite high spirits. There was to be a stopover in Newhaven after all, so even though they wouldn’t be long, they still planned on enjoying themselves.

“We won’t have a lot of time, so we’d better plan out our actual ‘vacation’,” Gadget mused. “Let’s see… if we wake up early tomorrow, say eight o’clock, we’d have about fourteen hours to work with before we return to the hotel to ‘sleep’.” She turned to Crossfire. “What can we do in Newhaven for fourteen hours?”

Crossfire rubbed his chin. “Well, I ain’t been home in a good many years, but I don’t imagine the hotspots have changed much. I know Blackburn wanted to try out lima beans, so either fer lunch or dinner we pretty much gotta go to Legume’s Legumes. Y’all’ll love it, trust me, best beans in all o’ Equestria an’ if I’m lyin’ I’m dyin’.”

“Okay, lunch plans, good, good. What else?”

Crossfire shrugged. “I say we plan out the rest o’ the stuff as we go, get a little spontin… spont… uh…”

“Spontaneous,” Blackburn said with a grin. “Agree. Usually not spontaneous. Makes for pleasant change of pace.” She hummed. “Approaching bottom. Remember story if asked.”

The elevator slowed and rumbled to a stop, opening up into a large underground tunnel that led to several dozen currently-closed hangar bays. The bay doors were about one hundred feet wide, large enough to allow the biggest ships in the fleet to fit through. One door, however, was open, and a young pegasus stallion, orange with a purple mane dressed in a black cadet uniform, stood beside it in nervous anticipation. He sprung alert when he noticed Blackburn and her entourage departing from the elevator.

“P-Princess!” he sputtered as he gave a hasty salute. “Good to see you, good to see you. The Lunar Spear is just getting the final flight checks ready and we’ll be departing in ten minutes.”

Blackburn nodded in response. “Thank you. Understand this was sudden. Needed vacation.”

“Yes ma’am, no complaints here ma’am, happy to help ma’am.” The cadet drew a small device from his pocket. “Um… well, uh… this is awkward but, Princess, do you have tickets? I know you’re Princess and all, but protocol--”

“No trouble, went through routine steps.” Blackburn turned and gestured to Crossfire, who drew their three tickets from his shirt pocket and passed them over without a fuss.

The cadet scanned each ticket with his device once, then pocketed them. “All set there, Princess, now I just need to, ahh… ch-check your luggage. I hope you don’t… you don’t mind, but it’s procedure and all, and--”

“Understand, wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She put her suitcase down and opened it, gesturing for Gadget and Crossfire to follow suit. The cadet held his device over the contents of the suitcases, scanning them with a greenish-blue glow. Nothing out of the ordinary to be found, so the suitcases were zipped back up. Blackburn didn’t consider it worrisome that he hadn’t detected the secret compartments; Gadget had designed them to be undetectable specifically by the Hope’s Point scanners, which only Hope’s Point had the specifications to as far as anypony knew.

“All clear, Princess, you’re ready to board,” the cadet said with a bow. “Please enjoy your flight. I’ll take your luggage on board while you’re getting seated.”

“Thank you, cadet,” Blackburn said with a nod. She gestured for Gadget and Crossfire to follow her as she trotted towards the Lunar Spear.

The ship was larger than the stunt flyers Blackburn was used to, about the size of a small house, and was shaped like a folded crescent with a large foresection and distended sides. The ship was colored a harsh black with silver and gold trim. A boarding ramp led into the ship; a yellow pegasus mare with an orange mane wearing a black-and-gold flight suit stood at the top to greet them.

“Princess Blackburn!” the pilot greeted with a wave. “It’s a pleasure to have you on board the Lunar Spear, ma’am. We may not be the fastest ship in the fleet but I’ll eat my flight suit if we’re not the coziest ride you’ll ever have.”

“Captain Flame Strike, thank you for having us,” Blackburn greeted with a nod. “Apologies for sudden flight plan. Desperate need of vacation.”

“Completely understandable, Princess, everypony needs a vacation from time to time,” Flame Strike said with a wide grin. She gestured into the ship. “Let’s get you inside, shall we?”

Blackburn nodded, and she, Gadget, and Crossfire boarded the Lunar Spear. True to Flame Strike’s claims, the interior of the ship was cushy and comfortable despite how many seats it accommodated. The seats were cushioned and clearly capable of reclining, there was a faint scent of vanilla and cinnamon in the air, and a screen at the front of the seating area was clearly set up for in-flight entertainment. There were enough seats to fit thirty, but only the three of them were aboard, so they sat right up in front of the screen.

Flame Strike saluted to the trio as they took their seats. “Well I’m off to the cockpit, folks. Cadet Rollerblade will attend to your needs while we’re en route to Newhaven. Thanks again for flying with the Lunar Spear!” And off she went to the cockpit.

The earlier cadet - Rollerblade - ascended the boarding ramp seconds later, closing it behind him. He saluted the passengers and recited his well-practiced speech: “Welcome aboard the Lunar Spear, fillies and gentlecolts! I’m Cadet Rollerblade and I’m going to be your flight attendant on tonight’s journey to Newhaven. While Captain Flame Strike preps the ship for take-off, can I get anypony any refreshments?”

Outside the ship, in the meantime, the Lunar Spear completed its take-off preparations, and the hangar doors leading inside shut tight. As soon as they did, another set of doors opposite those opened, letting in a flood of seawater that filled the entire hangar in mere seconds. The Lunar Spear’s engine sprung to life, and it gently set off through the water into a small tunnel just beyond before coming out under the ocean proper. It surfaced a moment later before making its way south, towards the horizon-spanning storm cloud that was the Belt of Tranquility, keeping its pace slow as it began flying parallel to the storm.

A hatch opened on the top of the ship, and a pegasus stallion and unicorn mare dressed in a flight suits similar to Flame Strike’s climbed outside. As they did, two panels on the sides of the ships folded open to form a pair of wing-like extensions, the undersides of which glowed with the same bright blue as the rear engine.

The unicorn strut over to a cylindrical device dead-center on the ship’s roof and pulled a small rectangular device out of it, which she stretched out into a belt-like band. She strapped the band around the pegasus’s midsection with a snap, then pulled two cords from it which she attached to the tips of his wings, letting them snap into place to follow the contours of his wings as he moved them. Then, with a nod, she descended back into the ship while the pegasus took off.

The pegasus flew loops around the Lunar Spear at a quick, precise pace, and as he did so the ship became slowly coated with a golden glow. It took him nearly thirty minutes of consistent flight before the glow solidified into an energy field that surrounded the ship, at which point he landed back on the roof and descended back into the ship, woozy and with a slight stagger in his step. As soon as he did, the Lunar Spear rocketed southwards towards the storm clouds at supersonic speed; nopony inside the ship could feel the effects of such a powerful acceleration, aside from just the slightest trembling of glasses of water on food trays.

The Lunar Spear reached the storm, a storm unlike any other that had ever existed before and would ever exist again. The clouds flickered with lightning that crackled outwards towards the Lunar Spear the second it entered the storm, not at random but with sinister, violent intent. The lighting arched against the energy field that surrounded the Lunar Spear, but could not pierce it. Deeper still within the storm were great pillars of fire, spiraling about like wicked whirlwinds that snaked through the air to bar the Lunar Spear’s path. The Lunar Spear barreled through them without a care; the flames licked its shield to no effect.

This was the power of the patented Diffusion System, invented and perfected by Briarpatch, a genius pilot and inventor and a close friend of King Flashfire and Solarian. Briarpatch and Solarian had worked together to make the defense shield used by the massive NPAF cruisers more feasible for smaller-scale ships, like the Lunar Spear, for use with crossing the Belt. And though Briarpatch never left New Pandemonium City alive, his work had been a major contributing factor in Hope’s Point’s prosperity and success for decades. Thanks to its shield, the Lunar Spear could cross the uncrossable unscathed; the shield could even withstand heavy weapon fire.

Within the ship, not a single pony had a care in the world about the raging horrors outside.

*****

It was early evening when the Lunar Spear crossed to the other side of the Belt and soared over what the southern ponies called the Sea of Hope. As tradition dictated, the Lunar Spear lowered its protective plating to let its passengers and crew see outside and get a good look at the southern lands in all their glory. Blackburn and Gadget had never been in person, and so flocked to the windows to gawk at the landscape below; Crossfire smirked as he took his time to join them - this was his homeland, after all, and he knew it well.

The southern continent of Utopia was as far separated from the miserable northern continent as possible, not just in distance but in essence. Up north, ponies could not see the real sky above them, choked as it was with an endless orange darkness that flowed from New Pandemonium City’s central tower. The earth of the Wasteland was rotten and barren, and the only life that existed there naturally were the monstrous Gargantuans, amalgamous insects of massive size with a disposition for violence. Other than Pandemonium, Hope’s Point was the only settlement capable of sustaining itself in such a harsh environment.

The Utopian continent, however, lived up to its name. The sky above was clear to see, and in this early evening the stars twinkled with splendor as Equestria’s twin moons drifted slowly through the cosmos. The earth was full of life and vigor: fields of green grass stretched as far as the eye could see across flat grasslands and gentle hills; trees dotted the landscape, and if they were not asleep it would be easy to see the plentiful birds and animals that called the countryside their home. Paradise.

The Lunar Spear approached the town of Newhaven, a settlement poised on the northernmost cliff of this southern continent. It was nowhere near the size of Hope’s Point, only large enough to be home to about a thousand or so ponies. The architecture was delightfully old-fashioned: wood and brick buildings, simple dirt roads, everything built far enough apart to give them room to breathe. Unlike the bustling nightlife of Hope’s Point, the town was the picture of tranquility; only a few dozen ponies walked the streets, most probably workers finishing up their jobs for the day before returning home to their families.

The port itself was a different story. It was about as advanced as Hope’s Point was, though still with a distinct old-fashioned charm to it despite the technological wonders. There were a number of large circular buildings, one of which had an open roof revealing a landing pad. The other similar buildings were clearly capable of opening their roofs to reveal additional such pads. A small central structure stood in the middle of the collection of landing pads, the Hope’s Point Embassy; there were plans to expand it eventually but those plans were on hold for now.

The Lunar Spear began its landing procedure, positioning itself over the open landing pad and slowly lowering itself down to ground level. It landed with a hiss and a thud, and the engines gradually died down to nothing.

Inside the ship, Cadet Rollerblade stepped out into the passenger area. “Fillies and gentlecolts, we have now arrived in Newhaven. Before disembarking, please return your seats to their original upright positions and ensure any valuables you’ve brought on board are in your possession.” He opened the boarding ramp. “Thank you again for choosing the Lunar Spear as your choice in transport, and have a pleasant stay.”

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire did as they were asked and walked to the boarding ramp to disembark. As they descended, they saw that they already had a welcoming party in the form of Ambassador Concord himself. He bowed low as the trio descended the ramp; Blackburn gave him a nod when she reached the bottom. As they spoke, a small crew moved to retrieve their luggage from the Lunar Spear and load it onto a cart for them; Gadget and Crossfire were quick to shoo them off and collect the luggage themselves.

“Princess Blackburn, it is an honor to be able to receive you on your first visit to Newhaven,” Concord said with a smile. “I understand you’re here on vacation? This was all very sudden so we’re a little short on details.”

“Correct, Ambassador. Not expecting such a welcome,” Blackburn replied. “Needed to get away. Decided Utopia ideal.”

“And you weren’t wrong, Princess, the southern continent is a lovely vacation destination, perfect to relax and step back from whatever it is that ails you.” Concord gestured for her to follow him. “Come, we’ve already made arrangements for your stay.”

Blackburn nodded appreciatively as she followed, Gadget and Crossfire behind her. “Excellent. Convenient, saves us time. Well done, Concord.”

Concord looked at her with wide eyes, his lip quivering slightly. “Thank you, Princess.” He cleared his throat as he led the trio from the hangar into the terminal. “I don’t know what your plans are for the evening, so I took the liberty of having transportation arranged to take you to where you’ll be staying.”

Blackburn glanced back at Gadget on Crossfire in slight disbelief. She didn’t know Concord well personally since he spent almost all of his time here, her only interaction with him lately being listening to his voice over Solarian’s recordings, and he usually kept to himself in the Council meetings since King Stormchaser gave him a lot of autonomy. She didn’t realize he was so efficient and effective at his work.

Concord led them outside the terminal where they were greeted by a pair of earth pony stallions dressed in presentable clothes, and a chariot large enough to carry three plus luggage. Gadget and Crossfire loaded the luggage inside and waited for Blackburn to board before they did.

Blackburn turned to Concord and nodded again. “Thank you again, Concord. Will remember your effectiveness.”

Concord bowed low. “And thank you for the praise, Princess. It may be my duty to serve, but I also consider it my calling. Enjoy your stay here in Newhaven!”

Blackburn hopped up into the chariot, and Gadget and Crossfire did the same on either side of her. One of the two earth ponies - golden yellow with a brown mane - pulling the chariot turned around and gave her a polite nod. “It’s a pleasure ta have ya, Princess, ma’am. Y’all hang tight back there an’ we’ll have ya ta yer destination lickity split.” He reared his front legs briefly. “Hya!”

The two stallions sprung into a gallop, pulling the chariot along the dirt road that led from the port into the town itself. They wound their way through a few streets until, at last, they arrived at a large house near the western outskirts of town, looking more like a familial home than any sort of hotel. Blackburn turned to Gadget, then to Crossfire, to see if either of them found it as unexpected as she did; naturally, they did, moreso actually.

As the chariot drivers came to a stop, the one who’d spoken earlier turned back again and with a smile said, “And here we are!”

Gadget and Crossfire disembarked and withdrew their luggage, leaving Blackburn just to stare at the house in confusion. “This is our destination?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Hmm…” She disembarked as well, then turned to the stallions. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Princess! It was a pleasure.” He reared up again. “Hya!” And the chariot drivers drove away, leaving a very confused Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire behind.

Then, before Blackburn could turn around and try to process anything further, a voice came from behind. “Right on time! Long time no see, Princess.”

Blackburn’s ears perked up and she turned around. She knew the voice anywhere. “Shining Steel?”

Shining Steel indeed stood behind them, still as tall and robust as ever, but no longer dressed in his old armor. He wore little, just a purple scarf trimmed with gold, the same colors as his shield-and-sword cutie mark, respectively. Blackburn trotted up to him, perplexed but glad to see him; he was quick to give her a slight bow, which she returned with a nod.

Blackburn took a moment to process everything, then cleared her throat. “Shining Steel, moved to southern continent after... passing of King Flashfire. No, ‘retired’ more apt. No longer employed by Hope’s Point in any capacity.” She looked at the home behind him. “You live here.”

“Of course, of course,” Shining said with a couple of nods, then gestured prously to the house. “This here is the ol’ abode. Built it with my own hooves, with the help of the locals of course, and me and the family have been living here ever since… since Flashfire passed. It’s beautiful down here, Princess, a wonderful place to raise a family.”

“Agreed.” She took a breath. “Ambassador Concord arranged stay with you, not hotel. Hmm… you insisted.”

Shining gave her a little grin. “Naturally. I might not be with Hope’s Point officially anymore, but Concord knows my history and seeks me out for advice every now and then. So naturally, not knowing you too well besides rumors and such, he came looking for me when he heard you were coming. I offered to take you in while you’re here in the south.”

Blackburn shared a brief look with Gadget. “Appreciate it, Shining. Needed vacation. Pleasure to spend it with an old friend.”

Shining gestured for the trio to follow him inside. “Let’s take this indoors, guys. No sense standing out in the chilly night air. Here, let me help you with your bags.” With his magic he was easily able to lift all three suitcases as he trotted for the front door. The trio followed and entered the house after him.

The inside of the house was a simple but comfortable affair, with plenty of room to move around and few decorations. Shining set the suitcases down and called up, “Honey! Our guests are here!”

“Coming!” called back Paramour, his wife.

“Make yourselves at home,” Shining said to Blackburn. “We’ll get you guys to your rooms in a little bit. Anypony hungry? I’ve got snacks in the kitchen.”

“No, thank you. Dined on the ride over,” Blackburn noted. “Lunar Spear has excellent meal service.”

“The Lunar Spear, huh? Good choice, good choice. Still captained by Flame Strike?”

“Yes.”

“She was a good mare, very forward-thinking. Her wife owned that scarf shop on Eighth Street, right?”

Blackburn was impressed. “Correct. Good memory.”

Shining smirked. “Thanks, Princess, I try. Learned a lot from your grandfather on keeping a keen eye on things. Never know when you’re gonna need a little bit of information somewhere.”

“Hmm… quite.”

A moment later, Paramour came downstairs and greeted the new arrivals. “Hi! It’s so good to have you here, Princess,” she said with a small bow.

Paramour was a hot-pink pegasus mare with a luxurious golden mane that she wore long and wavy. Like Shining she wasn’t dressed in much, just a silver bracelet around her left foreleg. Nopony was bothered by it; Utopian culture did not have the same stigma about nudity that the northern continent seemed to have, but for some reason the stigma only applied to ponies still living in the north. Nopony really knew why either side was the way it was or which was really the “original” belief, but nopony cared, either.

“A pleasure,” Blackburn replied with a nod.

Another set of hoofsteps came from the stairs, accompanying a young unicorn filly. Her coat was soft pink, somewhere in-between the colors of her parents, and her mane was curly and purple and tied with a floral ribbon. She took the stairs slowly, one at a time, but eventually reached the bottom.

Paramour immediately scooped her up and nuzzled her cheek, earning an annoyed grunt from the filly. “Mamaaa! Stooop! You’re embarrassing me!” she squealed as she tried to push herself out of her mother’s grip to no avail.

Paramour laughed and set her daughter down, then turned to Blackburn. “You never got to meet her after she was born, but this is our daughter, Crystal Heart. Crystal honey, say hello to Princess Blackburn.”

Crystal’s eyes widened and filled with stars, her jaw dropping in stunned awe. “Princess?” she gasped. “You’re a princess?”

Blackburn smiled and nodded. “I am. Nice to meet you, Crystal Heart.” She turned to Gadget and Crossfire, and introduced them as well. “And these are my friends, Gadget and Crossfire.”

Crystal, still aglow with wonder, stared at the two of them with the same awestruck expression. “You’re friends with a princess?”

Crossfire smiled brightly. “That we are, little missy. Best o’ friends.”

“Awesome! That is so cool!”

“It is, isn’t it? You know, it really never does get old thinking about how cool it is that we’re friends with royalty,” Gadget added with a grin. “I guess we are pretty amazing.”

They spent the evening getting reacquainted with one another, though everypony knew to keep less fun things off the table until Crystal went to bed. So, they talked about how neat it was to live in a big city, how cool it was to work around airships, and how fun it was to be friends together with royalty. When Crystal finally went to bed at Paramour’s insistence, Paramour did not come back downstairs, leaving Shining Steel an opportunity to speak with the trio alone at the kitchen table.

“How have things been since your father ascended?” Shining asked. “I’m afraid I don’t keep abreast of things up north that much these days, besides what Concord tells me of course.”

“Cannot say entirely negative,” Blackburn snorted. “Policies improved infrastructure. More ponies arriving from air routes than past decade. Increases population, boosts economy. However, no improvements to security measures, risk of infiltration and sabotage increased. Nothing major yet, does not eliminate possibility.”

Shining nodded and leaned back in his seat. “He did always have a good mind for business, your father. Terrible judge of character though.”

“Quite. Also, has prevented me from attending council meetings.”

“Really? Well… I can’t say I’m surprised. I remember well all the ‘harrumphs’ Flashfire got when he first had you start sitting in. Everypony came around eventually, but still… I don’t suppose anypony was on your side on that whole thing?”

“Most were, but father is king; his word is law,” she added with a sneer. “Have had help from Solarian. Keeps me informed.”

“Solarian is still on the council?” Shining asked, amazed. “I thought for sure your father would’ve booted him off by now. He hates him for giving you the… y’know.”

“Indeed; however, Solarian critical member of hierarchy, difficult to replace.” Blackburn sniffed. “Fears well founded. Evening Glitz replaced; replacement, Gleaming Star, complete imbecile. Skyrocket clearly inferior in position to mother. Featherfree easily intimidated, but means well. Nearly half of council in father’s corner. Solarian set to retire within next few years… prospect disheartening.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Your grandfather never let anypony forget how smart you are.” Shining yawned, then sat up in his chair. “Well, it’s late, Princess. Let’s get you all to your room.”

He took their suitcases upstairs and showed them to their guest room, a fair-sized room with two small beds and all the accoutrements they’d need to be comfortable for a long stay. After letting them become acquainted with it, he showed himself out and left them to their own business. None of them bothered to unpack, save for grooming materials; they wouldn’t be here long.

Gadget, however, voiced a concern: “Golly, this changes things a little bit, Blackburn, don’t you think? We were supposed to be staying in some teeny-tiny hotel that nopony would bother paying attention to. Crossfire had a couple all picked out and everything.”

“Yeah, ta be honest this kinda puts a big ol’ kibosh on us sneakin’ out all easy like when the Pandemonium shuttle comes tomorrow,” Crossfire agreed. “Don’t it?”

Blackburn stayed silent a moment, hoof to her chin in thought. Then, she shook her head. “Not at all. Not impediment: benefit.”

Gadget raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure?”

“Shining Steel loyal to grandfather unequivocally. Distaste for father is palpable. Would be likely ally in this: second secret-keeper.”

Crossfire scratched his head. “Hmmm… shucks, I mean, yeah I don’t doubt that he’d probably be on our side in all this hullabaloo, but are ya sure he will? I mean, I don’t disagree wit’ ya, but what if, instead of thinkin’ it’s a good idea what we’re doin’, he thinks he’s helpin’ us by stoppin’ us?”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”

“Well, look, me ‘n’ Gadget’re loyal ta ya sure as water’s wet. The three o’ us’re thicker’n blood, I say. We’d do anythin’ and everythin’ for ya, ‘cause we know y’all’d do the same for us. Well, Shinin’ Steel was like that fer yer grandpappy, an’ y’all know yer grandpappy wanted nothin’ more’n keepin’ y’all safe ‘n ‘secure. S’why he gave us ta y’all.”

Blackburn pondered this. “Sensical… Shining might consider mission too dangerous. Might consider it favor to grandpa to keep us here.”

“And besides that,” Gadget interjected, “say he is on our side and doesn’t want to stop us. Solarian is our secret-keeper because he’s not just loyal, but he had a practical purpose: his database constructor. As much as I like Shining Steel, what’s he gonna be able to do to be of actual help? If he’s just keeping our secret I feel like, I dunno, we’re basically admitting we screwed up.”

Blackburn pondered this as well, then had an idea. “Practical purpose: not just keeping secret. Expanding it.”

“Huh?”

“Consider: Shining Steel is our host. We leave tomorrow night. Anypony comes asking for us, Shining Steel directs them away.”

“Hmm… that would make things easier on the return trip, I suppose.” Gadget nodded in approval. “Okay, you sold me: when we leave tomorrow, we tell him.”

“And if he don’t want ta let us leave?” Crossfire asked.

“Won’t happen,” Blackburn said. “Worries well-grounded, Crossfire. However, other possibility: knows grandpa risked everything to make Hope’s Point reality. Honoring his memory risking selves to prevent fall. Would encourage, not impede.”

Crossfire rubbed his chin. “Fair ‘nough. Worst case scenario, we make a break fer the port. Agreed?”

Blackburn smirked. “Agreed.”

*****

The next day was as relaxing and spontaneous as the trio could possibly hope it would be, a fine way to prepare themselves for the coming storm they had planned.

It started simple: breakfast with Shining Steel’s family followed by a brisk morning walk around town, with Crossfire being more than happy to point out all the sights. Everything a calm, quaint little town with no advanced technology could ever need was here: a library, a town square replete with shops, a blacksmith, a tailor, a bakery, a seed shop, a schoolhouse, etc. There were plenty of places to eat, and the ponies here were all friendly and cordial; the ponies in Hope’s Point were, too, especially compared to Pandemonium, but Newhaven’s populace were overtly so.

For lunch, as planned: Legume’s Legumes. Crossfire had said the restaurant specialized in making every single bean-related dish possible, and had listed them all off diligently before they even reached the restaurant:

“--bean soup, bean stew, bean salad, bean chili, bean paste, bean salsa, beans ‘n’ rice--”

“Kill me now, please,” Gadget said to Blackburn, passing her sidearm over. “Just flip the switch to ‘instant kill’ and end my life.”

“--bean tostada, bean burrito, bean curry, bean pasta, bean bowl, bean casserole, plus there’s succotash--”

Blackburn pushed the barrel of the gun towards herself. “No, you do me first. Royal order.”

“--an’ y’all can eat ‘em plain, roasted, fried, refried, steamed, grilled, baked--”

Gadget snorted. “Tell you what, if we get close enough I think we might be able to go out together.”

Blackburn hummed, then nodded. “Acceptable. Been nice knowing you, Gadget.”

“I can hear y’all back there!” Crossfire huffed, turning sharply to face them.

Gadget snickered and swiftly placed her weapon back under her hat. “I’m sorry, what? We weren’t saying anything Crossfire, no sir, just listening to your startling appreciation for all things beans.”

“Uh huh.” Crossfire narrowed his eyes, then turned back to the path and gestured ahead towards a quaint building with several tables set up outside for ponies to dine at. A sign above the awning read Legume’s Legumes. “Well make fun all ya want, we’re here. See how much fun y’all’re makin’ after y’all eat.”

Once at their table, the trio looked at their menus, and Gadget and Blackburn visibly gawked at the selection and realized Crossfire must have memorized it. Every manner of bean dish imaginable was presented and could be prepared with any of the different types of beans there were. Crossfire, knowing it would be a long while before he ever got back, insisted on the trio ordering one of everything on the menu to split amongst the table; they settled on less than that but still split a fair amount of food amongst one another, from spicy black bean soup to creamy green bean casserole.

They ended up ordering too much and didn’t want to carry the leftovers around in doggy bags all day, but that was okay; the restaurant would deliver the leftovers to some of the dock workers to use for their own lunches if they didn’t have anything themselves. Blackburn marveled at the generosity and kindness these ponies showed one another for seemingly no reason whatsoever. The food was cheap, too.

Between lunch and dinner, the trio headed down the cliffs to the small beach that was there. While the cliffs of Hope’s Point were miles high, the cliffs of Newhaven were much less imposing, and a gentle trail sloped down the cliffside to give non-pegasi a viable route. The beach itself wasn’t very large, but more than enough to accommodate the three of them and the other few dozen ponies that had gathered to take in the afternoon sun. Crossfire, to Gadget and Blackburn’s slight embarrassment, took off his shirt while they were there, leaving him in the nude.

“When in Utopia,” he said.

They weren’t really embarrassed because of his behavior, of course, since not a single other pony on the beach except the two of them were wearing clothes, but because neither of them had seen Crossfire without clothes before, at least in this context. Blackburn was already in a relationship and merely muttered something about him not needing to ever be worried about attracting a mare; this was true, as a gaggle of younger mares that were at the beach together took keen interest in him for their entire stay.

Gadget, who’d never looked at him that way before, and never thought she ever would, did her best not to stare; within an hour, she’d gotten over it enough to remember who he was and that there was no way she thought of him like that. It was odd, how just removing a shirt - the only item he wore down here - had such an impact on her mental state, one that neither her nor Blackburn could understand or explain.

“Whatever, okay, so my best friend is a total hunk,” she said with a shrug as she set her sun hat over her face and lay back in the sand. “Nothing weird about that, no sir. I’m mare enough to admit it. Just don’t go getting any ideas, Crossfire - you’re like a brother to me, nothing more.”

Crossfire blinked in her direction. “What kind o’ ideas?”

“Don’t play stupid, you know damn well what I’m talking about, you big drink of water. Same ideas you’re thinking about when looking at all those mares over there,” she added, pointing off towards the grouping of mares that were trying, unsuccessfully, to get his attention.

Crossfire glanced their way for only a second. “Uh… no? I really don’t get it.”

Gadget groaned and buried her face deeper into her hat. “Golly, you’re just a typical brainless stud, aren’t you? Nevermind, forget it. I’ve suddenly lost all interest.”

“Thought you had no interest,” Blackburn said cooly as she sipped on her lemonade.

“Bite me, Blackburn.”

Crossfire stared at the two for a minute, then shrugged and turned his attention back to the ocean.

Once the sun touched the horizon, the trio returned up the cliff - Crossfire with his shirt on at last, to Gadget’s relief - and went to a different restaurant for dinner, this one a sandwich shop of some acclaim, according to Crossfire. He hadn’t steered them wrong yet and this was no exception. Blackburn enjoyed the chef’s special, a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and found it to be uniquely and bizarrely exciting; Gadget stuck with a grilled cheese, a staple of hers when she got the opportunity, having developed an inexplicable fondness for cheese as a teen despite the distinct lack of it in the north; Crossfire kept it simple and ordered a BLT: beans, lettuce, and tomatoes. Everything was served with a side of hay fries.

Outside of special occasions, the trio never got much real food, only the Dolor food substitute - a goopy paste-like substance stored in a plastic tube - smuggled in from Pandemonium. Dolor tasted good when prepared in particular ways, and there were plenty of cooks and bakers in Hope’s Point that were skilled at making delectable dishes from the many different colors.

Each color, incidentally, had a different “default” flavor when eaten straight: Red was overly ripe cherries; Green was overcooked broccoli; Yellow was extra-sour lemon; Orange was not-ripe-yet oranges; Purple was week-old blueberries; Blue was minty toothpaste; the new White was plain tart yogurt, but it was expensive; the original Brown was cheap and tasted like mud. There wasn’t a Black yet, but rumors were it was being worked on. However, when prepared certain ways, these flavors changed. Red, for example, could taste like tomato soup, chilled strawberries, raspberry jam, etc.

After dinner, the trio returned to Shining Steel’s home and spent some time with him and his family before everypony went to sleep. Gadget kept a close eye on the time - they knew they’d need an hour to get to the port without a chariot, and gave themselves an extra fifteen minutes to account for delays. So, an hour and fifteen minutes before midnight, the trio got themselves dressed in casual, drab attire that would fit in in Pandemonium and styled their manes to match their false passports, then grabbed their stuff and, with the aid of a quieting spell from Gadget, snuck downstairs.

It didn’t really come as much of a surprise though when they got halfway to the front door and heard a cough. “Awfully late, don’t you think?” Shining Steel said he nonchalantly flipped the page of a newspaper from his spot on the couch. “Where are you three off to this time of night?”

Blackburn steeled herself. “The port. Flight departing for Pandemonium at midnight. We will be on it.”

“I see.” Shining set down his newspaper and drew forth their three falsified passports; the trio bristled at the sight of their entire plan’s success in his grasp, but Blackburn kept her cool. “And what exactly are you planning on doing in Pandemonium City, besides putting yourselves in unnecessary danger?”

“What father won’t.”

“Which is?”

“Keep my city safe.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Solarian’s database constructor: provides extensive background information, easier and quicker to verify ponies’ trustworthiness. Find rival smuggling kingpins, negotiate or destroy: improves Hope’s Point’s economy.” Blackburn took a deep breath. “Understand risks. Necessary.”

“For how long?”

“Four months. Enough time to lay groundwork, implant database constructor.”

“Hmm. I take it that means Solarian knows about this?”

“Correct.”

“Anypony else?”

“Just you.”

“Very good.” Shining shook his head. “Unfortunately, Princess, you, Gadget, and Crossfire aren’t going anywhere near New Pandemonium City.”

Gadget made to step forward, but Blackburn stopped her with a hoof, allowing Shining to continue.

“As your host for your vacation here in the south, the three of you are going to take me up on my offer to leave Newhaven with me, Paramour, and Crystal Heart tomorrow to take a vacation down to Deepgrove; Crystal loves gems, see, and those mines are the best source of gems in the whole world, outside of Goldridge Pass up north.”

Blackburn frowned. “Disappointing.”

“Chin up, Princess, Deepgrove is a lovely place. Might be good to talk with some of the mine leaders there, maybe get trade agreements set up. Certainly safer than scrounging around in Goldridge. Maybe you’ll stay for a while, who knows?”

Crossfire made to speak, but Blackburn gave him a terse look to keep him quiet.

Shining Steel waited a long moment, then placed the three passports on the table in front of him before getting up and stepping over to Blackburn directly. “However, I think that Thunderbolt, Tinker, and Fireblast have a flight to catch. I wouldn’t want to keep them,” he said with a coy grin.

Blackburn smiled back and stepped forward to give her grandfather’s former bodyguard a hug. “Thank you, Shining. Will make grandpa proud, I swear it.”

Shining returned the hug. “I know you will, Princess. Stay safe, and good luck. You’ll need it.” He broke the hug and made for the stairs without another word.

*****

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire - or rather, Thunderbolt, Tinker, and Fireblast - arrived at the port at ten minutes ‘til midnight. A transport cruiser from New Pandemonium City was docked at the port, and it was a completely different sight than the Lunar Spear had been.

The cruiser was black like the Lunar Spear and trimmed with steel instead of gold, but it lacked the sleek contours and pleasing aesthetic the Hope’s Point airships did. It was more of a brick with points on the ends, and its wings folded up straight into the air like handles while grounded. Its metal exterior was charred and rusty instead of polished to a pristine shine. While the Lunar Spear, already a larger ship in Hope’s Point’s fleet, took up barely a third of the landing pad, this Pandemonium ship took up nearly the entire thing.

The crew, in particular, was different from the lively, polite crew of the Lunar Spear. They didn’t wear flight suits, just standard black and gold flight uniforms. One, a dull green pegasus stallion with a black mane, stood at the top of the boarding ramp, a tremendous scowl on his face as he ushered ponies in without a word; the other, a dust-gray unicorn mare with a pale pink mane, stood at the bottom and looked over the tickets and passports of the other ponies boarding, all of whom were dressed similarly to Blackburn’s crew in drab, casual clothes. The unicorn also looked over their belongings, but she lacked a tool to do so with and just used her eyes and hooves. There were no crew members loading luggage onto the ship; everypony carried it on themselves.

When it was their turn at last, Blackburn approached first and showed her ticket and passport to the unicorn mare.

The mare looked over the ticket and passport, grunted, then gestured at Blackburn’s suitcase. “Open it please,” she said in a near monotone.

Blackburn did so without a word. The mare looked through her stuff in the span of about ten seconds, then Blackburn was allowed to pack up and board. Gadget and Crossfire went through the same process, and soon all three were aboard the craft. No problems so far.

Inside, it was clear that this was not a luxury liner like the Lunar Spear had been. The seats were cramped together and couldn’t recline; the windows were small portholes barely big enough to see out of; there was no viewscreen with which to watch entertainment; the entire interior smelled of week-old body odor. Luckily the craft wasn’t full, so the trio were able to sit together in relative comfort. When at last midnight rolled around, the crew boarded and without a word from them, the ship lurched into the air and set off north, unfolding its wings as it did.

Unlike the Lunar Spear, it didn’t have to wait for anypony to activate a shield around it and did it completely on its own. As a consequence of this cheaper version of the Diffusion System, however, the ship was not quite as impenetrable, and thus the ride wasn’t as smooth and took much longer. There was no danger, of course, because having a faulty shield cause deaths deprived the city of taxpaying ponies and that was unacceptable.

However, the shield wasn’t entirely stable, so there was a lot of turbulence. Blackburn, as a pegasus, was used to the feeling and wasn’t bothered at all; Crossfire, who had a strong stomach and nerves of steel, merely gripped his armrests tight; Gadget, however, spent most of the three-hour-long trip across the Belt of Tranquility with her face buried in a paper bag.

When at last they reached the other side, the ship was allowed to open up the throttle again, making the rest of the way to New Pandemonium City in only a few hours. Blackburn, who'd insisted on the window seat, was able to get a semi-decent view through the too-small, dust-caked window.

New Pandemonium City encircled Equestria’s north pole, spreading out for hundreds of miles into the surrounding Wastelands. A large barrier wall, a mile high construct of solid durasteel, surrounded the city; spread along the wall were small platforms containing large gun turrets, and several of them tracked the transport cruiser as it approached. At the southwesern edge of the city was a large gate, taller than the walls around it, connected to a passage that led inside. There was a clear set of airdocks inside the outermost wall beside the gate, and it was these docks that the cruiser made a beeline for.

The buildings within the city were mostly tall, black structures, or at least it seemed that way from a distance. They were sleek and imposing, casting looming shadows on the city below. The city sky was choked with layer upon layer of smog and dark clouds; not an inch of the city’s airspace, save for the sections closest to the gate and sections closest to the center, was unclogged, and those that weren’t still had faint layers leaking over. From the air it was near impossible to get a good read on the city’s layout; it wasn’t any easier on the ground, for that matter.

Most striking was the city’s absolute center where there stood the massive Pandora Tower, poised directly on the north pole. It was a gleaming black monolith that towered above even the layers of smog. From the top of the tower came a piercing orange light that flowed straight up into the air above, spreading out across the entire sky as far as the eye could see. Having seen the southern continent with her own eyes, Blackburn wondered if the same sky could be seen above that orange light, or if anything could even pass through it. Nopony knew what it was, why Pandora Tower generated it, or what it did; the question had gone unanswered for centuries.

Blackburn settled back into her seat and took a deep breath to calm her nerves as the ship began its landing procedure. They were finally here. New Pandemonium City.

It was time to make a difference.

Chapter Four: Fascinating Foray

Blackburn watched tepidly as the customs agent, a unicorn stallion, used his magic to look through her suitcase with professional diligence. He took an unnecessarily long time searching through her luggage for anything that she hadn’t declared, and yet, to Blackburn’s amusement, was unable to find the hidden compartment containing her lucky scarf and her real passport. Gadget went next, followed by Crossfire, and neither of their hidden compartments were discovered either. So far, so good.

Another customs agent waited at the next gate, this one an older earth pony mare operating a computer. Blackburn approached first, and the mare gave her a brief look-over. “Identification please,” she said in a slow monotone, clearly preferring to be literally anywhere else. She held her hoof out expectantly.

Blackburn fished her fake identification out of her pocket and passed it over to the customs agent, who swiped it through a scanner in front of her with a loud beep, then stared at her computer screen for a moment as it processed the information. Blackburn couldn’t see it, but knew that all the information presented matched what Gadget had input.

“Okay, Miss... Thunderbolt. Welcome back to New Pandemonium City. I see you haven’t been home from Utopia since last year. What brings you back?”

“I started a tech company last year and, well, there’s really not much call for it down south, y’know?” Blackburn said with a practiced tone, accent, and prose that both lined up with her false identity, and wouldn’t alienate anypony she spoke to. “Thought maybe I’d give it a try back in my old hometown. Lots of use for tech up here in Pandemonium.”

“Okay.” The agent typed the information into her computer. “And have you made arrangements for new housing?”

“Not yet, but I understand you have a station here at the docks for taking care of that? That’s what I was told, anyway.”

“We do, right over there,” the agent said, pointing over to another station beyond the terminal gate. “You can get that all taken care of once we get finished up here with a few more questions. First: according to your identification here, you’re originally from Arcadia in the Inner District. Since it’s been so long that you’ve been away, for what reason did you originally leave?”

“My parents wanted to move down south,” Blackburn said with a shrug. “I was too young to be by myself so I went with them, obviously.”

The agent typed this in. “Okay. Next: you say that you own a business. What is the name of your business, and what does it do? You said ‘tech’ earlier but anything more specific would be useful in determining your tax bracket.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Tax bracket?”

“Yeah, how much your company has to pay in taxes every year. Different types of tech get placed in different tax brackets based on the importance of the tech involved. So, what's the name of your business and what does it do?”

Blackburn assumed that Gadget’s research had picked a specialization that would keep their costs down. “Crown Spectrum. And we specialize in conductors and magnetics.”

“Okay.” The agent typed in more information. “And last: how long are you planning on staying in New Pandemonium, or more specifically, are you planning on leaving back to Utopia anytime soon?”

“What if I don’t know for sure? I might fly back to visit my parents every now and then, y’know?” A half truth, since she knew they would be staying for four months on this initial mission, but needed to have an excuse to leave.

“That’ll fall under ‘indefinite’. That affects your tax bracket too.” The agent typed in the last of the information, then passed Blackburn back her identification and, with the same monotone, officially welcomed Blackburn to the city: “Enjoy your stay, Miss Thunderbolt.”

“Thanks!”

Blackburn made her way to the terminal exit with her suitcase and waited for Gadget and Crossfire to go through their own lines of questioning. Between Blackburn’s knowledge of Pandemonium’s social and economic structure and Gadget’s hacking and forgeries, it seemed rather easy to crack Pandemonium’s security. Then again, Blackburn knew the city didn’t really care about security so long as they got paid; the safety of its citizens was far down their list of concerns.

Once they were all together and finished with their entry processes, the three of them then proceeded through the terminal gate and made a beeline for the housing station. A clerk, a pegasus stallion, waited for clients like them, either totally bored or completely ambivalent - it was hard to tell. As Blackburn and her entourage approached, he lazily lifted up his head and yawned, but didn’t say anything.

Blackburn waited a few seconds to see if he’d do anything else, but he didn’t, he just sat and stared. “Is this the housing station?” she asked.

The clerk didn’t reply, merely tapped his keyboard a few times and divided his attention between that and interacting with Blackburn. “Name?”

Blackburn blinked, perturbed by having her question ignored, but shook it off. “Thunderbolt.”

“Means of income?”

“I own my own tech business.”

“Will you be running this business out of your home?”

“Yes.”

“How many ponies will be staying at your place of living?”

“Three.”

Blackburn was astounded how quick the clerk was with the process, moving, speaking, and typing with practiced perfection. She considered it a shame that somepony who clearly had talent in a more enjoyable or useful field was stuck in such a dead-end position. Surely this pony could work as a stenographer and be of use in the legal system.

The clerk remained silent for a solid three minutes, tapping away at his keyboard, until at last he wrote something down on a sticky note and passed it across his desk to Blackburn, who took it and read it aloud: “Mid-South, Central Plaza, North Point, Room 44-6:15.” She looked at the clerk, eyebrow raised. “So, is this our new home?”

“Yes.”

“Well that was quicker than I expected,” Gadget quipped, giving the clerk a curious look. “I thought the bureaucratic system was supposed to be super complicated and convoluted? It was always complicated when I was moving around. Took hours just to get through signing papers.”

“Your tax bracket, your source of income, and your bits on-hoof suggest that you’re reliable for punctual, full payments, so the system automatically pushes you up the waiting list ahead of ponies who aren’t,” the clerk noted. “It’s no Inner District, but Inner District housing isn’t done through the city-operated bureaucracy, and you can’t afford it anyway, not with three of you.”

Blackburn nodded and put the note in her pocket. “Well, thank you. We appreciate the efficiency.”

The clerk shrugged. “Don’t thank me; thank the computer. I just punched the information into the system. A foal could do my job.” Blackburn almost felt sorry for the guy.

Gadget leaned over the desk and pat the computer monitor like it was a pet cat. “Thanks, buddy.” The clerk stared at her, eyes narrowed. Gadget looked right back. “What? You said ‘thank the computer’ since it did all the work. Was… was I not supposed to?”

Blackburn smirked; she knew Gadget had greatly enjoyed practicing with her false persona as a ditzy weirdo who just happened to be a tech genius, and getting a chance to put that practice to work had to be giving her friend a real kick. A glance at Crossfire told her that he was having a hard time maintaining his false stoicism in the face of Gadget’s behavior.

The clerk rolled his eyes. “Anyway, your information is in the system, so when you get there you just speak with the landlord and they’ll get you to your room and go over any extra paperwork they might have. After that, you’re on your own.”

“Well, thanks for… whatever, I guess?” Blackburn said with a half-hearted shrug that wasn’t entirely false. She turned to Gadget and Crossfire and gestured for the exit. “C’mon guys, we’ve got to get things to get set up before we get to work.”

*****

New Pandemonium City was divided into three distinct ring-shaped districts that encircled Pandora Tower, each essentially a city of its own. The Mid Districts were further divided into quarters, and the quarters were each further divided into nine sub-districts; the quarters were larger and more populated than Hope’s Point to an exponential degree. Thus, Blackburn’s note directed her and her friends to Mid-South, the southern Mid District first; then to Central Plaza, its centermost sub-district; then to an apartment complex known as North Point, so named because it was on the northernmost border of Central Plaza.

North Point was an absolutely towering building, one hundred stories high and taking up an entire city block. The building was constructed of a rust-colored metal that looked more like straight rust; many of its windows were cracked or completely broken; the awnings were all faded and several were different colors as if they’d been replaced, but it was impossible to tell which of them were the original color.

The trio had hired a chariot taxi to take them there, which wasn’t cheap, but got them there quickly and saved them the trouble of figuring out the city’s complex layout. They all stared up at the domestic complex with trepidation; there was nothing quite like this back home except for the royal palace, but the entire city was made of thousands of buildings around this size, and the ones in the Inner District were even bigger and nicer.

When they landed, the trio finally had a moment to take stock of the situation; they stayed in character even when alone, in case anypony was listening in. Gadget spoke first: “Y’know, I always knew this city was a dirty dump, but I'd forgotten how literal it was.” She sniffed and scrunched up her nose at the awful stench of smog and pollution that permeated the air. “Ugh. How does anypony stand this?”

“My grandpa lived here for decades before getting into the Inner Districts,” Blackburn noted as she looked around. “He didn't live in a ‘nice’ neighborhood until then, either. He only lived by moderate means once in the NPAF; until then he was considered part of lower, maybe middle class.” She shook her head. “Ponies deserve better than this.”

“I get the feelin’ we’re bein’ watched,” Crossfire said, observing the crowd. He turned to Blackburn firmly. “I’ll put this out there right now: y’all ain’t leavin’ the apartment wit’out one o’ us wit’ ya, got that? I don’t care if’n we gotta sneak ‘round after ya, we ain’t gonna let ya outta our sight.”

Blackburn nodded. “I hadn’t considered otherwise before, and I agree fully.” She took a deep breath, regretting it immediately because of the foul, smoggy odor. “Let’s proceed.” She straightened up and led the trio into the building, putting her Thunderbolt smile back on as if nothing was wrong.

The inside of the building was tightly-packed and dirty, but at least it was easy to find the management office, which was considerably cleaner and more open. A young, impressionable pegasus stallion in clean casual clothes sat stiffly behind the reception desk. With him was a middle-aged unicorn mare with a dark orange coat and red mane wearing a neat dress skirt, and she leaned over the counter and flirted shamelessly with him, touching his wingtips regularly. The stallion seemed uncomfortable with the whole affair, his face red, his wings splayed out fully, his mouth curled in a nervous smile, and his hooves in his lap.

Blackburn cleared her throat. “Excuse me? This is North Point, yes?”

The mare glanced her way but didn’t stop teasing the stallion. “It is. Can I help you?” Her voice wasn’t nearly as sultry as she seemed to imagine it was; instead it was rather deep and throaty.

Blackburn pulled the note from her pocket. “We’re looking for the landlord. We’re new tenants--”

The mare brightened. “Ah, wonderful. I just got the confirmation a few minutes ago. I’ll take you right up.” She brushed the stallion’s wing again and winked at him before stepping over to Blackburn and her friends; the poor receptionist breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m Sunspot, your new landlord. You must be Thunderbolt, Tinker, and Fireblast,” she noted, addressing Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire respectively. She took a long look at Crossfire as she did so and licked her lips; he didn’t seem to notice.

Blackburn nodded. “That’s us. Nice to meet you Miss Sunspot.” She offered her hoof to shake, and Sunspot took it.

Gadget and Crossfire did the same, though Sunspot held Crossfire’s hoof for several seconds longer than the others and looked deep into his eyes as she did; he still didn’t pay it any attention.

“Well, let’s get you guys up to your room,” Sunspot said with a wink to Crossfire.

She led them from the management officer to the stairs that led up into the building, which of course meant that they needed to climb forty-four stories first. The stairwell was narrow and dusty, and rather dark and foreboding despite the lighting. It was a difficult climb, and the trio wondered why they didn’t have any sort of elevator system in place.

Sunset broke the silence. “So, your file said you own your own business, Thunderbolt? A tech company?”

“That’s right,” Blackburn replied. “Just started it last year, actually. We’re hoping to expand now that we’re here in the city.”

“Well I hope things work out well for you. Pardon my forwardness, but if you do well, I look good.” She glanced back at Crossfire and winked. “‘Course I look good already. Walking up and down these stairs day after day does wonders for your rear, don’t you think?” she added with a little shake of hers.

Crossfire still didn’t seem to notice Sunspot’s overt flirting, though this didn’t seem to bother her much; if anything it seemed to spur her on. Gadget rolled her eyes and shook her head, wondering if her friend was blind, stupid, or if he was just that aloof and calm about the whole ideal.

They climbed stair after stair after stair, floor after floor after floor, so that by the time they reached the forty-fourth floor, Gadget was completely out of breath, Blackburn was rather short of it herself, and even the physically-fit Crossfire was a little winded. Sunspot, however, wasn’t even remotely perturbed by the climb to the trio’s surprise.

Their apartment was located behind them and off to the side down a mid-sized hallway. If the wall opposite the stairs they came up represented twelve on a clock face, their room was located where the hour hand would be at six o’clock and fifteen minutes. Blackburn was absolutely baffled by the logistics of such a system, especially since the other rooms on the floor didn’t follow any necessary pattern. Other rooms on the floor represented 12:30, 3:20, 8:17, and so on, with no rhyme or reason as to what times were chosen.

The room itself was tidy and big enough for the three of them to be comfortable, sparsely furnished with very basic furniture: a couch, a refrigerator, a dining table and chairs, two small beds and a nightstand in the bedroom, and a cheap television set. All the necessary amenities.

“And here we are,” Sunspot said, passing over a set of keys to Blackburn. “Welcome to your new home. Got it cleaned out from the last tenant last week, been trying to find a new tenant ever since. So glad you guys came along.”

Gadget hummed and rubbed her chin. “So did we need to fill out any other paperwork or--”

Sunspot chuckled. “No no, I’ve already got all that taken care of. Rushed it on ahead so we could start collecting benefits as soon as you moved in. Just a reminder that rent is due on the third of the month, and if you’re not doing automatic payments you can just drop of a check at the management office. Now, anything else I can do for you?”

Blackburn looked around, then shook her head. “No, I think we’re all set here, Miss Sunspot. Thanks.”

“Well, just remember, if you need anything else I’m at the management office in the day, in room 23-12:05 at night.” She glanced over at Crossfire and bit her lip. “You just need to knock.” And with that, she left back into the hall and down the stairs.

As soon as she left, the trio took stock of their room; Gadget and Crossfire in particular did a security check, looking for any possible listening devices, the locations all of the exits and entrances, what was outside in the hall and outside the windows, and how well sound carried within the room. Satisfied that the room was secure and could be protected, they, and Blackburn, took the time to unpack and dropped character now that they were alone.

Crossfire smelled the air as he went about his business. “Y’know, I figured that smoggy smell’d be worse up here, but it ain’t botherin’ my nose none at all.”

Gadget, who was by the window, set her hoof against the mesh screen that covered it. “The windows seem to have an air filtration system in place. Not a good one like what we use to keep the air fresh in the palace but I guess it gets the job done.”

“Well that’s awfully thoughtful.”

“Eh, don’t give them too much credit. Bet you fifty bits you won’t find ‘em on the lower-class apartments. We really lucked out getting this well set up right off the bat. Can you imagine trying to sleep with that air quality?”

“Sure explains why everypony’s ornery all the time,” Crossfire mused.

Blackburn cleared her throat. “Settled in. First order of business: assembling database constructor,” she announced. “Will procure parts, Gadget will assemble. Second: install device at NPRD central servers. Will require access, need to make connections. Third: establish contact with rival smuggling ring, determine if allegiance possible or if destruction necessary. Any thoughts?”

“I’ve already got a list of all the components I need for the constructor, so that part’s easy,” Gadget said. “In the meantime, I’ll remotely hack into the NPRD employee records and put together a list of potential contacts. Any particular requirements you want?”

Blackburn nodded. “Proclivity for accepting bribes. Contact with military and law enforcement as far removed as possible. Little else matters, will determine personality match if other qualities met.”

Gadget scratched her head. “Hmm… I’ll try my best to work those in. All I can really get is stuff like names, contact info, addresses, education, employment history - y’know, what they would’ve put on their résumés. For that matter, I think we can discount the concern with accepting bribes. Not sure how I’d find that out anyway.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Well I mean, I think we can assume that anypony working for the NPRD - or in any bureaucratic organization in this city - is gonna accept a bribe. Hell, a lot of ponies back home take bribes just ‘cause they’re used to it. Those here that wouldn’t might refuse for any number of reasons, most likely because they don’t want to get in trouble or because taking bribes is ‘wrong’.”

“Hmm… former would be useless, but latter might be convinced of intentions. Still useful.” Blackburn nodded. “Very well, main concern is relation to military or law enforcement. Do the best you can.” She turned to Crossfire next. “Anything from you, Crossfire?”

“I’ve been lookin’ inta that smugglin’ ring, an’ I think I narrowed down who might be the kingpin,” Crossfire added. “I’ll get started on gettin’ us a hook inta that lil’ club once I confirm it.”

“Current thought?”

“Don Virtuoso, head o’ the Fantasia crime family. Nearly all o’ the smuggled goods Hope’s Point gets that ain’t through our own network can be traced back ta somethin’ he’s got his hooves in. I got a list o’ some o’ his top officers ta try ‘n’ be our ‘in’.”

Blackburn nodded. “Excellent. I’ll serve as our ‘face’ in these endeavors, examine data collected to select ideal candidates for contacts from lists. Will also maintain cover of ‘business owner’, procure equipment to match story. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Gadget and Crossfire said in unison.

As of now, the game was on.

Two Weeks Later

Blackburn and Crossfire strolled down the sidewalk of Central Plaza’s West Tenth Street. Blackburn, as Thunderbolt, was dressed in a black blouse with a short white scarf; Crossfire accompanied her in a crisp black jacket, wearing his sunglasses and staying vigilant of their surroundings. Central Plaza wasn’t known as a particularly dangerous community so even if Blackburn wasn’t who she really was, somepony in her position could feel safe walking alone, but Crossfire helped complete the image she was trying to sell and he was a necessary addition to her entourage today.

They approached a restaurant in the middle of the block with a white-and-red checkered awning. A sign above the awning of black wood with cursive gold lettering read: “L’Artisan's Ristorante Baroque”. Blackburn and Crossfire entered; the maitre d’ - a unicorn stallion with a gray coat and blue mane - approached and gave a short bow. “Benvenuti signora. Table for two?”

Blackburn smiled and shook her head. “No, we have somepony waiting for us. A Mister Gun?”

The maitre d’ nodded. “Ah, of course. This way, signora.”

He led the way into the restaurant proper, and Blackburn and Crossfire followed along. The tables were all decorated with white-and-red checkered tablecloths that matched the awning outside. The domed ceiling was high, decorated with gorgeous artwork depicting gorgeous mares in scanty robes lounging by the sea. It wasn’t particularly crowded despite being prime time for lunch; a few couples sat near the front of the restaurant at tables by the doors, but none of the larger family tables were in use.

Except one. At this table, a booth in the rear of the restaurant, sat a single earth pony stallion with a dark brown coat and a white mane, dressed in a crisp, casual suit, no tie. He sat to one side of the booth, leaving the entire middle empty, a plate of stuffed peppers in front of him, one of which he’d just lifted to his mouth and bitten from. Standing at attention to the side of the booth was a unicorn stallion, dressed similarly to Crossfire. Blackburn knew Crossfire wasn’t carrying a gun; the unicorn was, a simple pistol strapped at his side.

The earth pony noticed Blackburn and Crossfire approach, and he politely rose from his seat and stood to greet them. “Ayyy, there’s my southern boy,” he said with a grin. He then turned to Blackburn and smiled wide. “And this must be Miss Thunderbolt. My my.” She offered her hoof, and he took it and leaned down to deliver a dainty kiss. “Fireblast didn’t mention you were such a pretty lady. Molto bello.”

“And you must be Mister Gun,” Blackburn said with a smile. “Fireblast didn’t mention that you were so handsome, either.”

“Please, Miss Thunderbolt, you can call me Tommy.” He gestured to the seat in the booth opposite him, which Blackburn took. Crossfire stood off to her side at attention, like the unicorn. Tommy Gun then gestured his hoof at the maitre d’. “Upper Crust, a bottle of your finest wine. Fallo veloce.”

The maitre d’ - Upper Crust - bowed slightly. “Subito signore.” And off he went.

Tommy retook his seat and pushed his plate of peppers over. “Have you tried the stuffed peppers? L'Artisan's makes the best ones in the city. No lie. Not even in the Inner Districts can you get stuffed peppers this good.”

Blackburn took one and took a bite. She’d had stuffed peppers once before and didn’t find them particularly appetizing, but these ones were in a different class altogether. She gave Tommy an appreciative grin. “You’re not exaggerating. Very tasty. I’m not usually much for Baroque cuisine. Don’t get much down south.”

“Now that is a crying shame.”

“I didn’t think you could get much real food up here in Pandemonium either. These are real peppers, right?”

“All of it. The peppers, the carrots, even the cheese, all real, all shipped from the heart of the Utopian continent.”

“Impressive.”

Tommy gave her a suave smile. “And that ain’t nothing compared to what you can get in the Inner District, dollface.”

Upper Crust returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He set both glasses in front of Tommy and poured one glass; Tommy passed it over to Blackburn when it was full. Upper Crust then poured Tommy his own glass, set the bottle on the center of the table, and turned to Blackburn with his notepad. “Ready to order, signora?”

Blackburn lifted up her menu and glanced at the items. She wasn’t lying about not being much for Baroque cuisine and had little idea what was good or not or what would make her look stupid or boorish. Though she did at least know not to order macaroni and cheese. “Anything you recommend?” she asked Upper Crust.

“The eggplant parmigiana is one of our most popular items.”

“The minestrone here is also, mwah,” suggested Tommy. He kissed his hoof and gestured into the air. “Molto delizioso. A bowl of that for me, Upper Crust, per favore.”

Blackburn closed her menu. “I’ll take the eggplant parmigiana,” she said with a smirk in Tommy’s direction. Tommy chuckled, hoof over his heart. Once the maitre d’ left, Blackburn leaned forward slightly in her seat and lifting up her glass of wine. “So, Tommy, let’s talk about getting me a meeting with your Don.”

Tommy smirked and lifted his own glass. “Business before pleasure, Miss Thunderbolt? More time for that later, huh?”

“You don’t become the owner of a top tech company by wasting time talking about the weather.”

“Ooh, top tech?” Tommy took a sip from his glass. “Y’know, when ol’ southern comfort over there asked me to set up this meeting, I had my boys look into Crown Spectrum. Not a very old company, not even publicly traded. Not much to offer to the Fantasia family from what I can see. But he was insistent.”

“We’re up-and-coming, but I can assure you we’re at the top of top-of-the-line. Company motto.”

“And what makes you think that?”

Blackburn sipped her wine. “My tech specialist is the best in the business. Puts those eggheads over at Vega Tech to shame.”

“Is that so? And what technology has your little genius put out on the market that makes her such a star?”

Blackburn chuckled. “Nothing.”

“Nothing, huh?” Tommy frowned and set down his glass. “You think wasting my time is funny, Miss Thunderbolt? Huh? That I’m here to amuse you? Like I’m some sorta clown?”

Blackburn kept her poker face steady. “Not at all, Tommy.” She turned to Crossfire and nodded.

Crossfire put his hoof in his jacket; Tommy’s unicorn associate gripped his pistol with his magic. Crossfire pulled out a small device about the size of a deck of cards loaded with knobs and buttons, and set it on the table. Blackburn slid it over to Tommy.

Tommy eyed it curiously. “What’s this?”

“Our first product,” Blackburn said with a grin. “It’s not on the market yet, of course, but I thought maybe you’d be interested in giving it a look.”

Tommy lifted it up and gave it a once-over. “What’s it do?”

Blackburn gestured for him to pass it back over, which he did. She held the device in her hoof, pointed it at the bottle of wine, and pressed the largest button on the front. A magical field enveloped the bottle and lifted it into the air about three inches and held it there. She let it stay there as she set the device on the table.

“Huh.” Tommy eyed the bottle with curiosity. “So what, it lifts things up?

Blackburn smiled and aimed the device at the bottle again, then gently turned one of the many knobs. Tommy watched in awe as the bottle floated to her right, just over Tommy’s empty glass, and with a few more twists of the various knobs, the bottle poured wine into his glass, tilted back upright, and floated back to its original spot. She pressed the big button one more time, and the bottle fell three inches onto the table with a loud CLUNK.

“Stupefacente,” Tommy muttered.

“My girl put this together in about a month,” Blackburn continued, passing the device back to Crossfire to put into his pocket. “Simulates unicorn telekinetic magic on a small scale. It’s got a lot of applications, but we figured it could be sold to earth ponies and pegasi, or unicorns who have lost the use of their magic.”

“Miss Thunderbolt, I’ve seen a lot of gizmos and gadgets, but I’ve never seen one that does that. You say you haven’t put it on the market?”

Blackburn smirked. “Not yet. See, the problem with the device is that it’s very power-heavy and has a short range, so it’s not really market-ready. We don’t have the resources to get what we need to make improvements to it, you see.”

Tommy leaned forward in his seat. “So that’s why you’re looking to meet the Don. You want access to the good stuff.”

“That’s right.”

Tommy smiled. “And what will you give to Don Virtuoso in return for his generosity, if he sees fit to give it?”

Blackburn leaned back in her seat. “That’s something I’ll discuss with him.”

“Awww, come on now, sweetheart, you can tell ol’ Tommy--”

“Can you get me a meeting with the Don, or not? I’d be more than happy to take my business to somepony with vision. I hear the Rossa family needs a little pick-me-up in the tech game.”

Tommy leaned back and scowled. Blackburn stared him down. They remained this way for several long seconds, before Tommy suddenly broke into a grin and laughed. “You’ve got a way about you, Miss Thunderbolt. The Don’s gonna love you.” He turned as Upper Crust finally arrived with their meals. “Food’s here! Grazie, Upper Crust, grazie.”

*****

Gadget, clad in her work coveralls and wearing her goggles over her eyes, sat at the apartment dining table, which was laid out with assorted electronic components. One lens of her goggles had a slight green glow; from her perspective she could see a set of schematics for Solarian’s database constructor in one eye, the table in front of her in the other. With her magic she was slowly putting together the parts she had to match with the schematics, piece by piece.

The doorknob jiggled slightly and the door opened; Gadget pulled up her sidearm and directed at the door in one swift motion. She didn’t fire when she saw it was Crossfire and Blackburn, just let out a short breath before placing it back on the table and returning to her work. “You’re late,” she grumbled.

Blackburn walked into the apartment, and Crossfire closed the door behind them before grabbing a soda from the fridge and plopping down on the couch.

“Apologies,” Blackburn said she strode over to the table, setting a box down on it. “Lunch took up much of our time. Also, chip was more difficult to acquire than believed: limited production, higher price, needed to negotiate deal.”

“Trust me, it’s worth it for the Titan 9600XL Processor Chip. Top-of-the-line, not available to the general public, and a real beaut of processing power. This sweet piece of hardware can run through the entire city’s registration database in thirteen picoseconds.” Gadget licked her lips. “Mmm hmm, if this baby was my coltfriend, I’d never want to leave the bedroom.”

“Disturbing. And the database constructor?”

Gadget opened the box and removed a small mechanical chip. “It’s as good as built,” she said as she added the chip into the device. “Give me twenty minutes to get everything all hooked together.”

“No rush. Device complete, means of installing it still tentative.” Blackburn took a breath and sat down at the table opposite Gadget. “Disqualified last of potential NPRD contacts this morning.”

Gadget paused, a frown on her face. “Golly, that stinks. That was Silent Storm, right? What disqualified her, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Ex-coltfriend’s sister is a cadet in the NPAF. Too close.”

“Kinda wish y’all could’ve picked that up earlier, Gadget,” Crossfire noted as he took a drink of his soda. “Could’ve saved us a lot of time.”

Gadget snorted. “Yeah, well, the hack only gets me some basic information. That’s why we’re trying to get this database constructor installed: it’ll search through the city’s entire database for every single piece of data on the pony in question. Like, it could find out who your third-grade teacher was, who was in your class and even what seat you sat in, and that the pony that sat next to you is a cadet in the NPAF today.”

She turned to Blackburn. “We are still moving forward with the database constructor, right? I hope so - we put a lot of effort into this sucker - but if we’re not--”

“We are. Have reconsidered course of action with rival smuggling operation. Negotiation of alliance preferable. Fantasia Crime Family has NPRD contacts, could be useful. Alternative: assimilation of resources. No longer considering destruction unless as last resort.”

“Yeah, that could work.” Gadget shrugged and returned to her work. “Does that mean Crossfire got things settled on his end?”

Crossfire smirked. “Yup. Took some work but I got us an ‘in’ wit’ Tommy Gun, one o’ Don Virtuoso’s captains. Blackburn ‘n’ me got him convinced we might make good business partners, what wit’ us havin’ good connections in Newhaven ‘n’ Utopia.”

“Showed him your TS-100, sung your praises,” Blackburn added. “Suitably impressed him.”

Gadget stuck her nose in the air proudly. “Damn right you did.”

“Have an invitation to party next week,” Blackburn continued. “Don’s daughter’s cute-ceañera. Most known associates in attendance, can make additional connections. Required to bring gift, black tie dress code. Did not pack appropriate clothes, nor potential gift; will need to shop this week.”

“Sure thing, Blackburn, sure thing. Can’t wait to get all gussied up for-- done!” Gadget snapped the last piece into the database constructor, which was a brick-shaped device the size of a cell phone. “The database constructor is good to go.”

Blackburn smiled. “Excellent. Slight change of plans, but still on track. Next order of business: procure attire for party. Need to look our best; impress and attract others; expand circle of influence.” She took a deep breath. “Should be fun.”

One Week Later

The Inner Districts of the city were in such sharp contrast to the Mid Districts that Blackburn and her friends were convinced they were in a completely different city. For all intents and purposes, that’s exactly what it was. Their chariot taxi, drawn by a pair of pegasi, flew through relatively clean air above well-maintained and litterless streets as they passed by clean, elegant residential towers and high-class businesses and office buildings.

Unlike the Mid Districts, the Inner Districts were divided into a multitude of neighborhoods with distinct characterizations. Blackburn’s fake Thunderbolt identity, for example, had been born and raised in Arcadia, a neighborhood well-known for its ivy-league education centers. The Fantasia Crime Family made its home in Baroque, known for its high-class art museums and unmatched cuisine. Blackburn now knew why her father was so dismissive of the threat this city posed: he almost exclusively dealt with the upper class, and this part of the city was arguably nicer than Hope’s Point.

The chariot taxi descended from the sky and landed in front of tall high-rise, The Torre Gloriosa, a tower of white concrete stabilized with gold-plated durasteel. It was the fifth-tallest building in the city. The tallest, Pandora Tower, was visible from anywhere else in the city, even from the Outer District and even with the worst smog conditions; the other three were in clear view from the top of any Inner District high-rise. The concrete had been textured to look like pearl, which with the gold-colored stabilizers gave the structure the appearance of jewelry.

When the chariot landed, Gadget passed the drivers several bits as payment, plus a few extra as a tip. The trio was dressed to the nines. Blackburn wore a black satin dress with a split that exposed her flank and hindlegs, a pair of pearl earrings, and expertly-applied red lipstick, her mane braided up in the back and make-up applied to completely hide her scar; Gadget wore a dark purple cocktail dress with a frilly lace hem and a silver chain necklace, plus her modified glasses, and had tied her mane up in a bun; and Crossfire wore a snappy black tuxedo and bowtie, and he also carried their gift, which was in a exquisitely-wrapped box the size of a deck of cards.

They reached the front door and were greeted by a doorpony, a unicorn stallion dressed in white-and-gold, who tipped his hat as they approached. “Evening, folks. Welcome to The Torre Gloriosa. May I have the name of your contact, please?” Blackburn was surprised how genuinely friendly he sounded; she supposed he was being paid handsomely for his work.

Blackburn gestured to Crossfire, who drew a small envelope from his pocket and passed it over. The doorpony took it with his magic and looked over the card inside, a formal invitation provided to them by Tommy Gun. His eyebrows raised, impressed, and he returned the envelope. “You’re looking for floor one-nine-nine, room one.” He pointed at the hallway just inside and tipped his hat again. “The elevator is at the end of the hall. Enjoy the party.”

“Thanks,” Blackburn said with a smile.

The trio entered the lobby and headed straight for the elevator, and the doors opened found it was operated by a pegasus mare in a snappy white-and-gold uniform. “Which floor?” she asked as the trio entered, her voice as pleasant and polite as the doorpony.

“Floor one-nine-nine, please,” said Blackburn.

When the elevator operator pressed the corresponding button, the doors closed and the elevator immediately started upward without even the slightest hint of friction; the ride was smooth as silk, all the way up to floor one-nine-nine, where it stopped without a fuss. The entire ride took just shy of twenty seconds.

The trio then disembarked, turned right, and found themselves right at the door to room one. Two hulking earth pony stallions that filled out their tight suits and ties flanked the door; one lifted his hoof to stop the trio as they approached. Crossfire presented their invitation and the earth pony guard looked it over, then nodded and opened the door to let them in.

Blackburn was floored by the quality of the apartment, especially since the high-rise itself had already impressed her with its elegance. The room itself had white marble floors and walls; great glass windows that stretched from floor to ceiling and looked out over the city; a staggering exterior area complete with a pool, a patio, and a jacuzzi; a fully-stocked kitchen; a large entertainment room that could house dozens of ponies at once; and a large dining room with a window of its own. And that was just what was visible from a short walk from the front door; she knew there had to be multiple bedrooms and other rooms elsewhere. She’d lived in the royal palace at Hope’s Point her whole life and even that paled in comparison to the quality found here. All the palace had going for it was the size.

Several other guests had already arrived and had started mingling out by the pool, and Blackburn knew it was wise to do the same. She was headed off first by Tommy Gun, who was dressed in a crisp wine-red tux and tie with a large, fake flower tucked into the breast pocket. His smile was wide and friendly. “Miss Thunderbolt! So glad you could make it. You are looking absolutely lovely this evening, just stunning. Bellissima.”

She offered her his hoof, which he daintily kissed. “Tommy. We’re not late, I hope?”

“Oh no no, not at all. The few guests already here live in the tower so they didn’t have to travel far. I’m actually impressed you got here so early. The Don appreciates a go-getter attitude.” He turned to Gadget and offered her a smile as well. “Well hello there. And who might you be?”

Gadget smiled and nodded. “Name’s Tinker. I’m Thunderbolt’s assistant and tech specialist.”

Tommy gave Thunderbolt a sidelong glance. “This is your star employee, Thunderbolt? You didn’t mention she was such a cute little thing.”

“I don’t like the competition,” Blackburn replied with a charming grin.

“She really doesn’t,” Gadget chuckled. She offered her hoof. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Gun.”

Tommy took her hoof and kissed it gently. “Please, Miss Tinker, you can call me Tommy.” He gestured towards the pool and the few other guests that were already here. “Go on out and get comfortable. The party starts in a few minutes.”

“Oh? What about you, Tommy? Won’t you be joining us?” Blackburn asked.

“Later, my dolce signora, later. The Don wants me to take care of a few things, and since you’re here I’ll make sure you’re still on to meet with him after the ceremony.”

Blackburn smiled. “Thank you again, Tommy, we really appreciate it.”

“It’s been my pleasure, dollface,” Tommy said with a wink, then off he went past the kitchen to another part of the apartment.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Gadget leaned over to Blackburn and whispered: “You’ve really been flirting with that slimeball? You’re braver than I thought.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” Blackburn whispered back.

“Ugh. I’m gonna need to take a shower when we get back to the apartment.”

The trio stepped outside to mingle with the other guests. There were only about half a dozen ponies outside at the moment, and it didn’t take long for Blackburn to determine that none of them were of any particular use to her mission here in the city; they all lived in the same tower as Don Virtuoso and so were basically little more than neighbors he considered worth inviting: a pegasus mare who was his wife’s yoga instructor, a unicorn stallion that owned the Don’s favorite Baroque restaurant, and so on.

Within the next ten minutes, a few other guests had arrived, but Blackburn and company didn’t have a chance to interact with them before Tommy stepped outside and got everypony’s attention with a loud clap of his hooves. Everypony looked his way, and seconds later, Don Virtuoso himself stepped outside, accompanied by his wife and daughter.

Virtuoso was a tall, white unicorn stallion with a larger-than-average horn and a broad frame that filled out his crisp charcoal-black tuxedo to the brim. His ocean-blue mane was short and neatly-trimmed and matched his equally-short and neatly-trimmed pencil-thin mustache. His cutie mark was a trio of musical notes floating around a conductor’s baton.

His wife was also a tall, white unicorn, taller than even her husband or Crossfire, which made her the tallest pony at the party. She was much thinner, with a trim, tight supermodel build, and wore a red velvet dress that hugged every single curve on her body. Her long pink mane flowed behind her like a curtain of silk. Her cutie mark was a silver tiara.

Their daughter, no more than eight years old, was also a unicorn, thin like her mother with a pink coat and purple mane. She wore a short white dress that showed off her cutie mark - a pair of ballerina shoes - clear as day; this entire party was meant to celebrate her getting it, so it made sense to show it off.

The Don cleared his throat. “Fillies and gentlecolts, grazie, thank you for coming here this evening to celebrate the cute-ceañera of my only daughter, Crown Jewel.” He laid a hoof on his daughter’s shoulder, and she beamed and waved at the crowd. “On behalf of my family, please, enjoy the party.”

*****

The party had just gotten into full swing by the time Virtuoso headed back into the apartment, specifically to his study. It would be a full ten minutes after that before Blackburn was summoned into his study, alone, with only the gift box she’d brought along as company. She was escorted by Tommy Gun, who showed her into the study, closed the door behind them, and stood at attention in front of the door.

Don Virtuoso sat behind his desk smoking a thick cigar, a flood of smoke haloed over his head. The lighting consisted of little else but a ceiling lamp, which had been dimmed to give a very particular amount of light just over the desk and chairs on either side. An intimidation tactic that Blackburn was well-acquainted with and not at all intimidated by. She didn’t think for a second that this meeting was going to be easy, but at least she could see the kind of pony the Don was before he’d said a word.

The Don merely gestured ever-so-slightly at the chair opposite him. Blackburn took her seat, and pondered Virtuoso for a few seconds while he sat in silence, smoking his cigar. Another intimidation tactic: if she spoke first, he’d take it as an insult; if she looked at him wrong, he’d take it as an insult; if she fidgeted in her chair, he’d think her nervous and weak. So she just sat back in her seat, quiet as a mouse, gift in her lap, and waited.

Nearly a minute of silence later, and Virtuoso finally spoke. “So. Tommy tells me you own a little tech company. Is that right?”

Blackburn nodded once. “That’s right.” She kept her answers short for now, unless she knew they needed to be longer.

“And you come to my house, on the evening of my daughter’s cute-ceañera, and you ask me to do business with you?”

Blackburn lifted the gift box from her lap and set it on the desk. “Don Virtuoso, I am honored and grateful that you have invited me into your home, especially on the evening of your daughter’s cute-ceañera. Please accept this gift for her, from me, as a showing of my appreciation.”

Virtuoso took a deep puff from his cigar and opened the box. Inside was a lovely necklace, silver and sapphire, sized to fit a filly. The central stone was in the shape of a pair of ballerina shoes that perfectly matched the cutie mark of young Crown Jewel. Virtuoso smirked and resealed the box.

“We don’t know each other Miss Thunderbolt. But Tommy spoke to me on your behalf. He’s a good boy--” He turned to Tommy. ”Ain’t you Tommy?”

Tommy Gun nodded. “That’s right, Don.”

“And if Tommy spoke to me on your behalf, that means you’ve got something worthwhile. He says you’ve got a little mare working for you, top mind in the business. Whipped up a little something that was very interesting to me.” Virtuoso leaned forward in his seat. “As interesting as it was, I need something more, if I’m going to even consider opening up my family to a stranger. Can you offer me that, Miss Thunderbolt?”

Blackburn leaned back in her seat and gave a calm smile. “I can assure you, Don Virtuoso, there’s more where that came from. But only if my company has the resources and materials to develop it.”

Virtuoso leaned back and took another puff of his cigar. There was a long silence. Then: “Tommy.”

“Yes Don?” replied Tommy.

“Make sure Miss Thunderbolt gets whatever she needs for her next project.”

“Of course, Don.”

Virtuoso leaned forward again. “Someday--and that day may never come--I’ll call upon you to do a service for me. But until that day, accept this business arrangement as a gift to you for my daughter’s cute-ceañera.”

Blackburn nodded. “Grazie, Don Virtuoso.”

“Prego. Now go,” Virtuoso said, waving his hoof, “enjoy the party.”

Blackburn rose from her seat and headed for the door, which Tommy opened for her with a nod and a smile.

*****

Blackburn returned to the party but kept her poker face steady; things were going well, but it would be best for business if she kept up the appearance of cool headedness. Thunderbolt had a role to play, and Blackburn would play it well. The party was in full swing at last, so there were plenty of adults chatting in the entertainment room and out by the pool, drinking punch, wine, and champagne, and eating delicious hors d’oeuvres. The special filly of the evening, Crown Jewel, was chatting with her friends out on the patio, showing off her cutie mark with pride.

Blackburn noticed Crossfire first, all by himself near the catering table inside pouring himself a glass of punch. She trotted over to him. “Fireblast,” she said, giving him a slight smile. “Enjoying the party?”

Crossfire nodded. “Yes ma’am, it’s been a real hoot. They’ve got great punch. Tastes like back home.”

She casually poured herself a glass of punch and made sure she was out of earshot of anypony else nearby; she kept to character just in case. “Anypony worth mentioning so far?”

“A few names here ‘n’ there but nothin’ worth wastin’ yer time on right now. Only pony y’all might wanna meet is the Don’s wife, Ivory Charm, but she’s been occupied all evening,” Crossfire replied. “Things go well on your end?”

“I think we’re in, but the Don’s a bit skeptical and I don’t blame him. Tinker’s gonna have to wow him.” Blackburn took a drink of her punch. “Mmm. That is good.” She looked out at the crowd, scanning for Gadget. “Speaking of Tinker, where’s our little genius at?”

Crossfire indicated the outdoor pool, where Gadget was sitting on the edge chatting with a handsome earth pony stallion in a snappy white tuxedo. “Been flirtin’ wit’ that’n fer the last few minutes. Not genuine flirtin’ o’ course - I’ve seen ‘er when she’s ‘in the zone’, an’ that ain’t it - but the fella thinks she is.”

“Well hopefully he’s worth spending time on.”

Blackburn could see that Gadget had noticed her out of the corner of her eye; she signaled to her with a slight fluff of her wings - a secret gesture that wouldn’t mean anything to anypony else, but would let Gadget know to group up. Gadget didn’t reply in any way, but Blackburn didn’t need her to.

It took about a minute for Gadget to pull herself away from the other pony and trot over to the catering table. She poured herself a glass of punch. “Thunderbolt,” she said flatly.

“Tinker,” Blackburn replied just as flatly. “Enjoying yourself out there?”

Gadget took a deep breath. “Golly, ma’am, I’ve been to a few cute-ceañeras when I was a little filly but I’ve never been to one like this. At mine we only had like ten guests and just played board games all afternoon. If this is the kinda stuff I’ll get to see working for you, then I’m glad we met.”

“Well I’m glad I could be of help getting you into fancy parties,” Blackburn replied with a grin. She again checked to make sure nopony was in earshot. “Any luck?”

Gadget sipped her punch. “Got a few names that might be worth checking out, but nothing worth checking out tonight yet. I assume your meeting went well?”

“Very. You’re gonna have your work cut out for you, Tinker.”

“Oh. Joy.”

Blackburn poured herself another glass of punch and scanned the crowd for anypony that seemed worth trying to make a connection with in between fraternizing with other random guests. She trusted Crossfire and Gadget’s attempts to make connections so far but knew there was enough time left at the party for her to make her own effort and she had a different eye than they did.

She had a couple of criteria on who might be worth spending time on. First: they should be clearly involved with multiple other guests; if the pony in question wasn’t useful as a contact directly, maybe they knew somepony who was. Second: they should clearly not be an actual part of the Fantasia crime family; they already had that ‘in’ and trying to scope out potential double agents here was too early and risky.

One pony in particular seemed to meet those requirements so far from a few minutes of watching the crowd while she helped herself to refreshments. A pegasus stallion in the entertainment room who, over the course of the evening, she’d seen chatting with nearly everypony in the room either one-on-one or as part of a group, and who was too scrawny to be an enforcer and not well-dressed enough to be a captain, the Don's underboss, or heaven forbid the Don's consigliere.

He had a rich gray coat and a short, mud-brown mane that was kept neatly-combed, and wore a plain brown dinner jacket that was clearly off-the-shelf, not custom-tailored, because it was a little too big. He also wore a brown fedora, though this one was of distinctly higher quality. His cutie mark was a black umbrella.

Blackburn turned to Gadget and tilted her head towards the mystery stallion. “Have you talked to that one yet?”

Gadget raised an eyebrow. “Oh, him. No, not yet. He seemed like a good pick since it looks like he knows a lot of ponies here, but he’s been busy pretty much the entire time so I haven’t had a chance to speak to him myself. Got his name from some of the other guests, though: Lockwood.”

“Hmm. Anything more than a name?”

Gadget shrugged. “Everypony just seems to know him. No idea what he does though.” She put a hoof to her chin and shrugged. “Total mystery stallion.”

Blackburn nodded and filled her glass again, with champagne this time. “Well, looks like it’s time to solve the mystery then. Wish me luck.”

“As if you’d need it.”

Without a beat she strode across the room towards the mysterious Lockwood, who was currently talking to a duo of unicorn mares - twins with green coats and pink manes dressed in matching gold cocktail dresses whose only difference was their manestyles, one long and wavy, the other in a ponytail. His back was to her so he didn’t notice her approach; she chose to stand just off to the side for now and feign fascination with a painting on the wall. She didn’t get to hear most of the conversation, but was able to gather a bit from the tail-end she did hear.

“It’s next week at noon,” said long-and-wavy with a grin. “You can bring a guest or two if you want. The more the merrier.”

“We’ve got a few Dolor Foods representatives coming out since they’re catering the event,” said ponytail.

Lockwood rubbed his chin. “They gonna have Blue?”

Long-and-wavy stuck out her tongue. “I still have no idea why that’s your favorite. It tastes like toothpaste y’know.”

“Not when you chill it. Then it tastes like cotton candy,” he replied with a wink.

“Sure sure, whatever, we’ll have them bring some chilled Blue,” said ponytail with a roll of her eyes. “Just be there, okay?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

The twins sauntered off together towards the pool, leaving Lockwood alone. He turned away and almost ran right into Blackburn in his hurry, nearly making her spill her champagne; not really, but she made it look like he did. “Oh! Sorry, sorry, didn’t see you there.”

Blackburn smiled gently as she steadied her glass. “It’s alright, no harm done.”

Lockwood looked her up and down for half a second, then raised an eyebrow. “Hmm… I don’t recognize you. We haven’t met before, have we?”

“Can’t say that we have.” Blackburn offered her hoof. “I’m Thunderbolt.”

Lockwood took her hoof and gave it a gentle shake. “Lockwood. Pleasure to meet you. Enjoying the party?”

Blackburn took a sip of her champagne and glanced around the room. “I’ve never been to a cute-ceañera quite like this. It feels more like a wedding party.”

“Yeah, that’s just Don Virtuoso showing off to all the high rollers he knows. He’s proud of his little filly, so I can’t blame him.”

Blackburn eyed his attire curiously. “I was told this was black tie. Sorry if this sounds forward but you look a little underdressed.”

Lockwood scuffed his jacket with a hoof, embarrassed; Blackburn guessed he didn’t really belong at these sorts of events. “Yeah I know, but this was the nicest jacket I owned. The Don won’t blame me for it. You though, you look lovely… if you don’t mind my saying.”

“Thank you. But I thought you said he was inviting all the ‘high rollers’ he knew? That jacket doesn’t seem very ‘high roller’ to me.”

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah, well… I’m the exception I guess?”

“Oooh, sounds like there’s a story behind that,” Blackburn said as she took another sip.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story, I don’t know if you want to hear--”

Blackburn smirked. “Oh, I’d love to hear it.”

“Huh. Well, okay. This is gonna sound kinda roundabout but here goes.” He took a breath. “I live next door to one of the Don’s low-level enforcers, and I kinda did him a huge favor in getting this mare down the hall to go on a date with him, so... he kinda invited me to a dinner to celebrate their engagement two months later.

“I met his captain, Hotline, at that dinner, and we hit it off pretty well since it turns out I went to school with his wife - didn’t know her well, but that didn’t matter - and he’d never seen anypony with such an appreciation for good Baroque cuisine. We hung out a few times, and he trusted me enough that eventually I got to meet the Don at a little get-together last year... aaand the Don liked me well enough that I got to meet his wife and daughter.

“And so, well, last week I got invited to come along to a little party, and I volunteered to watch Crown Jewel when the Don had to go aside and deal with some business. The little filly wanted to dance with me since nopony else usually wanted to dance with her, so I showed her what I knew and let her lead a little dance together. Guess she took a liking to it ‘cause she got her cutie mark.”

Blackburn stared at him, absolutely mystified. “So wait… you eventually met the Don because you happened to live next door to some low-level enforcer, and the Don trusted you enough to leave you alone with his daughter, and then you helped her get her cutie mark by pure happenstance?”

“Well when you say it like that it sounds pretty crazy,” Lockwood said, scratching his neck. “But yeah, that sums it up.” He tipped his hat. “The Don got me a new hat to replace my old ratty one, even invited me here since I’m responsible for her getting her mark in the first place.”

Blackburn tucked this all away in her mind to try and decipher in private later, then tilted her head towards the twins, who were now flirting with a stallion she knew was one of the Don’s other captains, Octavian. “What about those two? You seemed to know them pretty well.”

Lockwood glanced in their direction. “Oh, Mint and Matcha Tea? Yeah, they’re editors on the New Pandemonium Times. I met them at a wine tasting event a few weeks ago that I got invited to because I knew the guy that owned the winery from, ah… when I was younger. I went to school with his cousin.”

Blackburn noted the awkward pause. Was he embarrassed about it? Ashamed? More to ponder for later. “Did I hear them invite you to a party? You’re that close with them after just meeting them at a wine tasting?”

“Oh I wouldn’t say I’m close or anything, but I guess I made a good impression.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’ve been just rambling on about myself. What do you do, by the way?”

Blackburn took a final sip from her glass and considered him again. He was self-conscious, too. Just another of several very odd traits for somepony so well-acquainted with Don Virtuoso. “I own a tech company, Crown Spectrum,” she said. “Top of the top-of-the-line is our motto.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of you.”

“We’re pretty new actually, but we’re rising stars, I assure you. Even Don Virtuoso’s taken an interest.”

“Ah, that’s why you’re here at the party. Neat. I don’t know many tech-minded ponies. What’s that like anyhow?”

Blackburn shrugged. “Oh, I’m not the one to talk to about the nitty-gritty technical stuff, that’s really more my tech specialist’s job. I’m just a businessmare, she’s the wiz.”

“Still, that’s pretty neat.” Lockwood paused for a moment. “Say, you’re not doing anything next week, are you?”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Maybe you’d like to come to the party the Tea sisters invited me to? I’m allowed to bring guests if I want, and if you own an up-and-coming tech company, it couldn’t hurt to meet a few ponies here and there involved with the press. Y’know, maybe get your name out there?”

Blackburn kept her poker face steady; this was a perfect development, but she didn’t want to seem desperate. “Hmm… yeah, okay, that sounds like it could be pretty nice. Can I bring my bodyguard and specialist with me? I mean, we’re the only members of the company, so I figure if ponies want to meet Crown Spectrum, they should meet all of us.”

Lockwood shrugged. “Yeah, sure, that’s fine. ‘The more the merrier’ they said. They’re sending me the details tomorrow, so I can forward that along to you. Where do you live?”

“Mid-South, Central Plaza, North Point.”

Lockwood whistled. “Wow, Mid-South Central? Nice. Well I’ll send that information out to you as soon as I can.”

Blackburn smiled. “Thanks. That’s awful nice of you, inviting somepony you just met to a get-together like that.”

“Hey, no trouble at all. I was actually struggling with the thought of who I would bring with me before you came along. Works for me.” He glanced out into the crowd. “Now, if you don’t mind, Miss Thunderbolt, I have a few other ponies I’m looking to talk to before the party wraps up.”

“Sure, no problem. It was nice meeting you, Lockwood.”

“Likewise.”

Lockwood then headed off into the crowd towards a pegasus stallion dressed in a dark red tuxedo, who he greeted like an old friend. Blackburn watched with some interest, baffled that such a nondescript pony could somehow know so many ponies of wealth and influence and be so nonchalant, no, humble about it. It seemed too good to be true; she’d take him up on his offer, certainly, but she made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

Because if there was one thing she’d learned from her grandfather, it was that things that seemed too good to be true usually were.

Chapter Five: Building Bridges

One Week Later

Blackburn and Gadget sat at the dining table of their apartment staring at the bill that had just arrived, which contained a thorough breakdown of the amount of bits they owed in rent: all of their utilities - electricity, gas, water, and sewage; their insurance policy, which only served to push them up the waiting list for a new apartment if something happened to theirs but didn’t cover any damaged or stolen property; and of course the rent itself, minus their tax deductions for using it as their place of business.

That last point complicated matters. Everypony had neglected to mention that they would have to pay a fee for using the apartment as a business space, which basically eliminated the benefit they got from doing just that. The charge had come completely out of nowhere.

Blackburn leaned back in her seat, eyes closed in thought. This mission to Pandemonium was important to her, important to her friends, and important to Hope’s Point even if nopony knew they were here but Solarian and Shining Steel. She needed to succeed, to prove to herself that she could keep her city safe even with her father standing in her way at every turn. She couldn’t afford to fail, but there was no way she could’ve anticipated just how corrupt and greedy the system in Pandemonium was.

They’d expected it to be expensive once they found out they were in a top-tier complex within the Mid Districts, but this was, as Gadget would put it: “Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous!”

“Agreed,” Blackburn sighed.

Gadget did the math in her head again, which still perfectly matched all of the information on the bill, and shook her head in disbelief. “Golly, this is straight up robbery, that’s what this is. I’m surprised they don’t just send over a guy in a suit with a gun to shake us down if they want this much. At least then we could put up a fight.”

“Unexpected development,” Blackburn muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Bits on hoof won’t cover rent for four months at this rate. Cuts into planned itinerary.”

Gadget did the math again in her head, then nodded. “Considering the expenses from that party last week and what we had to spend on the parts we needed for the database constructor, we’re not gonna make it three months unless we all go on a diet of Dolor Brown for the rest of the trip. And that’s a generous assumption which also assumes we don’t run into any more surprises.”

Blackburn slammed her hoof on the table. “Whole system corrupt, more than initially believed. Damn them.”

Crossfire grunted from his spot on the couch. “There’s gotta be somethin’ we can do ta earn some bits ta get us through. Should me or Gadget look fer, like, regular jobs or somethin’ maybe?”

“If you think I’m desperate enough for bits to work retail or something you can forget it,” Gadget said sternly. “We have jobs, Crossfire. The problem is we’re not able to transfer money from our accounts without attracting suspicion. Besides, our identities would make me overqualified for most anything and you wouldn’t qualify for anything but heavy lifting. No offense.”

“Managing schedules difficult as well,” Blackburn added.

Crossfire held up his hooves. “Fair ‘nough. We could always sell some o’ them gizmos ya whipped up, right? Those’ve gotta be worth somethin’.”

Blackburn shook her head. “Out of the question. Don Virtuoso expects first bid on Tinker’s developments, cannot risk angering him. Too soon to reveal new version of our ‘sample’ to him either, would seem suspicious.” She took a deep breath. “Other options?”

Gadget hummed. “Well, we could always just push forward as quickly as we can, then bail before third month’s rent is due and not worry about paying it.”

“No, would impact our reputation for further visits. Would need new cover identities, possibly abandon current progress.”

“We could always do what Gadget suggested ‘n’ just try ta stomach the Brown stuff for a while.”

“Oh hell no, I’m not living on that crap for the next two months,” Gadget snorted. “Your tastebuds might not work right, but mine do, and I have my dignity. That wasn’t a real suggestion and you know it.”

“Possible loopholes to exploit?” Blackburn suggested.

“None that I know of.” Gadget paused, then brightened and gave Crossfire a devious look. “How about Crossfire heads down to talk with Sunspot about arranging a little deal?”

Crossfire raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Y’know I ain’t the negotiatin’ type, Gadget. That’s Blackburn’s deal.” He took a sip of his soda.

“You wouldn’t have to use your words, stud. Just head down to her room tonight and see if that mare’ll give us a little discount or something in exchange for a lovely evening alone with you.”

Crossfire spit a mouthful of soda out onto the floor. “Wh-what?!” he coughed.

“Oh, quit the whole oblivious bullshit, Crossfire, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re a drop-dead gorgeous piece of Grade-A hunk that drives all the mares crazy, and that includes our landlady who, I might add, also has a soft spot for younger stallions, of which you are one.”

“Interesting consideration,” Blackburn mused.

“Right?” Gadget trotted over to the couch and prodded Crossfire in the side. “So, give it a shot, you hunka-hunka burning love. Show that mare what a good ol’ southern boy like you is packing and she’s sure to give us a little break on the rent.”

Crossfire shied away from Gadget’s insistent look. “I really don’t like the way this conversation’s goin’, Gadget. I ain’t no stud, an’ I ain’t gonna do anythin’ like that wit’ nopony. Y’all can forget it.”

Gadget looked him straight in the eye for a second, then pulled away and started laughing. Blackburn joined in the laughter.

Crossfire rose up, indignant. “What’s so funny?”

Gadget snorted loudly. “You thought I was serious? Crossfire, c’mon, you know neither me nor Blackburn would ask you to do something you weren’t comfortable with.” She turned to Blackburn. “Right, Princess?”

Blackburn cleared her throat to regain her composure. “Didn’t even cross my mind. Played along though, served as good distraction from stressful thinking.”

Crossfire grunted and gave them both dirty looks. “‘Tain’t funny.”

“Awww…” Gadget cooed as she sat next to him on the couch. “I’m sorry, big guy, I didn’t mean anything by it. I mean, I meant every word I said about you being a total dish - it still boggles my mind that you’ve never even had a fillyfriend - but I never thought for a second you’d agree to go downstairs like some kinda gigolo.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Crossfire huffed. “I bet if we had a stallion landlord an’ I suggested the same thing--”

“That would depend on if he was cute,” Gadget said matter-of-factly. Crossfire stared at her in disbelief. She laughed and held up her hooves. “Kidding! Kidding. I’ve got my dignity same as you, hot stuff. But I appreciate the insinuation that we’d have a landlord that dug me enough to make that suggestion worth even joking about.”

Blackburn rolled her eyes. “Back to business. Rent due in three days, need solution by then. Will consider other options. Meantime, keep up appearances. Fundraiser tonight, must make good impressions.”

Gadget and Crossfire saluted. “Yes ma’am.”

“Want both of you to keep eyes on this ‘Lockwood’,” Blackburn said as she took a seat on the couch between them. “Don’t trust his intentions.”

Gadget nodded. “Right there with you, boss. This whole thing stinks of ulterior motives. He’s too nice, and I’m well acquainted with the kind of things we can expect from a ‘nice guy’. I checked his record, too, and I couldn’t find much that makes him seem as important or useful as he seems to be.”

“So, what, ya really think he’s tryin’ ta do somethin’ shady?” Crossfire mused. “I mean yeah it’s kinda weird how nice he seemed, but there’re lots o’ ponies in Hope’s Point that do nice things fer folks just ‘cause they wanna be nice.”

“Maybe, but then why isn’t he in Hope’s Point?

“Not everypony can afford ta make the move. Pardon me sayin’ it, Princess,” Crossfire said, turning fully to Blackburn, “but His Majesty’s tryin’ ta make it easier fer folks ta get in, so if that lets ponies that’ve got good intentions get in--”

“Have never denied father’s intentions have benefits,” Blackburn grunted. “Only that policies risk security threats he chooses to ignore. Been over this.”

“Right, but mah point is, I ain’t gonna make the assumption that this Lockwood fella ain’t the type o’ pony that’d fit right in at home ‘til I see ‘im do somethin’ wrong. Pays ta be vigilant, but I ain’t gonna make assumptions off the bat.”

Blackburn nodded appreciatively. “Good. Counterbalance suspicion with open-mindedness.” She took a deep breath. “Glad to have both opinions. Both of you. Couldn’t do this alone.”

Crossfire and Gadget leaned over to pull Blackburn in for a three-way hug.

*****

Blackburn and her crew rode in an earth pony chariot taxi to Mid-South West Plaza right up to a large recreation center, whereupon they disembarked. They’d dressed up for the event, though not quite as formally as they had for their visit to Don Virtuoso’s: Blackburn wore a red cocktail dress, and she had her mane tied back into a ponytail; Gadget wore a snappy dress suit and glasses, and again tied her mane up in a bun; Crossfire wore a black dinner jacket.

The neighborhood around the rec center wasn’t quite as nice as those in Central Plaza; Blackburn could feel eyes on her from several directions and was certain not all of them were just curious glances. The buildings were dingier and not quite as tall, the air was just a little dirtier, the streets weren’t as clear of litter, and the ponies weren’t as well-dressed. It was a rather stark, unnerving difference between two sub-districts that were just next door to each other, not even an hour away on by hoof.

The security at the event wasn’t as tight as it had been at Don Virtuoso’s either - just a doorpony in a simple jacket checking names off of a list - but that was understandable. The inside of the rec center had been rented out and decorated for the fundraiser: dozens of tables covered with white tablecloths; several buffet tables laden with assorted varieties of Dolor-brand colors prepared in varying styles; a large bar already in full swing serving dozens of ponies beverages, alcoholic and not; balloons, banners, and colored lights; and a stage set up at the far end of the room by the tables.

Lockwood was quick to greet them. “Hey! Glad you guys could make it,” he said as he trotted over. He was dressed in the exact same dinner jacket he’d worn at Don Virtuoso’s party; Blackburn made note of it - either he was trying to maintain the lie of having only one nice shirt or had been pathetically truthful.

“Ah, Mister Lockwood,” Blackburn said with a polite smile as she approached. “Nice jacket.”

Lockwood’s smile faltered for a split second before he turned and nodded to Gadget and Crossfire. “Miss Tinker, Mister Fireblast. Glad to meet you. Sorry we didn’t get a chance for proper introductions at the Don’s party. Bit of a busy affair, wasn’t it?”

Crossfire stepped forward first to shake Lockwood’s hoof. “Nice ta meet ya, Lockwood. Thanks fer invitin’ us ta this here shindig.”

Lockwood smiled. “Thunderbolt mentioned in our correspondence that you were from Newhaven? This is my first time meeting anypony from there. That’s a charming accent you’ve got.”

“Well thank ya kindly.”

Gadget rolled her eyes discreetly, then flashed a wide smile and offered her hoof as well. “Hi! Good to meet you too, Mister Lockwood.”

“So you must be the tech ‘wiz’ Thunderbolt was talking about.” Lockwood took her hoof and gave it a light shake. “I guess between you and Thunderbolt, ol’ Virtuoso’s got a real deal coming his way.”

“I guess so. I mean, I’m gonna give it my best.” She glanced around the room. “Golly, I’ve never been to so many fancy parties before Thunderbolt hired me. Now I get to go to two in the same week? This is all so neat!”

“Oh? What did you do before joining up with her?”

“I just mostly tinkered with stuff at home, didn’t have a job so to say.”

“Really? How’d you two meet if you don’t mind my asking?”

“At the C2 Convention last year. Hired me on the spot when she found out how smart I am.” Gadget breathed on her hoof and scuffed it on her dress in a bragging gesture. “Yeah, I guess I am pretty great.”

“She’s humble too,” Lockwood said with a smile to Blackburn.

His jovial attitude was almost disconcerting. Blackburn knew well that ponies from the city, except the rich and powerful, tended to take time before they climbed out of the “Pandemonium funk” as her grandfather had called it. So was this a facade, or was he somehow genuine? It bothered her that she couldn’t get a read.

“So, what’s this fundraiser all about, anyhow?” Blackburn asked. “You said it’s being held by the Tea twins, who are editors on the New Pandemonium Times?”

Lockwood nodded. “Yup. They told me it’s a yearly thing they do to try and bring attention to some of the neighborhoods in the Outer District that are in need. They get a good amount of donations, a lot of press - thanks to being on the press, of course - and everypony gets to make new friends and see old ones again. This is my first time at theirs, but I go to these sorts of things all the time.”

“A good-will mission?” Blackburn asked, genuinely impressed and surprised. “Wow, I didn’t think the ponies of this city had it in them. And you attend them regularly?”

“As regularly as I can, sure. You’d be surprised what ponies can do when they put their minds to it,” he said with a grin. “Will you be donating anything today? I mean, you don’t have to - I don’t have the money to donate anything myself - but it’s encouraged.”

Blackburn paused; he’d put her on the spot without realizing it. Her crew was so short on funds that making a donation here was pretty much out of the question unless she wanted to totally ruin her itinerary or put her and her friends under undue pressure. Then again, not donating might look bad in front of all these other ponies that were being generous with their own bits, and that might make it difficult to expand her influence.

“I’ll make that decision after I see what exactly my money’s going to,” she said, a sort of non-answer to give her an out if she needed one. “I wouldn’t want to donate to some fake charity, you understand. I don’t know these ponies too well.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Yeah, there’s been a lot of those popping up lately.” Lockwood smiled and tipped his hat. “I can assure you that this charity is on the level, but I understand if you don’t want to take my word for it. But hey, enough yapping from me right now.” He gestured over to the catering table. “Go get some food and head to our table, maybe mingle a bit. Whatever you want.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “‘Our’ table?”

“Yeah. You guys are my guests and all so we’re at the same table.” He pointed off towards a table near the front; it was hard to see from here but a card on the table had his name on it. “Right over there.” He turned back to her. “I’m gonna go mingle a little for now, but I’ll join you in a bit. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Blackburn said with a nod. Lockwood smiled and went off on his way.

Gadget snorted. “Okay, now this guy’s really sending up all kinds of red flags on my ‘total sleaze’ radar,” she whispered. “I mean being nice is one thing, but he’s kinda latching onto us real tight-like, don’t you think? Even that slimeball Tommy Gun didn’t register this much, and he was all hooves with you.”

Blackburn nodded in agreement. “Definitely.”

“Y’know, he got a good look at you in that dress last week, boss,” Gadget added with a smirk. “Maybe he’s into you? Looking to score with the Thunderbolt, eh? I mean, you put Tommy in his place but this guy--”

Blackburn grunted to quiet her, but otherwise barely reacted; total poker face as usual. “Maybe. Wouldn’t surprise me. I am a real ‘dish’ as you’d put it?”

Crossfire shook his head. “Or, hear me out, maybe he’s bein’ legit? I mean, we are his guests, so it makes sense that we’d be at his table. I’m all fer keepin’ yer eyes open ‘n’ all, girls, but don’t go makin’ worst-case assumptions just yet, okay?” He clapped Blackburn on the shoulder. “Let’s go get some grub ‘n’ think about what we’re gonna do, maybe talk ta some other ponies.”

“Sound idea, thank you Fireblast. Food sounds wonderful right now. I knew we shouldn’t have skipped lunch.” She turned towards the buffet table and led the way.

Gadget nudged Crossfire. “Just you watch, I’ll bet you one hundred bits that this Lockwood guy is totally trying to tap that.”

Crossfire chuckled. “And so what if he is? Thunderbolt can handle herself just fine, an’ he can still be a fine fella an’ have a thing fer her all the same. I think we both know that from experience wit’ our favorite wingnut back home.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t remind me. Are you in or not?”

Crossfire thought a moment, then nodded. “Deal. If he makes a move on her by the time we head home, you win. But if he turns out not ta be interested in her like that or if’n the boss goes after him first, you lose.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it, then headed off to catch up to Blackburn in the buffet line.

As the fundraiser continued, Blackburn had plenty of opportunities to speak with a few ponies here and there, some of whom she, Gadget, or Crossfire had already met at Don Virtuoso’s party, others who they hadn’t. A few ponies stood out, and Blackburn figured they might be useful contacts to have:

The Tea twins, of course, seemed to hit it off pretty well with Blackburn when she got a chance to speak with them; they recognized Thunderbolt from the Don’s party, having seen her and Lockwood talking immediately after they moved on from him. They seemed intrigued that a new tech firm was trying to rise up in the city amidst competition from the established firms, moreso that she’d been at the Don’s party. Considering the latter, they believed Crown Spectrum might be worth keeping an eye on.

Doctor Heartthrob, a unicorn stallion with a dark pink coat and bright blue mane, worked at Central General and had been mentored by the Chief of Medicine himself, Doctor Blutsauger. He was a talented surgeon who specialized in the study of magical diseases and illnesses, particularly those affecting unicorns. He seemed interested in the potential of Crown Spectrum’s first product when it got released, but admitted that Central General would likely not see it that way and would need convincing to consider purchasing any.

Cookie Dough, a golden brown earth pony mare with a white mane, worked at Dolorcorp and was the representative of the company who’d been responsible with providing the food present at the fundraiser. Blackburn learned that she had a passion for cooking but felt trapped in her job as little more than a sales representative, but gladly donated the food to the fundraising event to help attract more ponies to it; the leftovers would be distributed to the Outer Districts along with the charity funds. She seemed nice, and the way she talked about food impressed Blackburn: she’d be welcome in Hope’s Point for certain if she ever decided to come.

Most importantly was Bookworm, a green pegasus stallion with a brown mane, who was a clerk at Central Database Holdings - essentially the city library and depository - and served as the personal secretary to Chief Librarian Archimedes. While the NPRD was the original ideal for installing the database constructor, CDH was a perfect substitute; it had all of the same information in its own central server and then some, including some things that even the NPRD didn’t have easy access to. The server would be harder to access, but not with somepony like Bookworm on their side. Blackburn hadn’t been aware of possibility; as far as she knew, CDH was just a library.

After several minutes back at their table, Lockwood finally joined them, just in time as the fundraiser event officially started. The Tea sisters stepped onto the stage that had been set up and stood by the microphone stand; Mint Tea tapped it with her hoof to get everypony’s attention. “Helloooo everypony! Are you all having a good time at our Fifth Annual Mid-South West Fundraiser?”

Several ponies clapped, others cheered; Blackburn’s crew kept their enthusiasm minimal.

Matcha Tea took the mic next, and the two alternated every few lines. “Okay everypony, let’s cut straight to the heart of the matter: why we’re all here today. As you all know, the Outer District is rife with filth, devoid of compassion and love, and in desperate need of aid, be it food, clothing, schooling, cleaning, and especially law enforcement.”

“Every year, we get together to spread the word of what goes on out there, and to collect from you, our friends and associates, in an effort to help those in need. Some of you we know, some of you we don’t, but we hope that after you all go home tonight, you think about coming to next year’s event too.”

“If you wish to make a donation this year, please make your pledges over at the donation booth,” Matcha announced, gesturing off to a table that had been set up as they were talking. “And thank you all again for being here, and for your donations to the cause. With your help, we can make a difference.”

Mint pointed off towards the buffet table. “And let’s all give a big thank you and round of applause to our friends over at Dolorcorp, represented here by Miss Cookie Dough, for providing the catering for this year’s event.”

There was another round of applause as the Tea sisters stepped off the stage, and several ponies rose from their tables and headed for the donation booth. Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire remained at their table for now, as did Lockwood. The latter gave the former three a curious, charming smile. “So, thought about making a donation yet, Thunderbolt?” he asked.

Blackburn hummed; she’d expected the question long before it came. “I’ve given it some thought. It’s a good cause, I’ll admit, but…” She took a deep breath and considered her options. “We received our first rent bill today. The funds we brought with us when we came back north aren’t going to cover our expenses for much longer unless we go through some... extreme measures.”

Lockwood nodded in understanding. “Ah… and you’re worried you won’t have enough to keep going if you make a donation, huh? I understand. Perfectly natural. I mean, I’ve got pretty much the same troubles, so I just donate my time and try to bring ponies together for events like this.” He pointed at Cookie Dough. “Like our Dolorcorp rep, Cookie Dough. I got her in touch with the Tea sisters last year--”

Blackburn raised a hoof to stop him. “Hold on. Is this another one of your ‘I knew a guy who knew a guy’ stories?”

“I… guess?”

“Well then let me just stop you there. You’re telling me that the fundraiser caterer and the fundraiser hosts only happen to know each other because of you?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, is that so hard to believe?” Lockwood pointed at Gadget. “I mean, the reason this little genius is working for you because you just happened to meet her at a tech convention attended by thousands.”

He then pointed at Crossfire. “And this big guy, who’s now your bodyguard, you just happened to meet down in Newhaven the day before you left. Everypony meets each other through happenstance in the end, don’t they?”

Gadget and Crossfire looked at one another, genuinely impressed at the defense. Blackburn was impressed too, but kept her poker face up.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Blackburn responded. “I’m saying that it’s astounding to me that you’ve somehow brought all these ponies together from such different walks of life without much more than a ‘hello’ to the right ponies.”

“It’s kinda my special talent and all,” Lockwood said with a shrug. Blackburn made a note of that; it was a useful talent to have.

“I can’t deny that you’re good at it,” she admitted. “I happened to get in contact with Virtuoso and went to a party he was hosting, and that’s where I met you, amongst others, and now here I am at a fundraiser you invited me to where I met more ponies that I wouldn’t have met otherwise.”

“And I bet you’d be able to meet a lot more if they saw you were interested in donating,” Lockwood said with a wink. “If you’re considering not doing it because you don’t have the money, I’m sure something can be worked out.”

Blackburn took another deep breath. It wasn’t a subtle manipulation but damn if she couldn’t admit it was working. She’d already made a few new contacts at this event and she didn’t want to risk alienating them. But she wasn’t going to let him manipulate her completely; if he was going to insist she donate because it was a good idea, then he’d have no problem doing the same.

“Fine,” she said. “But I’ll only donate if you do too.”

Lockwood blinked and leaned back in his chair. Then, he smiled. “Okay. Deal.” He stood up and headed off towards the donation booth. “I’ll see you over there, Miss Thunderbolt.”

As soon as he left, Gadget leaned forward sharply before Blackburn could follow. “Thunderbolt what the hell?” she hissed. “We can’t afford this!”

“I know!” Blackburn hissed back. “But we don’t have much choice. If we show up after Lockwood invited us to this event and then don’t donate, the ponies we’re trying to connect with might think we’re not worth talking to. Look.” She pointed at the donation booth. “Everypony here has lined up. We’d be the only ones not joining them.”

“Might make us look bad not ta follow along,” Crossfire noted.

Gadget rolled her eyes. “You know that’s a logical fallacy, boss--”

“Of course I do, but we’re caught in a rather unfortunate pickle,” Blackburn said, shaking her head. “I don’t like it but here we are.”

Crossfire added: “Plus, I don’t much like the idea o’ not tryin’ ta help ponies in need when we’ve got the opportunity. This is the only play we’ve got.”

Gadget huffed. “But we can’t afford it. I’m all for being the benevolent, generous paragons of virtue we are back home, but we’re tight on bits here.”

Blackburn put her hoof on Gadget’s to calm her. “We’ll figure something out. We always do.” She sighed and stood up, then trotted over to get behind Lockwood in the line.

Gadget groaned and leaned over to Crossfire. “I’m beginning to think there’s more to this Lockwood guy than just trying to get in Thunderbolt’s pants. This whole thing with the fundraiser and donations just reeks of suspicious behavior. I don’t like it.”

“Me neither, but I’m gonna keep my hopes up fer now,” Crossfire replied. “The boss knows what she’s doin’, so I’m gonna have faith that she’s doin’ the right thing.”

“Yeah… yeah, I have faith in her too, but… ugh.”

At the donation table, when the line moved forward and it was Blackburn’s turn, the pony behind the booth passed over a few forms for her to look over. Lockwood, who’d already finished the process himself, stepped over to offer assistance: “I understand this is your first time doing this, so I’ll help walk you through the process if you want.”

Blackburn nodded; she’d never filled out anything like this before so it seemed like a good idea to have the help. “Thanks.”

The process was simple at first, just a few forms asking how many bits were being donated under what name and at what address, explicitly because she could write some of this donation off for tax purposes. The tax deduction she was getting, according to the form, would not nearly be enough to make up for anything she donated, so Blackburn had to think hard about how much to donate, and settled on the most she and her team could afford at the moment: one hundred bits. It wasn’t much - barely more than the minimum recommended amount - but it would have an effect and make her false identity seem as altruistic as she really was without breaking the bank.

Lockwood looked over her forms after they were filled out and nodded in approval. “Thanks, Miss Thunderbolt, this’ll go to a good cause.” He passed the forms back to the booth operator, who then handed him another set of forms. “Now for the next step.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Next step?”

Lockwood spread the new forms out on the table for her to perview. “These forms are for other tax purposes related to the donation. A basic donation form only gets you so many breaks, you understand, and bits are generally hard to come by unless you live in the Inner Districts.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Lockwood paused, then smiled. “Right, first time, you don’t know what this is all about.” He gestured at the other ponies that had already finished their forms and were now returning to their tables to continue eating and socializing. “These fundraisers are mostly just social events, a good chance to meet new ponies and build bridges here and there, but also a good chance to get some tax breaks for the coming year.”

Blackburn processed this, then frowned. Now she knew what was going on, and she didn’t like it. But she needed to hear it from him to confirm it. “Let me get this straight: these ponies are here at this ‘fundraiser’ so that they can make friends and get breaks on their taxes? The former I can understand, but you’re gonna need to explain the latter.”

“Oh. Sure, I guess I should, huh? First time and all. Well, the New Pandemonium tax code is filled with so many loopholes and oddities that ponies smarter than me figured out a long time ago how to basically use these donations to make more bits. I don’t usually participate because I don’t have the bits to make it worthwhile, but I know the code inside and out. So, I’m basically invited to these events on principle these days as an expert of sorts.”

“How would they make bits from donating bits?”

“Well, you saw how the simple donation form gave you a tax break on your next rent payment? These forms,” he said, gesturing to the papers before them, “will categorize that donation as several other things that you can write off as well, which will give further tax benefits that spread throughout the year all on one initial contribution. Typically before the year is out you’ve already saved enough on taxes to completely nullify the expense of the original donation.”

“And the money that gets donated?”

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“The bits that the ponies are donating in the first place. Where does it all go? Surely you don’t expect me to believe that this corrupt, greedy city’s bureaucracy just lets that money slip away.”

“Well, the majority of that donation money goes to lining the pockets of the officials that look the other way so that the charity doesn’t get shut down,” Lockwood admitted with a shrug; his nonchalance infuriated her. “It’s just how the system works.”

“How much?”

“Huh?”

“How much of the money I just donated is actually going to help the ponies this fundraiser is allegedly for?”

Lockwood thought about it a moment. “I’d say maybe twenty percent?”

Blackburn could not contain herself from gritting her teeth. Only twenty bits was going to actually get used to help the ponies she thought she was helping. That wasn’t enough for a single pony to live on for a week in this city, even if they didn’t have to pay for their housing. A new set of cheap clothes could cost that much; eating just once a day for a week would cost more than that.

She didn’t know how much the other ponies were donating, but considering the size of the Outer District - larger than the Mid and Inner Districts combined - the money raised by this fundraiser wasn’t even a drop in the bucket compared to what was needed to actually help.

She raised her voice, starting to get angry. “You’re telling me that all the ponies here are donating money, knowing full well that it’s barely going to affect the cause they’re supposedly trying to support, but they’re doing it anyway because they make money on the deal?”

Lockwood seemed unperturbed. “Well, yeah? I wouldn’t really expect anypony to donate and not expect to get anything back out of it. It’s a give-and-take--”

Blackburn rose from her seat sharply. “Donations are supposed to be altruistic!” she snapped, suddenly getting the attention of most of the room; Gadget rose from her seat nervously, ready to approach and try and calm Blackburn down. “You’re supposed to be donating to this cause because you want to help.”

Lockwood tilted his head. “You weren’t even going to donate in the first place, if I remember right.”

Blackburn grit her teeth harder. “Because I couldn’t afford it. I don’t have the funds available that some of these other ponies do, otherwise I’d have no trouble donating far more than I did. And that was before I knew what was really going on.”

“But now that you know about the tax loops, you can. So what’s the problem?”

His nonchalant attitude about the whole situation got under her skin more and more with every word. She was used to ponies arguing with her, but usually they did so out of anger, fear, or worry. Lockwood was too calm. “This entire event is being held under false pretenses. If you wanted to help ponies, really help them, you’d be donating without worrying about these exploitable tax loopholes.”

“Nopony’s going to donate all their bits just to help some downtrodden ponies. Believe me, I know from experience.” Lockwood shrugged; Blackburn didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. “The charity is still providing help though, so what’s the big--”

“You lied to me, that’s what’s the ‘big deal’! You led me to believe this whole thing was to help, but it’s just a racket, a scam to help the rich get richer.” Blackburn noticed that her outburst had attracted a lot more attention than she would’ve liked, and realized she just fell into a situation she had no idea how to get out of.

“Boss, is everything okay?” Gadget asked, stepping over and putting a hoof on Blackburn’s shoulder.

Crossfire also came up behind her. “Yer gettin’ all hot under the collar, boss. Maybe we oughta leave--”

“Is there a problem here?” asked Mint Tea as she and her sister approached.

“No problem,” said Lockwood, still cool as a cucumber. “Just having a little debate with Miss Thunderbolt.”

“Are you sure? Because it sounds like there’s a problem,” noted Matcha Tea, giving Blackburn an icy glare.

“No problem at all, just two ponies trying to come to terms with something.”

“Shut up,” Blackburn said, looking right at Lockwood with an icy glare of her own. “Don’t try to get cute and pretend you’re trying to defend me like some sort of white knight.”

“I wasn’t--”

Blackburn turned to the Tea sisters. “I know what you’re doing here, and I find it despicable. Your charity is a scam, little more than a money laundering scheme to help put more bits in your pockets under the false pretense of generosity. No wonder everypony hates this city, when even the ponies supposedly looking out for them are just as greedy and corrupt as the rest.”

“Oh really?” Mint snorted. “Is that what you think? These donations go to help--”

“Twenty percent of the donations to the charity actually get used for what they’re supposed to get used for, and I’m not going to even assume that number’s accurate. A charity is supposed to give all of its accepted donations towards its cause.”

“Minus the cost of expenses for running the charity,” Matcha said. “You don’t expect everypony to front the costs for everything, do you?”

“Yes! That’s the point of charity. You’re taking advantage of the corrupt system to make yourselves get richer under the guise of philanthropy. If these loopholes didn’t exist, none of you would even think to be donating a single bit to the needy, not unless you could get something out of it.”

Lockwood shook his head. “That’s completely untrue.”

Blackburn looked at him harshly. “Oh? Enlighten me.”

Lockwood shrugged. “Well I mean, I can’t speak much for myself. I already told you I don’t have the bits on hoof to donate much. But nopony here just signed up for this event just because it was going to make them money, at least not that I know of.”

“That’s right,” said Bookworm, who stepped out from the crowd. “I know that my donation here isn’t going to do much for the ponies in the Outer District by itself, but I know that the money I make back from the tax loopholes lets me afford to donate things besides bits. I donated a bunch of new datapads to one of the schools just last week, which I purchased with the money I made over the last year thanks to my donations.”

“The doctors at Central General usually prescribe medicines they’re told to because of the kickbacks they get from the pharmaceutical companies,” added Heartthrob, also stepping forward. “Not me. I can afford to prescribe the medicines that I think will actually help and are affordable, because I can afford not to take the kickbacks thanks to the donations I make at these events every year.”

“My sister and I are editors on the New Pandemonium Times,” said Mint, standing tall and proud. “The last editor was a corrupt stallion who took bribes constantly and printed only what his friends and allies wanted, squashing stories that would upset them and suppressing the spread of information.”

“It took us a few years,” continued Matcha, “but we were able to buy his position from him. Now, we print the actual news. The ponies of this city will be better informed thanks to the efforts we put into it. And the only reason we can afford it is because of the tax breaks we get from these donations.”

“Not to mention that it’s not like the donations aren’t being used to help,” Mint added. “Sure, it’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. Some of the ponies we donate to can’t afford food and clothes, and we give them enough so they have something.”

“For you to assume that we’re just money-grubbing jerks like the rest of the city is, frankly, insulting. Sure, we’re not the only fundraiser in town that’s benefiting from the loopholes, but there aren’t many that still actually make donations. We’re proud of the contributions we make, no matter how small.”

“Most charity operators just take the rest of the bits leftover for themselves. The city bureaucracy doesn’t bother to check if the money gets to where it’s supposed to. We’re not like that. We’re better than that.”

Blackburn flattened her ears. She hadn’t known these ponies long enough to know these bits of information, and had merely made an assumption of their characters based on a brief interaction with them and on the reputation of the city. She’d only looked at them for how useful they’d be to her, not whether they were actually like-minded ponies that she could count as allies, maybe friends. She’d been suspicious of their intentions, and acted on that instinct before having all the information.

She’d made a mistake.

Lockwood broke the silence. “Still, though, you have a point Miss Thunderbolt. And you certainly live up to your name, if I might say so.” Several ponies looked to him in confusion, not least of all Blackburn herself. Lockwood turned to the crowd. “I’ve been to so many of these things over the last few years that I actually forgot why I was coming in the first place: helping ponies. I think that’s why poor Thunderbolt was so confused.”

Blackburn remained silent for a moment, then nodded. “I… I just thought that everypony here was just like the rest of the city. I never got to see the corruption myself, only hear the stories, but… I just assumed--”

“You said you’ve been living on the Utopian continent for years, right? From what I hear, their entire society operates completely differently from ours.”

“It does. Ponies there just help one another whenever they’re in need, no questions asked, and they never expect anything in return. I knew this city wasn’t like that, but I made that assumption about about everypony living here.” Blackburn looked at the floor. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me to make such a sweeping generalization.”

“We’re also under a lot of stress right now,” Gadget added, giving Blackburn a gentle nudge. “We just got our first rent bill since we got all set up and we’re worried about being able to afford living here for much longer. Before we came in we were worried if we’d make it two more months.”

“And yet you still donated?” Mint asked, eyebrow raised. “Before you even knew about the whole tax thing?”

Blackburn nodded.

Matcha frowned, ashamed and contemplative. “That’s... really generous of you, Miss Thunderbolt.”

“See? We’re all in the same boat here, just a bunch of ponies looking to help those in need,” Lockwood interjected with a smile. “So can we all just relax and get back to the party, no hard feelings?”

There was a low murmur of agreement amongst the crowd, who then all mostly returned to their seats, though the Tea sisters remained nearby, waiting to speak with Blackburn and her entourage.

“If you’re having money troubles, Miss Thunderbolt, we’d be happy to help,” said Mint with a nod. “When your company is ready to start selling products, you let us know first thing. You’ve got a reserved spot in the ads as far as we’re concerned. It’s the least we could do.”

“In the meantime, we’d also be happy to extend an invitation to you to attend any of our future events,” added Matcha. “I understand you don’t necessarily approve of our methodology, but the way I see it, you can still do exactly what you’re suggesting, even if it’s in a sorta roundabout way.”

“Yeah! If you donate, say, a thousand bits, you’ll eventually save over a thousand bits in taxes over the year and can use some of that to do some good out there if that’s what you want to do.”

“Or you could put that money towards your company’s growth so that you can develop the gizmos you want to use to help ponies, like that thing you were talking to Heartthrob about.”

“Either way, welcome to the club, Miss Thunderbolt.”

Blackburn nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate it… and I’m sorry for the outburst.”

“Oh don’t sweat it, dear, I think it’s a good thing that everypony had a chance to remember why they’re here and what they’re doing,” Mint said with a smile. “I think your little outburst was just the kick in the pants these ponies needed.”

“To tell the truth, we’ve been in kind of a rut lately, just going through the motions with these fundraisers and such,” Matcha added. “Maybe we’ll see about organizing a… a food drive, or something. It’s easy for us to get word out, and there’s sure to be a few ponies out there willing to donate unwanted foodstuffs.”

“Anyway, enjoy the rest of the party, Miss Thunderbolt. Be seeing you around.”

And with that, the twins walked off back to join the party.

After they walked away, Lockwood smiled and turned to Blackburn. “If you’re having money troubles right now, of course, these donation loopholes won’t be of much help. But not to worry, I know a few twists and turns in the code that might be able to get you some cuts on your rent for a little bit. If you’ll let me, of course.”

Blackburn stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, trying to hide the pure befuddlement she was feeling. “Sure… I’d appreciate that…”

Lockwood tipped his hat. “Excellent. For now, let’s just handle what we’ve got here. I’ll send over the other forms for you sometime tomorrow, and if we work together we can get it all filed away before your rent is due. Sound good?”

“Yeah… yeah, that sounds good,” Blackburn said with a slight grin. She turned to Gadget, who was giving her a tense, concerned look, then turned back to Lockwood. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom.”

“Sure, no problem. I’m not going anywhere.” He turned to Crossfire and grinned. “Besides, I’d love to have a talk with Mister Fireblast here, maybe learn a thing or two about Newhaven. You guys make it sound wonderful.”

Blackburn and Gadget stepped away and headed for the restrooms, leaving Crossfire to deal with Lockwood for now. As soon as they were alone, Gadget hissed up at Blackburn: “What the hell was that? I’ve never seen you get so… so out of sorts, boss. You damn near ruined everything you’ve been working towards. Why?”

“I know… I know. Something about that guy…” Blackburn muttered, glancing in Lockwood’s direction. She sighed. “But I think the better question is, what happened after that. I thought for sure I’d messed up… and all it took to fix it was him saying a few words and not only was everypony willing to overlook my outburst, but the Tea sisters offered to help us. Are you as confused as I am?”

Gadget glared in Lockwood’s direction and snorted. “I’m more concerned than confused. There’s something about that stallion that I don’t like and this just makes me even more suspicious. What does he stand to gain by helping us like that?” She paused, worried. “You don’t think… you don’t think he knows who we are, do you?”

Blackburn shook her head. “No, but I haven’t eliminated the possibility yet. Nor have I eliminated the possibility that he’s as altruistic as he seems. We’ll need to continue to watch him, but in the meantime we should make use of his offerings.” She took a deep breath. “Constant vigilance. Eyes open, eyes forward.”

Chapter Six: Heading Home

One Month Later

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire came up to the door of floor one-nine-nine, room one, of The Torre Gloriosa late one afternoon, dressed in their nicest casual clothes - blouses, skirts, and jackets - in preparation for a meeting with Don Virtuoso. Gadget carried a small box with her about the size of a deck of cards, but the trio otherwise carried nothing with them. One of Virtuoso’s thick-bodied, thick-headed goons stood guard at the door and frisked them for weapons to confirm this, then let them inside with a grunt.

“None o’ these guys’re much fer words, are they?” Crossfire muttered.

“If all you need is a big stack of meat to guard your door, they get the job done,” Gadget said.

Tommy Gun was there to greet them, dressed semi-casually in a red suit but no tie. “Hey hey, there’s my star gal, right on time,” he said with a smile as he approached Blackburn. “I gotta say, you sure are one punctual mare, Thunderbolt. The Don appreciates that.”

“Good to see you, Tommy,” she replied. They hugged like old friends; Blackburn could feel Gadget’s glare burning a hole in the back of her head. “I assume we’re getting started right away?”

“Of course, dollface, of course, the Don doesn’t like to waste time. Right this way, follow me.”

He led them not into the Don’s private study, but out onto the patio by the pool, which was way too big for such a small crowd. The Don himself was relaxing in a lawn chair at poolside, wearing just a pair of grape-colored swim trunks decorated with pineapples, and a pair of extra dark sunglasses. Naturally, he had a big cigar with him. He noticed his guests and waved the trio over as Tommy led them over, but didn’t rise from his position whatsoever.

A mare stood at attention at his side, a carnation-pink earth pony with a short, curly, dark red mane. She wore a snappy dress suit that would’ve been quite presentable if not for the gaudy blue color, and a black eye patch over her right eye. Blackburn knew who she was but this was the first time she’d seen her in the flesh: Cotton Candy, the Don’s underboss, one of the most ruthless ponies in the Fantasia crime family and not somepony anypony would want to cross. At least according to the rumors.

The Don glanced at his watch and gave Blackburn a small smile. “Buon pomeriggio. Right on time, Miss Thunderbolt. I appreciate a pony who’s punctual.” He gestured to Cotton Candy. “I don’t think you’ve met my right-hoof mare Cotton Candy yet, have you?”

“Can’t say that I have.” Blackburn smiled and offered her hoof for Cotton to shake. “Nice to meet you, Miss Candy.”

“Pfft, no need to be so formal, Thunderbolt,” Cotton said, taking Blackburn’s hoof and giving it a vigorous shake. “My mom’s Miss Candy. Or rather Mrs. Candy, since she’s married and all. To my dad. But I guess Miss Candy would be okay for me, ‘cause I’m single?” She put her hoof to her lip in thought, then shrugged it off. “Ah, whatever, too confusing. You can call me Cotton. Or Cott, if you’re feeling friendly. Not Candy, though.”

She next turned to Gadget and gave her a bright smile as she trotted right up, grabbed her hoof, and shook fiercely. “And you must be Tinker, the tech wizard. I kinda expected a big ol’ pointy hat and staff, like in the stories.”

Gadget just let Cotton shake her hoof without breaking away, unable to stop staring at the pink mare. “Uh… yeah, that’s me. Tech wiz extraordinaire Tinker.”

“Neat!” She then turned to Crossfire and whistled. “Well now you are a big ol’ drink of water, aren’t you? Fireblast, right? The bodyguard?”

Crossfire nodded and offered her his hoof. “That’s me. Pleasure ta meet ya, Cotton.”

Cotton stepped up directly into his hoof so it was against her chest. “Oh I just love your accent, I could listen to you whisper sweet nothings in my ear all night. You single?”

Crossfire glanced sidelong at Blackburn, who avoided his gaze. “Uh... “

Cotton giggled and slapped his hoof away. “I’m just messing with you, stud, don’t you worry your little head.” She turned back to Virtuoso and saluted. “All good, Don. Nice buncha folks you’ve got here.”

Blackburn was baffled at the pink pony’s bubbly demeanor and mannerisms. This was the ruthless Cotton Candy? Right-hoof mare to Don Virtuoso? Underboss of the Fantasia crime family? This was the mare everypony feared?

Virtuoso gestured to the empty lawn chair beside him. “Please, Thunderbolt, take a seat.” Blackburn did just that while he took a big puff of his cigar. “So, you said you’ve got something interesting for me to see today. Is that right?”

“That’s right.” Blackburn said with a nod. She gestured for Gadget to pass over the box to her, which she then opened and presented to the Don. “This is the newest model of Tinker’s patented Telekinesis Simulator: the TS-200. The first product of Crown Spectrum ready to hit the market. And, as promised, you get the first look at our little invention before we put it out there. I assume you want a demonstration?”

The Don nodded.

Blackburn removed the device from its box and aimed it at a nearby stack of folded lawn chairs, turned one of the dials on the side, then pressed the central button. A blue glow encircled the stack of chairs and lifted them off the ground about two feet. She then adjusted some of the knobs along the top, picking a single chair out of the pile and dropping the rest back to the ground, then twisted a few more knobs to set up the chair at poolside, ready to sit in.

Cotton’s jaw dropped and she lifted her eyepatch, revealing a perfectly healthy eye behind it. Then, she whistled. “Gee whiz, would you get a look at that? Fancy schmancy stuff, Thunderbolt.”

The Don lowered his sunglasses to get a good look at the effect as it happened. His jaw dropped open just a little. “Stupefacente. Real unicorn magic from a little gizmo like that.” He gave Blackburn a serious glance. “What else can it do?”

Blackburn returned the device to its box after her presentation was finished. “Tinker says that the TS-200 has enough power to simulate the telekinetic magic of an adult unicorn for simple tasks like these and more, limited only by the imagination of the user and the battery life. Sustained use would drain the battery in about one hour, but it can be recharged between uses.”

“Only telekinetics though?”

“For now, but once we get a little more cash flowing through us, we have other plans in mind. We’ll get back to you on those once we have something in development.”

The Don sat up straight and gestured for Blackburn to pass the box over to him, which she did without a word. “This little gizmo is gonna make us... una grande fortuna.” He glanced over at Gadget with a grin. “Your tech wiz really outdid herself, Thunderbolt. A real ragazza meravigliosa. You should be proud.”

Gadget smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Don Virtuoso.”

Virtuoso passed the device back to Blackburn, who passed it back to Gadget. “So. Now for the matter of business. I provided you with the material and resources you needed to build this little wonder, you provided the know-how and expertise to develop it. I think a... 70-30 split of the profits sounds fair. Seventy for me, thirty for you.”

Blackburn shook her head. “I’m sorry, Don Virtuoso, but I can’t agree with that kind of split.”

“I didn’t ask if you agreed to it or not, Miss Thunderbolt,” Virtuoso said, leaning toward her and blowing a puff of smoke in her face; Blackburn barely reacted. “I’m telling you how this little arrangement is gonna go, and you’re going to ‘agree’ to whatever I decide on. Or perhaps you feel you’re being treated unfairly?” He turned to Cotton. “Cotton, my friend, do you hear this mare? She thinks she’s being treated unfairly. Do you think she’s being treated unfairly?”

Cotton shrugged. “I dunno, boss, but I could show her what happens to ponies that really get treated unfairly.”

To punctuate this point, Cotton cracked her neck and took a step forward, her eyes narrowed and filled with so much violent intent that Blackburn now finally understood why she might have her reputation; if Blackburn wasn’t so certain she’d be able to negotiate with the Don, she might actually consider this mare a threat.

Crossfire instinctively took a step forward towards Cotton, but Tommy Gun put a hoof on his shoulder to stop him. “Easy there, southern charm,” he said. “We wouldn’t want this to get messy now, would we? Capisce?”

Crossfire didn’t take his eyes off of Cotton. “I dunno, Tommy, but I sure would hate ta get blood all over yer boss’s nice patio. And yer nice suit.”

“You misunderstand me, Don,” Blackburn replied, addressing Virtuoso and not at all intimidated by Cotton staring her down. “I just think that a simple 70-30 split of profits is too simple of a deal, too… boring. We can do better, make this little arrangement more exciting.”

Virtuoso let a small smirk play across his face and sat up straight again. “Really now? Well, let’s hear your proposal then, Miss Thunderbolt. I’ll humor you, but only because my little Crown Jewel just loves that necklace you got her. Wears it every day.”

“Thank you, Don.” Blackburn leaned back in the chair just slightly, getting comfortable. “Crown Spectrum will give you the schematics for the TS-200, and instead of us producing it ourselves, you can produce it and market it under our brand name. Since we’re not fronting any production or advertising costs, I think it’s more fair to have a 90-10 split, in that scenario. Ninety for you, of course.”

The Don rubbed his chin and puffed his cigar. “Interessante. I do all of the work but keep more of the profits, and you still get to keep the brand recognition. But Thunderbolt, you ask too much of me if I’m expected to front all of the costs, I think. No, I think a 95-5 split would be more fair in that case. More than generous, wouldn’t you agree?”

Blackburn kept her poker face up, resisting the urge to grin; he’d taken the bait. Just like grandpa taught her: subverting expectations gave her the advantage. “I’ll accept that, on one condition.”

“Do tell.”

“Tinker says that the TS-200’s primary use is helping unicorns that have lost the use of their magic to function at some level of normalcy, and I agree. So, you offer the device at a discount to Central General and the other city hospitals. I’d very much like it if Crown Spectrum were to have a reputation for caring for the community, so I want the TS-200 marketed as such.”

Virtuoso stared at her for a brief moment, then smiled and laughed. “You brought too much of that Utopian sentimentality up north with you, Thunderbolt. But if you’re feeling sentimental, fine, I see no reason why we can’t ‘serve our community’ if it means I get a bigger cut of the profits going forward.”

“One more thing,” Blackburn added. “I get homesick sometimes, for the southern continent, for my family. And if I decide to go on vacation on the spur of the moment, I don’t want to come back here and find that I’ve lost my place of business, because my company needs it in order to continue developing new wonders. I’d very much like to have confidence that nothing will happen while I’m gone.”

“So you want your apartment taken care of. That’s nothing. Dimenticalo. It serves both our interests to keep you in business.” He offered her his hoof. “I believe we have ourselves a deal.”

Blackburn took his hoof and shook it. “A pleasure doing business with you, Don.”

“No no, a pleasure doing business with you, Thunderbolt.” He laughed and leaned back in his chair again, placing the sunglasses back over his eyes before waving Blackburn away with a hoof. “Leave me. We’re done here.”

Blackburn nodded, and she and her friends left under escort of Tommy Gun, and the watchful eyes of Cotton Candy.

“That Thunderbolt’s an interesting mare, huh?” Cotton asked, stroking her chin, her prior intensity gone at last. “Got a little bit of a high-and-mighty air about her. I hear she’s making waves out in the Mid Districts, too. Not like, real waves with water and such, but like, social waves. I mean, there’s sharks either way, but... y’know what I mean.”

“She’s ambitious,” Virtuoso muttered, not turning to face his underboss as he took another puff of his cigar. “Not a lot of ponies like that out here these days. Everypony just goes through the motions. Might be worth keeping an eye on.”

“So you want I should spy on her or something then, Don? Ooh, I know just the pony for the job--”

“I don’t think there’s any need for that, Cotton. She’s ambitious, not stupid. She’ll play along in this game with us, but I don’t think she’s anypony to be worried about. Just somepony to keep an eye on. She’s going places… I can feel it.”

Cotton shrugged. “Whatever you say, Don.”

Two Months Later

Central Database Holdings was one of the largest buildings in the entire city, taking up the entirety of four city blocks and standing ten stories tall. The building was made of black metal covered with pulsing neon blue lights that pointed towards the entrance. The metal was still sleek and new, having only been built within the past few years; an upgrade to the old building, complete with upgraded power lines beneath the streets to supply the servers inside with the vast amount of power they needed to be maintained.

Most of the building’s space was taken up by servers that held the entirety of information that was available to the public: research documents, literature, newspaper articles, public records, legal statements, and more. Thus, the interior that was actually usable by ponies was limited to a space the size of a large gym, loaded with tables topped with computers for ponies to use for finding whatever information needed. Many of the tables were in use at the moment as ponies did research for school or work projects, others for personal interests.

There was also a small, pathetic coffee shop in the corner, the CDH Café, and it was here that Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire were meeting with Bookworm, who was currently on lunch break. Bookworm was the only one drinking any coffee, if one could even call the thick blackish-brown liquid “coffee”; he didn’t seem bothered by the atrocious flavor, but his guests were bothered by the smell. Then again, he’d added enough sugar and cream to it that it probably didn’t even count as coffee anymore.

“So, tell me more about this fancy device of yours one more time,” Bookworm said, taking a sip of his drink with a loud, almost soup-like slurp. “I want to make absolutely sure that I’m not agreeing to anything dangerous or overtly illegal.”

Gadget adjusted her glasses. “It’s essentially a sophisticated backup system. It copies every piece of information available in the database and stores a copy of it on the drive, which is then transmitted to a private server for perusal at a later time. It can be browsed through at will from anypony with access to the private server, and it’ll update files automatically as they’re changed or if new files are added.”

“Think of it like a personal encyclopedia,” Blackburn added. “Only you won’t need to come down to Central Database Holdings to access it. You can access it from your own home if it’s connected to the server.”

Bookworm hummed and rubbed his chin. “The ability to access information from the comfort of your own home is definitely something that interests me. The main reason most ponies don’t know how to improve their situations in life is a lack of information and education after all.” He nodded in agreement. “Okay, I’ll do it. But, I want something in return. I’m risking my job if I get caught.”

“Naturally you’ll be compensated,” Blackburn agreed. “Name your price.”

Bookworm leaned forward in his seat. “You said you’re leaving for Newhaven tomorrow, right?”

“That’s correct. Fireblast misses his mama,” Blackburn added with a smirk in Crossfire’s direction. “Isn’t that right, Fireblast?”

Crossfire nodded. “Yes ma’am, I’m feelin’ a mite homesick. I miss my ma, but most of all I miss ma’s cookin’. ‘Tain’t nothin’ like a homecooked meal I tell ya what, and this here city don’t got none o’ that.”

Blackburn shrugged. “And I figure if he’s gonna be a stick in the mud, I might as well take a little vacation while we’re at it. Plus poor Tinker here’s never been to the south.”

“And I am so excited to see it!” Gadget squealed. “Blue skies, green fields, clean air, and gorgeous beaches. I can’t wait. I hear they’ve got nude beaches.”

“And you said you’re leaving tomorrow?” Bookworm asked.

“Yes,” Blackburn replied.

“I want to come with you.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Oh? One way, or round trip?”

“Round trip, of course. I’ve still got work to do here to help educate the masses as best I can, but heck if I don’t need a little vacation too, Miss Thunderbolt. I’ve been under so much stress lately, you have no idea.” Bookworm leaned back in his seat. “So you get me a round trip, one week vacation in Newhaven, and I’ll help you with your little project.”

Blackburn didn’t need to think twice to agree, but she needed to account for the issue of switching personas again when she got to Newhaven; Bookworm’s presence would complicate matters.

“I’ll agree to get you a ticket, certainly,” she said, “but I can’t agree to having you come along with us. There weren’t any more tickets available on our flight; just getting ours was a pain in the ass. I’ll get you a ticket for the day after tomorrow’s flight. Is that acceptable?”

Bookworm considered this. “Okay… okay, the day after tomorrow could work. Gives me more time to pack, I guess. You’ve got yourself a deal, Thunderbolt.”

“Excellent, we’ll have your ticket put on reserve at the airport.”

Bookworm downed the last of his drink, leaving a syrupy residue at the bottom of his cup. “Okay, let’s get this done then. I’ll need one of you to come with me. CDH policy requires that only two ponies - no more, no less - be present in the Database Hub at any time, and I obviously can’t ask just some random pony, nor can I ask any other employees.”

Blackburn tilted her head towards Gadget. “Tinker will go with you since she knows how to install the device.”

“Good, good.” He glanced at the clock. “Okay, my break is just about up. Let’s get going then, shall we?” He hopped out of his seat.

Gadget nodded and stepped out of her seat as well. “Sure thing!” She turned to Blackburn. “Wish me luck, boss.”

“You won’t need it, Tinker,” Blackburn said with a grin.

Gadget followed along with Bookworm first to the central desk, where the Chief Librarian, Archimedes, was dealing with another client. Archimedes was an olive-green unicorn stallion with a lime-green mane, wearing a plaid tweed jacket and overly-large glasses. Bookworm gave him a little salute as they passed, but Archimedes paid him no heed; he was much too engrossed in not being engrossed in whatever the pony at the desk was asking him.

Bookworm and Gadget then headed towards the back of the room, where a large blue door led into what the plaque above the door called the “Database Hub”. Bookworm drew out his personal keycard and inserted it into a slot; the door then opened with a loud swish; the pair entered, and Bookworm closed and locked the door behind them.

The Database Hub was a small room, no larger than the average office cubicle or storage shed. The only other things present were a desk bolted to the wall, a computer monitor bolted to the desk, and a pair of chairs bolted to the floor. The wall behind the monitor and desk contained a number of ports for inserting devices, such as those made for copying information. These weren’t what Gadget was interested in, not directly anyway. No, what Gadget was interested in was what was behind those ports: the central server tower.

Gadget took a deep breath. “Hoo boy, here we go.” She drew the database constructor out of her pocket and set it down on the desk, then drew a screwdriver from her other pocket and set to work.

She unscrewed one of the port panels from the wall, drawing it along with a tangle full of wires; she could now see behind the panel into the server tower. She carefully felt around inside with her magic for the server’s hard drives; she didn’t want the primary drive, but the backups. When she found them, she slowly lifted the database constructor through the opening with more of her magic, and attached it into one of the empty drive ports, then replaced the wall panel.

She then drew a small datapad from her pocket, turned it on, and check to see if she could access the database constructor’s network. It worked like a charm, and within seconds she was able to look herself up and find confirmation of all the information she’d hacked into the system all those months ago, all without hacking a thing. It was free for the taking.

“Whew, all done,” she breathed. She turned to Bookworm and smiled brightly. “Thanks again, Bookworm. You’ve just contributed to the greatest step forward in information circulation this city’s seen in decades, maybe longer.”

Bookworm nodded. “Glad to be of help.” He unlocked the door and gestured for her to follow him out.

As soon as the two left the room, they were face-to-face with Archimedes, his face the picture of lethargy. “Bookworm,” he said, his voice dripping with boredom. “What are you doing?”

Bookworm paled and began stuttering almost immediately. “Oh.. Ch-Chief Librarian, hi. Um… wh-what can I do for you?”

Archimedes turned to Gadget. “You can start by explaining your guest.”

Gadget stepped forward and offered her hoof. “Name’s Tinker! Nice to meet you!”

Archimedes didn’t take her hoof, just continued staring at her. “And why were you and Bookworm in our Database Hub? It is restricted to librarians - so Bookworm is cleared - but you shouldn’t be in there without good cause. Do you have good cause?”

“Chief Librarian, I… she... “ Bookworm sputtered.

“I’m a tech specialist with Crown Spectrum,” Gadget said with practiced confidence. “Bookworm and I met at a fundraiser a few months ago and he was telling me all about your fancy schmancy servers here at CDH, and well, I just couldn’t help myself: I had to see it. See, I’m a bit of a tech-fanatic. It's a compulsion.”

Archimedes continued to stare at her, unblinking. “Still doesn’t explain why you were in there without due cause. A bit of curiosity isn’t due cause, you understand.”

“Just wanted to see the specs on your equipment here, that’s all,” she said with a grin. “It’s an official visit, actually, sorry if I didn’t make that clear. Like I said, I work for a tech company, and we’re top of the top-of-the-line, no lie. When my boss found out about Bookworm she asked me to see if maybe we could offer you guys any upgrades.”

“I assure you, we do not need any.”

“Oh, and I can see that! Golly, you’ve got yourselves a pretty extreme setup here, chief. Nothing I can offer you at this point in time, no sir.” She pulled a business card for Crown Spectrum out of her pocket. “However, technology’s always improving, so if you ever need to make upgrades in the future, I hope you’ll consider Crown Spectrum for your technological needs. Remember, we’re top of the top-of-the-line.”

Archimedes wordlessly took the card and gave it a once-over, then tucked it in his pocket and turned to Bookworm. “Next time, Bookworm, clear appointments like this with me. I appreciate the initiative, but we have a system in place for a reason.”

Bookworm nodded. “Yes sir, sorry sir, won’t happen again sir.”

Archimedes grunted and walked away without another word.

Bookworm turned to Gadget. “Wow, thanks Tinker. I was so nervous I thought I was gonna pop. How’d you come up with that story so quick?”

Gadget shrugged. “Learned from the best, bud.”

*****

Late that night, Blackburn and her friends were just finishing getting packed when there came a knock at their door. Blackburn remained in her seat at the dinner table while Gadget took up a position opposite the door, sidearm drawn and ready. Crossfire waited for Gadget to signal she was ready, then answered the knock when it came again.

“Who is it?” he called.

“It’s Lockwood,” came a familiar voice from the other side.

Crossfire breathed a sigh of relief and gestured for Gadget to lower her gun, then opened the door. Standing there was Lockwood, alone, in a simple brown jacket, white shirt underneath, and his usual fedora. He was all smiles as usual, carrying a small box tucked under his wing and nothing more.

“Lockwood ol’ buddy, what’re y’all doin’ here so late?”

“Well I know you guys are leaving tomorrow, and I thought I’d say give you a couple of parting gifts to hold you over until you get back," Lockwood said. "Can I come in?”

Crossfire nodded and let Lockwood past him. He checked the hall to make sure nopony else was out there, and finding the hall empty, he shut and locked the door behind him.

Lockwood waved at Gadget and Blackburn as he entered. “Hello Miss Thunderbolt, Miss Tinker. How is everypony this evening?”

“Just fine, Lockwood, thanks. I’m mostly looking forward to heading back south,” Blackburn said with a smile. “I need a breath of fresh air from all this work.”

“Ha, literally,” Lockwood chuckled.

Blackburn let out a short, genuine laugh; Gadget stared at her in disapproving disbelief that Blackburn didn’t notice.

Lockwood then brought the box over to the table and set it down. “Anyway, I thought you guys could use a few pick-me-ups as a showing of appreciation for all the good work you’ve been doing around here.”

He pulled a small stack of twenty or so papers out of the box and set them on the table, face-down. The trio stared at the papers, confused.

“Y’all brought us… papers?” Crossfire asked, scratching his head.

“Wow. You really know the way to a lady’s heart,” Gadget deadpanned.

“Hey hey hey now, trust me, this is a gift-and-a-half,” Lockwood said defensively, hoof over his heart. “I know you guys were having some money troubles earlier, and I know it’s gonna be some time before you start seeing a real profit from your little deal with the Don, so I’m here to make sure things go smoothly on this end for you while you’re gone and when you get back.”

“Ah, then these are tax papers.” Blackburn shook her head. “Virtuoso and I have an agreement that the apartment will be taken care of from now on, as long as we’re business partners. I appreciate it, Lockwood, but--”

“Oh no no, you misunderstand. I already know all about that. This has nothing to do with that. These are from the Tea sisters.” He flipped over one of the papers. “I know your product’s not on the market just yet, not until Virtuoso finishes up things on his end, but they want to make sure you get your due in case it launches while you’re gone.”

Blackburn blinked and looked down at the paper he’d flipped over carefully. It had the Crown Spectrum logo on them - her own cutie mark with the company name superimposed over it in tech-like text - and the company motto beneath, same as what was on their business cards. She flipped over some of the others, and they had the same information, just with a different layout. Advertisements.

“After they decide which one they like, they’re gonna put these in the New Pandemonium Times when your product launches, help spread the word. Virtuoso’s paying for the ad, of course, and Mint and Matcha are donating most of that money to their charity in your name. They’re also working on an article about your product; sorry I don’t have a copy, but they haven’t finished it yet.”

“That’s… wow, that’s more than I expected…” Blackburn murmured.

“A lot more,” Gadget noted, eyeing the advertisements suspiciously. “What gives? What’s the catch?”

“No catch. I just convinced them to go a little above-and-beyond with it,” Lockwood said with a tip of his hat. “After all, that little gadget you worked up is gonna do a lot of good for a lot of ponies out there, not just unicorns.”

Blackburn paused for a long moment. “Why are you doing this for us?”

Lockwood blinked. “What do you mean?”

“All this,” she said, gesturing to the ads. “This is more than I would’ve ever asked, more than I would’ve ever expected. And you’re still not asking us for a thing in return. Why?”

Lockwood shrugged and laughed. “Look, I help a lot of ponies out there, okay? It’s just what I do, don’t think anything of it.” He tipped his hat and loaded the papers back into the box. “Just thought I’d give you guys a little extra bright spot during your vacation.”

Blackburn eyed him for a moment, then nodded and stood from the table. She offered him her hoof. “Thank you, Lockwood. I appreciate it.”

Lockwood shook her hoof gently. “No trouble at all, Miss Thunderbolt.” He hoisted the box up and nodded. “Well, I’m gonna get outta your hair. Big day tomorrow, right? Have fun!” He nodded politely at Gadget. “Miss Tinker.”

Gadget nodded back, though not as politely. “Lockwood.”

He turned and smiled at Crossfire, clapping him on the shoulder. “You too, Fireblast.”

Crossfire smiled and clapped Lockwood right back. “Thank ya kindly, Lockwood. Y’all take care now, y’hear?” He opened the door for Lockwood and let him go, then closed and locked it after he’d left. He turned to Blackburn. “Well, that sure was mighty nice o’ him.”

Blackburn nodded and retook her seat. “It was.”

Gadget rolled her eyes. “I still don’t buy it, sounds too good to be true.”

“Story makes sense, having trouble finding holes.” Blackburn shook her head. “Will need to think on this while out of the city, away from him.”

“I still say he’s bein’ straight wit’ us,” Crossfire added. “He’d fit right in back at home, I tell ya what. Not jus’ Hope’s Point, neither, he’d fit in great in Utopia too.”

“Not worth concerning with now.” Blackburn took a deep breath. “Get some sleep; flight leaves early.” She got up and headed for the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Crossfire waited a full minute before turning to Gadget. “Y’all owe me a hundred bits, by the way.”

Chapter Seven: Depressing Discoveries

Getting back to Hope’s Point had been a simple affair without any major complications. Blackburn and her friends took an early morning flight from New Pandemonium to Newhaven - their pilot had been less gentle than the one they’d had on the way to Pandemonium, and Gadget had spent the entire trip in the restroom; a bag wasn't enough.

They arrived in Newhaven just before dinner time and shared a brief meal with Shining Steel, who had maintained their lie for months - the trio was glad to have a warm, home-cooked meal for the first time since they’d left.

They then caught a late flight back home to Hope’s Point aboard the Dragoon, a sleek purple-and-blue ship with sharp, angular features and four wings instead of two - it wasn’t a luxury ship like the Lunar Spear, but Blackburn just wanted to get home and didn’t think it worthwhile to wait for another ship to dock.

After crossing through the Belt of Tranquility, the Dragoon slowed to a near stop as it dove down into the ocean, then coasted the rest of the way through the dark waters into its hangar bay. As everypony disembarked, there were lots of salutes and bows to welcome her home from her Utopian getaway as had been expected, and which she returned in earnest. It was good to be home, even if she wasn’t intending to stay long; there was still more work to do up north to ensure the prosperity of Hope’s Point into the future, but she’d enjoy the time she had her as much as she could.

If King Stormchaser even knew his daughter was back home, he didn’t show that he knew. Blackburn wasn’t particularly bothered by it; if anything she was relieved not to have to talk with him at all, least of all about how her “vacation” had gone. Still, it made her realize how different things would be if Flashfire was still alive; he’d have greeted her with gusto and then some, thrown a celebratory party for her and everything. She wouldn’t have needed to hide the truth from him, either.

She pushed those thoughts aside for now; wasting time on such sentiment was counterproductive. There were still matters to attend to here in the city, mostly confirming that her work up north had been fruitful. And so, after she, Gadget, and Crossfire got a good night’s rest in their own beds, they set out the following morning on their first order of business: a visit with Solarian to see how well the database constructor was working. They made for his office first thing in the morning after a healthy, hearty breakfast, dressed in their preferred attire at last: Blackburn in her long white jacket and her lucky scarf, Gadget in her purple coveralls and goggles, and Crossfire in his bronze-plated armor.

What they found was not what they expected. The plaque on the door which once bore Solarian’s name and title had been replaced. The title of Chief Science Officer was still there, of course, as this was the office of the pony that held that position, but it was attached to a different name: Sunbeam. Blackburn didn’t recognize it.

“The heck is going on here?” Gadget asked, staring at the plaque, eyebrow raised. “Did Solarian move his office or something? Who’s Sunbeam?”

“Same office for same position,” Blackburn noted apprehensively. “Something has happened to Solarian.” She knocked on the door; she’d get her answers from whoever this Sunbeam was.

A voice from the other side called: “Come in!” It wasn’t a masculine voice, in fact it was a familiar feminine one.

Blackburn pushed the door open. Solarian’s office, or rather Sunbeam’s, had hardly changed since she last saw it, save for the occupant. Or rather, occupants.

The first was a mare that Blackburn knew already as Gleaming Star, the Chief Intelligence and Enforcement Officer, replacement for Evening Glitz. She was a lilac unicorn with a deep purple mane that she wore short with long bangs, wearing a black coat over a gray blouse. It had been her voice that called out before.

The other, by process of elimination, must’ve been Sunbeam, a unicorn stallion with a light orange coat and a dark orange mane that looked somehow both neatly-combed and unkempt at the same time despite how impossible that could seem; he’d clearly put effort into combing it, but had several split ends and a bad cowlick. He wore a lab coat as Solarian once had, but his was light blue instead of white.

The two rose to attention as Blackburn entered the room and bowed low. “Princess Blackburn, this is a surprise,” greeted Star. “I had no idea you’d returned from your vacation yet.”

Blackburn grunted and shook her head, a smug smile playing across her face. “Chief Intelligence Officer lacks intelligence, it seems.”

Star frowned and cleared her throat. “Yes, well, I’ll, uh... have to have a talk with my lieutenants about keeping better tabs on things. We’ve been preoccupied since the afternoon before last, so I guess your arrival just slipped through the cracks. My apologies, it won’t happen again.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. The afternoon before last was when Gadget had installed the database constructor. It couldn’t be a coincidence. “Afternoon before last? Explain.”

“Oh. Uh, sure. Our database system was on the fritz after taking on a sudden influx of… well, an absolute ton of data. We thought it was some kind of hack at first, but then we realized all the information we’d suddenly acquired was personal data on pretty much the entire population of New Pandemonium City. Weird, right?”

That pretty much confirmed that the database constructor had worked; this was good news, at least so far. “Hmm, quite.” Blackburn turned to the stallion. “Sunbeam, I presume?”

Sunbeam nodded and stood up proud. “Yes, Princess Blackburn, Sunbeam at your service. A pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And you are the new Chief Science Officer?”

“That’s right, Princess, His Majesty appointed me last night. It was a very sudden thing, very surprising, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, if you'll pardon the expression.”

“What happened to Solarian?”

Sunbeam and Star shared brief, almost-nervous looks. “His Majesty had him removed from his post,” Star said, tugging her collar. “I, uh… I figured out that the data we’d been receiving was a result of his database constructor, which means he’d had it installed up in Pandemonium somehow, and without His Majesty’s approval. His Majesty was, to be blunt, uh… pissed.”

Blackburn kept on her poker face to hide her anger and confusion. Solarian had been removed from his position because of her actions? “I see. Is he in prison, or--”

“Oh no no, His Majesty didn’t jail him or anything like that,” Sunbeam said quickly, waving his hooves in front of his face. “Solarian didn’t do anything treasonous or illegal, just… upset His Majesty. That’s all. Yeesh, can you imagine how awkward I’d feel if I got this position because he’d been executed or something?”

He looked to Star for approval; she gave him a withering, disapproving glare which made him shrink a bit in his chair.

Blackburn nodded and let out a breath, somewhat relieved. “Hmph. Very well. Sunbeam, qualifications?”

Sunbeam smiled wide, his pep returning. “I have two degrees from New Pandemonium Technomagic University and developed an improvement to the city’s docking system to streamline the taxiing and departure processes, which of course will speed along the influx of ships.”

Blackburn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was clear he was just as much in her father’s pocket as Gleaming Star was. She did notice the increased speed the Dragoon had docked yesterday, but didn’t consider it an important detail. Not worth promoting Sunbeam for, certainly.

“I see. Where is Solarian? Wish to speak with him.”

“May I ask why?” Star asked.

Blackburn leveled a quick glare in her direction. “Business with him is my own. Not yours.”

“I’m afraid it is my business, Princess, as this city’s Chief Intelligence and Enforcement officer,” Star said; Blackburn noticed she was trying to put on a brave face but wasn’t nearly as good at it as she herself was. “Solarian has been deemed a security risk to Hope’s Point because of his deceptive, borderline treasonous actions, so we’re having him monitored.”

Blackburn grunted, annoyed. “Asked me to bring oranges from Newhaven,” she said. A half-truth; she had oranges to give him, but he hadn’t asked for them, she just knew he liked them and wanted to thank him for his service to the city. “Where is he?”

“I’m almost one hundred percent certain he’s at his house,” Sunbeam said with a shrug. Star nudged him harshly; he grunted in pain. “Ow! What was that for, Star? It’s the Princess, she’s not up to anything.”

“That might be so, but it’s not your job to be nosey here, Sunny. It’s mine,” Star snorted. She rolled her eyes and looked to Blackburn. “But yes, he’s at his home, Princess. He’s been forbidden from going anywhere else. I’ll send word ahead that you’re en route so the guards will know to let you through.”

“Very well, will seek him out. Good day.” With that, Blackburn turned and left the office, having Crossfire close the door behind them.

*****

Solarian’s house was situated in the city’s underground residential district just like all the others, his a simple affair with only one story, totally nondescript and completely isolated from its neighbors. A trio of guards in full armored uniforms were situated at the front door, back door, and roof - a unicorn, earth pony, and pegasus respectively - and were at attention the second Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire came into view. Gadget levitated a small bag of oranges in her magic.

The unicorn approached them as they came up the path to the front porch. “Princess,” he said with a slight, polite bow. “Got word from Chief Gleaming Star you were coming by.”

Blackburn nodded. “What were you told?”

“To be aware of your approach, and to take your gift from Solarian and deliver it to him for you. My orders say that you're not to be allowed inside.”

“I see.” She gestured towards the house. “May I?”

“Of course, Princess,” he said with a nod; he was more loyal to her than to Gleaming Star, that much was obvious. Blackburn’s crew walked up to the door with the guard, who knocked three times. “Solarian! You’ve got guests!”

A moment later, Solarian opened the door. Blackburn had never seen him dressed casually before - she didn’t think he even owned any casual clothes - but there he was in just a green turtleneck sweater and a pair of glasses. He smiled when he saw who his guests were, giving a small bow.

“Princess, good to see you,” he said. “Welcome back.”

Blackburn smiled and nodded. “Solarian.”

Her mentor gestured inside the house. “Please, come in.”

Blackburn and her friends followed Solarian inside, where they saw that Solarian lived the same as he worked: efficient, practical, and clean. There weren’t any decorations, but plenty of appliances and devices to accommodate whatever Solarian’s needs were: to acquire information, store, prepare, and eat his food, sleep, shower, and take care of other biological needs. It wasn’t all exactly in the same room - the restroom was clearly partitioned off from the rest, thank goodness - but close enough to get everything done without walking more than a few feet at a time.

This meant he didn’t have much to accommodate guests, but he quickly moved the few chairs he did have so that Blackburn and her friends had places to sit.

Blackburn had Gadget present him with the oranges. “A gift from Newhaven. Your favorite.”

Solarian smiled and took them, then set them on his kitchen sink. “I appreciate it, Princess. It’s a welcome break from my current diet of Dolor Red, which is all they allow me to have. I prefer Green.” He turned to Blackburn and was suddenly serious again. “The database constructor was installed and worked flawlessly. Well done.”

“Yes, flawlessly.” Blackburn frowned and sighed. “Apologies, Solarian. Didn’t anticipate punishment for you. My fault you were removed.”

Solarian waved his hoof to dissuade her from that train of thought. “No no, it’s my responsibility. I anticipated the possibility of being reprimanded if the constructor was discovered. I also underestimated Gleaming Star’s deduction capabilities.” He turned to Gadget and grinned. “Exemplary work on device, Gadget. Spark Plug would be proud.”

Gadget beamed. “Golly, Mister Solarian, I appreciate that. I really wish there was something I could’ve done to keep you out of it.”

“There wasn't much of a choice, but no matter. The job is done and the security improvements have been made, so the city will be safer in time.”

Blackburn grunted. “Met your replacement. Not impressed.”

Solarian tutted playfully. “His qualifications are certainly adequate.”

“Adequate, not exemplary.”

“True.” He gave her a warm smile. “Was your other mission successful?”

“Progress made. Network making strides, first shipments south successful. Work started on undermining rival organization.”

Solarian nodded. “Good. Good. Are you anticipating another trip?”

“Yes, work will take another six, no... seven months at current rate. Additional time needed to make improvements to migration routes; connections made with like-minded ponies, groundwork laid. Making plans for next excursion.”

“When?”

“Two months at longest.”

“Hmm… good, that affords you the time to examine your efforts from a distance and evaluate how they hold up without your immediate input.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, I cannot serve as your ‘secret-keeper’ on your next trip. I lack the means to be of any help, so you’d have no incentive to utilize my services.”

Blackburn nodded. “Unfortunately, must agree; however, still trust you with information. Have already decided on next secret-keeper. Will need somepony with influence in fleet: ensures further shipments from north are handled efficiently.”

“From the fleet? Hmm… Skyrocket is out of the question. His loyalty is to your father, not to you or to Hope’s Point. Not that I’d insinuate anything, of course.”

“Not Skyrocket. Bramblejam.”

Solarian’s expression immediately and immensely doured.

It did not escape Blackburn’s notice. “Solarian?”

Solarian took a breath. “It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known. Bramblejam passed away two weeks ago.”

Blackburn felt a sharp pang in her chest and stared at Solarian like he’d just been speaking in tongues. Gadget nearly fell out of her seat in shock. Crossfire merely sat slack-jawed in disbelief.

“Wh-what?” Blackburn sputtered, her face pale. “No… not the Diffusion sickness? Not so soon?”

Solarian nodded sadly. “Correct. The reported cause is a heart attack. It’s untrue, of course. The real cause is Diffusion sickness. You’re aware that he suffered through it for years, and sadly he finally succumbed. It’s very sad… but his family history repeats itself once again.”

“And he never knew…” Blackburn slumped in her seat, barely able to process the information. She’d known Bramblejam for years, known his time was limited, and known she couldn’t say a word about it to him, or to his family. She snapped up. “Briarthorn. Does he know?”

“That he’s passed? Yes. The true cause? No.” Solarian shook his head. “The spread of information is forbidden, you know that. Bramblejam didn’t know, even at the end.” He leaned forward and put his hoof on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for Briarthorn’s loss, and for yours. I know he trained you to fly after your mother…”

“Where is Briarthorn now? Need to speak with him, no... comfort him.” She sighed. “Know his pain...”

“Last I heard, he serves on the flight team aboard the Southern Sun.”

Blackburn turned to Gadget. “Is the Southern Sun in the city?”

Gadget drew her datapad and tapped a few buttons, waited a few seconds, then nodded. “Yes, Princess, docked in Hangar Seventeen undergoing maintenance. All crew members are on leave until their next flight, which is unscheduled at the moment.”

“Good.” Blackburn turned towards the door. “Come. Have a friend to visit.”

*****

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire approached Briarthorn’s home in the late afternoon, walking straight up to the door and giving it a loud knock.

Briarthorn answered it after several long, quiet moments. He’d grown a bit in the last couple of years, not as tall as Crossfire but still of respectable height, and his wings had finally fully developed to a healthy, enviable size typical of his family. He was as handsome as ever, but currently was a bit disheveled; his mane was a mess, and his jacket askew.

When he saw who it was at his door, he scowled; Blackburn had never seen him angry before, and it didn’t do his features justice. “Oh. It’s you,” he said with no small amount of venom. “Enjoy your vacation guys? Soak up a lot of sun? Sure hope you brought souvenirs--”

Blackburn swooped forward and gave Briarthorn a tight hug, kissing him on the cheek. Briarthorn froze up for a moment, then returned the hug.

“I’m so sorry, Briar…” Blackburn started crying and pulled him tighter. “I know how it feels… I’m so, so sorry...”

Gadget and Crossfire stepped forward as well to join in the hug.

“We’re really sorry, Briar,” Gadget said, reaching up to pat his back. “We didn’t know.”

“We should've been there for ya, buddy,” added Crossfire. “We’re sorry.”

Briarthorn started crying as well and buried his face in Blackburn’s neck. “Where were you when I needed you, Princess? Where were you?”

“Have a lot to tell you, Briar.” Blackburn nuzzled his neck gently. “So much to say.” She pulled back from the hug to look Briar in the face, pressing her forehead against his. “Come with us tonight. We’ll honor your father in Hope’s Point tradition: revelry and drinks amongst loved ones.”

Briarthorn sniffed, smiled, and nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I’d like that. It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

*****

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire walked through the streets of Hope’s Point in their typical incognito hooded jackets, as they always did when traveling through the city. To them it was no longer a security issue, but a privacy issue; they liked to be able to wander the city to shop, find entertainment, and eat without being bothered, and tonight was no exception. Briarthorn wore his official Southern Sun flight jacket, a red-and-orange affair with a fluffy collar, over a simple white shirt.

Briarthorn was definitely the most knowledgeable amongst them about the best bars and pubs in the city, because now that he was on a flight team, he got free alcohol any time he wanted. He didn’t know why and didn’t care to ask, only knowing that it was city policy by declaration of King Flashfire himself shortly after the city’s founding. All that mattered to him was that in the short amount of time he’d been on an official flight team and could drink as much as wanted, he’d developed a taste for the stuff far beyond what he’d enjoyed with Blackburn and Crossfire in private - Gadget barely touched the stuff and was a total lightweight, so she wasn’t a good judge in any capacity.

Thus, he knew that Wyrm’s Head Tavern was the absolute best spot in the city to “wet one’s whistle,” in his words. It was a bizarre building, though it was not so much a building as it was a ship graveyard made of dozens upon dozens of honest-to-goodness boats crushed together in some haphazard attempt to make a building. It didn’t really have proper floors, so to say, but if it did it would be four stories tall, unevenly taking up an entire city block somehow. Several awnings and windows that had been attached after the boats were smashed together were decorated with neon lights and signs that directed visitors towards the entrance, which the trio now stood under. One large boat, completely intact, hung from a crane-like structure high above the entrance.

“Golly, this place is a dump,” Gadget murmured. “Is it legal to make a building like this? It looks like it violates so many fire codes. I’m counting five just outside alone.”

“Dump though it may be, my dear little Gadget, it’s the tippity-top tavern, the supreme saloon, the most sumptuous speakeasy, and, dare I say it, the most pleasant pub in the whole city,” Briarthorn said with pride. “And it’s a pretty good bar, too.”

“Have heard stories from pilots before,” Blackburn confirmed. “Popular with younger crews.”

“Yeah yeah, exactly. Not everypony in the city drinks here, ‘cause they’re boring, but something like ninety percent of the fleet calls this their home away from home. I think a few of the older captains still hit up the ol’ Lusty Harpy uptown just out of sentimentality and because they like a little bit of a, uh… different kind of privacy.” He shrugged. “But this here watering hole’s got room to spare for half the fleet at once if they wanted. Or even if they didn’t!”

Crossfire scratched his head. “How’d they get all them boats? Ain’t nopony uses boats north o’ the Belt, and none o’ them boats look like they came from the south. Believe me, I'd know.”

Briarthorn paused and tapped his chin. “I think they just built them themselves? Either that or they hoisted them up from the bottom of the ocean from ye olden times. Which one sounds cooler? Because it’s that one.” He shook his head. “But I digress. I’ve only been coming here a few months but it’s already got a special spot in my heart. Did you know they have themed rooms of all shapes and sizes?”

Blackburn hummed. “Variety of ships implies as much.”

Gadget rolled her eyes. “Ugh, whatever, can we just go someplace else? This place feel too… I dunno, public? And unsafe, yes, definitely unsafe. I don’t want the roof falling down on me in the middle of a drink, y’know. Or at all, actually.”

Briarthorn leaned over and gave Gadget a gentle pat on the head with his wing. “Aww, c’mon now giggity Gadget, they’ve got private rooms for little groups like ours, too. Or smaller, if you and Crossfire wanna just head out and leave this to me and my Princess, eh?”

Gadget stuck her tongue out at him.

Blackburn nodded and leaned against Briarthorn. “If this is where Briar wants to go, this is where we’ll go.” She gestured towards the entrance. “Shall we?”

The quartet entered into the tavern, where they were greeted by the sight of dozens of ponies seated around circular tables of different sizes, enjoying drinks and each other’s company. The interior was rather tame and orderly compared to the seedy exterior, despite being loud and crowded. A bar stretched across one wall in its entirety, helmed by a single salt-and-pepper unicorn stallion that looked every bit like an old-timey western saloon bartender. A jukebox in the corner played an upbeat jazz number that kept the conversations somewhat private despite the participants needing to talk loudly to hear one another.

First thing, Briarthorn walked up to the bar and got the bartender’s attention. “Hey hey, Rum Runner, party of four for one of the small private rooms. Whatcha got in the way of tip-top quality? I’ve got some very important ponies with me, some VIPs, if you will.”

Rum Runner checked an electronic panel behind him, which displayed a collection of numbers, some red and some green. He turned back to Briarthorn. “Take room 204.”

Briarthorn nodded, then pulled a badge out of his pocket and flashed it. It displayed his picture, name, and the flight team he was part of: the Southern Sun. “Put it all on my tab, boss pony. There’s revelry to make and respects to be paid.”

The bartender looked closely at the badge, then nodded. “You got it, sonny.”

Briarthorn gestured for the others to follow him to the back of the front bar towards a hallway that led off into the rest of the building. They followed him through one door, up some stairs, down the hall, and to another door labeled “Private Room 204”. Briarthorn knocked three times, each time on a different part of the door, but received no response; it was clear. He then opened the door to reveal an unoccupied room behind it.

This room was small and cozy, about the same size and layout as an average karaoke lounge: a single large table in the center of the room surrounded by a comfortable, half-circle couch. The couch was made of red-dyed leather, the table of a black-dyed wood. A device the size of a water cooler was positioned at the end of the table furthest from the couch, its front holding a small data tablet.

As the quartet entered the room and took their seats, Briarthorn locked the door behind them. Gadget and Crossfire took seats on one side of the table, Blackburn and Briarthorn on the other. The former three took the opportunity to pull down their hoods, unzip their jackets, and get comfortable; Blackburn in particular cozied up close to Briarthorn.

“See? What’d I tell ya: total privacy,” Briarthorn said, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the edge of the sofa, leaving him in just his shirt. He then pulled the data tablet over to him and tapped a few buttons, which softened the room’s lighting to a comfortable level - not too bright, not too dim - and gave it a hint of blue. “Check it: mood lighting. This baby’s got every color, every brightness. If you want I can even make it rainbow-colored, or polka-dot, or make it twinkle like a disco ball.”

“Okay, fine, this isn’t so bad,” Gadget said, giving Briarthorn a sincere look. “Kinda nice, actually. Good atmosphere, nice and cozy.”

Briarthorn put his hoof over his heart and smiled. “Oh my stars and garters, Gadget, was that… was that a compliment? For me? This is a red letter day, yessir, unless…” He leveled her with a scrutinizing gaze. “You’re some kind of clone. Or android. Sent here to infiltrate the city by taking on the form of a dear friend! You can’t hide your secrets from me, pod pony!”

Gadget shook her head. “And back to normal, there we go.”

“What’s everypony starting off with, eh? Eh?” Briarthorn asked. He pointed at Crossfire first. “Big guy, what’s your poison? No no, wait, let me take a guess here… whiskey, straight. Keeping it clissy-classy.”

“Yessir, straight whiskey fer me, thanks,” said Crossfire with a simple nod.

“Rocks or no?”

“Naw.”

Briarthorn typed that in, then pointed to Gadget. “Short stack? I remember you’re a lightweight, so… shirley temple? Extra cherries?”

“Hard lemonade please,” Gadget said, nose in the air. “Chilled, if you would.”

“Ooh, you’re a brave pony, Gadget. Letting your hair down tonight, huh? Let me know when you wanna graduate to wine coolers.” Briarthorn tapped that in, then pointed to Blackburn. “Your Princessfulness?”

“What are you having?” she asked. “Will defer to your expertise.”

Briarthorn tapped his chin. “Hmm… well, I’ve taken a liking to one of the new brands of scotch they ship up from Deepgrove down south, tastes like dark chocolate. You like scotch? ‘Cause I like scotch. I also like bourbon. They’ve got this great bourbon here from Utopia itself, really top-notch stuff, tastes like maple syrup. Wait wait, I’ve got it: tequila. Ooh, how about some tequila? Newhaven makes this jalapeño-infused brand that’s just fantastical.”

“Sounds good, tequila it is.”

“Great! Great great great.” He tapped in that order as well, then gestured around the table. “Now, how ‘bout some snacks? Can’t drink on an empty stomach. I mean, you can, but you shouldn’t. So, they make some bing-banging nachos here, and some killer hay fries. Like, I think somepony’s died eating them. Y’know what, pfft, yeah, you guys totally want snacks.” He tapped in a few more orders, then pushed a button on the side of the main device.

Less than a minute later, the device’s top glowed a dim blue, and with a flash and a pop, their orders appeared: a snifter with Crossfire’s whiskey - straight, no ice; a bottle of Gadget’s hard lemonade, covered with a thin layer of frost; two shot glasses for Briarthorn and Blackburn filled with tequila - accompanied by slices of limes and a shaker of salt; a plate of plain hay fries with sides of ketchup and ranch dressing - the former for Gadget, the latter for Blackburn; and a plate of nachos smothered with cheese and piled high with diced tomatoes and onions, black beans, jalapeño coins, sour cream, guacamole, and red salsa.

“Order up, everypony!” Briarthorn passed drinks orders around and set the food in the center.

Blackburn sat up straight as she held her glass in hoof. “To Bramblejam.”

The others raised their glasses to hers above the center of the table. “To Bramblejam,” they all said together.

Blackburn and Briarthorn drank their shots in one go; the former let out a cough as she finished before biting into the lime - she’d never been much for jalapeño. Gadget took the most minute of sips of her lemonade; Crossfire took a generous sip of his whiskey, letting out a hum of approval. Briarthorn then gestured between himself and Blackburn to see if she wanted another round; she nodded and smiled in agreement. Briarthorn put the order in, and seconds later two new tequila shots popped up, which the two swiftly drank.

Carousing had begun.

“How have you been holding up, Briar?” Blackburn asked, putting her hoof on his. “Know it’s hard…”

Briarthorn sunk into his seat. “I’ve been doing as well as I can, I guess. Work keeps me occupied, keeps my mind off the worst of it. Same with all the free booze, drowning my sorrows and all that cliché jazz.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “To be honest I’ve spent less time at home lately. You guys actually caught me at a good time, I just came back from an assignment down south.”

“Do you... know what happened to your father?” she asked.

Briarthorn frowned, then took a deep breath. “He had a heart attack. Two weeks ago, early in the afternoon while we were walking to lunch with mom. She went into a panic, I just tried to get help as fast as I could. We got him to the hospital in time, but… there were some complications…” He shook his head. “He didn’t make it.”

Blackburn remained silent, and put her wing around Briarthorn. “I’m sorry, Briar…”

Briarthorn shook her off and glared at her. “Don’t be sorry, Princess. You didn’t know. You were on a fun, sunny, Utopian vacation. A vacation that, I remind you, I wasn’t invited to, by the way,” he added with a grunt. “Though I guess I should be glad you didn’t invite me, y’know, your loving coltfriend? I would’ve missed everything, never would’ve gotten to say goodbye, and then I really would’ve felt like shit. Now at least I just feel a little bit like shit. So thanks for that, I guess.”

Blackburn sighed and leaned back. She knew he was mad, but she knew that that’s all it was - misdirected anger out of grief. She’d done the same after her mother; not at anypony else, but at herself. If only she’d spotted the threads sooner; if only she’d said something to her grandfather; if only she’d stood up to her father; if only, if only, if only. So she could let Briar be upset. It was his right.

But he at least needed to know the truth. He deserved it.

“Briar… have truth to tell you. Wasn’t on ‘vacation’.”

Briarthorn raised an eyebrow, his frown melting away. “Huh?”

“Was in New Pandemonium City. Secret trip, not common knowledge.”

“Whoa, wait, what?! What?!” he blurted, nearly leaping out of his seat as he grabbed her by the sides. “You’ve been in bucking Pandemonium for the last four months?! Are you bucking crazy?!”

“Royal duty to ensure city’s prosperity,” she replied matter-of-factly.

He leveled a fierce, accusing glare at her. “So you went allll the way up north and you didn’t think to tell me? Didn’t invite me? Blackburn, c’mon, you know damn well I would’ve gone with you, would’ve helped you, would’ve done anything you asked. Why?”

“Intention of trip was installing Solarian’s database constructor,” Blackburn continued. “Couldn’t endanger anypony else; otherwise, would’ve invited you. Appreciate concern… also, not convinced of your skill set.”

“Pshaw, I’m useful as all hell, Princess.”

“Loud, colorful, lack skill with tech, espionage, or negotiations, at least to my standards,” Blackburn listed off. She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Top-notch flyer, though.”

Briarthorn paused and stared at her, exasperated. “Wait… wait wait, you said Solarian’s database thingy? Solarian just got removed from his position because His Majestical Majesty found out he had that little gizmo installed without him knowing. Caused a big ol’ hub-bub and hullabaloo for Chief Gleaming Star, made her look real stupid - which I might add tickled Solarian pink. That was you?”

“Correct. Secondary intention--"

Briarthorn grasped his head in his hooves. “There’s more?!”

“Challenge rival smuggling faction, regain dominant hold over import of goods into Hope's Point. Progress slow, but moving along.”

“And how exactly are you doing that?”

“Set up dummy company, using it for ‘shipping’ supplies south via our agents; supplies acquired from rival faction, incidentally.”

Briarthorn thought about this for a moment. “Hang on… hang on, there’s a new supplier we’ve been having for a lot of tech parts in the past couple of weeks. Not enough to really notice unless you’re delivering the parts yourself, but a few of the crews here and there have gotten to talking. I mean, I’ve noticed it. Big ol’... big ol’ crown on the boxes...”

Blackburn smirked. “Crown Spectrum?”

“Yeah, that’s-- wait. Wait, no, no no, that’s you? For really-reals?” Briarthorn shook his head in disbelief. “Holy smokes, Princess… wow, you’ve been busy. A busy little bee, and up in Pandemonium? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Any idea what His Majesty would do if he found out? He’d have you… well, grounded, I guess? But like, literally. But not too literal, like he’s not gonna clip your wings. Just metaphorically.”

“Naturally. Not worried; have Gadget and Crossfire along,” Blackburn noted, giving her trusted bodyguards proud smiles, which they returned. “Your words prove work is succeeding. Fantastic news.”

“I’m… wow, okay… okay, so, yeah. Um… I guess I can’t get mad at you for gallivanting around down south while I was dealing with dad’s passing,” Briarthorn admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not when you were really up north trying to help the city and putting yourself in danger to do it. Holy horseapples. Blackburn, you’re… you’re nuts, you know that?”

“Doing what it takes to serve and protect city.”

“Still… geez laweez, Princess. Wow.” He let out a breath, then pointed at her. “You and me, Blackburn, we’re getting hammered tonight. You deserve it.” He quickly placed another order, and seconds later two new shot glasses with limes appeared. He passed one over to her. “Bottoms up!”

*****

About an hour later, the quartet’s revelry had progressed quite far beyond just honoring the fallen. The four friends enjoyed each other’s company, talking, drinking, eating, and having a grand old time together for the first time in a very long while. Gadget, as usual, couldn’t hold her liquor, and even after just two bottles of hard lemonade, she was flushed in the face and had a hard time keeping her head up to finish her third. Crossfire, the biggest in the group, could hold his own much better, but was also drinking slowly, only on his fifth glass at this point; he was enjoying himself more snacking on food that Briarthorn kept ordering, now working on a plate of mozzarella sticks and marinara sauce.

Blackburn and Briarthorn weren’t technically engaged in any sort of drinking competition, but were keeping even with one another on shot after shot; they’d since moved past tequila to shots of zebra-made vodka. As the alcohol kept flowing, they got more comfortable being hooves-on with each other despite their company; the alcohol seemed to make Gadget mind less than usual, too.

“So wait wait wait,” Briarthorn said, barely containing a laugh. “You’re telling me you got one of the tippity-top crime bosses, like full on mob boss ‘badabing-badaboom’ crime bosses, in Pandemonium to give you all this new tech stuff because you gave his daughter a necklace?”

Blackburn chuckled and took a deep breath. “No no, it’s because Gadget’s little inventions are so cool. Necklace just, uh… gave him pause? Yeah yeah, because Gadget and I are a team! So Gadget impressed him with her wizardry, I impressed him with my insight.”

“You mean *hic* Tinker and *hic* Thunderbolt impreshed him,” Gadget slurred as she leaned giggling into Blackburn, either not noticing or caring that that meant her face was dangerously close to Briarthorn’s crotch. “I am a ssshhuper *hic* tech wizzzzz. Abra kadabra!” She flailed her hoof through the air and almost clonked Blackburn in the face.

“Heh heh, this is grrreat,” Briarthorn chortled as he ordered himself and Blackburn another shot; they appeared seconds later. “I can’t believe my Princessly Princess Blackburn duped the mafia into helping her bring them down from the inside. Wow. Wow.” He smiled and shook his head in amazement, then gave her a kiss on the nose. “You’re amazing, babe.”

Blackburn chuckled and ran her hoof up his back. “No, you’re amazing.”

“And you say you’re making all kinds of other business partners up there?” He asked, taking his glass in hoof.

“Oh all sorts, yes,” Blackburn said, taking her own glass. She and Briarthorn clinked glasses and drank. Blackburn reeled a little; zebra vodka was strong, sure, but tasted awful. “Doctors, information specialists, press agents; all sorts.” She gave a slight hiccup; the alcohol was getting to her more and more every minute.

“I don’t even know how you could meet that many ponies and make such strong connections so… fast. You’re like a… a rocket. A rocket of friendship. A satellite of love!”

Gadget sat up straight and nearly knocked over her bottle in the process. “That’sh ‘cause she’s *hic* the besht!” she exclaimed. She took one of Crossfire’s empty snifters and placed it, upside-down, on Blackburn’s head; Blackburn didn’t seem to care that she got a small amount of whiskey in her mane. “All hail *hic* all hail *hic* Queeeeeen Blackburrrrrn! Long live the Queen!”

“But she didn’t do it alone,” Crossfire noted, taking another mozzarella stick for himself. “Blackburn’s good ‘n’ all but we couldn’t o’ done it wit’out a lil’ bit o’ help.”

Blackburn nodded; her snifter crown slipped off her head and onto the table, though luckily it didn’t break. “Yes yes, had help.” She pushed Gadget playfully. “Help from Gadget and Crossfire, of course.”

“Well, not just us,” Crossfire said with a shrug. He’d long ago accepted that he was the only pony in the room sober enough to think completely straight; Briarthorn was still lucid but more flighty than usual.

Gadget snorted as she lay on her back and pawed at Crossfire’s side; he ignored her. “Pfffffft. Yeah yeah *hic* whatever, sho what? Blackburn’s *hic* shtill the besht!” She giggled and snuggled up to Crossfire. “She’sh sho aweshome…”

“Somepony was helping you?” Briarthorn asked, turning to Crossfire. “Awww, I bet you wouldn’t need that much help, you big ol’ drink of water, you. I bet you could just… just shake that big ol’ badonkadonk and every mare on the block would come running. And some stallions!”

Crossfire raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“You’re a hunk-and-a-half! The studdliest stud that ever studded! Look at you, you big ol’ beefcake.” With his wing, he poked Crossfire’s abdomen, which was tight and muscled. “You’re just a… a… a sexy stallion. Sorry, that’s all I got. I already used all my creative ones.”

He turned back to Blackburn. “So wait, you had somepony helping you guys make these contacts?” He tapped his chin. “Must’ve been somepony pretty special to help you meet all those ponies.”

Blackburn smiled, almost dreamily. “Lockwood. Nice pony, knows lots of other ponies. Very helpful.”

Briarthorn paused and stared at her. “Wait… wait, did you say ‘Lockwood’? Whaaat? No way, you guys know him too?”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you know him? How?”

“Two months ago the Southern Sun took a trip up north on a supply run. My first time to Pandemonium, by the way, so that was neat. That city’s filthy, like super duper dirty, I don’t know how the pegasi there can live with that air quality.” He tapped his chin. “Huh, guess that’s why we get so many pegasi down here, ain’t it? Anywho, we were supposed to meet somepony on the docks. I… uh… hmm. What was his name?” he muttered, tapping his temple.

“Deadlift,” Blackburn finished. “Our contact on shipping dock, ensures our supplies are accounted for and do not attract suspicion. What happened to Deadlift?”

“Oh, nothing, he’s perfectly fine. Nice guy, by the way, super friendly. I didn’t know pegasi could get that big. But anyway anyway, he had a friend with him there just making a delivery of his own or something, and said friend invited us out for drinks since he’d never met anypony from Hope’s Point before, at least that’s what he said. Name was Lockwood.”

“What did he look like?”

Briarthorn scratched his head. “Uh, gray pegasus - kinda scrawny, plain-looking, short wingspan; brown mane - tidy, but not too fancy; he wore a nice hat and a plain jacket - hat might have been expensive; he had pretty eyes, though, a really odd shade of gold.”

Blackburn smiled fondly and nodded. “That’s him. He does have pretty eyes, doesn’t he?”

Briarthorn gave Blackburn a sultry look. “Ohhh? Prettier than mine?” He waggled his eyebrows to draw her attention to his eyes.

Blackburn looked at his eyes closely, then nodded again and hid her face in her hooves. “Uh huh…”

“Pshaw. Pshaw!” Briarthorn huffed, mock-offended. “You’re a terrible liar, Miss Princesspants.”

Blackburn leaned in and gave him a deep kiss. “You’ve got him beat in looks, tiger.”

“Nuh uh!” Gadget blurted, rising back up in her seat. “She’s *huc* she’s the best truther *hic* the besht truther there ish.” She poked Blackburn in the side. “Tell him, Blackburn. *hic* Tell him about *hic* about *hic* about that… that thing… with the thing. *hic* With the Diffushion… *hic*”

Blackburn was too drunk to verbally shush Gadget; a rough shove did the trick, though.

Briarthorn raised an eyebrow. “What’s that about Diffusion? Oh! Oh I know, you guys must’ve heard about that huh? Yeah, it’s pretty neat, pretty cool.” He fluffed his feathers a little in pride. “I’m the Junior Diffusion Flyer on the Southern Sun now, as of last week actually. Moving up in the world, yessiree.”

Blackburn paled and rose sharply in her seat. “You… work as a Diffusion flyer? Not Cadet?”

“Oh yeah, I was a Cadet on the Southern Sun. At first. They were still looking for a Junior Diffusion Flyer though, for like, weeks after I joined, but there weren’t a lot of options available; the next graduating class isn’t for a few more months, y’know, ‘cause I graduated early on account of being tip-tippity-top of the class. Anywhoozles, the ship Technician, Long Drive, he convinced me to ask Captain Sunstar for the position.”

“Why?”

“Because he knew I was perfect for the position, of course.”

“Thought you wanted to be a Cadet, Briar. With your skill, two years as Cadet, two years as co-Captain, then you get your own ship. ‘Captain Briarthorn’, remember?” She trailed her hoof over his chest seductively. “The sexy Captain Briarthorn…”

Briarthorn shrugged. “Yeah, but… Diffusion flying is a bit of a family legacy, y’know? Dad did it, his mother did it before him, and her father did it before her. It’s in my blood.” He flared his big wings, almost knocking several glasses off the table. “Yessiree! Captain Sunstar saw me try out and said I’ve got a real knack for it, on account of… all that stuff I just said. I was made for this, babe.”

Blackburn just stared at him for a long moment. “You enjoy it?”

“Oh, hell yes. I mean, I’d love to be a full-blown Captain someday, but I know that even I have to work my way up the ranks the hard way, no nepotism here, no sir. Heck, dad was a Diffusion flyer for twelve years! Senior position, sure, whatever. But I don’t mind. It’s so cool that my job keeps my ship, my crew, our cargo, and our passengers safe.” He beamed proudly. “I love it. Wouldn’t give it up for the world. Like I said though, someday I’d love to have my own ship, but for now, I’m happy with where I’m at.”

Blackburn paused to think, then smiled and nodded. “That’s… really neat, Briar… I’m glad you found something you enjoy.”

Briarthorn reached his hooves around Blackburn for a tight embrace. “Hey! That reminds me! You weren’t here when I got assigned to the Southern Sun! Ohhh, you! We need another drink to celebrate.”

He kissed her full on the lips, then rose up to grab the tablet again, but as he went to place the order, Blackburn held up her hoof to pause him.

“Order me a Gunpowder’s Guzzler,” she said.

Briarthorn raised an eyebrow and looked at her like she was from one of the moons. “Wow, really? The Gunpowder’s Guzzler? That’s, uh… that’s one heck of a drink there, Princess, if you can even call it that. Are you sure--”

“I’m sure.”

“Yeah yeah, okay, your funeral.”

Blackburn frowned at his choice of words.

He placed the order: another shot of vodka for him, and for her, a cocktail glass filled with a black liquid topped with a sparkler. Blackburn took her glass and nearly forgot to clink glasses with Briarthorn or take out the sparkler before choking it down. It tasted like burnt coffee mixed with extra spicy hot sauce; it was an acquired taste, and she still hadn’t acquired it, but it was one of the absolutely hardest drinks she knew. And right now, she needed something hard to come to grips with what was swirling through her head.

The rest of the night was mostly a blur to Blackburn. She drank more Gunpowder’s Guzzlers, one after the other, until after her fifth round - or sixth, or seventh, she wasn’t sure - she could barely see; by this point, Gadget had already passed out after her third hard lemonade. It was here that the revelry finally ended and everypony decided it was time to get some rest. Crossfire was strong enough, and sober enough, to carry Blackburn and Gadget by himself, and Briarthorn, though thoroughly drunk, was still lucid enough to walk on his own; the two decided it would be best if they stayed at Briarthorn’s place for the night.

*****

Blackburn and Gadget sat at Briarthorn’s dining table the following morning, ice packs on their heads, cups of coffee in their hooves.

“I’m never drinking again…” Gadget grumbled. “Never ever ever ever ever. I swear on Harmonia’s left hoof.”

“Will need to keep better tabs on my limit,” Blackburn agreed as she took a sip of her coffee.

After a long moment of quiet, Gadget turned to Blckburn and frowned. “You didn’t tell him, Blackburn.”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Why?”

Blackburn took a deep breath. “Bramblejam loved his work. Briarthorn loves his work. Work critical to city’s success. See no reason to disrupt.”

“But… but Blackburn, you know that if he keeps this up, he’s going to die. Like, within the next ten years or so.” Gadget shook her head. “I don’t understand. You tried practically everything you could to steer him away from what he’s doing, to push him into the Captain’s chair. Why aren’t you gonna try to change his mind?”

“Can’t do more… if I try to convince him to quit, will have to explain why. Plus, he enjoys it… cannot deprive him of that.” Blackburn sighed. “Can only… make him happy.”

Gadget remained silent for a long moment. “I don’t agree with this, Princess. He deserves to know.”

“I know.”

“And you know damn well Crossfire won’t agree with this either.”

“I know.”

“Then why--”

“My decision to make!” Blackburn snapped, rising from her seat. “My duty to keep secret from him, from all Diffusion flyers! My duty, my decision, my guilt! I will live with my decision. With my father’s decision. With my grandfather's decision. It’s what’s best for him, what’s best for the city. You don’t think this is hard for me, too?”

Gadget and Blackburn locked eyes for several seconds before Gadget turned away and sighed. “Okay, Blackburn… I see your point, but… just promise me that you’ll do everything you can to make this better. I’m not exactly Briar’s biggest fan sometimes, but he’s my friend too.”

Blackburn took a breath to calm herself. “Will do what I can as Princess. Father unlikely to be sympathetic; requires King’s approval for such a project.” She hummed and tapped her chin. “Possible solution with our resources in Pandemonium. Perhaps we can develop improvements to Diffusion system?”

“Yeah… yeah, that could work.” Gadget gave a slight smile and nodded. “I’ll see if I can whip anything up while we’re dealing with our other business. Might be able to market it with Virtuoso’s help if I can figure something out. With any luck… maybe we can save some lives here, not just Briarthorn’s.”

Blackburn nodded. “All we can do, all we can hope for.” She sat back down and took another drink of coffee.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Princess? I know you and Briarthorn have this whole thing going on… but doesn’t this make that difficult?”

Blackburn sighed and shook her head. “Have to rethink things… rethink everything. Need time away again. Will begin plans for next trip… after headache goes away...”

Two Months Later

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire arrived in Newhaven in the late morning, greeted by Concord and the usual entourage of dock workers with the usual overenthusiastic greetings and service; this had been more of an official visit that last time, so Concord had prepared an even more extravagant welcome replete with banners, balloons, and music. Blackburn wasn’t sure if she should feel honored or embarrassed at the amount of effort Concord had put into things, but was thankful nonetheless; the stallion certainly had a passion for his work.

The trio made their way straight for Shining Steel’s home as soon as they were able to pull themselves away from Concord’s overbearing welcome, as they had already arranged plans to visit before taking their next secret trip north to Pandemonium. Their bags were packed, their tickets and fake identifications ready for their flight later tonight, and their cover story already planned out with Shining Steel and another trusted ally: Evening Glitz.

They five of them were now eating a simple lunch together: daisy sandwiches, strawberry salads, and cool, fresh lemonade. Paramour and Crystal Heart were out for lunch with some of Crystal Heart’s friends and their mothers, giving plenty of time for this little clandestine rendezvous to occur without involving the two in any potentially risky ventures; they had plausible deniability should anything happen.

“Traveling to the Utopian capital itself is a pretty decent excuse,” said Glitz, who sat beside Shining Steel opposite Blackburn and her friends. She took a bite of her strawberry salad and mulled over the situation in her head, her brow furrowed. “I suppose that’s why you had Shining call me here?”

“Correct,” Blackburn said. “Trust both of you implicitly; have no ponies in position within city to assist. Had planned on using Bramblejam, but...” She frowned and sighed.

Glitz put her hoof on Blackburn’s. “I heard last week. I’m so sorry, Princess. I know you looked up to him.”

“Not to mention you’re dating his son,” Shining added, shaking his head. “That must be really hard for both of you to deal with. If there’s anything we can do--”

“No, just help with my mission,” Blackburn said stiffly. “Appreciate the offer, but I can cope.”

Shining nodded, taking a bite from his sandwich. “Well, if you’re still thinking about anypony else to trust with your missions, Princess, I’d recommend Concord. He’s a pretty reliable sort, well within the means to keep these trips of yours secret while making the process more convenient for you. Nopony would bat an eye if he fudged a few things, y’know?”

Blackburn shook her head. “Do not know him well enough to trust with information. Agree with assessment, though; additional benefit: plenty of autonomy, as father doesn’t oversee his duties. Also potential con: risks losing said autonomy, which allows Newhaven to prosper.”

“Yeah… yeah, okay, I can see where that might be risky.” Shining shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich. “Well, maybe at some point you’ll get to know him. Then you just might change your mind.”

“At any rate, at least for now, the cover story is that the Princess and her entourage are coming to the Utopian capital with me to visit the city and meet a few dignitaries from House Dawn and House Snow, since you missed the chance on your last trip, right?” asked Glitz. She hummed and tapped her chin. “How long are you planning on staying in ‘Utopia’?”

Blackburn looked to Gadget and Crossfire, then smiled. “Diplomatic mission, requires all due diligence. Extended leave. Current plan: six months, maybe more.”

Glitz leaned back in her chair and took a drink of lemonade. “Okay… I can make that work. A few forged documents here and there so that it seems like you’re with me while I’m doing my rounds with the noble houses. Granted I would like you to actually be present for those discussions some day, but for now we’ll work with it. Never know when you might actually need Utopia’s help, right?”

“Thank you, Glitz,” Blackburn said with a nod. “Appreciate your assistance and confidentiality.”

Glitz waved the gesture off with her hoof and smiled brightly. “Not a problem at all, Princess. It’s the least I could do for you after all you’re doing to help Hope’s Point, especially since you’re doing it at risk to yourself. You’re just like your grandfather in that respect.”

Blackburn grinned. “He trusted you with city security; without you, duty falls to somepony with similar dedication.”

Glitz leaned forward and gave Blackburn a hard look. “Speaking of which, how’s my replacement, if you don’t mind my asking? What’s your opinion of her?”

Blackburn grunted. “Agree with Solarian’s assessment: know-nothing know-it-all. Takes quick, easy solutions over thorough, effective ones. Fits right in with father’s ‘let it be’ attitude. Not a suitable replacement for you.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. I tried to help that filly learn the importance of doing a job right, but she always insisted on doing a job quick.” Glitz sighed and shook her head. “I’m glad you’re doing what Solarian and I couldn’t get done before your grandfather passed. Breaks my heart that he got fired for doing what needed to be done. He deserves better than that. Who ended up replacing him, by the way?”

“Sunbeam.”

Glitz tapped her chin. “Huh… yeah, that makes sense. Probably got a recommendation from Gleaming Star. They’re close, you know? He seemed qualified enough.”

“He’s no Solarian,” Blackburn said, shaking her head.

“Nopony’s like Solarian,” Glitz muttered. “Dangit, I wish there was something I could do for him…”

“He’ll manage just fine, Glitzy, don’t you worry,” Shining said with a smile, patting Glitz on the shoulder. “Flashfire entrusted him with that position for a reason: he’s a smart cookie. Only pony in that whole city smarter than you, y’know?”

Glitz rolled her eyes. “As you always like to remind me.”

Shining snapped to attention and saluted. “It is my sworn duty as your little brother to tease you as often as possible, lest you forget your place and get ‘too big in the head’ as mom used to say.” He chuckled and relaxed immediately after. “You worry too much, sis. He’ll be fine.”

“Yeah yeah, just you watch,” Glitz huffed, poking his horn. “You keep teasing me like that and I’ll make sure little Crystal Heart prefers her aunt to her father any day of the week. I’ll spoil that filly so hard your head’ll spin, mark my words.”

Shining narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, little brother. I still have enough pull with Concord to ship a whole amusement park down here just for her, and I’m not afraid to do it.”

“Okay, okay, I give,” Shining said with a laugh.

Blackburn cleared her throat. “Again, appreciate help from you both. Grandfather’s trust was not misplaced. You make Hope’s Point proud.”

“So do you, Princess,” Shining said. “Hope’s Point and your grandfather both.”

Glitz lifted her glass. “To Hope’s Point!”

The others lifted their glasses as well. “To Hope’s Point!”

They drank.

Chapter Eight: Quaint Questions

As Blackburn and her entourage entered Room 44-6:15, they noticed that it hadn’t changed a bit since they left, besides thick layers of dust caked over everything. Gadget and Crossfire gathered the cleaning supplies they had available to them - a broom, a dustpan, a feather duster, some paper towels, and a bottle of cleaning solution - and whipped their apartment back into tip-top cleanliness over the course of the next hour.

In the meantime, Blackburn took up a seat at the dining table and went over their plan while the others were finishing their cleaning. She used Gadget’s datapad to look over information relevant to their progress as she did so; thanks to the database constructor, all the information she needed was at the tip of her hooves.

“Crown Spectrum profits are up,” she stated as she scrolled through their dummy company’s financial page. “Exposure in New Pandemonium Times proved beneficial. Will need to thank Tea sisters; perhaps a donation to their charity? Thunderbolt’s bank account shows substantial growth, apartment in her name but rent payments are attributed to Crown Spectrum itself. Don Virtuoso kept his end of agreement; no longer need to concern selves with payments.”

“Golly, looks like you did a good job getting in with the right ponies, Princess,” Gadget noted as she wiped a patch of dust off of the windowsill. “Proof that in Pandemonium it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.”

Blackburn turned to Crossfire and gave him an approving smile. “Can’t take all credit; Crossfire made first contact, set plans into motion.”

Crossfire smirked, then lifted the couch up so that Gadget could come over and sweep underneath it. “Shucks, Blackburn, y’all don’t need ta go that far. Just doin’ my job, ya know that as well as I do. I’m sure if ya weren’t havin’ me do it, y’all’d have done it yerself.”

“No need for modesty. Simple statement of facts: you made contact with Tommy Gun; Tommy Gun got us into contact with Virtuoso; at Virtuoso’s party, met Lockwood, who introduced us to Tea Sisters, Bookworm, and others in our network. Ergo, your work initiated network’s groundwork.”

Crossfire set the couch back down after Gadget finished sweeping. “Yeah, but y’all’re the one that made all that work. I sure as shootin’ would’ve been able ta convince Tommy Gun ta get us in with his boss. Took me two weeks just ta get him ta agree ta meet ya.”

Gadget rolled her eyes and dropped a dusty towel on his muzzle, making him sneeze. “Golly, Crossfire, just let the Princess thank you, ya big dummy. Sure, she needed to make all those connections work, but you gave her the first piece of the puzzle to get started with. Learn to take a compliment, sheesh.”

Blackburn took a breath and scrolled through the datapad again. “Need to continue expanding network. Additionally, Virtuoso will want another product, likely before we leave again. Meanwhile, will continue to build influence with him, amass more resources. Likely will retake control of trade route completely.” She turned to her friends. “Suggestions?”

“Hmm… well, I’ll start tinkering with something that should catch Virtuoso’s attention. Gonna try and make something with different parts so we can expand our supply line.” Gadget turned to Blackburn and gave a small smile. “Hopefully something that can help with preventing Diffusion feedback. Might be difficult since they don’t use the system up here, so I might need access to NPAF schematics to see how their defense shields work.”

Crossfire tapped his chin. “Well, I don’t rightly know any way I can help expand our network o’ contacts. Not alone, anyway. I think we oughta get in touch wit’ Lockwood.”

Blackburn nodded. “Thought the same. He knows Virtuoso personally; could be useful determining ideal plan of attack. Can also help expand network, still need other pieces to compete.” She turned to Gadget. “Gadget, hold fort here, begin planning new invention; Crossfire and I will contact Lockwood, arrange a formal meeting.”

Gadget saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

Blackburn rose from the table, gave Gadget back her datapad, then headed out the front door with Crossfire in tow.

*****

The next day, Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire waited patiently at a small table in a small restaurant in Mid-West’s East Territory, dressed in comfortable, casual clothes. The little diner wasn’t much, a run-of-the-mill hay fries joint that was supposedly crowded all day, every day, because it was one of only four such locations in the entire city - Inner Districts excluded - that served real, honest-to-goodness hay fries instead of the imitation Dolor brand version served almost everywhere else.

As such, it wasn’t just crowded, it was expensive; Blackburn almost balked at the price of a single basket of plain hay fries: five bits. Hope’s Point had multiple hay fries joints, but even the most expensive - Clear Sky’s Hay Fries, the favorite of Blackburn and her friends - served baskets at less than half that price, better quality ones at that, complete with seasonings. They didn’t even have ketchup for Gadget at this joint, nor did they have salt, pepper, or anything else. The fact that it was so crowded despite the price and selection made it clear that ponies in this city were desperate for real food; only the wealthy could really frequent a place that served anything besides Dolor goods, so to the average citizen, it was splurging just to get fries.

Gadget eyed her watch, then grunted and slumped forward onto the table, pushing aside their empty plates. “He’s late, Thunderbolt. Really, really late.”

Blackburn scanned the crowd for what must’ve been the tenth time in the past thirty minutes they’d been waiting, but again there was no sign of their brown-maned, fedora-wearing comrade. “This isn’t like him at all. He seemed pretty enthusiastic about being here when we spoke, right?” she asked, turning to Crossfire.

Crossfire nodded. “Seemed more excited to get some fries than wit’ meetin’ us, if’n ya want mah honest opinion. Helped that we offered ta buy, right?”

“A little celebratory meal between friends seemed like the ideal way to spend time after months apart. To be honest I expected him to turn down our offer to buy.” Blackburn frowned as she scanned the crowd again; still no sign of Lockwood. “Where is he?”

“Maybe we got stood up? Or maybe he had something important pop up?” Gadget suggested. “It’s not like he can easily contact us if he got held up by something. How this city survives without even simple portable communication devices baffles me to no end.”

Crossfire shook his head. “Naw. ‘Tain’t his style ta just up ‘n’ ditch us. If somethin’ came up, he would’ve gotten hold o’ somepony ta come let us know, right?” He scratched his chin, a frown playing across his face. “Boss, I might be speakin’ outta turn here, but I’ve got a bad feelin’ ‘bout this. Y’all don’t think anythin’ happened ta him, do ya?”

Blackburn leaned back in her seat, also frowning. “Hmmm… well, this neighborhood isn’t particularly safe compared to ours… and he lives in an even worse area.” She rose from her seat. “I agree, Fireblast. Something’s wrong. This isn’t like him.” She tilted her head towards the doorway. “Let’s go check on him, hmm?”

*****

Mid-West’s Northwest Territory was as close to being a slum as any of the Mid districts could possibly be, as was typical for the neighborhoods that bordered so closely to the Outer District. Typically when the trio walked the streets of the Mid Districts, Blackburn was confident enough in her safety to stay a few steps ahead of Gadget and Crossfire so they weren’t in total lockstep; it gave her an air of authority that helped maintain the image Thunderbolt would be trying to maintain. Here, though, Blackburn let her bodyguard friends flank her more closely; she could feel eyes on her from all directions and she was thankful not to walk these streets alone.

Lockwood’s apartment complex was a nondescript, disgusting, rectangular building some fifty stories tall in the middle of a collection of near-identical buildings, none of which had official markings or signs to distinguish them from one another. The only reason the trio even knew the building they were approaching belonged to Lockwood was that he’d been very specific about which one was his when describing it to them in case they ever visited: “Fourth building from the south end of the block.”

The interior of the building was poorly kept: the ceramic tiles were cracked and dirty while the cheap carpets were scuffed and stained; the walls were just bare, plain steel, most of it rusted; the desks and chairs were covered with thick layers of dust except where hoofprints had brushed it away. The place was as much of a run-down dump as Lockwood had described it, but Blackburn had assumed he was just exaggerating.

There was a receptionist at a desk at the foot of the stairs, a female unicorn with a pale green coat and coal-black mane, dressed in a plain gray blouse. She looked like she’d rather be literally anywhere else in the world and was slumped forward in her chair twirling a hoof through her mane, bored, in the middle of some daydream.

Blackburn approached her and cleared her throat. “Excuse me, we’re looking for somepony who lives here. Lockwood?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, sure.” The receptionist sat up straight in her chair and looked through the card catalog behind the desk, fishing out one and reading it aloud to Blackburn: “Lockwood: Room 0778.”

“Would you happen to know if he’s here?”

The receptionist shrugged. “Haven’t seen him leave today, so he’s probably still upstairs. Unless he left before my shift started, but that would be really early in the morning.”

“Has anypony else come calling for him?”

“Huh?” the mare asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh. Yeah, he had some guests earlier today, but they left a couple of hours ago.”

Blackburn pondered this, but saw nothing yet that would be cause for him to be late. His visitors had left well before Lockwood was supposed to be meeting Thunderbolt’s crew. “Well, we’ll just head up then, if that’s alright.”

The receptionist shrugged again. “No skin off my bones, lady.”

“In case he isn’t there, though, could you give a message to him for me? Let him know Thunderbolt was looking for him.”

“And you’re Thunderbolt, I assume?”

“I am.”

“Sure, whatever, I’ll pass it along,” the receptionist yawned.

Lockwood’s floor was only the seventh of fifty, a much more convenient climb than the one Blackburn and her friends dealt with, but at this point they barely noticed it anymore; they’d grown so accustomed to climbing over forty floors up and down every time they left their apartment that seven floors was nothing. On the seventh floor, the building split off into two halls; the left hall with rooms 0701-0749, the right to 0750-0799, thus Lockwood’s room was close to the middle of the right hall. It was bizarre how much better organized this building’s room numbers were than their own; yet another example of the bizarre chaos the city seemed built on.

Blackburn knocked on his door three times, then waited. No response. She knocked again, four times now, then waited. No response. She knocked once again, only twice this time while also calling out, “Lockwood! You in there?” Then she waited.

Again, no response.

“The receptionist said she didn’t see him leave, right?” Crossfire asked, looking worried. “Why ain’t he answerin’?”

“Either he’s not here, or something’s wrong with him,” Blackburn said, concerned. She turned to Gadget. “Tinker, open the door.”

Gadget raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Open the door. I know you know how to crack locks.”

Gadget fidgeted slightly. “Boss, uh… that’s... breaking and entering--”

Blackburn gave her an insistent look. “Just open the door. Please.”

Gadget paused, then took a breath and nodded. While Crossfire and Blackburn watched for anypony else, she lit her horn and grabbed onto the door’s locking mechanism, filtering her magic into the gaps to twist the lock. It didn’t take her more than a few seconds to do so; she practiced frequently on a practice lock and had been doing so since she was fourteen. When she was done, the lock clicked, and the door creaked open. Blackburn pushed it the rest of the way, then Crossfire pushed past the two to survey the apartment.

Lockwood’s apartment was smaller than theirs by a tremendous amount, best described as “tiny”. There was a tiny kitchen, a door leading off to a tiny restroom, a tiny living room, and a tiny bedroom. A window in the living room looked out onto the alleyway below; there wasn’t a quality filter screen on it like in their own apartment, as Lockwood’s was in disrepair.

Crossfire finishing giving the place a thorough once-over, then called: “Clear!”

Gadget entered next and looked upon the apartment with disdain. “Golly… Lockwood lives here? Holy smokes, this place is a frickin’ dump if I’ve ever seen one.”

“He always made it sound like he didn’t have the best living conditions,” Blackburn noted as she entered after Gadget, closing the door behind her. Once certain they were alone, she shook off the Thunderbolt persona. “Unsure if glad or not that he’s honest. Considering contacts, should have connections necessary to get better apartment.”

“Eh, he’d probably turn everypony down if they tried. He seemed pretty against the idea of taking charity from anypony.”

Crossfire shook his head. “Makes me feel kinda bad for ‘im...”

Blackburn looked around the living room and noted that there was a barely-noticeable void of dust in the center of the room, distinctly shaped like a small rug. There were two keys hanging on hooks in the kitchen; one she knew belonged to the apartment, based on its size, but the other was too small. She took this one off its hook for now; there were no locks in the living room or kitchen, but there might be in the bedroom.

She then turned to Crossfire and Gadget in turn. “Search apartment. Lockwood wasn’t seen leaving; may have done so discreetly, or unwillingly. Didn’t do so through window - can’t be locked from outside.”

“If I might ask, boss, what exactly are we looking for?” Gadget asked, adjusting her glasses over her face.

“Anything of interest, particularly clues to whereabouts.” She looked off towards the bedroom. “You two: out here. Will take bedroom myself.”

Her friends gave her a brisk salute, then set to work. Blackburn, meanwhile, headed into Lockwood’s bedroom to look around. It was sparsely furnished: a small bed barely large enough for one pony - certainly not one of Crossfire’s size; a small closet without its own door, showing off Lockwood’s lacking wardrobe - two plain white shirts, one brown jacket, one brown dinner jacket, a black umbrella, and two fedoras of decent quality; and a small nightstand.

Blackburn headed to the closet first and searched through the pockets of his jackets. They were all empty. She next checked inside his hats and umbrella, and found them empty as well. There was nothing on the floor, either, and testing it with her hooves revealed no hidden compartments. She looked under the covers of his bed, under the pillow, under the mattress, and under the bed itself. Nothing. She wasn’t strong enough to move the bed on her own, so she knew Lockwood wasn’t either; she would assume for now that he had no hidden compartment under it, but noted that she’d have Crossfire give it a check if nothing else was found.

Last, she checked the nightstand, which had two drawers. In the top drawer, she found a few personal belongings: his identification, his wallet, a couple of pens, and a notebook, which she flipped through and found empty. She was certain at this point that he’d either left in a hurry or been taken against his will; not having his identification on him was a criminal offense, and Lockwood wasn’t an idiot. The bottom drawer, on the other hand, was locked, so Blackburn tried the key since it was about the right size. It worked.

Inside the bottom drawer were only two things: a book of some kind, and a torn photograph. The photo was that of a pegasus mare with a pastel blue coat and pink-orange mane tied up in tidy bun. She bore a shy smile, as if nervous to even be in the picture, but her golden eyes were alight with joy. Blackburn felt a flicker of recognition; those eyes were very close in color to Lockwood’s. Blackburn also noticed a familiar gray foreleg wrapped around her shoulder.

The book, meanwhile, was small and hardback, but heavily worn. Blackburn flipped through it briefly, and was able to determine that it was a diary since many entries started with "Dear Diary", but she could tell it wasn’t Lockwood’s writing, having corresponded with him on numerous occasions. The few entries she saw at the front mentioned Lockwood by name, and though she was merely scanning them she noted that whoever had written this was madly in love with him; she put two-and-two together and guessed the diary belonged to the mare in the photo. Blackburn felt the slightest twinge of something flitter through her. Jealousy? No, she thought, mere curiosity.

But, since there wasn’t anything useful here, she simply put the photo and diary back in the drawer, locked it, and headed back out into the living room, where Gadget and Crossfire had finished their own searches. “Anything?” she asked as she set the drawer key back on its hook.

Gadget lifted up one of their familiar Crown Spectrum advertisements. “Found this hanging on the fridge. Nothing on the front, but on the back…” She flipped it over and showed off the other side. It was totally blank, save for some hastily scribbled notes in the upper right corner:

K- OD 5-11385

M- MWNW Third 122 ⅛ - 3 knocks

Blackburn processed this for a few seconds, then nodded in understanding. “Notes for us. ‘TB’, abbreviation for ‘Thunderbolt’. Rest are addresses.”

“Addresses?” Gadget eyed the notes skeptically. “How can you-- nope, nevermind, it’s you, of course you figured that out. Spell it out for me though, boss. I figured they were passwords or something.”

“‘K’ and ‘M’, likely initials of names. Rest are corresponding addresses. ‘OD’: Outer District; ‘5’: street, matching the Outer Districts' naming conventions; ‘11385’: specific address. ‘MWNW’: Mid-West Northwest; ‘Third’ is Third Drive; ‘122’: specific address… though the ‘⅛’ is a mystery; the rest is an entry code - occupants are paranoid.”

Crossfire scratched his head. “Ya said that there’s fer us? Why’s it here, then? He was s’posed to be meetin’ us--”

“Something’s off,” Blackburn said, shaking her head. She pointed at the key hooks. “Apartment key still here. Notes made quickly, possibly under duress. Possible emergency, fled to one of these addresses? Hmm…”

“Probably best if we get started then, yeah?” Gadget asked, rolling up the ad and pocketing it.

Blackburn nodded. “Let’s go.”

*****

The second address Lockwood had listed was the closer of the two, so it was the first that the trio went in search of. It wasn’t far from Lockwood’s neighborhood, and being in the same sub-district meant that it was just as slummy. They came up to a filthy brick building labeled “122”, which was next to one labeled “121” and another labeled “123”. Each was little more than an office building where ponies worked on filling out and processing menial paperwork for the city’s bureaucracy. The buildings were separated by small, dark alleyways laden with garbage.

“So, uh... where’s the place we’re supposed to go, boss?” Gadget asked as she looked around the 122 building. “I’m not seeing 122 ⅛.”

“That’s ‘cause there ain’t no 122 ⅛,” Crossfire added, scratching his head. “Did Lockwood write his note wrong? Is this a goof? I mean, addresses ain’t gonna come all weird like that, right?”

“Why not? You’ve been in Pandemonium as long as we have, are you gonna tell us you haven’t seen enough weird crap around here?”

Blackburn tapped her chin. “‘122 ⅛’, if you look at it mathematically, would lie between ‘122’ and ‘123’.” She looked down the alleyway that separated those two buildings. “Perhaps our clue is in there, between the buildings?”

“It makes about as much sense as anything else in this stupid city,” Gadget said, rolling her eyes. “Lockwood’s apartment doesn’t have a name or address listed anywhere, and our apartment number is based on the hands of a clock, so why wouldn’t there be somepony living in an alleyway with a frickin’ fraction for an address?”

Crossfire took point as the trio approached the alleyway, and Gadget drew her sidearm as she followed closely behind Blackburn. There weren’t any doors in the alley, just heaping piles of assorted trash. However, as they passed through, Blackburn suddenly stopped and stared at the wall of the 122 building; Crossfire and Gadget stopped as well to see what was going on.

“Why’d you stop?” Gadget asked, looking about.

Blackburn pointed at a lone discolored brick - black instead of red - that stood out against the rest of the wall, precisely one-eighth of the way into the alley. “There.”

“Huh. Good eye, boss,” Gadget said. She looked around the surrounding wall, but couldn’t see anything else out of place. “So, uh... now what?”

“We knock three times, I suppose.” Blackburn stepped up to the brick and knocked three times, then waited.

She didn’t wait long. Suddenly, the brick slid aside, and Blackburn could see the scowling face of a truly elderly stallion on the other side. “What? What? We’re closed. Beat it or I’ll call the cops.”

“The cops?” Crossfire asked.

The old stallion looked him up and down with some apprehension. “Oy, they’re already here, lookit that.” He turned back to Blackburn, his scowl returning quickly. “What d’ya want?”

“We’re looking for somepony,” Blackburn said. “Are you a friend of Lockwood’s?”

The old pony rolled his eyes. “Oy, that dingbat?” He paused. “I mean, nah, I don’t know him. Who? What?”

Blackburn shared a quick look of confusion with Crossfire, then Gadget, then the old pony. “He specifically provided us with your contact information. Do you know him or not?”

The stallion scratched his chin. “I dunno. What’s he look like?”

“Pegasus, male, gray coat, brown mane, gold eyes. Usually wears a fedora.”

“Bit on the scrawny side?”

Blackburn nodded and smiled. “Yes, that’s him.”

The old stallion shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

A shrill voice came from behind the old pony. “Liar! Liar! Liaarrr!”

“Get back, witch!” the stallion spat.

An old mare, easily as old as the stallion, popped into view just behind him. “I’m not a witch, I’m your wife! And if you’re going to stand there and lie to that poor mare, I’m not even sure I wanna be that anymore!”

The stallion huffed. “You’ve never had it so good.”

“Now you listen here, Miracle, the nice mare said ‘Lockwood’. I heard her ask if you knew Lockwood, and you do know Lockwood. Quit lying to her!” She slapped the stallion on the shoulder.

Blackburn poked her head to the side just a little to get a better look at the older mare, but couldn't see much. She herself was at a loss for words.

The stallion - Miracle, apparently - grunted at his wife. “Oy, Vaccine, why are you gonna go and do that, huh? Make me look like a liar?”

“Because you lied, you liar!” shouted the mare - Vaccine. She turned to Blackburn. “Yes, we know Lockwood. He’s a sweet colt, very nice.”

“He’s a real troublemaker is what he is,” Miracle grunted.

“How so?” asked Blackburn.

“Oy, he’s always coming here with something wrong with him. Injured this, injured that, it’s ridiculous.” Miracle snorted and shook his head. “Just because I fix him up and he can pay for it he thinks I like fixing him up, the schmuck.”

“So you’re some sort of a doctor?”

“Strictly speaking, no. Technically speaking, yes.”

Blackburn blinked, genuinely lost. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“What’s not to understand? Ponies come here injured, I fix them up. What more do you want?”

“And you charge for these services?”

“What do you take me for, some kind of charity service? Of course I charge, I gotta pay for my materials don’t I? I’m not running some bargain bin hospital.”

Gadget raised an eyebrow. “Well then what the heck makes you different from a regular doctor?”

“Who said that?” Miracle looked back and forth, not seeing anything, until Gadget waved her hoof to get his attention down to her height. He looked at the short unicorn, then turned back to Blackburn. “Lady, I hope you don’t mind my saying that your daughter’s got quite a lip on her.”

Crossfire snorted, the best he could do to hold back laughter. Gadget glared daggers at him, first, then at Miracle.

“She’s not my-- Nevermind. I think her question has merit, though,” Blackburn said. “What makes you different from the hospitals, if I might ask?”

“Well, when ponies don’t have the bits to pay for my services, I usually have them do a little work for me,” Miracle replied. “See, I’m getting up there in years, and I need a good, strong pair of hooves every now and then. But, if I don’t need anything myself, I put them in touch with ponies who do.”

“So… you give ponies medical treatment in exchange for menial labor?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it? Sometimes they just keep working even after they pay the debt off so somepony has to start paying them. Vicious cycle. Oy, gives me a headache just thinking about it.”

Blackburn shook her head. “Well… that’s pretty neat.”

“Neat? Lady, I perform miracles for the price of a M.L.T. That’s a mushroom, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, best thing in the whole world, especially when the mushrooms are sliced real thin and the tomatoes are extra ripe.” He smacked his lips, paused, then shook his head. “Nevermind all that, what do you want? Why are you here?”

“Lockwood gave us your information, thought we might be interested in working together with you. If what you’re saying is true, I think we might be able--”

Miracle huffed. “Listen lady, I don’t know you, you don’t know me, and all we’ve got in common is that we both know some luckless weirdo. I’m not interested in working together with anypony, or being anypony’s partner, or whatever.”

“But--”

“Read my lips: Not. Interested. Come back if you have a medical emergency.”

“But--”

Miracle shut the brick closed.

Gadget snorted. “Golly, what a jerk.” She patted Blackburn on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry, boss, you don’t need a pony like that on our contact list. Guess Lockwood’s not so perfect.”

“I mean, he said he helps ponies, didn’t he?” Crossfire noted, scratching his chin. “That’s just the kind o’ pony we need more of in our lil’ network, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, whatever, if the old geezer doesn’t want to partner up, his loss.”

Blackburn shook her head, confused. “Well… I guess this was a bust. Unless anypony here has a medical problem we should get looked at?” she asked, turning to Gadget, then Crossfire, neither of whom reacted. She shrugged. “If we see Lockwood, we’ll ask him what this was all about. Come on, we’ve got another stop to make.”

*****

As the trio walked through the streets of the Outer District, Blackburn finally realized just why her grandfather had founded Hope’s Point. The Inner Districts of this city were all glitz and glamour, making even the best of Hope’s Point look pale in comparison; the Mid Districts were mostly on par with Hope’s Point’s quality, only more congested and unkempt, but not so much so that it was a truly awful living experience from what she’d seen of it. Even the worst of the Mid Districts, like Lockwood’s neighborhood, were still livable, if one took precautions while walking the streets.

The Outer District, however, was a true slum in every sense of the word. The streets and homes were covered with filth and in dangerous states of disrepair; the air was choked with smog that made it unfeasible for pegasi to even attempt flight without risking severe health issues; there were very, very few businesses, and the ones that existed were all of questionable repute or in such poor state that they looked dilapidated.

The ponies that walked the streets were clearly suffering just living here. What little clothes they had were torn and dirty, and most were malnourished and or ill, and the scant few that weren’t were clearly of the criminal persuasion. Gadget didn’t even bother keeping her sidearm holstered, aiming it at anypony that even looked hostile; there wasn’t a police presence to hassle her over it.

The trio eventually found their way to the address that Lockwood had provided them with, which belonged to a small, ramshackle house, similar in make to the many other houses on this block. That the ponies out here had their own houses was perplexing, but considering the quality of their upkeep it definitely wasn’t an improvement. It was only a little larger than the trio’s apartment, truth be told.

The trio walked through what could barely be considered a front yard, then Blackburn knocked on the door and waited. Several moments passed, when at last a set of hoofsteps approached from the other side.

A mare’s voice called: “Yeah, what do you want?”

“We were wondering if we could talk to you for a few minutes,” Blackburn called back.

“Are you here to deliver something?”

“No.”

“Are you a cop?”

Blackburn noted the nervousness in her voice with that question. “No.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“We just wanted to talk with you. We’re friends of Lockwood, and he gave us your address--”

The door opened just a crack, kept from fully opening by a heavy chain lock. Blackburn could just barely see the mare peeking out at her and her friends, but not enough to tell what she looked like. “You said Lockwood sent you?” the mare asked, genuinely interested.

Blackburn smiled. “Yes, that’s right. We’re friends of his. May we come in?”

The door closed again, and there came the sound of the chain being unfastened before the door opened again, and the mare gestured for the trio to come inside. She was a creamy orange unicorn with a bright green mane kept short in the front, long in the back; her tail was done up in a bun. She wore a simple yellow blouse, much too clean and neat to belong to somepony that lived in the squalor that the neighborhood was in.

Blackburn did a quick scan of the interior of the house as she walked inside - after Crossfire went first, naturally - and noticed that the rooms were nearly bare, hardly enough to be considered livable. There wasn’t even a single lamp, so it was eerily dark inside. As Blackburn looked about, she was absolutely certain this mare didn’t actually live here.

The mare used her magic to close and lock the door behind them, then gestured for the trio to follow her further inside to a set of stairs that led into the basement. Blackburn judged the stairs and basement to be a recent addition to the house, not something that came with it; it was in too good of condition. The basement itself was lit by a single ceiling light, bright enough to make it comfortable, which was enough to show that this part of the house was definitely new. It was well-kept and mostly clean, and two sofas and some tables with magazines gave it the feel of some kind of waiting room.

The mare gestured towards one of the walls, which had a board on it that listed assorted prices for various services, all of which were related to forgeries and documentations. “So, what can I help you folks with? You need some fake identifications? Alterations to the ones you have? Documents forged or otherwise? You name it, I can do it.”

Blackburn looked keenly at the wall, examining the various prices listed. She’d seen how much these same services cost when bought legitimately out in the city and knew them to be quite expensive; this mare was charging significantly less, though her services were still a bit pricey.

“You’re a forger?” Blackburn asked, playing dumb.

The mare blinked. “Wh-- yeah? You said Lockwood sent you here, right? Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he failed to mention it.”

Blackburn glanced at the board with some interest, noting that the resources she’d had to procure to obtain some of these things - such as the fake identifications for Thunderbolt, Tinker, and Fireblast - had been quite significant. How this mare came by the same resources was a mystery.

“But he seemed to think you might be of interest to me,” Blackburn finished. “What’s your name?”

“Uh… Keeneye. And you are?”

Blackburn offered her hoof. “My name’s Thunderbolt. And these two are my associates, Tinker and Fireblast,” she added, gesturing to Gadget and Crossfire respectively.

“Right, yeah,” said Keeneye, taking Blackburn’s hoof and shaking it.

“Pleased to meet you,” Gadget said with a nod.

“Nice meetin’ ya, ma’am,” said Crossfire with a smile and a nod.

“Yeah, a pleasure, right,” Keeneye muttered. She shook her head. “So wait, you’re not here for forgeries, but Lockwood thought I might be of interest to you? Who are you that that makes any sense?”

“I own a tech company, Crown Spectrum,” Blackburn replied. “Top of the top-of-the-line, that’s our motto. We’re new on the scene, so you might not know us yet.”

Keeneye nodded in acknowledgement. “No, I’ve heard of you guys. That doohickey you put on the market last month made some big waves, I tell ya. Had a couple guys from Ultrafast Technologies come by last week trying to get me to forge some patent documents so they could sue the pants off you and your company.”

“And you refused, I assume?”

“Well yeah,” Keeneye scoffed with a smirk. “You kidding? That little wonder you put out helped a lot of ponies. I’ve got a cousin who lost the use of his horn in a factory accident - a severe Ley Line fracture - and can’t use magic on his own anymore. But, with your product, he’s able to use magic again for the first time in nearly six years. You gave him a new lease on life.”

Blackburn smiled. “That’s lovely news to hear.” She turned to Gadget, a proud twinkle in her eye. “See, Tinker? We are helping. You’ve done some real good here with that invention of yours. You should be proud.”

Gadget blushed and scuffed her hoof at the floor. “Golly, boss, thanks. It wasn’t much, really, just a little fiddling with some parts and all…”

Blackburn turned back to Keeneye. “So you refused to forge those documents because you knew our work was helping ponies in need?”

“Oh, absolutely. I might be the best in the business, but I’ve got some standards. And don’t you worry, those goons wouldn’t’ve tried somepony else for the forgeries, but I guarantee they wouldn’t do as good of a job as I would if they did. Not worth getting caught.”

“Explains why y’all’d be friends wit’ Lockwood,” Crossfire said with a grin. “Seems he’s got everypony ‘round the city on call if’n they’re decent folk.”

“How do you know him, by the way?” Blackburn asked.

“Oh, me and Lockwood used to go to school together. We didn’t know each other that well at first, but got a little closer when he asked me for a big favor. See, I’ve always been good at what I do; it’s my special talent, after all.” She showed off her cutie mark, a magnifying glass. “Used to forge permission slips and report cards for other students in exchange for lunch money. Well, one day Lockwood came to me with something new, something I’d never tried before. A real challenge, y’know?”

“And what was that?”

“He wanted my help forging adoption papers.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Adoption papers?”

“Yeah. Wait… you didn’t know?” Keeneye chuckled. “Lockwood’s adopted. Parents died when he was really young.”

Blackburn frowned. “No, I didn’t know that. Did you help him get adopted, then?”

Keeneye shook her head. “Not exactly. He was already living with foster parents when we first met. No, he asked me to forge a set of transfer papers, to transfer him to a different family. It wasn’t easy, let me tell you, but he was insistent, he was cute, and he gave me enough lunch money for the entire week. So, I gave it a shot.”

“And it worked?”

“Sure did. I thought it was weird at first but who was I to question it? How is Lockwood, by the way?” Keeneye asked, a smile on her face. “I haven’t seen him in a few weeks. I know he likes to play hard to get, but I mean, sheesh, what’s a girl gotta do to get that colt to take a hint, huh?”

Blackburn kept on her poker face so as not to betray the confusion and displeasure she was feeling. Was Lockwood pursuing a relationship with this mare? What about the mare in the photograph, then? Who was she? Were they in a relationship? Was Lockwood pursuing both? Neither? Most importantly, why did Blackburn care? What did it matter?

“We spoke briefly yesterday,” Blackburn said at last. “That’s when he gave us your information. We’re business partners and I suppose he figured you’d be of some benefit to our business.”

“I don’t see how I’d be of any help to a tech company beyond just some basic services,” Keeneye said, scratching her chin. “I suppose I could get your patent documents done cheaper than the NPRD can, if that’s what he meant?”

Blackburn smiled. “I think I’ve got a better idea.” She gestured to the board. “I see you make forgeries of passports, and if Lockwood’s confident in your abilities I’ll trust that they’re accurate. Having a passport makes it easier for ponies to get out of the city when they finally tire of it here, right? Safer than crossing over the land route, at any rate.”

Keeneye nodded. “I mean, yeah, lots of ponies want to get out of the city, and I want to help them do it. My prices are significantly less than what the NPRD charges to make the identification modifications. I’d charge less, but the upkeep of my equipment and the expenses that go into making sure I keep up-to-date with the technology gets to be a little much.”

“Would you be willing to lower those prices if you had better resources available to you?”

Keeneye pondered this. “Well… yeah, I suppose I would. I’d need all sorts of… tech… ahh, I see where this is going,” she said with a grin. “You wanna partner up with me. You provide me with the tech I need on the cheap, I drop my prices a bit.”

“That’s precisely it.”

Keeneye pointed sternly at Blackburn. “I’ll warn you now, it won’t lower those prices by much. Unless the tech you’re getting me is some real top-grade stuff, that is.”

“It will be.”

“Hmm… okay. Crown Spectrum has a good reputation right now, and you’re friends with Lockwood, so I’ll trust you, at least for the moment.”

“So you’ll accept a partnership, Miss Keeneye?” Blackburn asked, offering a hoof.

Keeneye stepped in and shook Blackburn’s hoof with gusto. “You’ve got a deal, Miss Thunderbolt.”

Blackburn turned to Gadget. “Tinker, be a dear and make sure Keeneye is added to our list of business partners. I want her to be provided with anything she needs.”

“Will do, boss,” Tinker said with a little salute as she took out her datapad and started making modifications.

“A pleasure doing business with you, Keeneye,” Blackburn said with a nod. She turned to Gadget and Crossfire. “Let’s get going. I think we need to pay a visit to our good friend Lockwood.”

“Say ‘hi’ to him for me!” Keeneye said with enthusiasm as she waved them off.

*****

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire approached Lockwood’s apartment complex later that night, more questions in their heads than answers. They walked inside first to question the receptionist again, only to find that nothing had changed since they’d left - Lockwood had still yet to be seen either arriving at or leaving the building, and their message had yet to be passed on. With all their leads seemingly gone dry, the trio decided instead to head back to their own apartment.

“The best case scenario,” Blackburn said as they left Lockwood’s building, “is that he arrived late to our meeting, saw that we’d left, then decided to check our apartment complex like we did with his. Maybe there’s a message for us back there?”

“And if there’s not?” Gadget asked.

“Then we start contacting our other mutual partners to see if they know anything. I can’t think of any other options here.”

As they walked past the nearby alleyway, Blackburn suddenly stopped and stared down the alleyway, causing Gadget and Crossfire to do the same; the former bumped right into her.

“Ya see somethin’, boss?” Crossfire asked, glancing down the alley.

Blackburn squinted as she stared at a heap of garbage. There was something off about it: the trash was scattered in such a way that it appeared as if something heavy had been dropped from a great height onto the pile. She looked up at the windows of the building, and though it was dark and somewhat hard to see, she recognized one of the window screens directly above the pile, torn in the exact pattern that Lockwood’s window screen had been.

“What’s the matter, boss?” Gadget asked, following Blackburn’s gaze. “Something up there?” She checked that nopony was around, then drew her sidearm.

“That’s Lockwood’s window,” Blackburn said. She then gestured to the trash pile. “The scattered trash suggests something was thrown down from directly above that pile.” She turned to Crossfire. “There wasn’t a sign of struggle in the apartment, was there?”

“Not that any o’ us could see, no,” Crossfire replied, brow furrowed. “But that don’t mean there wasn’t. His apartment ain’t got a lot o’ furniture, it’d be easy ta move things back.”

Blackburn eyed the garbage more closely, then, her eyes widened and she murmured, “No.” She rushed into the alley towards the pile of trash.

Gadget and Crossfire watched her as she ran to the bottom of the pile, then saw what she’d seen and rushed to her side to help. A rolled-up rug was poking ever-so-slightly out of the bottom, and from out of the rug poked the very tip of a hoof. The rug was tied tightly with rope, so Gadget hoisted a sharp shard of glass to cut it, letting the others unfurl the rug.

Blackburn put a hoof to her chest in shock. “Lockwood!”

He’d been beaten, leaving him covered with minor scrapes, bruises, and cuts. His hindlegs were tied together with thick rope, and his forelegs had been as well, though he’d managed to get one leg out. Another rope was wrapped around his body and wings, keeping the latter tight against his sides and unable to move. There was a bad gash on his forehead, likely where he’d hit the ground; if the rug and garbage hadn’t cushioned the fall, he’d have been dead. All he was wearing was his jacket.

Crossfire knelt down close to Lockwood and put a hoof to his neck. He looked to Blackburn, worried. “I got a pulse, but he ain’t breathin’ right.”

Gadget peeked out behind Blackburn to get a better look. “The heck happened to-- oh… oh that’s a lot… of blood…” She passed out and hit the ground hard.

Blackburn glanced at Gadget as she fell to the ground. “Tinker! Tinker!” No response. She groaned. “Shit.”

Crossfire hoisted Lockwood onto his back with a grunt. “We gotta get him ta the hospital, boss. I ain’t got any idea how long he’s been out here but he don’t look so good.”

Blackburn helped Crossfire hoist Gadget up onto his back too. “No time. The closest hospital is six hours away because of this ridiculous city’s layout.”

“Then what’re we gonna do?”

Blackburn grunted. “That other ‘doctor’, from the alley, Miracle. He’s our only option. Come on!”

Chapter Ten: Royal Revelations

Four Months Later

Lockwood lounged on his couch early one evening, reading a book he’d been recommended about surviving out in the Wastelands. Not that he had any intention of ever walking outside Pandemonium’s walls, but he knew ponies that did want to and figured if he could impart any advice to them at all it would be prudent for him to do so. It was a fascinating read, truth be told, if a bit graphic in its descriptions. There were many books on the subject, and he’d read quite a few of them, but this one went into gruesome detail on the various things that were particularly dangerous out there.

One of the greatest dangers of the Wasteland - apart from the risks of starvation, dehydration, injuries sustained while traversing hazardous terrain, and just plain exhaustion - were creatures called ‘Gargantuans’, which the book described as hulking insectoid creatures of suitably gargantuan size that possessed equally exceptional violent tendencies. The book’s author seemed particularly eager to explain just the sorts of grisly things these creatures could do to a pony, who was smaller than even the most juvenile stage of their growth process: they could be ripped to shreds by scythe-like claws, impaled and crushed by sharp, hefty legs, torn apart by razor-sharp mandibles, and worst of all, experience a slow, agonizing death if stung by their scorpion-like stingers, which contained a lethal venom.

One thing was for sure, he was glad the Outer Wall of the city kept the Gargantuans out, especially the bigger adult ones, described as being the size of buildings. He certainly never wanted to see one of these things up close.

The book also described, albeit briefly, a few of the important locales. To the southwest of the Gate were the Redblade Mountains, a range of active volcanoes in a constant state of eruption, making the area quite impregnable to all but the bravest, or stupidest, travelers. To the southeast was the mountainous Goldridge Pass, the only safe region of the entire Wasteland; rumor had it there were ancient ruins underneath the great caverns spreading throughout. Further east was a region called the Blood Mire, though the information was scant on it because nopony went inside as it was blocked by some kind of magical force field. Rumor was that ponies who died in Pandemonium and couldn’t afford a proper burial service were just tossed into it, but that was just a rumor.

And far to the south, there was just the tiniest glimmer of hope, the city of Hope’s Point, a veritable fortress of a harbor that had stood in defiance of Pandemonium’s efforts to quash it for more than forty years. The book didn’t have much information on the place, since it had been written before its author ever managed to reach it. Supposedly it was ruled by a king, it was protected by an impenetrable shield, and the vast majority of its citizens were defectors or refugees from Pandemonium itself. It sounded like a nice change of pace, and the occasional pony Lockwood knew from there - all of them part of some airship team - seemed decent enough.

There came a knock at the door - three knocks in a distinct, slow pattern. Lockwood knew it as the secret knock that he’d developed with Thunderbolt so that he’d know it was either her, Tinker, or Fireblast, or all three together. He set down his book on the couch and trotted over to the door, opening it to reveal Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire carrying a bunch of boxes.

“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” Lockwood greeted with a smile. He stepped aside to let them in and set down their boxes. “I wasn’t expecting you guys for dinner. I thought you had to catch and early flight tomorrow?”

“We do, but we figured we’d stop by and see you before we left,” Blackburn said. “You haven’t eaten anything yet, have you?”

“Not yet, no. I was gonna have a snack in a little bit, but--” Lockwood eyed the boxes curiously. “What’s all this?”

“A little gift for a friend,” she replied with her own smile.

“A gift? For me? What for?”

“Besides you being our friend?” Blackburn chuckled. “Well, last time we took a little vacation down south, you surprised us with those advertisements. So, I figured it would be a nice little idea to show you just how much we appreciate all you’ve done for us this past year.”

Lockwood smiled politely. “I appreciate that, Thunderbolt, but you don’t need to do anything like that for me. I’m not your friend just so that I can get something out of it.”

“Oh, just let us thank you, featherbrain,” Gadget huffed, tugging his ear with her magic. “Sheesh. Some ponies just don’t know how to accept a little kindness and generosity now and then, do they?”

“To be fair, I think you’ve done more than enough for me,” Lockwood noted. “As I recall, you guys saved my life and paid for Miracle’s treatment - and then some - out of pocket, no matter how much I’ve tried to insist I pay for my own medical expenses.”

“That’s different. We didn’t do that because we’re friends, we did that because that’s what ponies are supposed to do when they see somepony in need,” Blackburn said with a grin. “This though, this is us actually thanking you. If it weren’t for you, we’d never have gotten as far ahead as we are.”

“Yeah, thanks to your advice, I was able to whip up another little gizmo for Don Virtuoso and get us a solid partnership with him,” Gadget said with a proud smirk. “I mean, I could’ve figured out he’d like a portable music player eventually, but it was nice knowing he’s got a passion for that kinda stuff so I could get started. To be honest I’m surprised nopony’s thought of it before.”

“Oh please, that was nothing,” Lockwood said, dismissing the thought.

“If’n ya got a problem taking these here gifts, just don’t think of it like we’re repayin’ ya ‘cause we feel obligated or somethin’,” Crossfire said, clapping Lockwood on the shoulder. “Think of it like we’re doin’ it ‘cause y’all’re our friend, and friends look out fer one another.”

Lockwood rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. You seem insistent, and I suppose it would be rude to refuse whatever gifts you brought.” He took a seat on his couch. “So, what’d you bring?”

Crossfire opened the largest box to reveal a rolled up rug. “Ta da!”

Lockwood tilted his head. “A new rug?”

Blackburn nodded and smiled. “You’ve mentioned more than once how much the old one meant to you. It really ‘tied the room together’, right?”

Crossfire hoisted the rug out of the box and unfurled it, setting it down where Lockwood’s old rug had once been. The new rug was of rather decent quality, colored with blacks, whites, and grays in a series of spirals and waves. Lockwood examined it closely, then shook his head with disapproval. “Guys, I… I can’t take this. This had to cost you a fortune, it’s way too nice for me.”

“Nonsense,” Blackburn huffed, waving off his notion with her hoof. “Sure, we didn’t fish it out of some bargain bin somewhere, but it wasn’t exactly expensive. We can more than afford it. Remember, your help made Crown Spectrum pretty damn valuable.”

“Thunderbolt, really, you know I’m not one to take charity--”

“This isn’t charity, doofus,” Gadget snorted, flicking Lockwood’s hat off his head. “We’re your friends, and you needed a new rug, so we bought one. That’s it. Thanks to all the contacts you’ve made us we have the money to afford even better rugs, but we got this one because it wasn’t too fancy.”

“It’s just a gift, Lockwood,” Blackburn said, putting her hoof on his shoulder. “Just a little token of friendship from one friend to another. Okay? If you don’t like it, fine, we’ll take it out of here and won’t say another word about it, but I want to make sure you understand that we’re giving this to you because you are our friend. Not out any sort of pity.”

Lockwood paused a moment, then sighed and smiled. “Okay, okay, sorry. I’m just a little hard-headed about taking things from others, you know that. But I suppose if you guys insist, I’ll be glad to have it.” He eyed the rug and smirked. “I mean, it’s a pretty nice rug. Should tie the room together nicely.”

“Good, glad to hear it. But that’s not all we brought you.”

Lockwood shook his head. “Really, guys, this is already so much--”

“Hush.” Blackburn opened up one of the other boxes, and gestured for him to look inside. There was a stack of little blue tubes inside bearing the Dolor brand label. “Enough Dolor Blue to last you a whole month. I know it’s your favorite, so we decided to get you some. I’ll never understand why you like something that tastes like toothpaste, but everypony’s got a little quirk here and there.”

Lockwood couldn’t help but lick his lips. “That’s… that’s a lot, Thunderbolt. You didn’t need to do that, I can feed myself just fine.”

“One packet a day doesn’t count as feeding yourself, Lockwood,” Blackburn tutted, tapping him on the head with her wing. “Fireblast’s been concerned about your health for a long time, and this was his idea. Isn’t that right, Fireblast?”

Crossfire nodded. “Yup. Y’all’re a scrawny lil’ thing, Lockwood, an’ that ain’t right. Ain’t nopony need ta live like that, so I suggested we get ya somethin’ ta get some meat on them bones o’ yers while we’re gone. Maybe y’all’ll get big ‘n’ strong like me someday.”

“I doubt that.” Lockwood shook his head. “Still, guys… a whole month’s worth? And I assume it’s enough for three meals a day and everything?”

“Sure as shootin’.”

“Guys, this much Dolor Blue could feed an entire neighborhood in the Outer District for more than a month, and it’d be better tasting and better for them than the Brown they usually have to deal with. I can’t accept this--”

“You can, and you will,” Blackburn said, stomping her hoof. “You can do what you want with it, of course. We’d rather you get a chance to relax and enjoy yourself for a little while, but if you feel you have to be your usual selfless self, we’re not going to stop you. It’s what I… what we like about you.”

“You’re not gonna let up on this, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Lockwood let out a breath. “Fine, if you insist. I’ll make sure to keep some for myself, but most of it’s getting donated. What else?”

Blackburn opened up the next box, and Gadget floated out a plethora of vegetables and spices, as well as a tablecloth and some kitchen utensils, and set them on the kitchen counter.

“We may have brought you enough Dolor Blue for a month, but for tonight you’re eating a high-quality meal. Fireblast insisted on giving you the opportunity to have a home-cooked dinner made with real ingredients for once.”

“They ain’t the freshest or firmest,” Crossfire noted, “but it’s the best we can get up here in the city. It’ll still taste mighty fine, I promise ya that. Might make ya homesick fer Utopia even though y’all ain’t from Utopia.”

Lockwood eyed the ingredients: lima beans, onions, garlic, okra, corn, tomatoes, and assorted spices. He had no idea what to expect. “What sort of dish are you making with this?”

Crossfire beamed and stood tall and proud. “My ma’s old-fashioned succotash recipe, which she learned from her ma, who learned it from hers, an’ so on an’ so on through twenty generations o’ mah family. Kinda gotta make do with the ingredients we got, but it’ll hit the spot just right, swear on Harmonia’s wings.”

Lockwood tapped his chin and nodded. “Hmm. Well alright, this sounds fun. Can’t say I’ve ever had Utopian food before.” He gestured to the last box. “And this one?”

“That’s for after dinner,” Blackburn said. “For now, you’re going to help us in the kitchen with Fireblast.”

The quartet helped Crossfire prepare the meal with much gusto: chopping veggies, mixing spices, cleaning utensils, serving, etc. Apart from Lockwood, everypony present had sampled Crossfire’s exquisite cooking before, particularly his family succotash recipe, so their opinion was pretty much to be expected: good, not great, because the ingredients weren’t farm-to-table quality.

Lockwood, however, had never had Utopian food before, much less succotash, let alone Crossfire’s family recipe. It was the most wonderfully delicious meal he’d ever had in his entire life. It brought honest-to-goodness tears of joy to his eyes.

Once the meal was concluded, Blackburn opened the last box with a little flair, revealing… cleaning supplies and a new window filter. Lockwood raised an eyebrow, not expecting his last gift to be so mundane. “Uh…”

“Your place is filthy,” Blackburn said, gesturing around at the dust. “So we’re going to clean it up a bit. Maybe then you won’t have to live in a sty, at least for a little while. You might have to put some effort in now and then to keep your place clean afterwards, but that’s on you.”

Lockwood rubbed his head nervously. “Thanks? I think? I guess I could maintain the place a bit better…”

“Also, the window filter’s because yours is in disrepair. Now you won’t have to breathe filthy smog every day while in the comfort of your own home.”

“Well… yeah, okay, that’s actually helpful. I’ve been having a bit of a cough the past week or so.”

“Excellent, then it’s decided. Here.” Blackburn passed him a feather duster out of the box. “You can help too. That way it’s not just us cleaning, because I know you’d object to that.”

Lockwood blinked, then shrugged. “Eh… I’ve done worse things with my time after dinner.”

The quartet set about cleaning up the apartment: Crossfire took the kitchen, Gadget took the living room and the restroom, and Blackburn helped Lockwood with the bedroom. It only took the two a few minutes apiece to clean the walls, floor, and ceiling, wiping them clear of dust and other filthy residue that had been there for a long while. Blackburn helped Lockwood make his bed next, then set about helping to clean his nightstand.

“Anything in here you need to get rid of?” she asked as she pointed to the assortment of junk and stuff inside the top drawer.

Lockwood grabbed out the important things - his wallet and his identification - then gestured at the rest - the dried up pens, the old notebook, the dozen or so paperclips, and everything else. “That can all go. Just a bunch of junk I never got around to throwing out.”

Blackburn lifted all the junk out and threw it into one of the plastic bags they’d brought along, then cleaned the dust and gunk out of the drawer with a wet paper towel. She then gestured to the bottom drawer. “Next.”

Lockwood glanced at the drawer for too long, then looked back to Blackburn. “We don’t need to clean that one.”

“Nonsense. Go get your key and open it up. We’re cleaning the whole apartment, remember? Don’t worry, I’ll be very careful with the couple of things in there. I know it’s sentimental and all.”

Lockwood paused. “You… know what’s in there?”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Of course I do. When you didn’t show up to our meeting, we came up here and searched your whole apartment for clues. I found the photo and the diary, but I didn’t look through it much. Just enough to determine it wasn’t useful to finding where you’d gone.”

“You looked through it?!” Lockwood blurted.

Blackburn paused, taken aback. “Only a little. I was just trying to find out what happened to you.”

Lockwood narrowed his eyes. “Well, it wasn’t in there. I could’ve told you that,” he huffed. He trudged out into the living room. “What’s in there is none of your business.”

Blackburn watched him go, then marched after him. “Hey! What’s the big deal?” This drew Gadget and Crossfire’s attention.

“The ‘big deal’, Thunderbolt, is that you violated my privacy,” he snorted, pointing at her accusingly. “That drawer’s locked for a reason.”

“Why?” Gadget asked, putting herself between him and Blackburn. “To hide your fillyfriend’s old lovey-dovey diary?”

“My what?” Lockwood asked, eyebrow twitching.

“Your fillyfriend. You’ve got a creepy old photo of her and everything in there. Like a little stalker shrine or something. Thunderbolt told us everything.”

Lockwood wheeled on Blackburn. “You told them? Why? That’s not your business to share around!”

Blackburn frowned, confused and at a loss for words. She’d never seen Lockwood get mad before, even a little bit, so she was having trouble processing what was happening. “Like I said, I was hoping the diary might have an idea that would help us find you. I share things with Tinker and Fireblast because they sometimes think of ideas I hadn’t considered.”

“Yeah, like how you’re only getting all upset because we found out you’ve got yourself a little fillyfriend,” Gadget scoffed. “Y’know, you oughta be more careful around some of the mares you hang out with. They might get the wrong idea about you and them. Like Keeneye. She thinks she’s got a chance getting into your pants.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lockwood said through gritted teeth.

Gadget rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure you don’t, loverboy. Fine excuse.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want ponies knowing you have a fillyfriend, Lockwood,” Blackburn said, trying to be sympathetic to him keeping such a particular secret so as not to feel a hypocrite. “But Tinker’s right, I think some ponies might have the wrong idea about your relationship with them. Keeneye seems convinced you’re just playing hard to get.”

Lockwood glared at Blackburn. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, I can certainly tolerate a little lying here and there - everypony does it - but I’d hate to find out you’re playing the field--”

“How dare you,” Lockwood snarled, shaking with anger. “I’m doing no such thing, and for you to even think I’d do something like that--”

“I… I don’t think that at all,” Blackburn said. She wasn’t used to being on the back hoof in a conversation but Lockwood’s outburst here had come so completely out of nowhere that she wasn’t sure how to react. “I just… I was just…”

“Why are you getting so defensive about your fillyfriend, huh?” Gadget asked, poking Lockwood in the chest with her hoof.

“She’s not my fillyfriend!” Lockwood snapped.

“But... your name’s all over the inside of her diary,” Blackburn said, raising an eyebrow. “It seemed particularly amorous.”

“If you’d actually read it, you’d know how wrong you are about what you’re accusing me of.”

Blackburn narrowed her eyes, more confused than ever. “So you wanted me to read it?”

“I didn’t want you to read it at all, but since you did, I guess I wish you’d actually been thorough, like you usually are with everything else!” Lockwood snorted and turned for the door.

“Lockwood!”

“Whoa, where d’ya think you’re goin’?” Crossfire asked, stepping in front of him.

Lockwood huffed, unperturbed. “Out. I need some air, as dumb as that sounds.” He circled around Crossfire without another word.

“Lockwood, come on!” Blackburn went after him, but Crossfire stopped her with a hoof.

“Stay here, boss, I’ll tail ‘im,” Crossfire said. He glanced back at Gadget. “Maybe y’all can figure out what put a bee in his bonnet.”

Blackburn paused, then nodded. “Fine. Take care of him, please.”

Crossfire headed out, leaving Gadget and Blackburn alone in the living room. Gadget scratched her head. “Golly, what the hell was that all about?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him get angry like that…” Blackburn turned to the drawer key hanging on its hook. “But if the diary’s the key to all this, let’s find out.”

She grabbed the key, headed into Lockwood’s bedroom, unlocked the drawer and removed the diary, then sat on Lockwood’s bed and cracked it open. Gadget took a seat next to her, holding up the mare’s photograph. The two began reading together; the pages weren’t dated, unfortunately, but they were still easy enough to follow.

Dear Diary,

I never thought about getting a diary before. I used to make fun of my friend Stardancer for having one when we were fillies all the time. But I needed someplace to write down my thoughts.

Something fabulous happened today. I met the most wonderful, gorgeous stallion in the whole of Equestria. It was like a dream come true, right out of those old storybooks mom used to read when I was little. He came into the office today looking for somepony, but he found me instead.

His name is ♥Lockwood♥

We’ve got a date tomorrow night. I’m so excited!

Dear Diary,

The date was the most wonderful thing I’ve ever done. Lockwood was a total gentlecolt. I’ve never had somepony say such nice things about me before. It was a wonderful experience. He’s so handsome. He forgot his wallet at home so I paid for dinner, but I didn’t mind, I’ve got the money.

We’ve got another date in a couple of days. We’re going to that new Baroque place that opened up a few blocks from here. It’s so romantic.

I’m so glad I met him. Now I have something to think about when Mister Zipline tries to hit on me. He’s such a creep. Nothing like Lockwood♥♥♥

Dear Diary,

I know that my date with Lockwood is tomorrow, but I just can’t stop thinking about it. I’m so nervous. What if I screw it up? What if he thinks I’m weird? Or that I don’t like him? I still don’t know how I lucked out with such a wonderful stallion. Mom used to always tell me I’d never find anypony, but I proved her wrong.

I wish the date was tonight, but I have work because that stupid Rain Cloud couldn’t come in. If it wasn’t for her, I’d be with Lockwood tonight. Ugh! She’s probably just doing it so she can get away from Mister Zipline for a little while. I guess he got too frisky with her last week. What a creep.

Dear Diary,

The date was magical. I didn’t think it would go the way it did at all, but Lockwood’s such a beautiful stallion, I just couldn’t say no. After dinner, we came back to my place and it finally happened. It finally happened, Diary! It was everything they said it would be. Fireworks. Butterflies. Everything. It hurt a little at first, but he was so gentle and loving. I know my friends told me all about protection and stuff but ♥Lockwood♥ told me it felt better without it. He just wants me to feel good.

I knew I’d find somepony someday.

He left this morning, almost without me noticing, but we have another date planned for next week. I told him we didn’t need to do anything special if he wanted to come here and do it again, though. That made him happy. He’s got a beautiful smile. I just want him to be happy with me forever♥♥♥

Dear Diary,

It’s been a while since I wrote in you, sorry about that. I’ve been so distracted with Lockwood and work that I didn’t think I needed to write anything. We’re doing it all the time now. I can see why so many ponies do this for a career!

But I’m writing because I’m angry. Mister Zipline reprimanded me today, that big jerk. I guess I wasn’t paying attention during one of the phone calls we got and forgot to take down something important. He told me I’ve been daydreaming lately, and that I’ve been distracted. Well, he can go buck himself, Diary. If he was paying more attention he’d know his wife is cheating on him with his brother.

Dear Diary,

I was thinking today about what life is going to be like when Lockwood proposes to me. I’ll say ♥♥YES♥♥ of course. We’ll live in one of those nice penthouses in the Inner District someday, where other ponies will wait on our every need. I already know he’ll be a wonderful husband, even if he’s forgetful sometimes. I just hope I can be a wonderful wife.

Dear Diary,

Something wonderful has happened! I went to the doctor today because I was feeling a little queasy this morning, and guess what? I’m pregnant! It finally happened! I’m so ♥happy♥. I’m gonna be a mommy, Diary! I’ve already started thinking about names. If it’s a filly, I want to name her after my grandmother, Cloud Dancer. If it’s a colt, I want to name him after my father, Windstorm.

Mister Zipline reprimanded me when I got back, though. I guess I forgot to tell him I was going to the doctor. Whatever, he’s just mad that he can’t have the same happiness that I have, the impotent jerk. That’s why his wife’s sleeping with his brother, Diary. If I were his wife, I’d do the same thing. I never knew how much I wanted to be a mother before I met ♥Lockwood♥

Dear Diary,

Lockwood was really surprised when I told him about the wonderful news today. I understand though, apparently it was just a really surprising day all around. He got a new job - finally! I was a bit sad to hear that it might keep him away from home every now and then. He goes on his first assignment next week. It’s something really confidential too, he couldn’t tell me where he was going. Probably something with the NPAF. I knew he’d be an important pony!

Dear Diary,

Lockwood’s job must be really important. He hasn’t written at all since he left. I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but I was hoping he’d have a chance to come home eventually. He’s such an important pony, Diary. Handsome, strong, smart, confident. No wonder they hired him!

I almost tripped today while walking down the stairs at work. I was distracted, I guess. Luckily nothing happened - I wouldn’t want anything to happen to our foal!

Dear Diary,

I tried to find out where Lockwood’s been working, but I can’t find anything! I spent all day at work looking through the database to try and find something, but he must really be doing something confidential.

Luckily Mister Zipline didn’t catch me. Stupid geezer thinks his newborn son is actually his. What an idiot.

Dear Diary,

I don’t know what to do. I got fired today. Apparently I’ve been caught wasting company time too much lately, and Mister Zipline had enough. I don’t know what the big deal is, but now I have to figure out how to pay for the apartment. Lockwood hasn’t sent any bits since he left. His employers must be trying to protect his identity.

Dear Diary,

I’m writing this from my new place out in the Outer District. I hate moving back here, but I can’t afford to live in the Mid District anymore, not if I want to afford the hospital visit to deliver my foal. The foal’s coming soon, Diary, and I’m so worried that Lockwood won’t be back in time to see his foal be born! And now that I had to move, can he even find me?

I haven’t been able to find work, either. Nopony wants to hire a heavily-pregnant receptionist. Bunch of jerks.

Dear Diary,

I’m home from the hospital. I was so worried the foal would have something wrong - I couldn’t afford the best service - but he’s a healthy, beautiful colt. He looks just like his father, Diary, he’s so beautiful. That beautiful gray coat. The lovely brown mane. A pegasus too. He doesn’t have his father’s eyes, though. He has mine. He looks so cute, but I wish he’d had his father’s eyes, Diary.

I decided to name him after his father. Lockwood Jr.

Blackburn froze. “Wait… this isn’t his fillyfriend’s diary. It’s his mother’s?”

Gadget frowned. “Golly… I guess we, uh… made a mistake? Guess we know why he wanted us to read it all the way through.”

“Shit,” Blackburn swore, setting the diary down and getting up. “I should go apologize--”

“Wait!” Gadget blurted, hoisting the diary back up. “There’s more entries after that. See? She skipped a bunch of pages for some reason.”

Blackburn paused, then sat back down on the bed. “Well, he wanted us to be thorough…” She opened the diary back up to the next entry, then started to read again.

Dear Diary,

It’s been a while, Diary, but taking care of Lockwood Jr. is hard to do by myself. My parents refuse to help me. Mom even called me stupid for getting ‘knocked up’, but what does she know? Dad knocked her up with me when they were in high school, and they turned out just fine. They’ll see how wrong they are when Lockwood comes back. I hope he’s safe.

Dear Diary,

Lockwood Jr. is just like his father, a beautiful little bundle of joy. He smiles a lot. His smile reminds me of his father. Someday soon, his father will smile like that at me again. Someday my little colt will meet his daddy and we’ll be a happy little family.

I’ve had to ration our food a lot. I still can’t find work. Nopony wants to hire a single mother receptionist that got fired from her last job. That jerk Zipline is ruining my life! I hope he finds out his son isn’t his and has a heart attack and dies.

Dear Diary,

Lockwood Jr. turned two today. I wish his father had been here. I miss him so much. Every time I call out to our son, it hurts to say his name. He looks so much like his father. He even sounds like him when he laughs. I miss my Lockwood’s laugh, Diary. How he would laugh when he ran his hoof through my mane. How he called me his little dream mare.

Where is he?

Dear Diary,

I was giving Lockwood Jr. a bath today when I remembered a time when Lockwood and I took a bath together a long time ago. I still remember his touch. But when I looked down and saw that I was bathing with a little colt.

I don’t know what happened.

I sort of blacked out, I think? I don’t remember. I remember being mad.

So mad. Where is Lockwood, Diary? Why hasn’t he come back to me?

WHERE IS HE?

I hate this place Diary

We got robbed today

Lockwood and I werent home at the time but when we came back our television was missing

I hate this place

I want to get out of here I have to get out of here

Lockwood Jr started school today I have never been apart from my son I was alone

Alone

I dont want to be alone

I cant be alone again

Where is he

When is he coming back to me

That’s right. He’s at school. He’ll be back later today. I’ll give him a big hug when he comes back. I don’t want my son to be away. But he must go to school.

He must

He mustnt leave

He mustnt be away from his mother

I had a dream. Something happened to Lockwood. He was hurt. He was scared. He was alone.

I will protect him

I woke up

I went into his room

He will never be alone

I miss his father

I miss his touch

I held my son close to me as he slept

It was like holding Lockwood again

I was holding Lockwood again

I slept and dreamed again

lockwood is a good colt just like his father

i wont let them take him from me hell grow up smart and handsome just like his father

hell be just like his father

and well be happy together

because his father loved me

he will love me too

ill teach him how

That was the last entry.

Gadget stared blankly at the last page, barely able to process what she’d just finished reading.

Blackburn, meanwhile, stood up and headed outside immediately without a word. She found Crossfire just outside the building, staring up at a smog cloud that lingered overhead. “Where is he?” she asked.

Crossfire pointed at the cloud. “Saw ‘im fly up inta that there smog cloud. Ain’t seen him fly anywhere else, so I’d bet he’s still up there.”

Blackburn nodded and flew up towards the cloud, holding her breath as she passed through the filth. She found Lockwood sitting alone on the edge of the cloud, quiet and despondent. She approached him tentatively. “Lockwood?” she said, barely above a whisper.

Lockwood didn’t turn towards her. “So. You read it?”

Blackburn nodded. “I read it. And I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your pity, Thunderbolt.”

“I don’t pity you, Lockwood. I’m sympathetic, but I won’t pity you. I’m sorry because I jumped to conclusions and made a judgement about you without all the information. That was uncharacteristic of me, and I’m sorry.” She paused. “Before I make any other conclusions… I want to hear more from you. I want to hear you tell your story.”

Lockwood flattened his ears, still not turning to face her. “Why?”

“Because… because you’re my friend, and I care about you. Because I want to get to know you better. Please.”

Lockwood stayed silent for a long moment, then rose to his hooves and nodded. “Fine. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Blackburn gestured down. “Let’s head inside. The others should get to hear this too, since they’re also your friends. Right?”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

The two flew down to ground level and met Crossfire, then headed back up to Lockwood’s apartment to meet Gadget, who was still sitting dumbfounded on Lockwood’s bed, but moved into the living room with the others when they arrived.

Lockwood took a deep breath and sat down on his couch. “So… you read the whole thing then?” Blackburn nodded. “Need me to clear anything up?”

“Two things,” Blackburn said. “First… what was your mother’s name?”

Lockwood paused. “Skydreamer. Her name was Skydreamer.”

“It’s a pretty name,” Gadget murmured meekly, scuffing her hoof on the floor.

“Do you have any idea what happened to your father?” Blackburn asked.

Lockwood snorted, looking angry again. “No, and I don’t really care to find out what happened to him. I’m nothing to him, so he’s nothing to me.”

Blackburn nodded again. “Then please, tell us what happened with everything. We know you’re adopted, so… I’ll assume something happened to your mother. Her last entries were rather… unsettling.”

“That’s right.” Lockwood leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes in thought. “I woke up late one morning when I was very young. It was late, so I figured mom forgot to wake me up. I saw her lying in the doorway. I didn’t realize she was dead at first, I thought she was asleep. But then saw the horrible, blissful smile on her face. I have no idea what was going through her head in those last moments. So, I did the only thing a colt my age could think to do: I screamed my lungs out.

“The neighbors came around to complain about the noise, but when they saw what was going on, they took me in until authorities showed up. Paramedics pretty much instantly realized my mom died of starvation.”

“She was so consumed with her fantasies of your father that she wasn’t eating,” Blackburn concluded.

“But she certainly made sure I was fed. She was still lucid enough through everything to keep doing that, I guess.” Lockwood shook his head. “Probably only because I look just like Lookwood Sr.”

“So that’s when you were taken in by the foster system.”

“Yeah, the city’s wonderful foster system,” Lockwood huffed. “Got taken in by a pair of well-to-do ponies from the Mid-North District, Sparkling Wine and Blackberry Wine. I was only allowed to bring a few things with me, so I brought a photo of my parents and my mom’s diary. I didn’t know what else to bring.”

Blackburn sighed. “Because that was all you really had…”

“Pretty much. The Wines weren’t exactly the most loving parents, either. See, the foster system gives families a tax benefit for taking in colts and fillies like me, so they only took me in to get the money. They just gave me the bare minimum amount of bits to get by, and only because they were legally obligated to do so.”

“Golly, that’s awful,” Gadget said with a frown.

“Started right back at school pretty quick, no time to grieve,” Lockwood continued. “Got bullied a lot. Young ponies are cruel, y’know.”

“And you’re not exactly the most intimidating pony,” Blackburn agreed.

Crossfire snorted. “Shucks, I wish I could’ve been there, pal. I would’ve whupped them bullies right inta shape, I tell ya what. Ain’t nopony touches mah friends.”

Lockwood pointed at Crossfire knowingly. “See, I appreciate that, Fireblast, because you would’ve done what nopony else would’ve done. Except somepony else beat you to the punch: Flathoof.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Flathoof?”

Lockwood brightened just a little. “Yeah, Flathoof. He stepped in to put a stop to one particularly rough incident I got involved in. He got roughed up a bit himself, sure, but he chased those bullies off in the end. Got his cutie mark out of the deal and everything. We became fast friends after that, and have been ever since. Close as brothers we are, me and Flathoof.”

Blackburn turned to Gadget and Crossfire with a slight smile. “I know that feeling all too well. Tell me more about him.”

“Well, Flathoof’s family wasn’t as well off as my foster family was, not by a long shot. Big family, only two meager sources of income, you understand. Better off than my mom had been in her last years, but that wasn’t saying much. They basically took me in as one of their own… they showed me more love in one afternoon than the Wines did in all the years I’d been with them.”

“You wanted to repay them for their kindness…” Blackburn muttered. Her eyes widened in realization. “Keeneye mentioned you had her forge adoption papers. But the Wines had already adopted you… so it wasn’t for them, was it?”

Lockwood smiled. “That’s right. I heard about her talent at school and figured if she was so good at forging signatures I could get her to do the same on something more important than a permission slip or report card. It was easy to get the Wines’ signatures - they were winos, see, and got drunk and stupid often, so I had them sign a permission slip for me to go on a free field trip when they were on a bender. After that it was easy to get Flathoof’s parents to sign the rest and make it official.”

Blackburn paused again. “And so you became actual brothers?”

“We did. I was determined to make sure that if I was going to be of benefit to anypony’s family because of what happened to me, it was going to be somepony who deserved it. I spent the next couple of years getting acquainted with other ponies that could help me to help them with their taxes - earned my own cutie mark in the process, a little late in life but better late than never, right? They live in Mid-North now, just like the Wines.

“It took me a few years after that before I decided to read my mom’s diary. I didn’t know it was a diary at first, actually… I thought she was writing a story. Figured maybe I’d finish it or something, maybe publish it? I don’t know. I thought I was doing something right for her. I didn’t know… I didn’t know what she’d really written.”

Gadget frowned. “Golly… that must’ve been a… a pretty nasty shock. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Nasty shock… yeah, you could say that.”

Crossfire raised an eyebrow. “Why? What’s in it?”

“We’ll tell you later,” Blackburn said. She put her hoof on Lockwood’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lockwood. That had to be hard.”

“I went to a pretty bad place after realizing just what happened to my mom. What she’d become. What had been done to her. The only ponies apart from you that know the full story are Stouthoof and Shortcake--”

“Your adopted parents,” Blackburn finished. Then she raised an eyebrow. “Wait, ‘Shortcake’? The same one Miracle and Vaccine helped when she was pregnant?”

Lockwood smirked. “Ah, they told you about that, huh? Yeah… yeah, they’re my family, so I do what I can to make their lives better. They are my life. They kept me grounded when I thought I was going to go crazy. When I found out the truth… I tore that photo in half,” he said, gesturing towards the photograph with a scowl. “Tore him out of my life for good. As far as I’m concerned, he’s dead. I certainly hope the bastard is.”

Blackburn frowned. She knew what it was like to hate one’s father, but even in her angriest moments, when she felt lower than low, she’d never wish Stormchaser was dead, even injured or ill. Then again, even at his worst, Stormchaser would never do what Lockwood’s father had done.

Lockwood spread his wings in a gesture of presentation. “So, there you have it. There’s Lockwood, laid out bare for you all to see. Are you happy now?”

Blackburn paused, then took a deep breath. “I need a moment with Tinker and Fireblast, if you don’t mind.”

She pulled Gadget and Crossfire outside into the hall, where they talked in hushed tones for several tense moments. Lockwood watched them with great curiosity, but couldn’t hear a word they were saying. He could tell that they were arguing, though. Well, Gadget and Blackburn were arguing at least, and Gadget in particular seemed pretty vehement about whatever she was talking about; Crossfire was notably calm, but then again he almost always was.

At last, the trio walked back into the apartment, closing and locking the door behind them. Blackburn spoke first. “Made a decision. You shared deepest secrets; we’ll share ours.”

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“First secret: have been lying to you for nearly a year. Apologies.”

Lockwood leaned forward in his seat, holding up his hooves. “Wait wait… what? Lying to me about what?”

“Ponies you know as ‘Thunderbolt’, ‘Tinker’, and ‘Fireblast’ don’t exist. Not our real identities.”

Lockwood blinked. “Come again?”

Gadget cleared her throat and took a step forward. “We’re not really a tech company called Crown Spectrum. The company’s a front for a smuggling operation. We use it to ship technology and engineering materials south to Hope’s Point without the NPAF realizing it.”

“Wait, you guys are from Hope’s Point? Like, the city?”

“Correct,” Blackburn continued. “Believe you know a personal friend: Briarthorn.”

Lockwood’s eyes widened. “No way. Really? That guy’s a riot! You guys know him too?”

“We are… acquainted, yes,” Blackburn finished, clearing her throat.

“So wait, then who are you guys, really?”

Gadget waved her hoof. “My real name’s Gadget. Pleased to meet you, for real this time.”

Crossfire nodded. “An’ I’m Crossfire. Sorry we had ta lead ya on all this time, buddy. Can’t let anypony know where we’re really from, y’know?”

Lockwood turned to Blackburn. “And you?”

Blackburn smiled slightly. “Blackburn, Princess of Hope’s Point.”

Lockwood froze. There was a long moment of silence. “What.”

“Understand this is a lot to take in. Take your time.”

Lockwood started breathing heavily. “You… you’re the princess… of… of Hope’s Point?”

“That is what I stated, yes.”

“So… so this entire time, I’ve been business partners with… with the princess of Hope’s Point?”

“And friends, yes,” she replied with a smile. “You belong to an exclusive club."

That realization set in and Lockwood slumped back onto his couch. “Oh stars, I’m friends with the princess? I… I--” He paused, looking around his half-cleaned apartment. “Oh stars! This place is a dump!” He paused again. “Oh stars! The princess was cleaning my apartment! My room!” He paused again. “Oh stars! I yelled at the princess!” He immediately leapt off his couch and bowed low to her. “Please, Princess, forgive me, I didn’t mean--”

Gadget snorted. “Golly, Lockwood, pull yourself together. You’re embarrassing yourself. More than usual.”

Blackburn placed her wing on Lockwood’s head. “No need to worry. All part of false identities. Incidentally, will require you to continue addressing and interacting with us in public by those names.”

Lockwood looked up and hastily nodded. “Of course, Princess, absolutely--”

“And stop the ‘Princess’ treatment,” Blackburn said, stomping her hoof. “We’re friends, Lockwood. Friends don’t speak to me like that.” She gestured to Gadget and Crossfire. “They treat me as any friend would. They speak back to me. They get angry with me. They argue with me. I accept their words, because I am their friend first, their Princess second. You are the same.”

Lockwood took a deep breath. “So… I… I’m sorry, this is a lot to take in. A lot.”

“Sorry for sudden reveal. Never planned this scenario; circumstances changed suddenly--”

Lockwood held up a hoof to stop her. “I’m… I’m sorry, but I have to ask… why are you talking like that? Not that I have a problem! Just… just it’s different and I’m lost and--”

Blackburn smiled. “My typical speech pattern: brief descriptions, simple sentence structure, plain words, few figures of speech. Concise expression of information.”

She cleared her throat. “It’s a lot different from Thunderbolt’s manner of speaking, which is still rather direct but more eloquent. It helps to complete the image of a false identity - I might look like Princess Blackburn to a point, but I don’t sound like Princess Blackburn. It throws off possible spies.”

Lockwood blinked. “W-well. Okay. Yeah, that makes sense. So, um… what… what am I supposed to do with this information? I mean, I did not plan for this. Like, at all. This is so out of left field...”

“Nothing different. Still friends, still business partners. Just clarifying motivations for business partnership.”

“So… all these business connections you’ve been making are to help Hope’s Point somehow?”

“And helping ponies seeking to go there.”

Lockwood tapped his chin. “Yeah, lowering Keeneye’s prices make it easier to get the passports needed to leave the city, among other things. Hmm… okay… okay, I’m gonna need some time to process all this…”

“Have plenty; we leave tomorrow, remember?”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s right.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll figure out how to work this into my whole, uh… ‘thing’. Wow, I’m friends and business partners with a princess? Pretty exciting.” He paused, then pointed at Gadget and Crossfire. “So wait, are you guys, like, Lady Gadget and Lord Crossfire or something?”

Gadget scoffed. “Golly, I wish. Maybe I’d get paid better for being this big dope’s bodyguard,” she said, patting Blackburn’s side.

“We ain’t nothin’ fancy,” Crossfire said with a shrug. “Far as anypony’s concerned we’re just the Princess’s trusted bodyguards, nothin’ more.”

“But like she said, we’re her friends. Better than friends. Blackburn’s like the sister I never had. And Crossfire’s like my big brother. We’re family.”

“Kinda like y’all ‘n’ that Flathoof fella,” Crossfire added. “Only we ain’t adopted or nothin’. No offense.”

Lockwood shrugged. “None taken.” He let out a breath. “Well, okay. Okay. It’s a lot of pressure you’ve got me under here, Princess, but while you’re gone, I’ll make sure to keep your network in tip-top shape. You have my word,” he added with a bow. “After all, it’s a royal decree.”

Blackburn grunted. “Told you, don’t need ‘princess’ treatment--”

Lockwood looked up at her with a wide smile. “Oh, but I insist! It’s not every day I get to make friends with somepony of the royal persuasion, so you’re gonna have to humor me for a little while until I get used to it.” He waggled his eyebrows briefly.

Blackburn paused, then nodded and smiled. “Very well.” She cleared her throat again. “Just a reminder, Lockwood: after this conversation, you’ll have to go back to referring to us as Thunderbolt, Tinker, and Fireblast, unless we’re in private. Starting now, I think.”

“I can manage that, Thunderbolt.”

“Good.” She turned to Gadget and Crossfire. “Come on, let’s get going. We need to get some sleep ourselves.” And with that, they left.

Lockwood shook his head and let out a long breath, then headed into his bedroom. The diary and photograph were still on his bed. He looked at them and frowned, and without a word, put them back in their drawer and locked it again.

*****

On the way home to Hope’s Point, Blackburn couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened over the last few months in New Pandemonium City. She’d intended to go back to that horrible city, continue to build her smuggling network there, and undermine Don Virtuoso in secret to strengthen Hope’s Point enough to essentially muscle him out of Hope's Point. And with the help of her friends, she’d certainly done all of that or at least made strides towards it, and done so extraordinarily well by her admittedly high standards.

What she hadn’t expected was everything that had happened revolving around Lockwood. She hadn’t expected to need to save his life at any point, and certainly not the way she’d done so. She also hadn’t expected to spend a great deal of her resources unsuccessfully attempting to track down his attackers, who had eluded her thus far to her great consternation. She definitely hadn’t expected to learn so much about his upbringing, about his mother’s death, his adoption by two separate families, or his non-existent father. She most certainly hadn’t expected, not even the slightest bit, to tell him who she really was.

Most importantly of all, she hadn’t expected to feel so… connected with him. That was the only word she could think of to describe what she felt: connected. She’d felt something like that with him before, but over the past four months it had just gotten stronger and more difficult to ignore or rationalize. It was different than the friendship she had with Gadget and Crossfire; they were like her sister and brother, and they felt the same. It was different that what she had with Briarthorn, too… and that’s what really bothered her.

Briarthorn was her friend. Her coltfriend, specifically. She cared for him deeply and wanted nothing but the best for him, that much was undeniable. But she’d been evaluating their relationship for several months now - easier to do when he wasn’t around - and she had started to realize that the foundation of their relationship was almost purely physical. She liked Briarthorn, maybe she even loved him, but she didn’t know; what she did know was that it wasn’t the kind of love she sought. He was handsome, talented, funny, and loyal, but he didn’t have the deeper connection with her that she wanted in a partner.

She thought about Lockwood’s mother and what had become of her, and it frightened her to her core. She thought about what might happen if she decided she wanted to be with Briarthorn forever in the same way, and what would happen to her when he eventually succumbed to Diffusion sickness and left her alone. Could she live with herself if she let that happen to him? To herself? To their foal if they had one?

By the time they landed in Hope’s Point, Blackburn had come to a decision. Something needed to change.

*****

Blackburn did her mane up and wore contact lenses and makeup over her scar to disguise herself completely - it wouldn’t do for word to spread around that the princess was involved in what was coming.

Briarthorn was drinking regularly after every mission now, and had become a regular at the Wyrm’s Head Tavern. Blackburn found out one evening that she just couldn’t compete with him as a drinker anymore. Was that where the drift had started? She wasn’t sure; she wasn’t sure she wanted to be sure.

There were several larger private rooms at the Wyrm’s Head Tavern used for private parties. She booked one such room under an alias.

The room she got contained just a large half-circle couch that took up an entire wall of the room, buried in the second basement of the tavern, just above the final sublevel, filled with humming power meters. There wasn’t a table. The drink machine was in the center of the couch, within convenient reach of anypony on said couch.

When she told Gadget and Crossfire, the former reeled with abject horror, and the latter frowned heavily. They understood the oath of secrecy regarding Diffusion sickness, but this?

Their words hurt at first, and they would continue to hurt for a long time. Undoubtedly a preview of his future if she didn’t give him more than drink. The poor young stallion needed other ponies. Ponies that could occupy his time in a way Blackburn couldn’t. She never had, and now, she never would.

Didn’t they understand? Briarthorn wasn’t just anypony. He deserved more for his service to the city. More for his loyalty to a princess who couldn’t be there for him. As she explained her plan, their faces became grim. The average life expectancy of a Diffusion flyer could be mitigated, sure, but that was for an average flyer. Not for a pony who’d inherited the legacy of Diffusion’s origins. Didn’t they agree? Didn’t they think it was only fair that Blackburn could give him a taste of something better before he destroyed himself?

She looked her friends in the eyes and contacted Briarthorn via a private communicator. Gadget’s eye twitched when she heard Blackburn’s voice, jovially telling her coltfriend to expect “a truly wild, special evening”. His reply was eager: he just had to be involved in whatever Blackburn had planned, even if all he knew was that Blackburn hinted, not at all subtly, that tonight was the night, and she wanted it to be memorable.

Crossfire’s stare was dead-eyed as he heard Briarthorn’s joyful reply, heard the real happiness in his voice. Her retainers said nothing, though, when she ended the call, breathing heavily as she turned to them. She gestured hard, with wing and hoof. They had heard him. They heard that he cared. They simply nodded.

And so, on the evening of, Crossfire stood guard inside the room, by the door, dressed in a crisp suit, explicitly a bouncer to keep those inside the room in check. He would have a special role besides guarding Blackburn, but that would come later in the evening. He stood there with a face like stone, like a pony awaiting an execution. Not a “wild night”. Not that Briarthorn would notice.

Gadget, in a similar suit, stood guard outside the room, where she would be allowing other guests inside. She had expressly wanted nothing to do with what was going on inside, and had argued vehemently against any thought of it. Blackburn thought she saw a hint of pity under Gadget’s usual disregard for Briarthorn. That was when she finally believed Gadget would do her part of the job well.

Said other guests weren’t explicitly invited. Instead, the bars above were informed of a party going on downstairs, and that it was a very exclusive and intimate V.I.P. event. The only ponies allowed had to meet some very specific qualifications, which Gadget would be evaluating with extreme prejudice:

They had to be very physically attractive. They had to be drinking heavily, preferably beforehand. Most importantly, they had to be receptive to a very particular, very open, sensual experience. Enough hints were dropped to make it clear what this room was really being used for.

Blackburn and Briarthorn began drinking heavily as soon as they arrived in the room; Blackburn insisted they start off with the hard stuff. Briarthorn smiled at the thought of “liquid courage” and Blackburn fought her guilt and smiled back at him warmly. The lights were half-dimmed and colored red and black, just dark enough that they had some privacy from Crossfire.

The solid earth pony, in his role as bouncer, kept the room’s control pad with him, ordering new drinks for the pair every time they finished one. A thumping bass beat echoed throughout the room, loud enough to almost drown out a conversation, but not loud enough to be uncomfortable.

It only took about ten minutes of drinking for the pair to start getting physical with one another, kissing, nuzzling, and rubbing each other like the couple of horny and foolish teenagers they were.

Then the first guests arrived. A trio of ponies were allowed into the room: an earth pony mare, an earth pony stallion, and a unicorn mare. Gadget’s first choices were exemplary: no new pegasi just yet. They had clearly been drinking already by the time they arrived, and Crossfire took their orders for their next rounds. They introduced themselves briefly to Blackburn and Briarthorn; the former barely paid attention to any names, more concerned with how they’d fit into the evening’s plans.

Minutes passed. Blackburn and Briarthorn didn’t let up on their heavy petting of one another, and Blackburn’s occasional, meaningful glances at the newcomers made sure they understood that it was okay to do the same to one another. When Blackburn noticed they’d taken the hint, she maneuvered herself and Briarthorn closer to them, and that’s when things escalated.

There weren’t many words involved. Blackburn didn’t need words to exert her authority, even in disguise. Blackburn merely positioned Briarthorn in such a way that one of the other mares, the unicorn, could grope and fondle him to her heart’s content. Briarthorn wasn’t apprehensive, in fact he seemed quite enthusiastic to have two beautiful mares putting their hooves and mouths all over him, even as he kept reaching for Blackburn. At no point did she ever stop keeping at least one hoof or wing of her own against him, letting him feel the familiarity, letting him know she was there with him, making the thrill of the others a spectacle that was piercing even the cloud of alcohol that hung thickest over Briarthorn himself, his tolerance for the booze impossibly strong, but not unbreakable.

More guests arrived: two pegasus mares and a unicorn stallion. They stared awkwardly at first as they introduced themselves, perhaps because they thought they were interrupting, but again Blackburn barely paid much mind to that and instead gestured for them to join in; she subtly made sure she was just distant enough from the center of the action to avoid being really involved with anypony but Briarthorn. Her authority was clear even now, and her movements were careful, nudging bodies away from her carefully, not callously, to keep her way to Briarthorn clear.

By now, everypony was drinking heavily and getting more physical. The last set of guests - two earth pony stallions - arrived to fill out the crowd. Blackburn was the only pony who was keeping her wits about her; she’d stopped drinking just after the first guests arrived and had built up a respectable tolerance for the Gunpowder’s Guzzler by now, so the tastier stuff was easier to handle. Still, she had reached the limit of what she felt was acceptable for herself, and as the drink orders kept coming, she kept gently, mockingly, lowering glasses to the other bodies in the throng. Briarthorn was still near the center, still holding onto Blackburn’s middle with his oversized wings, stretched out from behind him and still curling into her.

“Briar...” she breathed softly.

The moment had come, and Blackburn bit her lip hard, clenching back tears even as the smell of sweat threatened her for only a moment to abandon her plan. She felt the agony of wanting, and only relieved it a little as she gently pulled Briarthorn’s wings away from her, moving her hooves from the tips to his shoulders. She drew Briarthorn in for a deep, sensual kiss. When they parted, she looked dazed, up and out of the throng, and raised her head with a sloppy rhythm to see Crossfire’s grim face. He nodded, and Blackburn dove back down into Briarthorn’s shining, jubilant eyes, and he looked into hers. This was it. She began to close her eyes, and Crossfire turned down the lights just as Briarthorn sweetly closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss Blackburn again.

But she didn’t kiss him back. She didn’t close her eyes. Instead she gently nudged the pegasus mare next to her into position so that it was her kissing Briarthorn instead; the new mare didn’t seem to mind at all, and in fact got into it quickly. In the darkness of the room, with his eyes closed, Briarthorn didn’t notice, and the other mare took his aggressive, amorous behavior as a sign to go further.

And all the while, Blackburn swiftly slid off the couch and over to the door. Crossfire gently placed the control pad onto the floor and the pair exited the room, where they joined with Gadget; Blackburn wondered if the scowl on Gadget's face was at Briarthorn or Blackburn herself. Gadget handed Blackburn a towel, and the trio then left the Wyrm’s Head Tavern without looking back and without a word between them.

Blackburn thought snidely at herself that, aside from feeling terrible, she desperately needed a cold shower. She deserved that, at least.

*****

It was three days before Blackburn saw Briarthorn again, and as it was out in the streets of Hope’s Point, naturally she, Gadget, and Crossfire were incognito. They noticed Briarthorn walking along one of the busy market streets together with a small group composed of two mares and another stallion. Blackburn recognized one of the mares from the party - the pegasus she’d directed him towards, in fact.

With Gadget and Crossfire in tow, Blackburn approached the group. “Excuse me, can I borrow Briarthorn for a minute?” she asked.

The other three ponies looked at her and her entourage curiously, likely wondering just who she was. The mare from the private party didn’t recognize Blackburn, Gadget, or Crossfire in the slightest. She’d been too drunk and it had been too dark. Just as intended.

Briarthorn recognized her, of course, and nodded in agreement. “Sure!” He turned to the others with a smile. “Hey, you guys head on without me for now. I’ll catch up in two shakes of my tail.”

“Sure thing, Briarthorn,” said the pegasus mare. She and the other two ponies then made their way down the street.

As soon as they were gone, Briarthorn turned to Blackburn, a curious smile on his face. “Hey babe, good to see you. I… actually, I haven’t seen you since the party, have I?” He tapped his chin. “In fact, I don’t think you were there when we all woke up. It was a bangin’ party, by the way. Like… bangin’.”

Blackburn nodded. “Yes. Quite.”

He stepped forward and put his wings around her so nopony else could see their faces as he gave her a kiss on the nose. “I can’t believe we never did anything as... as... I don’t know, freaky-deak like that sooner. That was just… wow. I never knew you had such a vroom side to you, my princess.” He blinked. “I mean, I didn’t even know I had such a vroom side to me.”

“Both full of surprises,” Blackburn said quietly.

“So where’ve you been? I’ve been looking all over for you. High, low, and in-between. You’re a tough pony to get in touch with, y’know?”

Blackburn shrugged. “Had business to attend to, left early, been busy since. Sorry, Briar.”

Briarthorn brushed the thought away with a flick of his wing before returning it to her side. “Hey, no worries, you’ve got important things to do, I get that. I just hope you had as much fun as I did.” He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Y’know, I’ll be honest, I never thought we’d finally do the deed together in that set of circumstances. Wait ‘til I tell my crew I got a cherry-popping going on for me, of all ponies, in a flippin’ orgy. A certified, grade-A pretty pony party ball! That’s a story to tell for years.”

Blackburn smiled weakly. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

He paused, and Blackburn thought his eyes faded just a bit, but then Briarthorn frowned. “Didn’t you? I didn’t, uh, I mean, you, you, you had fun too, right?”

“I did! I did. Very much so,” she lied a little too quickly, the words just spilling out. “Unfortunately, business matters have become complicated…”

“Aww, I’m sorry to hear that, babe. You heading back up north soon?”

“Yes. A few weeks from now.”

“Well, hey, I mean, it doesn’t have to be crazy like before, but... would some fun help until then?” he asked, sliding his wings over her backside, ignoring Gadget clearing her throat. “I mean, you’ve got time for that, I hope? If you need to make time or something--”

Blackburn shook her head. “Can’t. Too busy, Briar… I’m sorry.” She set her hooves on his shoulders. “But… been thinking. Had fun at party. You did too. Maybe… maybe we should change nature of relationship?”

Briarthorn raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“I leave too often, have to focus too much on work. Focus more than ever - close to closing deals. Cannot be here to attend to your needs.” She gave him a weak smile and kissed him. “You should be free to enjoy self. With whoever, whenever, wherever, however. Cannot keep you to myself; noticed that at party. Selfish of me.”

Briarthorn scratched his head. “So wait… you want to make this an open relationship or something? Are we, like… swingers now, or--”

Blackburn nodded, again, too quickly, the jolt almost whiplash-inducing. “That seems appropriate! Yes, appropriate. Indulge yourself! Whoever you want. No questions asked,” she said, forcing an approximation of sultry on her face as she finished. “If I have time, will join you. Make an evening of it, like before.”

Briarthorn was taken aback, but not, as far as Blackburn could read, upset; a confused smile trembled across his face. “I… wow, okay. This was not a conversation I was expecting to have today. Or ever. Then again, that bangin’ party wasn’t anything I was expecting to attend, either, and you made that happen in a day. You’ve got surprises like a riddle wrapped in an enigma covered in mystery, babe, y’know?”

“I know. Have said as much. About surprises.”

“Well, of course, but you know, a sexy riddle…” Briarthorn leaned in, and she met his lips with hers. When he broke away, he gave her a genuine smile. “That line work? Sexy enigma. Mystery. Whatever’s your favorite.”

Then he unfurled his wings so they were able to be heard clearly by others. “Well, I’ll let you get to that work you needed to get to. I’ve got a lunch date with my other friends, so… I’ll see you around?”

“Yes. See you around, Briar,” she said with a nod.

He flew off on his way in the direction the other ponies had left. Blackburn watched him go.

“So... okay, I swear, last time, but... are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Gadget asked as she shared another look with Crossfire.

Blackburn couldn’t face Gadget when she spoke, she just kept watching as Briarthorn flew off out of sight. She wanted to say, “No.”

Instead: “He will be happier this way. Will live life to its fullest. End of discussion.”

Chapter Eleven: Insidious Injuries

One Month Later

Mob War Escalates; Ten Dead, More Injured in Mid-East Shootout

The ongoing street war between the three largest crime families in New Pandemonium City took another ugly turn last night when a violent shootout erupted in Mid-East’s Southwest Block, killing ten and leaving twenty-four injured and in critical condition.

It has been two weeks since the Fantasia, Rossa, and Amore mob families - better known as the Three Families - reignited their decades-old blood feud and took to the streets of New Pandemonium, and there seems to be no end in sight to the bloodshed. Police informants have provided no information as to the cause of this cold war suddenly going hot, and the NPPD has yet to provide a solid plan to put an end to the violence.

When asked for a statement, Chief Smokestack of the NPPD had this to say:

“The Three Families haven’t taken their feud into the streets in over fifty years, but it’s really little more than a gang war. Usually these things end up solving themselves after a time. It is this department’s recommendation that citizens stay aware of their surroundings, and if at all possible remain indoors until this all blows over.”

This marks the eighth shootout since the mob war first started, along with three bombings, which have in total claimed nearly the lives of one hundred innocent ponies not involved with any of the families, and left hundreds more injured or missing. The death toll within the families themselves is unknown but is estimated to be significantly higher.

Blackburn set down today’s copy of the New Pandemonium Times on her apartment’s dining table, a deep scowl across her face. She looked across the table at Lockwood, who’d dropped by to deliver the news as soon as she’d arrived. Gadget and Crossfire sat at her sides and had been reading along with her; Crossfire continued reading after Blackburn set the paper down, as he hadn’t finished yet. The table had been set for a friendly breakfast.

“See? I told you it was bad,” Lockwood said, putting his hooves on the table. “I’ve lived in this city all my life, and I’ve never seen this little blood feud between the crime families get heated, certainly not to cost innocent lives like this. Now, I haven’t spoken to the Don in months, but I know he’s gotta be livid about what’s going on.”

“Any of our contacts hurt? Killed?” Blackburn asked, concerned.

“Thankfully, no, at least not that I know of, but it’s certainly put most of them on edge here and there.” Lockwood took a deep breath. “Most importantly, Mint and Matcha are worried for their own safety if anypony finds out they have any sort of involvement with Don Virtuoso, even if it’s relatively benign. These articles have been particularly scathing towards the NPPD, after all.”

“What is their involvement with him, anyway?” Gadget asked. “I mean, they were at his daughter’s party and everything.”

“His wife invited them, I think. They often cover the fashion shows she’s involved with and usually give her glowing reviews.”

“Yeah, well, serves the NPPD right if they’re getting a good reaming from the press,” Gadget snorted. “Useless bunch of wannabe ‘cops’ without the guts to stand up and defend the citizens they’re sworn to protect. We wouldn’t let this get this bad back home, not by a long shot.”

“Probably would’ve nipped it all in the bud ‘fore it even got started,” Crossfire agreed. “‘Tain’t right, all them ponies wit’ the power ta do somethin’ but they’re just gonna let it go on like this. Bunch o’ cowards.”

“They’re not all bad,” Lockwood insisted, giving them both a small smile. “Sure, a lot of them are cowards just on the force for money or power. Sure, some of them might even be dirty on one or more of the mobs’ payrolls and just want to look the other way or cover things up. And sure, some of them might even be involved somehow. But they’re not all like that.”

“Always looking on bright side,” Blackburn scoffed. “Your optimism is amazing.”

“I just don’t see the sense in generalizing the entire organization just because of a few bad bananas in the bunch, y’know,” Lockwood said with a shrug. “But I digress. Given everything that’s happened, I think ‘business as usual’ is gonna have to take a backseat for a little while.”

“Why?”

“Well, like I said, Mint and Matcha are braver than most by printing these articles, but they’re still worried it might come back to bite them. Several others have made it clear that until things cool down, they’re going to distance themselves from the Tea sisters and from one another so they don’t get caught up in any potential crossfire, figurative or literal.”

Blackburn frowned and nodded. “Would include Thunderbolt and Crown Spectrum. They know my involvement with Virtuoso, won’t risk danger.”

“Can’t say I blame them, either,” Lockwood continued. “I’m sticking by you is because we’re friends, and I always look out for my friends. Otherwise this whole thing would be making me kinda nervous.”

Blackburn smiled. “Appreciate it, Lockwood. Thank you.”

Gadget huffed. “So what, we just sit around and wait for this whole thing to ‘blow over’ like this Chief Smokestack wants?”

Blackburn thought for a few moments. Then: “Opportunity presents itself.”

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“Earlier, you said that Virtuoso is upset. Agree: he surely wishes to ‘win’ this war. If Crown Spectrum provides solution, would be grateful; Crown Spectrum can be more aggressive with smuggling operations, maybe convince Virtuoso to openly endorse.”

“Alternatively,” Gadget interjected, “this could be just the opportunity we need to weaken his position so much that we can come out on top by default. No more Fantasia crime family, no more competition.”

“Win-win scenario; requires direct involvement, however.”

“Isn’t that awfully dangerous?” Lockwood asked, nervous. “I mean, up until now your dealings with Virtuoso have been purely business. You’re not going to suggest getting physically involved in the Three Families’ blood feud, are you? What about his wife and daughter?”

Blackburn shook her head. “Wouldn’t incite violence. Would offer advice towards success, or undermine his efforts to ruin his business. Either way, need to evaluate situation more closely. Need to meet with the Don, judge state of mind.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea at all.”

“Hmm? Why not?”

“Like you said, ponies are likely going to distance themselves from you if they think you’re close to Virtuoso. They’d completely cut ties with Crown Spectrum if they think you guys are involved--”

“Would think we’re complacent with violence,” Blackburn finished. She nodded sadly. “Of course, hadn’t considered. Am not complacent, by the way.”

“I never suggested you were,” Lockwood said with a smile. “You’re just trying to look out for the ponies of Hope’s Point, now and into the future. I understand. Those are your ponies.”

“Thank you,” Blackburn said with a weak smile.

Lockwood paused, then let out a breath. “However, I can see that this is an opportunity for you to make great strides in advancing your network. Virtuoso has enough contacts and businesses under his hoof that if you gained even a portion of it, you’d never have to worry about your operations here again.” He stood up from his seat. “I’ll go see him. I might be able to find something out that would be of use.”

Blackburn frowned and stood up as well. “No. You fall into same conundrum: contacts may think you’re complacent.”

Lockwood shook his head and grinned. “Nonsense. Everypony knows me well enough that they’d figure I’m just trying to be courteous. I’m a personal friend of his, remember? I helped his daughter get her cutie mark and everything? Nopony would hold it against me if I was just checking up on a friend in need, no matter who it is.”

“Hmm… very well, acceptable,” Blackburn said with a nod. “Crossfire or Gadget can escort--”

“Oh no no, I’ve got to do this alone,” Lockwood said, waving his hoof. “If any of you are with me, the Don would suspect ulterior motives for the meeting, or it might link you guys to what’s going on with him somehow and that defeats the purpose. It’s better if I’m the only one going to see him. Trust me.”

Blackburn paused and frowned. She didn’t want to risk him going off like that by himself in case something happened, but she knew his insistence and stubbornness was particularly difficult to crack. “Fine,” she sighed.

“Good, glad we’re on the same page. You guys can meet me back at my place later tonight, okay? Say… ten o’clock? That way, nopony thinks I’m coming to see you and makes assumptions.”

“Very well, can agree to that.” She turned to Gadget and Crossfire and nodded; the two rose from their seats. “Meantime, we will… indulge ourselves.” She smiled at Lockwood. “Thank you, Lockwood. Appreciate this.”

Lockwood smiled back and tipped his hat. “No thanks are necessary, Princess. That’s what friends are for, right?”

*****

Lockwood arrived at Don Virtuoso’s penthouse apartment late that afternoon, dressed in his best hat and jacket and as neatly-groomed as he could manage on short notice. He otherwise acted as casually and normally as possible, whistling a little carefree tune as he disembarked the elevator. The hulking enforcer at the door nodded politely as he approached, then performed a customary pat down. Satisfied that Lockwood was clean, he opened the door and gestured for him to head on inside.

Lockwood looked through a few rooms until he found Virtuoso alone in the dining room, nursing a glass of scotch over ice and smoking one of his trademark fat cigars. Though Virtuoso wasn’t technically alone; he did have one of his captains with him, a sea-green unicorn mare with a long white mane. Lockwood recognized her as Lyrica, as she had been present when Crown Jewel got her cutie mark, and had even helpfully provided accompanying music - via a harp that was in the room - when asked. She wasn’t one of the Don’s higher-ranked captains though, Lockwood knew that much, and she certainly wasn’t his underboss; he’d expected Cotton Candy to be here, but to his surprise, she wasn’t.

Virtuoso noticed Lockwood enter the dining room, and gave him a small smile, barely noticeable from the other side of the room. “Lockwood.”

Lockwood removed his hat, but otherwise stayed at the entrance to the dining room. He didn’t smile back just yet. He knew the appropriate etiquette. “It’s been a while, Don Virtuoso.”

“It has been, hasn’t it? Quite a few months, actually. Crown Jewel’s been asking about you, you know. Wants to invite you to her dance recital next month.” Virtuoso gave Lockwood a long, hard look. “You’re going to attend, of course.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course,” Lockwood replied with a smile. He gestured towards the across from the Don. “May I sit?”

Virtuoso gave a tried wave with his hoof. It was as good as a “yes”, so Lockwood approached and took a seat. The two then sat in silence for a long while as Virtuoso sipped his drink and puffed his cigar. Lockwood knew the game well enough by now to know it wasn’t his place to initiate too much, not when the Don was in such a sour mood; it was easy to tell his mood was, indeed, quite sour, as the stallion hadn’t shaved in a few days and had stubble slowly encroaching on his normally-smooth chin.

“So,” Virtuoso said at last, puffing the last of his cigar and mashing it into his ashtray, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Just dropping by to say hello?”

Lockwood gave him a small grin. “Don Virtuoso, please. I’m here to check on the wellbeing of my friend. The papers haven’t exactly been quiet about what’s been going on, y’know? This ‘war’ or whatever it is must be quite worrisome for you.”

Virtuoso gave a half-hearted shrug. “What’s to be worried about? My family buried the hatchet with the Rossa family in my grandfather’s time. My mother’s sister, Melodia, married into the Amore family to finally make peace with them. Two generations of my family did what dozens before them couldn’t do. They put an end to the bloodshed. Blood’s bad for business, you understand.”

Lockwood frowned. “I was under the impression the blood feud was still on, just ‘cold’. Is that not the case?”

“My boy, that’s just what the Three Families wanted everypony to think,” Virtuoso said with a sad smile. “If the city thought we’d put those petty little squabbles behind us, they’d think we’d gone soft. Might try to muscle in on our territories. Again, bad for business. All that fighting is bad for business.”

Lockwood was about to speak when Virtuoso slammed his hoof on the table and started shouting:

“So you think I’m worried?! Worried that somehow, under my watch, my grandfather’s legacy is falling apart right before my eyes?! I have to hide my wife and daughter to keep them safe! You think that might be a good enough cause for me to worry?!”

Lockwood stayed silent, then calmly leaned forward in his chair. “I think in times like these, Don, everypony needs a friend.”

“I don’t need un amico, my boy. I need answers.” Virtuoso finished his drink, then passed the glass to Lyrica, who wordlessly took it, filled it with another round, then passed it back. “Somepony started this war, Lockwood. But it wasn’t me. I know it wasn’t the Rossa family. They went legit with the casinos in the Giocatore District, they have no need for all this. And I know, ohhh, I know it wasn’t anypony from the Amore family, because my dear aunt Melodia wouldn’t allow anypony to do it. We’re her family, too, her blood.”

Lockwood paused. “So you think this is a setup?”

“I don’t know what it is, son. All I know is that my family’s been hit the hardest, and the other families think I’m to blame for their losses, so they’ve retaliated against me and made it worse. I’ve lost businesses. I’ve lost enforcers. I’ve lost some of my closest famiglia, Lockwood.” Virtuoso slumped back in his chair and took a long drink. “They killed my boy Tommy. Gunned him down in the street like a rat two days ago while he was out to lunch. Saw his bullet-riddled body with my own eyes.”

Lockwood frowned. He knew Tommy fairly well. “I’m sorry Virtuoso. I know he was like a son to you.” He paused, then shook his head. “And you don’t know who did it? You’re certain it wasn’t one of the other families?”

“I wish I knew who was responsible, Lockwood. We may not be in the business of killing anymore, but that doesn’t mean we’re out of practice. Capisce?”

“Do you have any leads?”

Virtuoso sighed. “Not anymore. Cotton was this close--” He emphasized his point by holding his forehooves so close together that they practically touched “--to cracking it. But whoever this is… whoever this is knew where to hurt me most. Cotton is dead too. Bomb in her apartment.”

Lockwood was at a loss. Without Cotton Candy, Virtuoso had lost one of his valuable assets and a good friend. “That’s… wow. I’m… I’m sorry, Virtuoso. I didn’t know how hard you’d been hit--”

“It’s not your fault, my boy. You’ve got a life of your own to live. I’ve got a family to protect.” Virtuoso sat up in his seat and took another sip of his drink. “Perdonami. I haven’t been a very gracious host today. Would you care for a drink?”

Lockwood held up his hoof and smiled. “I know it’s not polite to refuse you, Don, but I’ve got business to attend to tonight and I think I should be sober for it. Wouldn’t want to disappoint, y’know?”

Virtuoso gave him a coy, knowing grin. “Ah, well, buona fortuna a te.”

“Thank you, Don. Truth be told, I’ve also been a little worried about my neighbor, Black Boulder. I haven’t seen him or his wife in a few days--”

“That was the young guy in Hotline’s crew, right? The one you got all hooked up?”

“That’s right.”

Virtuoso shook his head. “I can’t say I know where all of my enforcers are at the moment, Lockwood, sorry. This past week has been a real mess.” Virtuoso gestured to Lyrica gently. “Lyrica here’s one of the only captains who’s been reporting in regularly. I haven’t heard much of anything from Hotline, Maestro, or Octavian’s crews. I don’t even know if they’re alive.”

Lockwood frowned and let out a breath. “I see... listen, if there’s anything I can do to help--”

Virtuoso’s gaze steeled and he leaned forward. “You want to help? Here’s how you can help: if you find out anything about who’s doing this to me, you come tell me subito. If you can help me find them, I’ll be nel tuo debito - in your debt. Anything you want, it’s yours. I’ll make it happen, Lockwood, you just bring me something.”

Lockwood nodded and rose from his seat. “You’ll be the first to know, Don, I promise. I’ll leave you to your thinking.”

Virtuoso waved Lockwood off with a half-hearted wave of his hoof as he leaned back in his seat. “Grazie. Have fun with your ‘business’.”

*****

Lockwood arrived at his apartment early that evening. He didn’t bother with his keys; instead, he knocked with the distinct pattern that would let Blackburn and company know it was him. Crossfire opened the door a second later and let him in, then closed and locked the door behind him. Blackburn was waiting patiently, seated on the couch. Gadget was sitting on the rug.

Blackburn smiled as he entered the room, relieved. “Welcome back.”

Lockwood hung up his hat and headed into his room and tossed his jacket onto the bed, leaving him in just his simple white shirt. “I suppose you guys want me to cut right to the chase?”

“Take a moment, relax,” Blackburn said, patting the empty spot beside her on the couch.

Lockwood took a breath and sat down beside her, cozying up against the back of the couch. “I can relax and relay information at the same time.”

“Go ahead, then.”

“So, the war between the Three Families wasn’t started by Virtuoso, he was insistent about that much. He also firmly believes that the heads of the other two families didn’t order anything either, they’re just reacting to everything that’s going on.”

“Somepony else started the war? Hmm…” Blackburn tapped her chin. “Looking to gain from Three Families destroying each other. New rival family most likely.”

“Well, whoever it is, they’re targeting the Fantasia family in particular, and the other families think Virtuoso started it so they’re making it worse for him. I don’t know the extent that the other families have been affected, but Virtuoso’s lost contact with most of his captains… including Tommy Gun, who he’s confirmed as dead. Saw the body himself.”

Blackburn frowned and rubbed her chin, uncomfortable. “Ah… unfortunate. Tommy was instrumental in reaching this point. Decent stallion.”

“A bit touchy-feely, if you ask me,” Gadget noted, nose in the air. “Not that I wanted him dead or anything, though… I mean, I feel bad for him, and his family, but I’m not gonna pretend he didn’t get all hoovesy with me at the party.”

“That’s not all,” Lockwood continued. “Cotton Candy was killed too. Bomb in her apartment.”

“Top captain and top underboss, dead.” Blackburn leaned back and hummed. “Definitely targeted attack at Fantasia family. Other families caught in crossfire implies intent to damage Fantasia reputation as well, cripple efforts to make amends afterwards.”

“Any idea why, though?”

“Ruin,” Blackburn said, shaking her head. “Only intent is total ruin of Fantasia family. Will admit, at one point considered it myself, though not to this extent. This plan... meticulous. Required intimate knowledge of family’s inner workings. Likely inside job.”

“You think somepony inside the Fantasia family is betraying Virtuoso?” Lockwood asked, eyebrow raised. “Who?”

“Prime suspects would be one of his captains.”

“That leaves Hotline, Maestro, Octavian, and Lyrica. The former three have been completely out of contact with him for most of the war, and Lyrcia was present at our meeting. If the Don suspects anypony inside his organization, I doubt it’s her.”

“Hmm…” Blackburn shook her head. “Will not speculate. Need more information first.”

“Well, if we do manage to find anything out, Virtuoso’s basically told me he’s going to give me carte blanche. Anything I want kind of deal, y’know? I mean, I assume that he would extend it to you if you... helped me…” Lockwood stayed silent for a long moment, then turned to Gadget. “Gadget, do you have any recording equipment?”

Gadget raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure. Of course I do, what kind of tech genius do you take me for?”

“Can you set some up in my apartment?”

Gadget blinked, more confused. “Uh… yeah? Why? This isn’t a kink thing, is it?”

Blackburn narrowed her eyes at Lockwood. “You have a plan.”

Lockwood nodded. “I do.”

“Tell me.”

Lockwood shook his head. “No. If I do, you’ll refuse to help me.”

“Well, now I’m really curious,” Gadget said with a grin. “Let me guess: you have a theory on who it is and you’re gonna invite them over or something?”

“I’m not saying anything else,” Lockwood said, looking sternly at Blackburn. “Will you allow Gadget to bug my apartment?”

Blackburn paused, then snorted and rose off of the couch. “Keep your secrets, Lockwood. Will not help if you can’t trust me--”

“I do trust you, Princess, but you need to trust me. This’ll get you all the information you need, I guarantee it. But you need to trust me.” Lockwood hopped off the couch and bowed slightly before her. “I promised you I would help you in every way I could, and I meant it. Please.”

Blackburn looked down at him, quiet in her contemplation. At long last she turned to Gadget. “Go on, then.” She then turned to Lockwood. “We will be watching.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have expected otherwise.” Lockwood rose back up and smiled. “I’m going to assume you need to be close for the equipment to be of use?”

“Not really,” Gadget said with a shrug. “But if Blackburn wants to watch, that means she wants to be close in case something happens. We’ll probably scope out a place across the street, or maybe camp out on the roof.”

Lockwood shook his head. “I’ve got a better option. Head down to apartment 0791, just down the hall. My neighbor’s wife still rents it out, uses it for storage these days. That way, you’re close by and everything and nopony will bother you.”

“And you expect us to just break into this lady’s apartment?” Gadget scoffed.

Lockwood nodded. “Nopony’ll be there, so you’ll have plenty of quiet to listen in and whatnot. But I need you to promise me you won’t do anything until it’s all over. Don’t come barging in on me, okay? Then, you’ll be able to get whatever you need out of Virtuoso.”

“I can’t--”

“Please, Blackburn. Promise me.”

Blackburn looked him in his eyes for a brief moment, then grunted, annoyed. “Fine. Only hope you’re not doing anything stupid.”

Lockwood clapped her on the shoulder. “C’mon now, Princess, when have I ever done anything stupid?”

*****

Later that evening, Lockwood relaxed on his couch while reading a book - this one not made of paper, but contained on a datapad - that had been given to him by Mint and Matcha several weeks ago. It was a copy of an old, almost ancient book that detailed the intricacies of societal organization, namely how it was possible to determine a culture’s needs, values, and interests based on their habits for constructing their settlements. He’d been hoping to use it to learn why Pandemonium was organized in such a nonsensical fashion yet didn’t feel like it was done at random. It wasn’t helping.

He prevented himself from glancing over to where Gadget had installed her recording equipment - a magnet on the refrigerator that contained a miniature camera complete with audio sensor. If he kept himself from looking now, he could do so later.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, five knocks in a distinct pattern that Lockwood recognized as many ponies liked to knock with those five notes. He hopped off the couch and set his book down on the kitchen counter, then trotted over to the door. Just as he went to open it, he noticed the subtle glow of unicorn magic on the locking mechanism.

The knob turned and the door burst open in one swift movement, and a mare on the other side shoved him harshly back into the room, where he fell onto his rug. Then she and two others strut inside; all three were earth ponies, and one of them carried one of Gadget’s TS-200 devices.

The mare who’d shoved him had a steel-gray coat and a smoke-gray mane that she kept straight back. She wore a black leather jacket with spiked shoulders over a white shirt, and chewed on a toothpick. She was built a tiny bit bigger than the other two, hardly noticeable but the jacket’s size made it more apparent.

A second mare entered behind the first. Her coat was smoke-gray and her long, sweeping mane was charcoal-black and covered most of her face. She wore a white, spotless blouse that clung tightly to her much smaller frame. She quietly slid into the room and took a seat in the corner on the floor where she remained for now, just staring unblinkingly at Lockwood.

The third mare had a plain gray coat; her mane was a grayish-purple and cut very short but with long bangs. She wore a turtleneck sweater over her comparatively average build. She was the only one who took the time to check out Lockwood’s apartment to make sure they were alone, not speaking a word as she did so.

“Well well well, look who it is!” exclaimed leather jacket mare, her voice deep and gravely. “It’s our old friend Lockwood. And hey, he’s got a new rug. Fancy shit.” She turned to the quiet mare in the corner. “And after all that work we did to dye it for you. Ungrateful prick, isn’t he?”

The quiet mare’s mouth curled in a very tight smile. “Uh huh.”

Jacket mare turned back to Lockwood, who was rising to his hooves, and shoved him back down. “Hey hey hey, what do you think you’re doing, huh? Who said you could stand up? I sure didn’t. I told you last time, dipshit, you listen to me.” She punctuated this by punching him hard across the face.

“Now now, Gem,” interjected the turtleneck mare, her voice a dull monotone, eyes half-lidded. “Don’t get started just yet.”

The jacket mare - Gem, apparently - wheeled on turtleneck. “Whoa whoa whoa, you don’t get to tell me what to do, Rook. We all know that I’m in charge--”

Turtleneck mare - Rook - shook her head. “That was last time. You know the drill this time, sis.”

Gem rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, but until then, I’m the one in charge. So keep your trap shut while I put the squeeze on this wuss.” Rook’s reaction was just a small shrug. Satisfied, Gem turned back to Lockwood. “So, looks like you didn’t get the message last time, bucko. I thought we were clear.” She turned to the quiet mare. “Ruby, we were clear, right?”

Quiet mare - Ruby - nodded and grinned wider. “Uh huh.”

“See, I knew we were clear.” Gem turned back to Lockwood and lifted him up by his collar. “We told you, buddy. We told you that if you went and talked, we were gonna make you regret it. We were clear. Crystal. Clear. And you went ahead and talked anyway. You got a death wish, pal?”

“I didn’t tell anypony anything about you,” Lockwood said.

“Yeah, I call bullshit.” She lifted her hoof up to strike him again.

Another voice came from the doorway. “Ah ah ah, don’t get started just yet, Gem. You heard your sister.”

Lockwood’s eyes widened as Cotton Candy walked into his apartment none the worse for wear. She was dressed in a loose-fitting red suit, still with an unnecessary eyepatch. She closed and locked the door behind her.

Gem turned to Cotton and tilted her head. “But Cotton, this jerk didn’t listen to us. We told him what we’d do if he went flapping his gums about us, and I’m just trying to remind him--”

Lockwood scowled. “Y’know, Cotton, you’re looking awfully healthy for a dead mare.”

“Well, obviously the rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated,” Cotton laughed. “I’m sooo close to finding out everything I need to know, but this whole little scuffle between the Three Families is making it hard to focus and keep my mind clear. I needed time to think think think.”

“So you faked your own death with a bomb?”

“Pretty neat, huh? Boom! Bam! Kablamo!” She did an exploding gesture with her hooves. “No more Cotton Candy to worry about. Peace and quiet at last. Sure, okay, maybe a few ponies might have gotten caught in that blast, but what’s a little collateral damage every now and then, eh? I gotta do what I gotta do to get what I need, you understand.”

“You really live up to your reputation, don’t you?”

She shrugged and grinned. “I try.” She then headed over to the fridge, opened it up, and grabbed a packet of Dolor Blue. “Ugh, you like the Blue crap? You’ve got poor taste in food, Lockwood, I’ll tell you that much.” She ripped it open and sucked down a mouthful. “Pah! It doesn’t taste anything like me at all. What a load. Oh well.” She turned to Gem. “Anyway, go ahead, sis. Teach this schmuck his lesson.”

Gem smirked, then turned back to Lockwood and clocked him across the face; she kept a grip on his shirt so he wouldn’t fall to the floor. “Ooh yeah, that was a good crack right there.”

She hit him again, and again, and finally on the third strike she let him go so he’d fall onto the floor. His lip and nose were bleeding all over his rug. She then roughly ground her hoof into his ribcage to keep him from squirming and moving around as she continued her assault, striking him again, and again, and--

Cotton held up her hoof after about a minute of punishment. “Stop.”

Gem withdrew her hoof mid-punch and stood at attention. Lockwood’s nose was broken at this point, and there was a hideous red stain all over the rug. He flicked his tongue against his teeth to make sure he hadn’t lost one; he hadn’t. Yet.

Cotton then stepped over, still sucking on the tube of Dolor Blue, and knelt beside Lockwood and ruffled his mane. “As you can see, I can stop all the pain at any moment I want. Just a single word, and they won’t lay another hoof on you. Doesn’t that sound nice? Guess what? I’ll do just that if you tell me everything I want to know.”

Lockwood spat out some blood and lifted his head to meet her gaze. “And what’s that?”

“I need to know everything about your good friend Thunderbolt and her associates at Crown Spectrum, especially that tech wizard of hers. Ooh, she’s good, that little filly. I can’t find any information out about those three no matter where I look. There’s some kind of block on their profiles in the city’s database, and I bet she put it up to protect them. So I need somepony close with them to get me that information. And I. Picked. You. You should feel honored! Lucky!”

Lockwood took a deep breath. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Cotton stared at him for a moment, then shrugged and turned to Rook with a coy smile. “You heard him, sis. Your turn.”

Rook stepped forward and cracked her neck. “Gem, spread his wing out for me.”

Gem pushed Lockwood onto his stomach and spread his left wing out wide on the floor. Rook then pressed her hoof hard against the base of the wing, eliciting a pained whimper from Lockwood.

“With the right pressure,” she explained, still monotone, “this will inflict intense pain without snapping the bone. Too little and it’s just uncomfortable. Too much and the bone snaps. Snapping the bone could be painful enough to send you into shock.”

“And we don’t need you passing out on us now, do we, wimp?” chided Gem, moving over to dig her hoof into the base of his neck. Lockwood tapped his hooves against the floor in pain. “Awww look, he’s tapping out. What do you think this is, pal, a wrestling match?”

Cotton finished the tube of Dolor Blue at last and dropped it nonchalantly onto Lockwood’s bloodied face. “Y’know, I bet you think you’re doing those friends of yours a favor by not talking to me, don’t you? Well, here’s a little secret for you: you’re not.”

“I’m not telling you anything!” Lockwood hissed through the pain.

Cotton sighed and lay on the floor in front of him, lifting up her eyepatch and giving him a sympathetic look. “C’mon. You’re just making it harder on them in the end, really. I mean, think about how they’re gonna feel when we have to do this to all their business partners until somepony squeals. Somepony will give me what I need.”

Lockwood paled, so Cotton held up her hoof. “Stop!”

Rook released her pressure on his wing; Gem did the same for his neck.

Cotton smiled and ruffled his mane again. “There we go, girls, that got a reaction. You get it now, don’t you? If we have to kill you, we’re just gonna move on to the next ponies that might be able to help us instead. That would probably be… the Tea Sisters, wouldn’t it?”

“You wouldn’t--”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, buddy boy. I know how close sisters can be with one another, so I know just a teeny-tiny bit of motivation goes a long way. Now, I haven’t decided on whether or not we’re gonna torture Mint or Matcha first while the other watches.” She lifted her hoof, struck by an idea. “Ooh, maybe you’d be able to make a suggestion? Which one’s easier to break, you think?”

Lockwood sneered. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Cotton sighed, shrugged, then gestured to Rook and Gem. “Keep it up, girls.”

Rook nodded and applied pressure to Lockwood’s wing again, both of them this time. He started groaning in pain once more trying his best to squirm away from his tormentors, so Gem pressed a hoof to the back of his skull and slammed his face into the floor.

Cotton then turned to Ruby, who’d been quiet the entire time with a slowly growing smile on her face. “Ruby, sweetie, would you care to join the fun? I know you’ve been waiting a while for this.”

Ruby’s grin widened, showing her teeth. “Uh huh.”

The quiet mare stepped towards Lockwood, her eyes darkening as she drew a switchblade from her blouse. She popped the blade out; Gem grabbed Lockwood’s hair and pulled his face up to look at her. Ruby then gently drew her knife across Lockwood’s face, making a very shallow cut along his cheek. Lockwood struggled to turn his head away and soon was unable to prevent himself from crying as she repeated this along his foreleg over and over.

“I can do this all day, sweetheart, but I don’t think you’ve got what it takes to last that long. Typical stallion endurance, tsk tsk tsk.” Cotton sighed, patting Lockwood on the cheek Ruby hadn’t cut. “But if you’re not going to give me anything, I can’t make it stop. Won’t you give me just a little something to work with here? If you tell me what I want to know, this can allll stop.”

“What are you going to do to them if I tell you?” Lockwood asked through gritted teeth.

“Oh, well that’s easy. Since you’re curious, I might as well, right?” Cotton grinned wide. “Now, Fireblast, as handsome as he is, is of no practical use to me. He’ll just get in the way, you know that, so he’s gotta go. A shame, too, he’s a real studmuffin, but nopony’s too handsome to squash if they get in my way. Now, Thunderbolt, she’s my ticket in to making sure that little tech wiz gives me what I want. I’m thinking that breaking a wing might be a good start.”

“Or maybe just tearing it right out of its socket,” Gem snickered. “Just rrrriiiip that wing right out. Which one do you think she favors, huh? Left wing? Right? My bet’s on the left, but Ruby thinks it’s the right.”

“Ruby wants to use it like a paper fan,” Rook added. “Keep herself cool in the summer when we head down south. Right sis?”

“Uh huh,” Ruby agreed, drawing her knife across the back of Lockwood’s neck.

Lockwood whimpered again. “Why are you doing this?”

“Look, I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse. You tell me what I want to know and I’ll let you live. Refuse, and I tell Ruby to cut a little deeper.” Cotton had Ruby punctuate this point by digging her knife into his back near the base of his left wing. “What’s it gonna be, hun?”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll tell you!” Lockwood shouted as tears began to roll down his bloodied face.

Cotton held up a hoof. “Stop!” Rook and Gem released their pressure, and Ruby withdrew her knife. “Good boy, Lockwood. I knew you’d see it my way eventually. Shame we had to ruin your rug to do it. It really tied the room together.”

Lockwood, out of breath and having trouble breathing, glared at Cotton through his tears. “They live in Mid-South Central Plaza, at a place called North Point. Room 44-6:15. They just got back in town after a vacation so they’re probably still getting their things unpacked.”

Cotton smiled. “Good. Very good. See? Was that so hard?”

“What did they ever do to you? Are they the traitors that Virtuoso was talking about?”

“No no, they didn’t do anything quite like that. I’m just interested in what that little Tinker gal can do. She’s got the potential to be a valuable, valuable asset to Don Virtuoso.”

Lockwood blinked, dumbfounded. “But… but she already works for--”

“And he wastes her talent on toys!” Cotton spat, her gaze intensifying. “He and Thunderbolt squander that mare’s potential on worthless junk! They’re both idiots, blinded by sentimentality and novelty. Do you know what a mind like that could do if she was using that genius for making weapons? With somepony like that on our side, we could take over this whole damn city! None of this Three Families truce bullshit. There would be one empire to keep this city in check, and nopony could stop us!”

“Wait, that means… you’re the traitor?”

Cotton snorted. “I prefer ‘visionary’. You couldn’t possibly understand what true ambition looks like. You’re just as blind and small minded as they are. Never seeing the bigger picture!” She rose to her hooves. “You went to the Don earlier today. Obviously that’s why we’re here - you talked. What did you tell him?”

Lockwood shook his head. “I was just checking in on a friend, and checking up on another. I haven’t seen my neighbor in days.”

Cotton smirked. “Black Boulder? Oh, he’s dead.”

Lockwood paled. “What?”

Gem guffawed. “Yeah, we killed that piece of shit. What a waste of space.”

“Technically, we killed his wife,” Rook pointed out. “He just jumped in the pit we threw her in while we filled it with cement.”

Lockwood shook his head. “Why?”

“To keep him out of the way. Hotline started getting suspicious after Cotton ‘died’, had his enforcers trying to figure out what happened. Smart stallion, that one.”

“And so Black Boulder had to die,” Cotton finished. “So did Hotline and most of his crew, actually. We’re still wrapping up a few loose ends, of course, but you were more important right now. You should feel honored!” She gestured to Gem. “Anyway. Girls, put this poor soul to sleep. He needs some rest after a hard day.”

“With pleasure,” Gem snickered.

Lockwood’s eyes widened. “But… but I told you--”

Gem cut him off with a vicious stomp to the ribs. And another, and another. Rook joined in the act by applying pressure to his left wing again, more than before; the bones in his wing started cracking. Ruby didn’t join in, merely held Lockwood’s head aloft and watched the pain flicker in his eyes as she cleaned her blade on her blouse before putting it away.

Cotton smirked and gave Ruby a sisterly pat on the back. “They’re just gonna knock you around a lil’ bit, ol’ buddy ol’ pal. Can’t have you trying to warn Thunderbolt we’re coming, can we? But don’t worry, I gave you my word that I wasn’t going to kill you, didn’t I? Now, if nopony shows up in time to get you medical attention, that’s not our fault.”

Another few stomps from Gem was enough to crack one of his ribs, then she kicked him in the side of the head; Lockwood’s vision briefly blurred in his right eye. Rook applied enough pressure to snap the bones in his left wing. This was enough that Lockwood finally passed out from the shock. Once he was out, the sisters stopped their assault and joined Cotton at her side.

“You sure you don’t want us to put him on ice, Cotton?” Gem asked, mashing her hooves together.

Cotton shook her head. “Now now, Gem, I gave that scrawny wimp my word, didn’t I? C’mon, we’ve got time to hit up that hay fries joint I like before we go pay Miss Thunderbolt a visit.”

With that, the four mares left the room and closed the door behind them, not bothering to lock the door this time around.

A few minutes later, Blackburn, Crossfire, and Gadget came barging into the room. Gadget saw the blood pooling around Lockwood and staggered in the doorway just a little; Crossfire caught her, but she was able to keep herself mostly upright. She went straight to retrieving her recording equipment, taking deep, deep breaths so that she didn’t throw up.

While Gadget grabbed her recording equipment, Blackburn helped Crossfire ease Lockwood onto his back. She grabbed some towels out of the restroom and tried her best to stop the bleeding; it was working, but most of his injuries were internal at this point.

“Quick, we have to get him to Miracle,” she said in a panic. She looked at Lockwood with terrified concern. “You idiot. You stupid, stupid idiot.”

Part of that was for him, if he could hear her. The rest was for herself.

Chapter Twelve: Violent Vengeance

Blackburn and Gadget arrived at Virtuoso’s penthouse extremely late that evening; Crossfire wasn’t with them, as he’d agreed to watch over Lockwood back at Miracle’s place. They both looked tired and hadn’t bothered to change out of their dirty, sweaty clothes. Blackburn approached the hulking enforcer that guarded the penthouse door, a withering scowl on her face. Said enforcer stepped in the way between her and the door and held up a hoof to bar her path.

“Hey hey, toots, nopony gets into the Don’s place without an appointment,” he said, taking a long time in between every word.

“Lockwood was here earlier today, wasn’t he?” she asked, glaring at the pony-shaped obstacle in her way. “Did he have an appointment?”

The enforcer scratched his head. “No. But--”

“So, if Lockwood didn’t need an appointment to see the Don, I don’t need an appointment to see the Don,” Blackburn said. “Get out of my way.”

The enforcer shook his head. “You ain’t on his list of friends and family though, toots. Lockwood was. You gotta go--”

Blackburn grabbed the enforcer’s suit collar and yanked him down to her eye level so that they were nose-to-nose. “Listen, you overgrown sack of bricks, I’ve got news for the Don that’s very important for him to get. You are preventing me from delivering it. If he finds out that you kept me from bringing this to him, he’s not going to be happy. Capisce?”

The enforcer, to his credit, remained firm, and grabbed Blackburn’s collar in turn and lifted her right off the ground. “Look, toots, you ain’t on the Don’s list, and you don’t have an appointment--”

Blackburn turned her head just slightly towards Gadget, whose horn was glowing. “My friend here has her special lightning gun pointed at your groin.”

The enforcer twitched slightly as he felt cold steel press against his balls.

“It’s got enough juice in it to put down a pony twice your size,” Blackburn continued. “She’ll send every last volt straight through your most precious bits if you don’t put me down and let me through that door. We’re going inside one way or another, it’s up to you if you’re conscious or not when we do.”

Gadget primed her sidearm to fire; it gave a loud whirring hum. The enforcer’s eyes shifted to Gadget, who was stone-faced, then back to Blackburn’s intense glare. He gulped, then lowered Blackburn to the ground, dusted her collar off, and opened the door for the pair of mares.

They didn’t get very far into the penthouse before Lyrica intercepted them, just as they reached the door to the dining room; she was still dressed in a crisp black suit despite the late hour. Her horn was aglow; her magic gripped a pistol at her side, though it wasn’t aimed at anypony just yet.

“You two have five seconds to give me a reason not to put a couple of bullets in your heads for trespassing,” Lyrica threatened.

“Virtuoso wants to know who started the war,” Blackburn said, unintimidated. “I know who it is and have evidence that proves it.”

Lyrica paused, her gaze shifting between the duo slowly, then she holstered her gun and dimmed her horn. “The Don’s not gonna like doing this so late--”

“He’ll forgive me once he sees what I have to show him.”

Lyrica gestured towards the dining room. “Wait in there while I fetch the Don. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

Blackburn nodded, and she and Gadget headed into the dining room and took seats near the head of the table; they'd never been in this room before, so they took the time to look around. They only had to wait about two minutes before Lyrica returned, Don Virtuoso just behind her. The Don was in his pajamas, a blue-and-gold silk robe and nothing more; he was in the process of lighting a cigar as he entered.

“Miss Thunderbolt,” he greeted, annoyed but still polite. “Lyrica tells me you have something I want that couldn’t wait until morning?”

Blackburn gestured for the empty seat beside her, her expression still harsh despite her current company. “I do, Don Virtuoso. Let’s not waste time on pleasantries.”

Virtuoso puffed his cigar, eyeing Blackburn with a stern gaze, before giving a small shrug and taking a seat. “This had better be good, Thunderbolt.”

Gadget hoisted out her datapad and passed it over to Blackburn, who propped it up on her side of the table so that the Don could get a good view. She opened up the recording from Lockwood’s apartment, hit “Play”, then leaned back in her seat to comfortably watch Virtuoso’s reactions. At first, the recording only consisted of Lockwood relaxing on his couch reading a book-on-datapad. So far, of course, Virtuoso was unimpressed.

“This is from today?” he asked, taking another puff.

“From a few hours ago, yes,” Blackburn replied.

Virtuoso gestured at the screen with his cigar. “How'd you get this? Why do you have equipment in Lockwood’s apartment?” He gave her a harsh-but-curious look. “You spying on him?”

“It was his idea. He asked us to set our equipment up because he had an idea about who might be responsible for your troubles.” Blackburn snorted in disgust. “He wouldn’t tell me more than that. Made me swear not to interfere, the stupid idiot…” She took a deep breath and looked away from the screen, knowing what was coming next.

The Don continued watching, and was at first confused at the sight of the three mares - Gem, Ruby, and Rook Candy - forcefully entering Lockwood’s apartment, then upset when Gem hit him.

“Who are these mares?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“You’ll see,” she replied.

Then, of course, Cotton Candy walked into the apartment, and the Don’s cigar nearly fell from his mouth as he stared at the screen in shock.

“Com’è possibile?” he muttered, regaining his composure. “How is she there? She’s supposed to be dead. Are you sure this is from today, Thunderbolt?”

“Absolutely,” Blackburn replied. “Just watch, Don. Trust me, that isn’t the most surprising thing you’re going to see.”

Virtuoso continued watching, growing enraged as the sisters gave Lockwood the beating of his life under Cotton Candy’s careful gaze, and as Cotton questioned Lockwood and threatened those he was closest to, and most especially when Lockwood was able to weasel a confession from the not-quite-dead underboss.

This last one angered Virtuoso so much that he burned through most of his cigar in a matter of seconds. “That treacherous bitch,” he snarled, his eye’s alight with fire. “She’s a dead mare. A dead mare!”

He turned to Lyrica, red in the face with anger. “Get your crew together. I want you to get this bitch where she breathes! I want you to find her, and I want her dead! I want her sisters dead! I want whatever shithole she’s hiding out in burned to the ground! I wanna go there in the middle of the night and I wanna piss on her ashes!”

Lyrica nodded. “Of course, Don, right away.” She then hurried out of the dining room to leave the apartment.

Virtuoso took a few heavy breaths, head in his hooves as he watched the video finish up, with Blackburn’s crew sweeping into the apartment and taking Lockwood out of there. “Look at how they massacred my boy, Thunderbolt...” He looked at her, sincere sadness in his eyes and voice. “Is he okay? Is my boy okay?”

“He’s being treated by a mutual friend of ours, one of the best in the business. I left Fireblast with him to keep him safe,” Blackburn said, her tone unwavering and her expression solid as steel. “It was bad, Don. Very bad. But he’ll live. Lockwood will live thanks to me. And you have this information thanks to me.”

Virtuoso turned to her, and though he wasn’t even close to happy in the slightest, his mouth curled in a slight, knowing grin. “So I do, Thunderbolt, so I do. Knowing Lockwood, he probably told you all about my offer to him and what I’d give him if he found anything. Probably even extended the offer for you to take over him? Am I close?”

“That’s exactly right, Don.”

Virtuoso leaned back in his seat and smashed his cigar into his ashtray. “I like you, Thunderbolt. There’s something about you that I haven’t seen in a pony in a long time. And you’ve been a good friend to Lockwood, from what I understand, and Lockwood’s practically famiglia to me.” He spread out his arms in a gesture of acceptance. “So sure, if he’s willing to give up his reward to you, I’ll accept that.”

He got up from his seat and poured himself a glass of scotch, grabbed a new cigar and lit it up, then retook his seat. “I haven’t known you for long, Thunderbolt, but I think I’ve got a pretty good idea what you’re going to ask me for.”

“Do tell.”

“You’re a tough businessmare, got a real entrepreneurial spirit. You want more independent control of your company now that I’ve helped prop you up. A bigger share of the profits, maybe?” He took a long puff of his cigar. “I can agree to--”

“Wrong,” Blackburn said.

Virtuoso paused, confused. Gadget, too, looked at her in surprise, not expecting that response at all. “Wrong?” Virtuoso asked, taking his cigar from his mouth. “What do you mean ‘wrong’?”

“I don’t care about any of that, not right now.” Blackburn rose from her seat. “You sent Lyrica out because you’re planning an attack on the Candy sisters. You want revenge on them for what they’ve done to you, and what they did to Lockwood.” She put her hooves on the table and got right in Virtuoso’s face. “I. Want. In.”

Virtuoso looked at her for a long moment, then put his cigar back in his mouth and took a drag. “You want in, huh?”

“Yeah. I want in. I want to make those bitches pay for what they did.” Blackburn’s scowl intensified; a lesser pony than Virtuoso might’ve withered under her gaze. “Nopony hurts my friends and gets away with it, Don, capisce? Nopony.”

Virtuoso pondered this for a moment, running a hoof along his stubble. He nodded in agreement. “Okay, Thunderbolt, okay. When Lyrica finds where Cotton Candy and her crew are hiding, we’ll be in touch--”

“Not good enough,” Blackburn said, shaking her head. “They’re looking for me, Don, you heard them. And if they don’t find me at our apartment, they might think Lockwood lied to them, so they might go searching for him. They won’t leave him bleeding on a rug if they find him again.”

“That might be so, but it’ll take time for Lyrica’s crew to put together--”

Blackburn looked at Gadget. “Tinker, find the Candy sisters. You have five minutes.”

Gadget blinked, taken aback. “Golly, five minutes? Uh… yeah, okay, sure. You got it, boss.” She pulled her datapad back over to her side of the table and got to work.

Virtuoso raised an eyebrow. “Perdonami, Thunderbolt, but you’re not involved in this kind of business. It takes time to find somepony like Cotton Candy if they don’t want to be found. Lyrica’s crew can search the city all day and night, and I promise that they’ll search every street corner, every alleyway, every building. But, I’m not expecting anything until tomorrow night at the earliest.”

“That’s why I’m not leaving this up to your crew, Don,” Blackburn said. “I mean no insult, but my crew can do what needs to be done much faster.”

“If you’re so good, Thunderbolt, then why do you need me to help you?” he asked, taking a drink. “Sounds like you want to do this all by yourself. So why don’t you? Now that I know you came to me for vengeance, I want to know why.”

Blackburn shook her head. “Cotton and her sisters could only have succeeded in their attacks on the Three Families if they had ample resources and numbers, neither of which I have. But you do. On the other hoof, my crew and I have the capabilities to do things your crew cannot. We’re helping each other here, Don.”

Virtuoso smiled slightly. “You say that, but--”

“Done!” Gadget exclaimed, turning her datapad around to show Blackburn and Virtuoso what she’d found.

On the screen was an green-tinted image of a large warehouse building: clearly security camera footage. The outside of the building was guarded by dozens of ponies in full-body armor, though none seemed to be carrying weapons. They patrolled the building exterior with an almost mechanical pattern and precision. Some others were carrying large crates into and out of the warehouse.

They were supervised by a familiar-looking mare, Gem Candy, who stood and quietly watched the others work. She wore a high-tech visor over her eyes and had her hoof to her temple, tapping away at the visor’s side for some reason.

Virtuoso rose sharply in his seat, dropping his cigar. “Where is this? How are we seeing this?”

“Piece of cake.” Gadget cockily breathed into her hoof and scuffed it on her blouse. “You’re looking at the top tech engineer in the city, Don, remember? Just a little hack into the city’s security systems, then I ran some facial recognition software. Easy peasy.”

Blackburn eyed the warehouse and nodded in understanding. “The surrounding area suggests this warehouse is in the Mid-North’s Factory Sector. Should be easy to pinpoint the exact building once we’re there.” She turned to Virtuoso. “Get your crew together and have them meet us--”

Virtuoso held up a hoof as he picked up his cigar and placed it back in his mouth. “Now, hold on a moment, Thunderbolt. This is a bit more than just dealing with a small crew of Cotton Candy and her sisters.” He gestured at the multitude of guards. “You’re a good friend of Lockwood’s. He’d never forgive me if you were injured--”

“It’s out of his hooves, Don, but I’ll humor you,” Blackburn snorted. She turned to Gadget. “Tinker. Present your sidearm, please.”

Gadget nodded and drew her weapon, setting it on the table. She cleared her throat. “This is the latest in my line of lightning guns I make for self-defense purposes; I'm still working on a new name for them, considering their power level. It can electrocute and stun a full-grown adult pony from about one hundred feet away. It also has a lethal setting strong enough to power multiple city blocks for a full day; it’s like getting struck by lightning.”

“Our friend Fireblast will be getting suited up as well,” added Blackburn. “His custom-fitted body armor resists most small arms fire and is kitted with assorted firearms and explosives as well as other utility features. He is fully-trained in its use in any sort of combat situation.”

Virtuoso leaned back in his seat, impressed. “You’ve been holding out on me, Thunderbolt.”

“You don’t deal in weapons, Don, and neither do we. These are personal projects for protection purposes only. In our current situation, we’re going to make an exception and use them to lay down some hurt on ponies that deserve it. That isn’t a problem, is it?”

“No. But what about you?” Virtuoso asked, gesturing to her with a hoof. “If you’re going along too, I assume you’ll have something to protect yourself?”

Blackburn nodded and looked to Gadget. “Tinker, if you would?”

Gadget nodded and passed Blackburn a small, hoof-shaped device with a dial on the side. Blackburn slid it over her hoof and showed it off to the Don.

“This is Tinker’s latest invention, which she calls the FA-4000 but I call a ‘Power Hoof’. It increases the force applied by the user exponentially, and also absorbs kinetic energy to prevent injury from said applied force or other sources. Allow me to demonstrate.”

She pulled over one of the Don’s dining chairs and stomped hard on the seat with her bare hoof. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. She then twisted the dial on the device on her other hoof, then used that hoof to stomp down on the chair, smashing it into splinters.

The Don’s eyes widened and he nearly dropped his cigar again. “Stupefacente.” He looked over at Gadget and gave her a small grin. “You’ve outdone yourself, Tinker. First finding the Candy sisters, now bringing all these wonderful toys to bear? I see why Cotton Candy wanted to get her claws into you.”

Gadget smiled and shrugged. “What can I say, Don, I am pretty amazing.”

Virtuoso took a long puff of his cigar and leaned back in his seat. “Okay, Thunderbolt. You’ve convinced me. I’ll get in touch with Lyrica, tell her to get her crew up to the Factory Sector to find this warehouse. You meet her there in about an hour. Ti suona bene?”

“Grazie, Don Virtuoso,” Blackburn said with a nod. She and Gadget started for the door.

Virtuoso called out before they left. “Thunderbolt! One more thing.” She turned to face him. “Don’t do anything stupid. Lockwood would never forgive me if anything happened to you, understand?”

Blackburn paused, then nodded. “I’ll be careful, Virtuoso.”

*****

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire met with Lyrica and her crew just before midnight about a block away from the Candy sisters’ warehouse. Lyrica’s crew was composed of herself and eleven other ponies; all of them were dressed in suits and ties, armed with pistols or shotguns, and wore body armor under their clothes.

Blackburn, meanwhile, was in a comfortable jacket and was wearing her lucky scarf, the Power Hoof attached to her right foreleg. Gadget was dressed in her coveralls with her glasses over her eyes, sidearm already drawn. Crossfire had donned his bronze-colored armor, helmet included, but hadn’t drawn any weapons just yet.

Lyrica’s crew were getting set up with their gear behind a building at the end of the block, out of sight of the warehouse. From here they could see the armored ponies patrolling the grounds in perfect lockstep, their routes repeating every few minutes with mechanical timing and precision. As Blackburn and her entourage approached, Lyrica quietly waved them over.

“So, the Don says you folks are coming along for a little ride with us, huh?” she asked, skeptical. She eyed Gadget and Crossfire up and down, more impressed with them than with Blackburn at the moment. “Well, far be it from me to question the Don’s decisions. I guess if he thinks you can handle yourselves, I’ll give it a shot.”

“Golly, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Gadget scoffed.

Lyrica glanced around the corner of the building, then turned back to Blackburn’s crew. “So, we scouted things out a little bit before you got here. There’s a front entrance, obviously, which is heavily guarded and patrolled by whoever these goons are that Cotton and her sisters recruited. There’s also a back entrance, not as well-guarded, definitely set up as an escape route for the Candys if they need it.”

“The information I have on the facility’s layout confirms that. The best course of action would be to split up,” Blackburn suggested. “The front entrance--”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Lyrica interrupted. “Who put you in charge that you think you can start barking orders around, huh? This is my raid, sister, not yours.”

“You’re welcome to try and suggest ideas if you want, Lyrica,” Blackburn noted. “However, I will point out that I’ve been reviewing the building’s blueprints, monitoring the security cameras, and calculating the patrol routes for the past hour while you’ve been putting your crew together.”

“So what? Just because you have a bit of knowledge doesn’t mean you have experience--”

“None of the Three Families have participated in anything like this since before you were born,” Blackburn interjected. “Nopony in your crew has practical experience, but I at least have extensive knowledge of the situation we’re going into. I’d suggest that information is more important in these circumstances.”

Lyrica paused, a sneer on her face, then shook her head. “Then what’s your big plan, ‘boss lady’?”

“As I was saying, we split up,” Blackburn said. “You and your crew attack from the front entrance, but don’t make a strong push - stay safe, but keep the guards distracted. My team will enter through the rear and take out Cotton Candy and her sisters from the inside, where they are more vulnerable.”

“That puts my whole team in the line of fire,” Lyrica snorted.

“We need somepony moving on the front entrance, but we also need to cover the rear entrance to prevent them from escaping. My team is smaller, so we’re less likely to be discovered; your team is bigger and louder, so you can make a ruckus.”

Lyrica scowled, then nodded her head. “Fine, whatever, it’s an okay plan. But I’m not putting my life or the lives of my crew on the line to save your asses if you get in trouble in there, got that?”

“Wouldn’t have it otherwise.” Blackburn took a breath. “Give us five minutes to get into position, then give us a signal to move in. A suitably loud distraction will do.” She turned to Gadget and Crossfire. “Let’s go.”

“Yes ma’am,” Gadget and Crossfire said in unison.

Lyrica watched the trio leave, then snorted in annoyance. “Whatever. Bitch.” She turned to her crew as they were finishing gearing up. “Okay, colts and fillies, let’s get a move on. Four groups of three, one unicorn, pegasus, and earth pony each. Everypony got your teams picked out?”

The eleven other members of her crew nodded and murmured in agreement.

“Then let’s go. Move!”

With that, the twelve ponies split off into four teams, each with one unicorn, one pegasus, one earth pony, and moved into covered positions by the front entrance to the warehouse, unseen as of yet by the patrol ponies. They then waited for Blackburn’s team to get into position; Lyrica kept an eye on her watch the entire time.

When she was satisfied they’d waited long enough, Lyrica signaled to the teams to start their attack. The ponies in each squad fastened and mounted their weapons, then popped out of cover and opened fire on the patrolling ponies, emptying their magazines before ducking back into cover and reloading. A single strike was enough to take eight of the patrollers down, leaving some forty left.

Gem Candy, who was situated far from the entrance, sneered and turned towards the noise. “Aw shit, already? Damn, I thought we had longer.” She tapped the side of her visor a few times; the patrolling ponies stopped their seemingly-automatic motions for all of a split second before turning their attention towards the intruders. “Let’s see how these two-bit goombas deal with some military-grade pain.”

The patrol ponies got into position to defend the warehouse, and waited. As soon as Lyrica’s teams popped back up to open fire, the patrollers’ armor opened up around their shoulders, revealing mounted guns, which fired high-velocity flechette rounds towards the attackers.

The unicorns in each team were in charge of raising barriers to protect their teams as they took aim. However, under the flurry of concentrated shrapnel-based rounds, they had a difficult time concentrating. One squad’s unicorn lost focus and took several rounds to the face; the flechettes tore his flesh to shreds, leaving his squadmates splattered with his blood as they retook cover.

Some of the defenders didn’t launch flechette rounds, instead firing explosives. One unicorn reacted in time to pump more magic into her barrier, but the blast sent her reeling and her squad had to drag her back into cover before the other defenders shot her. Another squad’s unicorn wasn’t as lucky, and the explosion tore through his shield and incinerated him and the two ponies with him.

Lyrica grit her teeth and reloaded her pistol. “These aren’t just regular ponies,” she noted to her squad mates. “This is military gear. A.M.P. Troopers. Shit, this way beyond our paygrade.”

*****

Meanwhile, Blackburn’s team had already taken advantage of the distraction at the front to move on the back entrance, which was just a small sliding door not even large enough for the trio to enter side-by-side at the same time. The few defenders that had been here had already circled around front to deal with Lyrica’s crew.

The inside of the warehouse was laden with large metal crates stacked in neat lines, and it was currently poorly lit. A thin series of catwalks above them indicated that there was a second floor.

Almost as soon as they entered, the back door slid closed behind them; they jumped in surprise. Then the lights came on, revealing the entirety of the warehouse to the trio. Row upon row of crates greeted them.

In the middle of the warehouse floor stood Rook Candy, wearing a visor just like her sister outside. She didn’t smile or react at all, really, just stared at the trio from across the room. “Hmm. We weren’t expecting you,” she muttered in a dull monotone, just loud enough that they could hear. “Cotton figured the Don would catch on eventually, but seeing you here is a nice little surprise, Thunderbolt.”

“I hear you’ve been looking for us,” Blackburn said, taking a step forward. “We figured we’d save you the trouble and come pay you a little visit instead. Is this a bad time?”

Rook tilted her head towards the front entrance. “I assume you’re working with the Don’s cronies outside. That probably means you’re not here to accept our invitation to join us, are you?”

“Obviously not. You’re the smart one between Gem and Ruby, aren’t you?”

Rook shook her head. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter. The results are gonna be the same: your big bodyguard there isn’t making it through this alive, but you and the tech wiz get to live, for now.” She tapped the side of her visor. “I’ll just use some non-lethal tactics, I guess.”

Two crates beside her slid open, letting out six armored ponies identical to the ones outside. They did not deploy any shoulder-mounted weapons, merely approaching precisely-timed in lockstep towards the trio.

“These are military-grade A.M.P. Troopers. Highly-advanced robot soldiers the NPAF uses for ground assaults. Extremely durable frames, adaptable A.I., and a commendable battery live. If you give up now, I’ll call them off,” Rook called, still monotone. “Otherwise, fair warning, this isn’t going to be fun for you.”

Blackburn shook her head. “I disagree. A.M.P. Troopers are just target practice for us. You could say that they’re our specialty. Isn’t that right, Tinker? Fireblast?”

Gadget smiled and primed her lightning gun, switching the output to lethal. “Golly, I’ve been blowing up these pieces of junk since I was ten. No problem at all. We even use my improved versions for training these days, since they’re actually a challenge.”

“Yessir, been trainin’ ta fight these clankin’ heaps all mah life. Ain’t nothin’ these rust buckets can throw at us that we can’t handle,” Crossfire agreed, arming a pair of shoulder-mounted rifles. His voice was muffled by his helmet, but Gadget and Blackburn could hear him clearly through their earpieces.

Rook raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Blackburn took a few steps back so that Gadget and Crossfire were at the front of their formation. “I haven’t seen you two work in a long while. This should be fun, I think. When you’re done with the robots, make sure she doesn’t go anywhere,” she said, indicating Rook.

Gadget turned to Crossfire. “Okay, big guy, who gets first dibs?”

Crossfire scratched his chin. “Flip a bit for it?”

Gadget turned to Blackburn. “Got a bit on you, boss?”

Blackburn fished a bit out of her pocket. “Call it.”

“Heads.”

Blackburn flipped the bit. It landed on the floor, tails up.

“Yee haw!” Crossfire cheered. He took point in front of Gadget. “First dibs, heck yeah. ‘Bout time we get some action ‘round here.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Gadget said, rolling her eyes. “We alternate lines though, got it? No hogging all the fun like you usually do.”

Rook tapped her chin, confused. “You’re awfully over-confident. Interesting.” She tapped the side of her visor again. “Your funeral, though.”

The front line of three robotic ponies charged forward. Crossfire adjusted his hooves inside his armor, and a pair of shoulder-mounted rifles revealed themselves and each pumped out three-round burst. Crossfire shifted the angle of his shoulders in time with the bursts so that all three approaching A.M.P. Troopers were struck by exactly two bullets each, right where their eyes would be if they real ponies. The robots collapsed before they even got close to him.

The next line of Troopers approached immediately afterwards. Crossfire made to fire again, but a burst of lightning ripped through the air behind him and tore straight into the lead robot before arcing to the other two. The electricity overloaded their mechanisms; all three robots exploded in a shower of sparks and shrapnel.

“Next line’s mine, remember?” Gadget chided, tapping Crossfire’s side with her hoof. “Nice try though. We’re keeping count, y’know?”

“Sorry, got a lil’ excited,” Crossfire chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “Haven’t gotten a chance ta let loose in a while.” He gestured towards Rook. “Shall we?”

“After you,” Gadget said with a bow.

The two then approached Rook.

Rook scowled. “You’re mocking me,” she said, her monotone faltering just slightly. “Fine.” She tapped the side of her visor again. “Let’s see how you deal with this.”

Several other crates slid open, letting out a complete platoon of A.M.P. Troopers, which quickly moved to surround Gadget and Crossfire. The duo didn’t flinch or cower; instead they stood back-to-back and primed their weapons. They didn’t even need to indicate to each other with words or otherwise in order to move in perfect sync with one another.

As the Troopers leapt forward in waves, Gadget blasted through some with her lightning gun while Crossfire fired his rifles at others. The second Crossfire let loose the last round in his magazine, he called out, “Reloading!” and Gadget raised a magical barrier around the two for the exact amount of time needed for him to reload, then dropped the barrier right as he was letting loose another barrage of bullets. Perfectly in-sync.

One Trooper got blasted away from the action still somewhat intact, landing next to Blackburn. She nonchalantly cranked up the dial on her gauntlet and smashed its head in when it tried to get up.

It took less than a minute for Gadget and Crossfire to tear through the entire platoon, leaving a ring of mechanical wreckage around them. They were breathing heavily and drenched with sweat - even if one couldn’t tell the latter with Crossfire. They then turned on Rook, stepped over the wreckage, and approached her without a word; they had their orders.

Rook didn’t flinch, but she didn’t do anything else, either. “I didn’t believe Cotton at first when she said having Tinker on our crew was absolutely necessary to our success, but now I see why she made such a big deal about it.” She turned to Crossfire. “I will say she was wrong about you, though. You might’ve gotten in the way, but you’d have been pretty useful. Probably worth keeping around.”

“Golly, thanks for the compliment,” Gadget spat, shoving her lightning gun under Rook’s chin. “All set over here, boss!”

Blackburn circled around the wreckage and approached. “Rook Candy. I don’t believe we’ve ever met formally.”

Rook’s expression didn’t change, and her voice was back to a calm monotone. “Can’t say that we have. You must be something special, Thunderbolt, to have two ponies like these so loyal to you. Shame we couldn’t work together.”

Blackburn’s expression remained equally stone-faced as she turned to Crossfire and Gadget. “You two did all the work here, so you earned this one.”

Crossfire clapped Gadget on the shoulder lightly. “Y'all should take it. Don’t need ya gettin’ all squeamish right now.”

“With pleasure.” Gadget primed her lightning gun and adjusted her aim right over Rook’s heart. “This is for Lockwood, bitch.”

Rook smirked. “Ah, so that’s what--”

A lethally-powered bolt of lightning punched straight through Rook’s chest, injecting over ten billion volts of electricity in one concentrated burst. Rook flew across the room from the explosive kickback, sliding against the floor and slamming into the wall. She didn’t get back up.

Gadget blew the barrel of her sidearm and holstered it. “Good riddance to bad ponies.”

Blackburn immediately made for the metal staircase leading to the second floor. “We still have Ruby and Cotton to deal with, so don’t relax yet. Tinker, you’re with me.” She briefly turned to Crossfire. “Fireblast, see if you can’t help Lyrica’s crew outside. Gem’s out there too, so she’s all yours. Make it hurt.”

Crossfire nodded and headed straight for the front entrance. “Got it, boss.”

*****

Lyrica barely raised her shield up in time to block another barrage of flechette rounds aimed right for her. Her numbers had dwindled tremendously: she was the only unicorn left in her crew able to function, as two were dead and the third was unconscious from feedback injury. What remained of her crew that could still fight had gathered up together with her, and they’d huddled around the wreckage of a fallen stone wall to take cover as they tried to keep up the offensive.

This proved mostly fruitless. Gem Candy’s forces still outnumbered them greatly; eighteen A.M.P. Troopers remained, though the missile-firing variants were thankful out of munitions. Even so, her crew was running out of ammo and they were running out of wall to take cover behind. She swore silently as her crew ducked back into cover to reload again. One of her pegasi crew shook his head - out of ammo; another earth pony gripped his shoulder - he’d been clipped about a minute ago and was bleeding badly.

Gem, who’d taken up a position in cover behind a crate opposite Lyrica’s crew, cackled as her Troopers let loose another volley to keep them pinned down. “You ready to give up yet?!” she shouted. “I promise you’ll at least die with dignity if you stop wasting my time!”

Lyrica didn’t respond.

“Fine! Be that way, you bunch of wannabe wiseguys! My Troopers can do this all day! How much longer you think you can la--” The front entrance slowly sliding open drew Gem’s attention. “The hell?”

In the span of a few seconds, a volley of bullets - three bursts of six bullets each - fired out of the entrance into the backs of each the Troopers’ heads; not a single shot missed its target.

Gem looked around at her sudden absence of robots to order around, worried and confused. “What the hell?!” She glared at the entrance, where she saw Crossfire - helmet still up - standing and staring directly at her. “Who the hell are you?”

Crossfire didn’t bother removing his helmet for her to see, and didn’t answer her question. All he said was: “Lockwood says ‘hi’.”

Gem paled. “Aw sh--”

Six bullets pierced her body in quick succession, two at a time. Two to the head; two to the chest; two to the gut.

Crossfire then glanced out at the cover that was obviously in use by Lyrica and her crew. “All clear, Lyrica! Y’all can come out now!”

Lyrica slowly poked her head over the edge of her cover to see that Crossfire had finished off the remaining Troopers all by himself, including Gem Candy. She breathed a sigh of relief.

*****

Blackburn and Gadget walked along the second-floor catwalks towards the offices on the other side of the warehouse. It was darker up here despite the first-floor lights still being on, so the two mares had to watch their step and hold the railings to guide them along. Assorted tools, pieces of moving equipment, and empty boxes and crates sat along the short side pathways.

The pair suddenly stopped when somepony approached them from one such side catwalk, pressing a knife to Gadget’s throat without a word.

Gadget didn’t panic, and in fact remained genuinely calm. “Boss. Company.”

Blackburn turned slowly and narrowed her eyes at the newcomer. “Ruby Candy?”

Ruby, her face barely visible in the darkness, grinned and nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Is your sister back there?” Blackburn asked, gesturing in the direction she’d just been walking.

Ruby grinned wider and nodded again. “Uh huh.”

“Looks like you've taken Tinker hostage. Good for you.”

Ruby licked her lips and pressed her knife harder against Gadget’s neck. “Uh huh.”

“Seeing as you’ve got me backed into a corner here, I suppose you want me to go on ahead and negotiate with Cotton?”

“Uh huh.”

Blackburn looked to Gadget, though she did show not much concern; Gadget would be just fine, and she knew that. “You’re gonna be okay, Tinker. Okay? I promise.”

Gadget gave Blackburn a nervous look, but Blackburn knew it was false nervousness; while Ruby’s attention was on Blackburn instead of Gadget, Gadget had very discreetly slid one of her TS-200 devices out of her pocket and placed it behind her rear hoof. Always paid off to be prepared for anything.

“I’ll be fine, boss,” she said, “but please be careful.”

Blackburn then turned and headed off down the catwalks towards the second-floor offices, leaving Gadget and Ruby alone.

Once Blackburn was out of sight, Gadget took a deep breath. “So. You’re the creepy quiet one, huh?”

Ruby hummed a nursery rhyme quietly in Gadget’s ear. “Uh huh.”

“I saw you on the recording. You’ve got kind of a blood fetish going on or something, don’t you?”

“Uh…. huh?”

“Oh, yeah that’s how we found you guys, sorry. Caught you all on camera confessing to going behind the Don’s back.” She gave a small shrug. “It’s funny, really. I’ve had this overwhelming fear of blood since I was a little filly. Couldn’t even get a paper cut without passing out, y’know?”

She turned her head slightly and smiled at Ruby; Ruby couldn’t see her using her TS-200 under her rear hoof to grip onto a wrench sitting on a bench just behind Ruby, out of sight; she could see in the dark just fine with her glasses, even if Ruby couldn’t.

Ruby cooed gently in Gadget’s ear. “Shhhh.” She pressed the blade of her knife against Gadget’s throat harder. “Shhhh.”

“I took some therapy sessions a few months ago, but I still haven’t gotten over it fully. I don’t pass out any more, sure, just puke my guts out.”

Ruby’s smile turned into a scowl as she pressed the knife harder still. “Shhhh shhhh shhhh.”

Gadget’s newfound wrench weapon, held in the grip of her TS-200, floated quietly behind Ruby’s head.

Gadget gulped audibly. “You keep shushing me. What’s the matter? Want me to keep quiet?”

“Uh huh.”

“Or what? You’ll slit my throat, I guess?”

“Uh huh.”

“Ah. Well, too bad.”

Gadget used the TS-200 to swing the wrench into the back of Ruby’s head with a heavy THUNK. Ruby howled in pain and flailed her hooves, dropping her knife on the catwalk and smacking Gadget in the face. The wrench fell just behind Ruby’s hoof.

Gadget went to draw her lightning gun, but Ruby was able to recover from the pain quickly enough to kick it out of Gadget’s grip; it fell off the catwalk to the floor below.

Ruby then kicked Gadget as hard as she could, knocking her back while almost losing her own balance; Gadget fell hard on her back on the catwalk.

Gadget blinked, trying to regain her senses; Ruby recovered her balance, saw the wrench behind her, grabbed said wrench, and leapt at Gadget with intent to inflict serious harm.

Gadget felt Ruby’s knife by her hoof. She grabbed it in her magic and swiftly lifted it, blade up, directly above her. Ruby’s throat landed directly on the blade, slicing her neck open. Blood from the wound and Ruby’s mouth splattered all over Gadget’s face.

Ruby Candy died instantly.

Gadget took half a second to realize she was covered with blood, but when she did, she pushed Ruby off of herself and vomited over the side of the catwalk.

*****

Blackburn reached the door at the end of the hall, finding it slightly ajar. She considered it for a moment, then pushed it open. The room on the other side was small and bare, only a single table in the middle with a chair on either end. A light hanging from the ceiling kept the room in total darkness except for the table and chairs.

In the chair on the opposite side of the table sat Cotton Candy, still in her loose-fitting red suit with an eyepatch over one eye. In one hoof laid casually on the table she held a rather large pistol, which was pointed right at the Blackburn as she entered. Blackburn wasn’t surprised at all to get this welcoming treatment; if anything she’d have been disappointed with anything less.

“Thunderbolt,” Cotton greeted with a nod. “Good to see you. Come in, have a seat. I would've prepared something special, but you didn't call ahead.”

Blackburn wordlessly took a seat opposite of Cotton, but kept her hooves below the table for now.

Cotton leaned forward with a smile. “Now this is a surprise. I love surprises. Don’t you love surprises? I mean, just imagine you’re me for a second. It’s hard, I know, because I’m such a paragon of ponykind, but just give it a try. Imagine you’re me, and you’re looking for you. Imagine you’ve been trying for months to weasel information about you, your company, and most importantly that little genius you’ve got with you, out of anypony you could get your hooves on.

“Now imagine that one night, out of the blue, without warning, and most importantly unexpectedly, you show up at my doorstep with a bunch of Virtuoso’s goons in tow, and you start making a bunch of noise and just being a general nuisance. You’d be pretty surprised, right? Because I was surprised.”

“I can imagine.”

“I was also surprised when your little Tinker friend killed my little sister with a lightning gun.” Cotton laughed. “I didn’t think you guys had it in you. I knew there was some potential there, though.”

“You don’t seem all that bothered by your sister’s death, Cotton.”

Cotton shrugged. “When my empire takes grip over this stupid shithole of a city, I’ll name a building after her. Or maybe a district? No no, too big, she didn’t like crowds. A street? Yeah, a street. Rook Candy Drive or something. Whatever. You can’t make an omelette with losing a few sisters.”

“Just get to the point, Cotton,” Blackburn snorted. She very quietly twisted the dial up on her Force Amplifier to just above the minimum setting; she wouldn’t need too much to get the upper hoof here.

“The point is, Thunderbolt, that if I’d known you were going to show up in the middle of the night like this, I would’ve gotten a proper welcome wagon together. Maybe some balloons and banners or something. Or a stripper in a cake; I know just the guys, too, you'd like 'em.” Cotton sighed and shook her head. “Oh well, there’ll be time for a little party later, after we negotiate some terms. Namely those of the surrender of you, your company, and allll of your assets, including that little wizard of yours, to me.”

Blackburn scooted her chair forward and put her bare hoof on top of the table. “There aren’t going to any terms. There isn’t going to be any surrender.” Her other hoof, meanwhile, pressed gently against the edge of the table; she was careful not to actually touch it, just keep her hoof the barest of distances away.

Cotton chuckled and leaned back in her chair, setting her rear hooves up on the table. “You’re a tough cookie, Thunderbolt, I’ll give you that. You’ve got more balls on you than half the stallions in this whole city, and believe me, there’s plenty of balls to go around. Take your studdly bodyguard for instance. I bet he’s got great big brass balls. But what am I speculating for? You should know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

Cotton scoffed. “C’mon, don’t give me that ‘I don’t kiss and tell’ shit, Thunderbolt. I’ve been around the block enough times to know that all you rich bitches with your fat wallets and your loose cunts see the word ‘bodyguard’ and think it means ‘side fuck that’ll kill somepony for looking at me wrong’. Just a coltfriend that you don't have to pretend to like, or a prostitute with bonus features. The only reason you’d even hire a Utopian stud like that is because he’s got a biiig dick and not enough brains to say ‘no’.”

Blackburn smirked. “You can think whatever you want--”

“Thunderbolt, please, you’re killing me here with the nicey-nice act. It’s not you. Be honest with me. How many times have you let that big ol' sack of meat dick you down, huh? Or have you lost count?”

Blackburn merely tilted her head. “Zero times. I know it must be surprising that some mares aren’t thinking about dick all the time. Not like you. The only reason you didn’t lift your tail for him when you first met was because the Don was there, I bet.”

Cotton smiled. “Probably right. But fine, be that way.” She set her rear hooves back beneath the table and leaned forward in her seat, pointing the gun more directly at Blackburn’s head. “Let’s move on to negotiations, then, if we’re not gonna have fun. I want your tech wiz. If you give her to me, I promise that you’ll be able to walk out that door without so much as a scratch.”

“And how do I know you’d keep that promise?”

“I always tell the truth. Even when I lie.” Cotton gestured a little with her gun, growing impatient. “Now, are you going to give me what I want, or are you going to make me get nasty? I don’t like getting nasty, Thunderbolt. It’s beneath me. That’s why my sisters do the dirty work these days.”

Blackburn sneered. “I already told you, I’m not here to negotiate. I’m here because you hurt somepony very close to me, and I’m going to make you pay for it.”

Cotton paused a moment, then her mouth curled in a tiny, coy grin. She pulled back in her chair, letting her gun relax. “Lockwood, huh? I knew I made the right decision going after that scrawny wuss to get to you. Worked like a charm, it looks like. Just not the way I intended. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

“There aren’t going to be any negotiations, Cotton. You’re going to die today.”

Cotton sneered. “So, that’s how it’s gonna be then, huh? Fine. I’ll just kill you and negotiate with the pipsqueak directly. This was just a polite gesture to somepony I thought of as a rival. You should feel honored that I even considered you worth talking to.”

Blackburn braced herself. “Do you ever shut up? Or is talking the only way you know how to breathe?”

Cotton rose up out of her seat. “You wanna buck with me? Okay. You wanna play rough? Okay!” She pressed her hoof against the trigger mechanism.

Blackburn punched her hoof against the edge of the table. The table flew forward with the force of a car, knocking Cotton bowling over her chair; Cotton fired her gun, but missed Blackburn’s head by about an inch. The table kept going into the wall and shattered as it hit.

Blackburn didn’t give Cotton time to recover, leaping over as Cotton made to take aim at her from her spot on the floor. She cranked the dial up a little more mid-flight, slamming her hoof right onto Cotton’s hoof, part of her foreleg, and the gun, which all blended together into a messy, bloody paste.

Cotton paled and screamed, grabbing at what was left of her hoof with her other hoof. “You bitch! You bucking bitch!”

Blackburn cranked the dial all the way up to maximum level and lifted her hoof above Cotton’s head. “You messed with the wrong mare, Cotton. Say ‘hi’ to your sisters for me.”

Splat.

Chapter Thirteen: Amorous Admission

Blackburn and Crossfire waited patiently in the dining room of Virtuoso’s penthouse early that morning, mere hours after their violent, exhauting ordeal. It gave them just enough time to check on Lockwood’s condition over at Miracle’s before they came; Gadget remained with their friend to evaluate his recovery, and to get some treatment for her post-hemophobic nausea, and most importantly, so that she could get the blood and puke cleaned off her clothes.

Blackburn, seated on one side of the dining table, hadn’t bothered to clean up much, so her jacket was still stained with Cotton Candy’s blood; Crossfire, standing behind Blackburn, still wore his armor but had since removed his helmet, showing off his sweat-drenched coat and mane. Lyrica was with them too, though she’d had the time to change into a fresh suit at least; she stood behind Virtuoso, who sat opposite Blackburn, still in his pajamas. For once he wasn’t smoking a cigar, at least not yet. He’s also shaved his stubble and trimmed his mustache.

“I know that I should be happy,” Virtuoso muttered, shaking his head, “but I’m not. I should be glad that filthy pink snake is dead. I should be glad that she’s paid for what she did to me and my family. I should be glad, but… I can’t help but feel that I’ve lost more than I’ve gotten back thanks to all this nasty business.”

“I understand how you feel completely, Don,” Blackburn said with a sad nod. “For what it’s worth, I’m not too happy with this whole thing either. None of what happened these past twenty-four hours should’ve happened at all, and I blame myself for it. I’m the one that suggested Lockwood come talk to you, and that’s why the Candy sisters went after him.”

Virtuoso waved the thought off with his hoof. “Figurati. I know that colt too well to blame you for that, no matter what reason you had to send him here. He probably would’ve done it on his own.”

Blackburn chuckled quietly. “Yeah… he probably would’ve. Still, I don’t know whether or not Cotton had any notions to betray you before my company came into the picture. She made it clear that she was going to use us to take out the rest of the Three Families.”

“She had to have thought of it before you, Thunderbolt,” Virtuoso said dismissively. “You don’t put together a plan like she did and get the equipment she had per un capriccio. She must’ve been planning this out for a long time. You and your tech wiz coming along might have just given her the motivation to push it forward sooner. If anything, it made her sloppy. I should be thanking you.”

Virtuoso gestured briefly to Lyrica, who nodded knowingly, fetched a fresh glass of scotch for him, and passed him a fresh cigar, which he didn’t light just yet. “You said you checked on Lockwood before you came by? How is our mutual amico?”

“He hasn’t regained consciousness as of yet, but the doctor we’ve got taking care of him is optimistic about his recovery.” Blackburn shook her head and sighed. “But I don’t want to send him back to his dump of an apartment yet, not until I get it cleaned up and secured. He needs to recover someplace with ponies that care about him… and away from me; I have a lot of things to say to him, and he doesn’t need to hear them yet.”

“Capisco. I’d like to give that colt a piece of my mind, too.” He gave her a slight grin and lit his cigar. “Though I suppose you want to give him more than that.”

Blackburn didn’t acknowledge his remark, just kept speaking. “I’d like to arrange for him to be taken to his family’s place to finish recovering, and for the truth about what happened to be kept from them. Do you know where his family lives?”

“I do. I can definitely arrange something,” Virtuoso said with a nod. “As for the story, we’ll say it was… a mugging gone wrong. Simple.”

“Good. Please see to it that that’s taken care of then. I’d do it myself, but… I’m trying to limit my exposure to him right now.”

Virtuoso took a puff of his cigar. “Thank you again for doing all this for him, Thunderbolt. That colt’s practically famiglia to me. Did you know my little Crown Jewel calls him ‘Uncle' Lockwood now?” He chuckled and shook his head. “If he were of a different mind, he’d make a great consigliere. I’ve thought about asking him once or twice, but I know he’d turn me down no matter what I offered.”

“But, luckily for us, that’s not the kind of pony he is,” Blackburn noted.

“No, luckily for us he isn’t. He wouldn’t be the same pony I trust with my daughter if he was.”

Blackburn rose from her chair and nodded politely. “We should be going now, Don. We only came by to let you know what had happened, and it’s getting… well, early. I need sleep, my crew needs sleep, and you need sleep.” She and Crossfire then headed for the exit. “Come on, Fireblast.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Crossfire said with a salute.

Virtuoso paused and chewed his cigar for a moment as the pair started out of the room, then held up a hoof. “Hold on, Thunderbolt. Don’t go yet.”

Blackburn stopped and turned, confused. “Hmm?”

“If you don’t mind… I’d like to have a conversation with you. In privato,” he added, glancing at Crossfire, “per favore.”

Blackburn paused and pondered this for a moment; Virtuoso wasn’t the type to ask anything of anypony without good reason, and technically she did still owe him that much. She turned to Crossfire and nodded. “Wait outside for me.”

Crossfire blinked, glanced at Lyrica and Virtuoso. “Are ya sure it’s alright bein’ by yerself right now?”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m sure.” Blackburn walked back over to retake her seat at the table.

Crossfire waited a few seconds, then let out a breath and left the room. “Roger that, boss.”

Virtuoso took a drink from his glass, then turned to Lyrica with a firm look. “Lyrica, you’ve had a rough couple of days with all this trouble going around,” he said gently. “Why don’t you go home to your wife, huh? Take the week off, maybe have yourselves a little vacation together.”

Lyrica raised an eyebrow. “Are… are you sure, Don?”

“Don’t make me ask twice, Lyrica,” Virtuoso said firmly. “And tell Sweet Cream I said 'ciao'.”

Lyrica paused, then nodded. “Of course, Don Virtuoso. Let me know if you need anything else.” She headed out of the room, giving a quick look to Blackburn as she went. “Good show out there, Thunderbolt.”

“Lyrica,” Blackburn replied with a nod.

Virtuoso waited a moment to make sure Lyrica had left and that he and Blackburn were alone, then finished off his drink and rose from his seat. “Can I offer you a drink, Thunderbolt? It’s been a rough morning.”

Blackburn nodded appreciatively. “Sure. I could use a stiff one right about now.”

“You take scotch?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

“Rocks?”

“No, that’s alright.”

Virtuoso poured himself another glass of scotch, then poured one for Blackburn. He put hers in front of her, which she took in her hooves, but he didn’t retake his seat. Instead, he walked over to the window and looked out over the city, calmly sipping his own drink. He took a long drag of his cigar, blowing it out at the ceiling in a ring. He didn’t turn to Blackburn when he started speaking.

“When I was just a colt, I took an interest in classical music,” he started. “My father encouraged my talent, did everything he could to help me realize my dream of being a world-class musician. I attended the best schools, had the best instructors, and used the best instruments.” He chuckled and turned to Blackburn. “Did you know I can play eight different instruments?

“Oh? Which ones?” Blackburn asked as she took a sip of her drink.

“Violin, harp, clarinet, flute, oboe, trumpet, bassoon, and piano. A full classical collection. Even learned how to conduct and write music, if you can believe that.”

“Impressive.”

“Still, despite all that, my father also taught me things about the family business, even though I didn’t really show much interest in it back then. He fell ill shortly after I graduated from the New Pandemonium Music Academy… and so I finally took an interest. There was nopony to take over for him except me. And when my father finally passed, I became the new Don of the Fantasia family.”

Blackburn nodded, understanding the similarities between the two of them more and more. He may not have the title of “King”, but he was the king of his empire in his own way all the same.

“I gained a lot that day… but I also lost something.” Virtuoso puffed his cigar again. “I gave up my dreams of being a musician to take over as head of my family, because there wasn’t a choice. Family means everything to me, Thunderbolt. Do you understand that?”

Blackburn leaned back and considered his words. “Family’s important, Don, I agree… but I’m sorry to hear that things went down like that. I sympathize more than you can imagine.” This was sincere. She was well acquainted with the concept of sacrificing everything to protect what was most important to you.

Virtuoso sighed and looked forlornly out the window. “I arranged a meeting with the heads of the other families for later this week. I’m going to explain everything that happened these past couple of weeks, especially today.” He took a long sip of his scotch. “I don’t expect it to do much to smooth things over after all that’s happened, but I have to try to salvage our truce. I have to try and repair my grandfather’s legacy.”

Blackburn smiled weakly. “I know the feeling…” Virtuoso couldn’t possibly know who she really was and how much this resonated with her, but she almost wished he did. They could actually be friends if she didn’t have to keep her identity secret.

“It’ll be tough, repairing the damage Cotton Candy did to me and my family. She destroyed some of my most profitable businesses. She killed some of my best ponies, killed famiglia. I have to rebuild everything from scratch.” He let out a heavy breath. “Seven generations of my family’s work brought to ruin in just two weeks. It’ll take years to fix what Cotton did. Decades, even.

“But thanks to you, Thunderbolt, and thanks to Lockwood, I have the opportunity to try.” Virtuoso puffed his cigar, then turned to Blackburn with a small smile. “And thanks to you two, I’ve also reconsidered how I want to go about that. If I even want to go about that.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“I’ll do what I can to keep the business going, of course, to keep the ponies that work for me well-paid and happy… but I’m going to take my time bringing things back to how they were. I’m going to focus on my family - my real family - instead of making money and building up our territory.”

He mashed his cigar into an ashtray. “My daughter has a passion, Thunderbolt, just like I did. I want her to pursue it, and I never want her to worry about taking over for me someday. I need to start figuring out if I can trust anypony enough to fill my horseshoes. Lyrica maybe - she’s proven herself loyal and capable - but I don’t know...” He smiled again. “I’ve even thought about getting back into music.”

“Well, that’s commendable of you, Don, but… why are you telling me this?”

He finished off his drink. “Like I said, you gave me the opportunity to consider it. Until this whole thing with Cotton went down, all I’ve cared about for the past twenty years was business. I ignored my passion. I ignored my wife. I ignored my daughter so much that Lockwood was there to help her get her cutie mark, not me. Not her mother. I ignored my family for the family. So… I wanted to thank you.”

Blackburn leaned back in her seat and pondered this. She could see what was coming. “You want to give me what you thought I wanted in the first place, don’t you? Control over my company.”

“More than that. Crown Spectrum belongs to you, certainly, but so do all of the resources I’d given you, and all of the contacts that came with it. The profit split will be more generous too. Let’s say... sixty-forty in your favor; I gotta take a cut too, capisce?” He stepped over to the table and extended his hoof to her. “You no longer work for me, Thunderbolt. As far as I’m concerned, we’re legitimate business partners now.”

Blackburn stared at his hoof in a daze. She hadn’t expected this at all. But after a moment’s thought, she took his hoof and gave it a shake. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Virtuoso.”

Virtuoso broke the shake, then poured himself another drink. “I do have one request for you before you go, Thunderbolt.” He gave her a coy grin. “Take care of him.”

Blackburn paused in consideration, then returned the smile and nodded. “I will.”

One Week Later

Late that evening, Lockwood, dressed in a fresh jacket and hat, climbed the stairs of his apartment complex slowly but surely, taking a few breaths after every flight he climbed. After a week recovering with his adopted family, he was quite desperate to get away and had taken the first opportunity to do so when his planned recovery time was up. He loved them all dearly, but he didn’t want to burden them with his care for longer than was needed. Besides, Flathoof wouldn’t shut up about finding the criminals that mugged him, criminals that he knew didn’t really exist, and Lockwood got tired of trying to make excuses.

Miracle most definitely had lived up to his name. While Lockwood was already well aware of that fact, it was always incredible to see it up close. The base of his left wing had a small cast and brace around it to keep it in place while the bone repaired itself; he couldn’t fly until it was healed, which was supposed to take another week. The cuts and bruises across most of his body had healed completely, though he still sported an impressive shiner around his right eye; a little ice would take care of that.

As he arrived at his apartment, he inserted the key into the lock and opened the door, then stopped dead in the doorway. Sitting on his reupholstered couch, wearing a fierce scowl on her face, was Blackburn. Standing just to her side with an equally fierce scowl on her face was Gadget. Crossfire, who was standing by himself in the kitchen, was the only pony who didn’t seem angry to see him; he didn’t seem too pleased, either, but it was better than the rest of the "warm" welcomes Lockwood was getting.

“Uh… hey guys? How’s it going?” Lockwood asked, hesitant but maintaining a calm veneer. He slowly stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, and locked it. “I wish I’d known you were gonna be here, I would’ve brought dinner with me. You guys hungry?”

Blackburn got up off the couch and gestured to it, her scowl unflinching despite his nonchalance. “Sit.”

Lockwood looked at the couch and grinned. “Hey, would you look at that? You guys got my couch reupholstered. That’s awfully nice of you.” He glanced down at the new rug on the floor - a black-and-brown striped affair - and pointed excitedly. “And a new rug too? Wow, guys, you shouldn’t have. It really ties the room--”

“Sit,” Blackburn said through gritted teeth. “Now.”

Lockwood adjusted his collar and trotted over to the couch, then took a seat. He nodded in appreciation as he settled in to the newfound comfort; the new upholstery was certainly comfortable. “Ooh, hey, this is nice. I like the texture--”

“You have explaining to do,” Blackburn said, glaring at him intensely. “Get started. Now.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry it took so long to get back home. Shortcake’s not easy to get away from when she gets all doting--”

“Not that, ya idjit,” Crossfire snorted hotly. Lockwood was taken aback at his sudden outburst; it was unusual for the big stallion to be anything but cordial and calm with him. “Ya done tricked us. Ya tricked us inta lettin’ ya use yerself as bait fer yer stupid lil’ plan. D’ya take us fer dopes? Huh?”

Lockwood held up his hooves in his defense. “Hey now, it wasn’t--”

Crossfire stomped his hoof. “It was stupid! Ya damn near got yerself killed, ya damn featherbrain! The hay is wrong wit’ y’all, huh?”

“Look--”

“Y’know, when we first met, I pegged you for a moron, but after the past year I figured I was wrong about you,” Gadget interjected. “But I guess I was right in the first place, wasn’t I? You’re just a big, stupid moron, because only a total moron would put themselves through the kind of torture you did after surviving an encounter with the same ponies that tortured him months before.”

Lockwood gave Gadget a small, kind smile. “Gadget, really, there’s no need--”

“We found you beaten half to death, jackass! In a filthy alley! Covered in trash! And if we didn’t find you, you would’ve died. Then you go and put yourself through all that shit again?! You’re an idiot. A nitwit. A real blockhead. A colossal dumbass!”

Lockwood waved off her concerns with his hoof. “C’mon, now, it wasn’t that big--”

“Shut up,” Blackburn hissed. “You put yourself in danger; no reason for it. Risked death; no reason for it.”

“There was plenty of reason for it, guys, c’mon now. You got all the information you needed to appease Virtuoso, didn’t you?”

“We didn’t need to get it that way, idiot!” Gadget snapped. “Do you have any idea what kind of stress that put us through? Huh? Do you?”

Crossfire snorted and stomped his hoof again. “We sure as hay didn’t need ta come bustin’ in here ta take ya ta Miracle so ya didn’t die. What part o’ all that d’ya think was necessary?”

Lockwood rolled his eyes dismissively. “It was the best plan--”

“Bullshit,” Blackburn huffed. “‘Best’ plan wouldn’t have nearly gotten you killed. ‘Worst’ plan more accurate.”

“It was the only option we had--”

“No! It wasn’t!”

“Listen, Princess--”

“Don’t call me that,” Blackburn snapped, pressing her hoof into his chest so he was pushed back against the couch. “No right to call me that after what you did.”

Lockwood looked at her hoof, then into her face. “Blackburn, c’mon--”

“Don’t. You owe me an explanation. Now. No more diverting. No more brushing off. Just talk.”

Lockwood paused, then took a breath; even he couldn’t stand that withering glare forever. “Okay okay, look. I took a wild guess that the three mares that attacked me way back had something to do with whatever was going on with this whole mob war, especially with Don Virtuoso’s end of it. They’d specifically told me not to talk to the Don before they tossed me out the window, okay? I just figured it was obvious.”

“And you didn’t tell us the truth.” Blackburn shook her head in disbelief. “If you’d told us, could’ve avoided all this,” she noted, gesturing to his black eye. “No need for you to get injured. No need to almost get killed.”

“Blackburn, telling you anything wouldn’t have helped things at all. What were you going to do, huh? Go to the Don and tell him about me getting attacked?” Lockwood shook his head. “First off, I had no idea those three mares were Cotton Candy’s sisters. I didn’t even know she had sisters, and I don’t think the Don did either. They don’t look alike at all, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“That’s true. Virtuoso didn’t recognize them in the recording…” Gadget noted, tapping her chin.

“Irrelevant,” Blackburn retorted. “Could’ve protected you. Would’ve narrowed our investigation to discover who attacked you. Might’ve found out--”

“Nothing. You would’ve found out nothing. Cotton had all the cards at that point,” Lockwood interjected. “Your best case scenario would’ve been telling the Don I got attacked and asking him to keep an eye on me. I guarantee you that he would’ve trusted Cotton, his underboss, to handle that. And where would that have left us?”

“We could’ve done research. Found out they were related. Brought that information to Virtuoso.”

“And it would’ve been your word against Cotton’s, who had been his trusted ally for years by that point, compared to a mare he barely knows and who I’m sure he considered ambitious and worth keeping tabs on. He might have suspected it was for the wrong reasons if given the chance to. And you’ve admitted to me that he would’ve been right.”

Blackburn paused, gritting her teeth, upset that he was dead right. Still, she had other counterpoints. “Could’ve told us your plan, then. Could’ve prepared better: ambushed them, avoided further bloodshed, gotten you medical help faster.”

Lockwood shook his head. “Maybe, but I couldn’t risk putting you three in danger by telling you any more than I already did. I’m at least expendable.”

Blackburn stared at Lockwood with an intensity that pushed beyond unsettling. She pushed Lockwood hard against the couch and leveled him with a fierce glare. “How dare you use that word. You are not... expendable.”

Lockwood fidgeted; she wasn’t applying any real pressure to his injured wing, but his other wing was pinned uncomfortably behind him now. He grimaced. "Compared to whom, exactly? None of you could walk down there and do what I did. You need each other. Hope's Point needs you. The whole city would mourn your loss. Can you honestly say anything like that about New Pandemonium with me?"

Blackburn said nothing even as her eyes pulsed with her anger, so Lockwood went on. “If any of you had been present when Cotton and her sisters showed up, I wouldn’t have been able to work a confession out of them, so you’d have gained nothing by doing anything to them. Worse, they could’ve injured or killed one or more of you. They were after you guys specifically, so why give them the chance to get to you?”

“Would’ve been worth the risk.”

“I disagree. I may not know her sisters that well, but I know Cotton Candy. She wouldn’t have let her sisters kill me unless I kept refusing to give her what she wanted. But they would’ve killed me for sure if they thought I was useless to them; I had to make myself useful, and that’s what I did, and it lured Cotton into false confidence.”

“Could’ve killed you after getting information.”

“Maybe, but Cotton said she wouldn’t outright kill me if I told her what she wanted to know, and I knew she was telling the truth. Twisted as she is, she’s a mare of her word. Besides, like I said, I’m repla--”

Blackburn scowled and jabbed her hoof in his face, just short of slapping him. “No. Replaceable just substitute for expendable; I will not let you use. That. Word. Because you are not.”

Lockwood backed away from her hoof; her anger was actually getting to him now. “Why not? Even if something happened to me, you’d get what you needed. Does it really matter?”

“Of course it matters!” she snapped. “Ends do not justify means! You said ‘New Pandemonium would not mourn’? That is expendable opinion. That’s this damned city talking for you. You are better than that. Better than it.”

“Fine. I’m better than this city. Fine.” He took a deep breath, and suddenly shifted away from his torment. “Well, did you at least get the things you needed from the Don? Was everything I did worth it? I sure hope it was, ‘cause I’m not up for doing it again, y’know?” Under his breath, he muttered, “Not that you’d let me, apparently.”

“He did,” Blackburn said. “But not because I asked.”

“Huh?”

“Virtuoso offered me anything I wanted. Suggested exactly what we had discussed. I turned him down. I wanted revenge.” Blackburn’s mouth curled in a small, cocky grin. “We went with Virtuoso’s crew that night. Candy sisters are dead; killed Cotton myself.”

“You...” Lockwood paused, blinking. He leaned his head back, and took a full ten seconds to speak again, his eyes wide at Blackburn. “You… did what?”

“Nopony hurts my friends, Lockwood. Nopony.” She was proud of herself, and it showed in the darkly predatory smile she allowed herself to wear for a moment.

“But… but that means you wasted the chance to get what you needed from the Don!” Lockwood blurted, pushing back against Blackburn’s hoof. “Virtuoso would’ve given you whatever you needed to take complete control of your operations here… and you wasted it? On revenge?!”

Blackburn was unperturbed by his sudden anger, her own anger fueling her justification. “No. He gave us what we needed anyway after the fact. Considered our contributions useful.”

“That may be, but you didn’t know that he would do that!” he snapped. “You nearly wasted the best chance to get everything you needed to better your city! And what about yourselves, huh? You could’ve been hurt! Or killed!”

“Golly, that’s rich. All this coming from the guy who nearly got himself beaten to death trying to weasel a confession out of those nutjobs,” Gadget snorted. “You have no right to lecture us on putting ourselves on the line.”

“We got trainin’ fer a reason,” Crossfire added. “Y’all put yerself in danger fer no reason; we did it fer a damn good reason.”

“Other than getting you guys what you needed--” Lockwood paused, looking up and out of the room for a moment, his eyes searching nothing as he thought for a way to rephrase what he was about to say, but then, slowly pulling the words out of a well, he went on flatly: “My... life, it just doesn’t have the same, ah, value that--”

Blackburn grit her teeth. “You are not expendable!” she spat. “You are irreplaceable! Your life matters to us! To me!” she exclaimed, her voice on the edge of cracking. She saw Lockwood narrow his eyes at her at this, and cleared her throat angrily as she went on.

“You’re not just some tool for me to get what I want! I will not sit by and let somepony I care about die when I can do something about it! Not now!” And before she stopped herself, regretting the words the instant they slipped out: “Not again!”

Lockwood blinked, taken aback. Blackburn was breathing heavily right in his face and her words visibly troubled him. Audibly confused, he quietly asked: “Again? What are you talking about?”

Blackburn snorted. “Mother died when I was young. Was older than you were, but still young. Airship ‘accident’; actually sabotage. Crimson Dust, friend of father’s, worked for company developing engine. Found out later he was on NPAF payroll. Could’ve prevented it. Could’ve warned her; warned grandfather. Didn’t.” She let out a pained breath; remembering it still hurt even today. “Still blame father for bringing Crimson. But blame myself for not stopping him. Share the blame…”

Lockwood paused and frowned. “I… I’m sorry, Blackburn. I didn’t mean… I didn’t--” He put his hoof up on her shoulder to comfort her. “I’m sorry.”

Blackburn took a heavy breath, then brusquely pushed his hoof away. “Don’t. Don’t want your sympathy. Don’t deserve it.”

Lockwood’s frown was deep, and it made Blackburn ache for some reason she couldn’t articulate. He shook his head in light disbelief, his voice still quiet. “Blackburn. That’s absurd. Everypony deserves sympathy.”

“I killed a mare for revenge; ordered my friends to do the same.”

“So what?”

“So... I’m not a good pony.”

Lockwood shook his head. “You killed somepony that would’ve killed you, would’ve killed others, and had already killed many more before then. Same with her sisters. I’m all for giving ponies a second chance, but Cotton Candy and her sisters had no remorse for the things they were doing. I’m not saying they deserved to die, but… I don’t blame you for what you did. Neither should you. For this, or for your mother’s death. I can’t claim to know the details, but you saying you share the blame sounds like an excuse to be guilty.”

It was Lockwood who raised a hoof to Blackburn, pressing it as firmly as he could into her chest, tapping so hard that his forelimb was shaking with the effort. “Now who’s not worth it? Now who’s happiness is expendable?”

“Comparing life and feelings pointless.”

“If it is, then you can’t complain about what I did at all,” Lockwood said angrily, holding his hoof hard against Blackburn’s shoulder, the intensity making his pastern shudder like a leaf. “I did what I did because I felt like it. Like my decision mattered, even if my life didn’t.”

Blackburn pulled back for a moment, staring at Lockwood with muted white-hot rage. As her mouth opened and closed almost noiselessly, the faint gasps of indignation were the only sounds she could muster. Her cheeks grew hot in her anger. Lockwood’s grim satisfaction flew in her face as she gaped at him like a fish; Gadget and Crossfire looked equally gobsmacked, and she realized what they already had: this was the first time in her life someone had ever rendered her speechless. Even for a moment.

“Satisfied?” Lockwood said, the bitter victory in his voice making Blackburn bristle.

“No. No.” Blackburn hissed between clenched teeth. “You are good. You matter. You make this terrible place less terrible. I can only emulate. I copy. I cope.”

“Again, so what?!” Lockwood outright sputtered. “That doesn’t mean your feelings don’t matter!”

It came spilling out. “Mutual friend, Briarthorn. Yes?”

Lockwood blinked. “Sure. Briarthorn. Up and coming transporter. What about him?”

“Has he ever told you about Diffusion sickness?”

Lockwood blinked. “I… don’t know what that is, so I’m gonna say ‘no’, he never told me about it.”

“Of course he didn’t, because he doesn’t know it himself,” she huffed. “Side effect of Diffusion system we use in airships to provide defenses against Belt of Tranquility magic. Causes severe organ damage. Lethal after ten or more years.”

“I see…” he hummed. “Is there a cure?”

“No. Only treatments to lessen impact of symptoms. Alcohol primary treatment method.” She took a deep breath. “Hope’s Point offers all flight crews free alcohol to cover up truth. Only certain ponies know, all sworn to secrecy; if secret revealed, risk ponies not volunteering for position. Have to keep it from him, keep from all Diffusion flyers. Necessary… but unpleasant.”

Lockwood frowned. “So… Briarthorn’s going to die in ten or so years if he keeps that job of his up? And there’s nothing you can do about it?”

“Briarthorn, son of Bramblejam, son of Ruby Thorn, daughter of Briarpatch. Latter: pegasus pony who invented Diffusion system, based on NPAF designs, used own unique pegasus ‘magic’ to replicate. Diffusion, his family legacy. Tried to... steer Briarthorn away. He became involved regardless.”

Lockwood paused for a long moment, then gently set his hoof on her shoulder again. “Look… I can’t say that I fully understand everything about this Diffusion situation, but from what you’re saying, what choice do you have? If you tell him, or anypony else… then you risk your city not having the flyers it needs to prosper. Right?”

Blackburn nodded glumly. “Yes, but… still terrible secret to keep.”

“And you’re clearly not happy about keeping it. You regret it, don’t you? Feel guilty about it?” Lockwood pressed his hoof against her chest. “That’s what keeps you from being a bad pony, Blackburn. You feel empathy. You feel regret. If you had another option, you’d take it, right?”

“I would, but--”

“Then there’s nothing more to say. What’s done is done, and all you can do is try to find an alternative. If I know you - and I think I do by this point - you’re already trying to figure something out to help him and all of the other flyers in your city. Because that’s who you are - a pony who makes the hard decisions but tries to help as much as she can.”

“You don’t understand!” Blackburn said desperately.

“No, I think I do. Would you risk everything by telling Briarthorn the truth? Risk your city’s prosperity? Take away what he loves most? I may not know much about this sickness, but Briarthorn has told me how much he loves his job. Would you take that away from him?”

“I would not. Do you know why I would not? Briar…” She paused. “Not just any Diffusion pilot.”

“If his family’s legacy means that much to him, then it’s just more fuel to your city’s standing decision to omit this particular truth--”

“Let me finish,” Blackburn growled at Lockwood. She surprised herself with how angry it had sounded, and overcompensated by speaking more softly. “Briar... he loves his family. Loves his home. Loves Hope’s Point. He... loves me.”

Lockwood’s eyes became full and sad instantly. “And you say you don’t deserve any sympathy? Because he’s your coltfriend?”

“Lockwood. Shut up!” Blackburn snapped. Again, she surprised herself, so she cleared her throat and her voice became small and controlled again. “I think now, was... my coltfriend, more accurate.”

“You left him because you didn’t want to be close enough to him when... when the sickness became too much. Like I said, a hard choice.” Lockwood’s smile was gentle and forgiving, and Blackburn felt her heartbeat in her ears as she shook her head.

She thought she would admonish him for speaking again when she opened her mouth to reply, and was shocked when, instead, what came unprompted was:

“Hard choice to lie to him? No. Do you know what I did, Lockwood? Didn’t ‘break up’ with him. Concocted a plan; executed it perfectly. Let a group of ponies organically come to us in basement of his favorite bar under darkness and noise. Led him into orgy. Didn’t even do anything myself.”

She began talking faster. “Worst part? Knew exactly how to not participate. Keep his attention on me, on making me happy. All I had to do then? Get him to close his eyes. Close his eyes as he tried to kiss me! And... it was flawless: another mare in my place. Then I left. Left him there in the dark, to indulge in drink and flesh. Afterward? Never knew I left.”

Her eyes prickled with tears. “Three days later, we talked. First time since. Told him it was fine for him to continue. That if he played cards right, I’d join him. Like the first night! The lie, Lockwood. That was it. Told him to give himself to anyone who would have him, that even if I wasn’t there, I was happy for him to do it!” She let out a mirthless, barking laugh. “Ha! Can’t be there for him, so anypony else can. When I said it, he smiled, was happy for the both of us. Happy to believe my lie. Because that’s what happened: I lied, Lockwood. I lied.”

Crossfire and Gadget both avoided Lockwood’s eyes, hanging their heads in shame. They didn’t say anything, but Blackburn knew how much they hated their part in that night. Lockwood was staring at her, his eyes wide, but his expression otherwise serious. Blackburn couldn’t help breathing heavily. An inescapable warmth in her stomach made her hang on every twitch of Lockwood’s face as he looked up and down hers.

He whispered, “That wasn’t a good idea.”

Blackburn shuddered. “Correct. It wasn’t. Difference between us, Lockwood: you do everything you can to make ponies better. I have to try my hardest not to make them worse.” She felt the heat in her cheeks now, bright with a shame that she knew would never wash off. “And now he’ll die just like his father before him, and grandmother, and great-grandfather. But keeping their secret? Not the worst of it.”

Lockwood’s sadness hurt her as he simply said: “No.”

“In order to make him happy… have manipulated him. Give him all he wants: a life of vice and pleasure. Possibly accelerate sickness… but he will live happily.”

“For ten years.” Lockwood said, exhaling heavily through his nose.

“At most.” Blackburn sagged, leaning into Lockwood against the couch, and her gaze faltered. She shook her head, despondent. “Yes. I am lying to my friend about his life, the lives of his family. Only conclusion? Do not deserve your sympathy.”

“You are lying to a good pony,” Lockwood said sadly.

Blackburn tilted her head downward, her head almost coming into contact with Lockwood’s shoulder. “He’ll never forgive me if he finds out.”

Lockwood exhaled hard. “And!” he exclaimed with a sudden sharp movement that inclined his face over Blackburn’s as she leaned into him. “You’ll deal with that if it happens. And, if he’s as much of a friend to you as you say he is, he will forgive you. He will! He might be upset at first. He might be mad, so mad that he yells and screams and tells you how much he hates you. But he’ll forgive you when he understands.”

He lifted her chin up so she would look at him in the face. “And I know you won’t give up trying to fix that broken system. I sincerely believe that.”

Blackburn pulled away from him, breaking eye contact. “Why? Why do you keep doing this, Lockwood?” she asked. “You give and give and give; never ask anything in return. Why?”

Lockwood paused, then leaned back against the couch, eyes up towards the ceiling so it was hard to read his face. “I’ve never told anypony this, but… I used to have passion for something once upon a time. I liked dancing…” He twirled his hoof gently through the air. “I liked dancing more than anything. I can still remember when I would dance for my mom before she… before she died.

“But this city… it crushes you down into a pulp. It doesn’t care about your hopes and dreams. I lost that passion after my mom died. My first foster family never danced with me or tried to nurture that passion of mine. So … I gave up on that dream a long time ago… never even got far enough with it to be my special talent. I can’t see myself having that kind of dream anymore.”

He let out a breath and tilted his head back down, then used his good wing to tilt Blackburn's chin so he could look her in the eye. “So instead, I’ve made it my goal in life to help others achieve their dreams. That’s why I help ponies meet others that can help them in some way.”

He prodded her in the chest again. “That’s why I helped you. Because I saw the way you reacted at that fundraiser when you thought we were taking advantage of the poor, saw your passion for truly helping ponies. Because I saw the passion that your friends share with you,” he said, looking to Gadget and Crossfire meaningfully.

“I understand that sometimes you have to make difficult decisions. Sometimes, just like anypony else, you even make the wrong ones. But I also know that you stand by your decisions and your beliefs, and that even despite mistakes, your friends stand loyally and unflinchingly by your side.” He put his other hoof over his heart. “So I’ll stand by you too. I’ll do whatever I can to help you make your dream come true, because your dream is worth fighting for. Because you are worth fighting for. Worth dying for.”

Blackburn stared at Lockwood for a long, long moment as she processed his words, not saying anything or even moving at all. She just stared into his eyes and thought, and thought, and thought.

Then, without warning, she pushed herself forward and pressed her lips roughly against his in the most brusque kiss she’d ever given.

She’d kissed Briarthorn before, certainly; she’d lost count of how many times they’d kissed, in fact, but knew it wasn’t a small number. But this kiss was something totally different. When she kissed Briarthorn, it made her feel good, that was an absolute, undeniable truth. It was a highly pleasurable experience in very sensual terms because they were so physically compatible; her royal self-restraint was the only thing that kept her from going all the way with him at any point in time.

But this kiss? This kiss made her feel good in places she hadn’t felt good before, as well as the usual places. Her heart was pounding in her chest like a jackhammer; her stomach was twisting and turning, but in a good way; her head was swimming with thoughts she’d never had before.

And just as quickly as she’d kissed Lockwood, she pulled away, her face red with unbelievable embarrassment and pleasure both. “I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” she stammered, uncharacteristically nervous. “That was wrong, I… you--”

Like she’d done before him, Lockwood didn’t say a word as he leaned up and roughly kissed her right back, putting his hoof behind her head to pull her in. She was surprised for all of a second before melting into it and sinking down onto to couch with him.

Gadget’s jaw dropped as she watched everything happen. Crossfire, ever the collected one, leaned over and used his hoof to close Gadget’s jaw for her, then gestured behind him towards the door. Gadget looked between him, the door, him, the kissing pair, the door, then him again. She nodded slowly in understanding, and the two wordlessly walked out the door and closed it behind them.

Chapter Fourteen: Learning Love

Early the next morning, Gadget and Crossfire waited quietly, patiently, in the hall just outside of Lockwood’s apartment. They were both exhausted, the former in particular, but that was to be expected since they hadn’t gotten a proper night’s rest. Gadget had taken the first watch while Crossfire got a few hours of sleep - nopony asked them what they were doing, but their planned answer was “forgot my keys”; Crossfire took the second watch while Gadget ran a “very important errand” before she got a few hours of sleep herself. Neither of them wanted to be the one to open the door, but it was already early morning and they were starting to get worried.

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait too much longer. The door creaked open and Lockwood stepped out of the apartment as quietly as he could. He was dressed in just his jacket, which had clearly put on in a hurry, and was carrying his bedsheets under his good wing. He didn’t realize Gadget or Crossfire were even there at first, so he jumped up in surprise when he bumped into Crossfire, who was blocking the hall specifically to keep him from leaving.

“Oh! Uh… h-hey, guys,” he stammered as he looked between them. “Good… um, morning? Is it morning?”

“Yeah, and I bet it’s good for some of us more than others, eh?” Gadget said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, a coy smile on her face. “So, Lockwood, where are you heading off to so early in the morning? Hmm? Ooh, and what’s that you’ve got under your wing? A souvenir?”

“Nothing!” he blurted, tucking the bundle under his wing more tightly, which was hard to do since his wing was slightly rigid. “Nothing here. Nothing of importance, no sir. Err, ma’am. Sir and ma’am.”

“Hmmm, are ya sure? ‘Cause it looks like ya got some dirty sheets there,” Crossfire hummed, pointing at said sheets under Lockwood’s wing, which he could still clearly see. His hoof then shifted to tussle Lockwood’s disheveled mane. “An’ that’s a right nasty case o’ bedhead you’ve got there. Have fun last night ol’ buddy ol’ pal?”

Lockwood, face red with embarrassment, cleared his throat and tried to avoid their eyes. “Oh, uh... y-yeah. Um… I... I gotta go get these cleaned. Washed! Just regular ol’ laundry day. That’s all. And, uh, the laundry room is.... downstairs? So yeah. Downstairs, off I go?”

Gadget nodded. “Sure, sure. Of course you do. Perfectly normal to wake up at the crack of dawn to wash your sheets.”

Gadget pulled out her sidearm and lazily polished it with a cloth she drew from her pocket; Lockwood’s wide eyes locked onto the gun and he started to sweat. Then, Gadget smiled and gestured towards the stairs with a wide, friendly grin.

“Well, don’t let us keep you, Woody. Those sheets look like they need some attention, so hop to it. Chop chop.”

Crossfire clapped Lockwood on the shoulder, a similar grin on his face. “An’ please, take yer time. We’ll be here, waitin’, for when ya get back. An’ if we find out that anythin’ bad happened last night, we’re gonna have ourselves a lil’... conversation.” He gave a little look to Gadget, who casually aimed down the sight of the gun at Lockwood as she polished away.

“R-right…” Lockwood gulped and took a step away from the two, then, once he was clear, he rushed for the stairs as quickly as his hooves could take him.

As soon as Lockwood was out of earshot, Crossfire turned to Gadget and smirked. “He’s a heckuva lot more fun ta haze than Briarthorn ever was. Real skittish, like a rabbit. A really scrawny rabbit wit’ wings.” He shook his head and headed towards the stairs with a laugh. “I’ll keep an eye on ‘im. Y’all check on the mare o’ the hour.”

Gadget nodded. “Naturally.”

Gadget walked into the apartment to find Blackburn sitting comfortably on the couch, wearing her jacket, unbuttoned, her mane an absolute mess. She was eating straight from a packet of Dolor Blue - chilled, of course. The rest of the room was in equal disarray: the rug was askew, the couch was pressed right up against the wall, Lockwood’s undershirt was still lying on the floor.

Gadget rolled her eyes. She fished a small, packaged pill out of her pocket and opened it, took the pill out with her magic, then floated the pill over to Blackburn.

“Open up, Princess. Time for your medicine,” she said with a singsong authority.

Blackburn didn’t argue in the slightest, just opened her mouth obediently; she knew what the pill’s purpose was and wasn’t surprised that Gadget had procured one. Gadget placed the pill on Blackburn’s tongue; Blackburn closed her mouth and swallowed, washing it down with another mouthful of Dolor Blue.

“I headed over to Miracle’s a few hours ago to pick that little sucker up,” Gadget explained. “It wasn’t cheap, but Vaccine insisted that it’s one-hundred-percent effective and I trust her to know a thing or two about these sorts of things. It’s lucky we have such a reliable source of medicinal help. Can you imagine how ridiculous the process would’ve been getting it legitimately?”

Blackburn nodded, embarrassed. “Sorry you had to go through that. Things got… heated last night. Didn’t consider consequences.” She gulped, still trying to get the taste of the morning out of her mouth, but also as she considered just what the consequences could’ve been. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Princess. Just promise me that next time - because there will be a next time, knowing you two - you’ll be more careful about getting protection first.”

“I promise. Will requisition prophylactics, or more of those pills…” Blackburn turned red and averted her eyes from Gadget’s bemused grin. “After conferring with Lockwood on preference.”

“Glad to hear it. The last thing we need is going back to Hope’s Point and trying to cover up you getting knocked up. Bad enough we’ve got all this other junk to worry about.” Gadget wrinkled her nose. “Still baffles me how things worked out. We came here to give Lockwood the chance to get away from us. You did everything you could to give him the chance to cut ties, even told him all about Briarthorn. And yet…”

“Did not anticipate his dedication,” Blackburn murmured. “Did not anticipate… any of what happened. But don’t regret it...”

“Golly, I hope not, all things considered.” Gadget shook her head and grabbed a tube of Dolor Blue from the fridge for herself, then took a seat next to Blackburn on the couch. They sat in awkward silence for a solid few minutes before Gadget cleared her throat. “So. How was it? Was it everything you thought it would be?”

Blackburn’s mouth curled in a tiny smile. “Nice. No… wonderful,” she said with an almost wistful sigh.

Gadget put her hooves on Blackburn’s shoulders, looked her in the eyes, and smirked. “Well, congratulations, Blackburn. You did it. You finally got laid, and about damn time too. Welcome to the club. You go girl.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “There’s a club?”

“Psh, of course there is. We’ve got a secret password and membership cards and everything. I'll get in touch with our New Pandemonium chapter and get you all hooked up.”

“...you’re messing with me.”

“Uh duh.” Gadget laughed and booped Blackburn’s nose playfully. “Glad to see you’re still you after last night.” She shook her head and gave a wistful sigh. “Now we just need to get Crossfire laid to complete the set.”

Blackburn stuck her nose in the air. “Impossible. Would need to slather a mare in succotash to even get his attention.”

Gadget and Blackburn shared a knowing look, then broke into a fit of giggles.

When Gadget regained her composure, she gave Blackburn another serious look. “So, how’s this relationship of yours going to work, anyhow? He lives here, he has friends here, he has family here. You don’t have any of that, apart from him. Are we taking him south with us when we leave? Are we staying here for a while to figure things out? What’s going on?”

Blackburn took a breath; she’d thought a lot about what came next before last night, but now had a new variable to account for. “First, need to remain in city for some time, arrange new resources from Virtuoso. Necessary work. Might take months, maybe longer. When done here, will need to arrange things at home. Make Crown Spectrum ‘official’ supplier, prioritize shipping procedures.”

“How about you and Lockwood?”

“Have agreed to keep… ‘us’ mostly secret. For now. Prevents him from being used to take advantage of me, of Crown Spectrum, and potentially of Hope’s Point. Unfortunate truth, necessary evil.”

“And you’re sure that he’s okay with that?”

“At first? No. But... convinced him it would keep him safe,” she sighed, shaking her head. “After what happened last week… he agreed. Only objection: not wanting to lie. Counterpoint: wouldn’t be a lie. Lockwood is not in a relationship with Thunderbolt. He is in a relationship with me. Ponies will ask about former, so will not be lying to them.”

“And what about taking him home with us?”

Blackburn paused for a long moment, then shook her head. “Too soon to discuss with you… or with him. Will be considering... options. Might need to arrange things at home first, will decide after other matters addressed.”

Gadget hummed, then nodded. “Well, it all sounds good to me then. I know you’ll do what needs to be done, and I know you’ll do what you think is right, and I know you’ll ask us for advice if you need it.” She rubbed Blackburn’s back gently, then sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. You need a shower.”

Three Weeks Later

Crown Jewel’s dance recital was a lovely affair, and a particularly relaxed one at that. Now that the threat of Cotton Candy had been dealt with, Virtuoso wasn’t worried about any acts of violence ruining the event with his whole family - his real family - in attendance, as well as their friends and business associates.

Don Virtuoso, of course, as well as his wife, Ivory Charm, were in attendance; Blackburn, Crossfire, Gadget, and Lockwood were invited as personal friends of the Don; and, as Virtuoso’s new underboss, Lyrica was invited as well, and she brought along her wife, Sweet Cream. The latter was a cream-colored mare with a blue-and-pink mane that she wore in a series of braids. They were all dressed to the nines, of course,

Blackburn marveled at how talented Virtuoso’s daughter was at dancing after such a short time of learning and practice; the filly had only discovered her talent for it roughly a year before, but she seemed to truly be a natural of near-professional skill. Some of that she attributed to Virtuoso’s diligent acquisition of instructors, some of it to Virtuoso paying off whoever he needed to in order to make sure his daughter was given her chance to shine, and some of it still she wasn’t sure about.

That was, until Lockwood explained it. “That’s the dance she did the day she got her cutie mark,” he had whispered while Jewel was performing a smooth, flowing ballet maneuver. “Of course she’s more nimble than I am, but I like to think I gave it my all helping her put it together. It looks so much better now that she’s really developed it.”

“You may not have ever achieved your old dream, Lockwood… but you helped that filly achieve hers,” Blackburn had replied with a smile. “She’s living your dream now, too.”

Once the recital had ended, Virtuoso invited his closest friends back to his penthouse for dinner, drinks, and fun. He had his own personal chef, naturally, but he also helped with certain parts of the food preparation, particularly the marinara sauce; it was an expectation in Baroque culture that the dinner host prepare food for his guests, not leave it to somepony else, and Virtuoso was nothing if not a slave to the expectations of his upbringing.

Dinner consisted of some of the finest Baroque cuisine in the city, home-cooked with the highest quality ingredients Virtuoso’s ample bits could buy: eggplant parmigiana, spaghetti marinara, stuffed peppers, caprese salad, minestrone, and more, and of course, specifically for the young Crown Jewel, macaroni and cheese; incidentally, nopony questioned it when Gadget loaded her plate with more of the stuff than the little filly did.

After dinner was over and everypony had eaten, and once Crown Jewel had been sent to bed, everypony gathered on the patio outside to relax at the poolside, drink copious amounts of Virtuoso’s robust selection of fine wines, and converse like old friends.

“So, Lyrica, I hear some congratulations are in order,” Blackburn said, indicating Lyrica with a raised glass. “The Don’s new underboss, huh? Those are some pretty big horseshoes to fill, despite Cotton’s later actions in the position.”

“Thanks, Thunderbolt.” Lyrica raised her glass right back and smiled. “I’m grateful and honored that the Don trusts me enough to help him rebuild the Fantasia family empire. I know there’s not really much of a choice in the matter, being the only captain left and all, but--”

“Senza senso,” Virtuoso said, waving his hoof to dismiss her humility. “You’re a good mare, Lyrica. You were a good captain, too. You’ll do wonderfully. I believe that. Sono fiero di te.”

Lyrica nodded in appreciation to him. “Grazie, Don Virtuoso. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

Sweet Cream set her head tenderly against Lyrica’s and rubbed her wife’s back. “I’m so proud of you, hun. I knew you had it in you. And maybe now that you’re making the big bits, we can start having the family discussion.”

Lyrica’s cheeks reddened, and she turned her head as she took another long drink from her glass.

Ivory Charm turned to Lockwood with a polite smile. “So, Lockwood, ‘ow are you enjoying working wiz Zunderbolt? Is it everyzing you zought it would be?”

Her accent wasn’t Baroque like her husband’s, but Romantique, another of the ritzy Inner Districts, well known for three things: it’s top-class fashion, the stunningly romantic atmosphere, and the old-world cultural contributions. The founders of the Romantique District traced their family lineages back to old Utopian families from before the city was built.

“I’m enjoying the experience a lot. Lots of new things to learn, y’know?” Lockwood sipped politely from his glass. “For one thing, I learned that the tech sector is a pretty dang cutthroat field to be in, that’s for sure. Very competitive.”

“Oh, I can certainly imagine, but that’s not what I meant, dear. What I meant was, ‘ow are you enjoying spending so much time wiz ‘er,” she said, her mouth curling in a coy grin, her eyes shifting between the two pegasi. “You two ‘ave gotten awfully close, no?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Ivory,” Lockwood said, tilting his head.

“Oh of course you do, you silly stallion,” Ivory tutted, gently tapping Lockwood’s shoulder in a playful gesture. “I ‘ave never seen two ‘business partners’ so deeply involved as you two are.”

“We’re just business partners, Ivory. Friends at best,” Blackburn interjected with a tight-lipped smirk. “Nothing more than that, I assure you.”

This was a big, fat lie, of course. Blackburn eyed Lockwood out of the corner of her eye, admiring how handsome and classy he looked in the new black dinner jacket she’d bought him just for this occasion, plus his usual fedora. He cleaned up nicely, if she said so herself. Her mind had been drifting here and there over the evening to what she was going to do to him when she got him back to her apartment and out of said jacket. Not the fedora, though. She liked it when he left it on.

Ivory raised an eyebrow, skeptical, though her mouth curled in a knowing smile. “If you say so, Zunderbolt, I won’t ask furzer. A shame, zough, ‘e seems like ‘e would make somepony very ‘appy.” She took a little sip of her glass and gave Blackburn a wink. “You would certainly make a lovely couple, no?”

“Well, as much as I appreciate the compliment, I have to agree with Thunderbolt: there’s nothing going on between us,” Lockwood said with a smile. “But who knows, maybe I’ll find that special somepony someday. I figure somepony’s gotta give me a chance eventually, right?”

“Don’t hold your breath, Lockwood,” Blackburn quipped, sipping from her own glass with a cocky smirk. “You’re too scrawny to attract any but the most desperate of mares. Somepony would need to have terribly low standards.”

Lockwood put his hoof over his heart in mock hurt. “My goodness, Thunderbolt, what a thing to say. And I suppose you think you’re too good for somepony like me, is that it?”

“Oh, definitely. I prefer a stallion with a bit of meat on their bones.”

While the two had their back-and-forth, Virtuoso stepped up beside his wife and whispered, “They can deny it all they want mia amata, but there’s no way those two aren’t together. I know giovane amore when I see it, and you don’t do the sort of things that those two do for one another if there’s not something more.”

Ivory smiled and turned her head to kiss her husband’s neck. “Just like you did to win my ‘eart, my love?”

Virtuoso made to reply, but then, suddenly, there was a bright flash of light off in the distance, clearly visible from Virtuoso’s penthouse patio despite being far enough away to be in the Mid Districts. The light continued to flicker like a candlelight as the sound eventually reached them, a booming rumble that shook the glass windows behind them and sent ripples through the pool.

“What in the hay was that?” Lyrica muttered, hoof over her eyes as she tried to see, despite knowing the futility of trying. “Is that a fire or something?”

“There’s no way we could see a fire from this far away,” Blackburn noted, shaking her head. “Not unless it’s a big fire. We’re talking massive.”

“Well, that’s not out of the question in this city. Fires tend to get pretty big unless they’re in the Inner Districts or in Mid-South, where they’ve got good response time from the NPFD.” Lyrica turned to Sweet Cream. “Remember that one over in Mid-East a couple of years ago, burned down three neighborhoods before they managed to put it out?”

“Oh yes, I remember that one. That was a horrible weekend,” Cream said, shaking her head. “I have some friends that are still trying to replace their lost belongings… mourning lost friends and family. What a terrible fire.”

“It was the biggest fire in the last fifty years, I think,” Virtuoso said thoughtfully. “I remember that I was able to see it from here the whole time it burned. Even had ash getting in the pool.”

“So... it is a fire then?” Blackburn asked, looking between the three. “Seriously? How can a fire get so big?”

“Slow response time, poor standards of construction. And that’s just the majority of the Mid Districts. The Outer District is even worse, except the Gate of course,” Lockwood replied. He squinted carefully, clearly in deep thought, then turned to Gadget. “Say, Tinker, you wouldn’t happen to have any sort of gizmo that could tell us where that fire is, would you?”

“Pshaw, that’s easy,” Gadget replied, fishing out her datapad from her purse. “If it’s a fire that big, I’m sure it’s gotta be on the news. I can pull it up--”

Virtuoso dismissed that thought quickly. “Don’t bother with that, Tinker, we can all watch from out here. I’ve got all the best gadgets and gizmos bits can buy. Watch this.”

He trotted over to a panel by the wall and fiddled with some buttons, twisted a knob or two, and flipped a switch. As he did so, the wall above the pool opened up to reveal a large, flat television screen, which he turned on and tuned in to the news. The picture was more crisp and clear than any of the televisions Blackburn had ever seen before in this city.

On the screen, a purple pegasus stallion with a white mane sat behind a desk, dressed in a neatly-pressed suit.

“And in other news,” the anchor announced in a plain tone, “Dolorcorp has released an official statement that it is beginning its first trial phase of their newest flavor, Black. The company is seeking nutritionists to develop their newest product before moving on to further trial phases, with an expected release date within the next five years once the formula is perfected.”

From offscreen, a pony passed over a sheet of paper. The anchor took it, read it briefly, then nodded in understanding at somepony off camera. Then:

“Breaking news!” he declared, his voice suddenly full of pep. “A fearsome explosion rocked Mid-West’s Northwest Territory just minutes ago, destroying two apartment complexes and setting fire to the surrounding neighborhood. Civilians in the area are urged to evacuate their homes and businesses immediately, and to leave behind anything of nonessential value.”

“Did he say ‘Mid-West Northwest’? Wait, that’s where I live!” Lockwood blurted, eyes wide, face pale.

“The explosion reportedly originated from the sixth floor of an unnamed apartment complex, which inflicted catastrophic damage to a large portion of it and the neighboring building. NPAF authorities who happened to be on the scene claim that the explosion was due to an unfortunate gas leak that had been reported earlier in the day, but hadn’t been attended to--”

“And there’s the classic ‘gas leak’ explanation again,” Cream said, rolling her eyes. “With how often those happen you’d think our city has a problem properly installing gas mains or something.”

“Probably another military accident if the NPAF is there already,” Lyrica suggested. “Seems suspicious, don’t you think?”

“I always thought it was because they owned the news station?”

Lyrica shrugged. “Well, sure, I mean that’s probably part of it, I guess?”

“Do military accidents happen often?” Blackburn asked.

“Every few months or so, yeah,” Lyrica replied. “The NPAF tests new or updated weapons and stuff all the time, but they usually prefer to do field tests instead of using some sort of facility.”

Blackburn frowned as she wondered what kind of weapon the NPAF was testing that could cause that much damage. Some of the only things Solarian’s database constructor couldn’t gather information on were the specific goings-on in Pandora Tower and the NPAF’s experiments and developmental projects, as those things weren’t put into the city’s database. Even Gadget couldn’t hack into anything to get that kind of juicy info, and it was too risky to personally enter into any facilities the NPAF used, wherever they were.

The screen shifted from the anchor to live footage of the budding fire as it spread outwards from one of the destroyed apartment buildings. The blaze was all-consuming and had already spread through most of the city block; smoke was billowing upwards in a furious tower that the ponies could even now see from the patio. Several ponies were seen fleeing from the flames; a few in military uniforms were spraying the flames with torrents of water pumped from hydrants along the street.

The anchor continued speaking over the footage. “This footage is being sent to us courtesy of NPAF authorities on the scene attempting to combat the blaze while awaiting the arrival of the NPFD. As of now there is no estimated count of casualties--”

Lockwood pointed at the screen in abject horror; Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire paled at the sight, hooves raised to lips. “That… that’s my building…” he murmured, barely loud enough for anypony to hear.

“The anchor said the explosion came from the sixth floor?” Gadget said, turning to Lockwood in dismay. “Golly… that’s...”

Blackburn gulped, barely able to speak for a long moment. “I suppose it was a… a good thing we decided to stay for dinner, huh?”

Lockwood turned to Virtuoso in a panic. “Don, can I use your phone? I need to let my family know I’m okay. They don’t know I’m here.”

Virtuoso nodded and gestured indoors. “It’s just outside the dining room, Lockwood, you can’t miss it. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you.” Lockwood hurried off inside as fast as his hooves could carry him.

Virtuoso watched him go, then hummed and stared off into the distance, tapping his hoof to his chin, deep in thought.

The ponies outside on the patio continued watching the news report as it went on for another several minutes before Virtuoso huffed and turned it off after it was clear that there wasn’t anything of use coming from watching it, just negativity. It was at this point that Lockwood came back outside, looking in slightly better spirits than he had when he’d gone inside. But only slightly.

“The family’s glad to hear I’m okay,” he said, fanning himself with his hat. “Though they’re definitely not happy about what happened, but I think I talked Shortcake out of having a heart attack. I’m… I’m trying not to have one myself. I lost… I lost everything…”

Blackburn frowned. She knew there was more at that apartment to lose than a few articles of clothing. The diary. The photograph. The only things Lockwood had left to remind him of his mother. Not to mention the tremendous loss of life at the complex, many of whom might have been ponies that Lockwood considered friends. The loss of life in general was terrible, of course, but all she could think about right now was him.

“At least you weren’t there when it happened,” Gadget said, putting her hoof on Lockwood’s shoulder.

Crossfire frowned and put his hoof on Lockwood’s back. “I’m sorry, ol’ buddy. If ya need somepony ta lean on, I’m here fer ya.”

Lockwood sniffed, adjusting his hat over his eyes. “Thanks guys… I appreciate it. I know I should be grateful, but… but still… my home… everything’s gone...”

Virtuoso came over and clapped Lockwood on the shoulder. “Don’t fret, amico. I know that this might seem sudden, but I think I might just have the perfect solution for your current predicament.”

Lockwood blinked, still in a daze and not quite processing what was happening. “You… you do?”

Virtuoso pointed off towards the south, pushing Lockwood’s chin over so he would follow his hoof. “I’m certain you’ve heard of those new apartment developments going on in Mid-South Central Plaza. Am I right?” He gave a meaningful, smiling look at Blackburn. “North Point, for example? Miss Thunderbolt’s complex?”

Lockwood looked between the two, then nodded, confused. “Y-yeah?”

“I just so happen to own one of those buildings. Southeast Point, as a matter of fact. Most of my captains and enforcers live in the Mid Districts, you see, and I wanted to have a convenient place where they could live, meet, and do business without the need to travel so far. This was before the whole mess with Cotton Candy, of course, but I do still own the building.

“The thing is, the complex has been under renovations for the past month - a couple of troublesome code violations the old landlord let slip through - and it finishes up next week. I’d already lined up a few ponies here and there to take charge of running the joint, but… seeing as you’re a good friend to me, and seeing as you’re in need right now, how would you like a new apartment?”

“A… a new apartment? In Mid-South Central?” Lockwood shook his head, completely flummoxed by the whole thing. He was still in shock from everything else and couldn’t properly speak responses “Don, I… but I couldn’t possibly afford--”

Virtuoso laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Oh no no, you won’t have to pay for it, my boy. I’ll take care of everything.”

“I… you… but... ”

“But I know you, Lockwood. I know you’re going to refuse the offer the moment you get the chance. But I’m not giving this to you gratuito. You’re going to work for me now, capisce? I need a new landlord running the building, and I want you to be that landlord.”

“You… you want me… to be the… the landlord of your new... building?” Lockwood stared off into space, lost in thought. “I… but I--”

“That’s right. The last landlord cost me tens of thousands of bits in renovations because of those oversights I mentioned, so I want somepony to take the position that I trust to do a good job. You’ll get paid, of course, but you’ll have to put in a lot of work making sure everything is top-notch.” He smiled and tipped Lockwood’s hat. “Think you can handle it?”

Lockwood opened his mouth to speak, but still couldn’t find any proper words, so it took him a few moments to manage his response. “I… okay, Don… that sounds… that sounds fair. I’ll be... happy to work to, uh... pay for the apartment--”

“Senza senso, amico. As the landlord of that fine establishment, you live rent-free,” Virtuoso explained with a small smile. “Instead, all that money you’ll be earning by working for me will go towards getting you some new things: clothes, for example?” He popped Lockwood’s collar. “You can’t live your life in just this jacket, my boy.”

Lockwood’s eyes widened; he was starting to process everything and realize just what he’d been agreeing to. “Don, really--”

Virtuoso leveled Lockwood with a serious look. “You know me by now, Lockwood. You know I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. You’re my new landlord for Southeast Point, and that’s final.” He pat Lockwood’s cheek gently. “You’ll do just fine. I believe in you.”

“Okay… okay, sure. You… you’ve got yourself a deal, Don. Uh… boss? Should I… should I call you ‘boss’ now?”

Virtuoso laughed. “We don’t have to change anything about us, my boy. You can still call me by my name, Lockwood, no need for such formalities. We’re friends. Amicos.” He turned to Thunderbolt and gave her a coy grin. “As for you, Thunderbolt, I’d like to make a request: take Lockwood in for the week until his apartment is done getting set up.”

Blackburn stared at Lockwood, as she had been this entire time, unable to show him any real sympathy in her eyes, unable to hug him tight, to kiss him gently and comfort him like she wanted to. She had to keep that all to herself, and she hated it, but it needed to be done. But this request? This request was something she could do. She could do this as his business partner. She could do this as his friend.

She nodded. “I suppose I could do that for you, Don,” she said, giving Virtuoso and small smile. “But only if it’s for a week, and no more than that. If I have to spend one minute longer with him, I’m sending him over here and you can babysit him.”

Virtuoso smirked and nodded. “Grazie, Thunderbolt.”

Lockwood gave her a small smile as well. “Yeah… thanks, Thunderbolt.”

Blackburn turned to him. She couldn’t stop herself from giving him just the smallest of knowing grins. “You get the couch.”

That was another big, fat lie.

One Week Later

Lockwood’s new apartment was Room 16-8:45 of the Southeast Point in Mid-South’s Central Plaza, as Virtuoso had explained and expected. The building, despite the Don’s proclaimed “renovations” was barely of much better quality than North Point, where Blackburn and her crew lived, but that still made it better than anything else in the Mid Districts; again, it wasn’t anything compared to the Inner Districts, but Lockwood could clearly see that it was more than suitable for his needs.

By “more than suitable”, of course, Lockwood meant “too much”, at least in his eyes.

There was a large bedroom with a good-sized bed; the kitchen had all the appliances one could ever need; the living room was big enough to accommodate several guests and came with a big television set, a sofa, and a reclining chair; and the bathroom was clean and comfortably-sized with a roomy shower. The other furnishings were more than adequate, better than anything in Lockwood’s old apartment for certain, and even a little better than some of the things in Blackburn’s.

Crossfire helped Lockwood carry his luggage into the new apartment, three suitcases full of the things that Lockwood would need to make this his permanent home: clothes, dishes, pillows, sheets, toothpaste, etc. Blackburn and Gadget, meanwhile, gave the apartment a good lookover while the stallions organized Lockwood’s stuff.

“Golly. This place is pretty nice, actually. Nicer than ours, even, and that’s saying a lot,” Gadget noted as she checked out the kitchen, particularly the roomy refrigerator. “Sheesh, this doofus gets all this space all to himself? Totally unfair.”

“And he gets it for free, too, thanks to Virtuoso,” Blackburn added, shaking her head and smiling. “City’s standards baffling. Landlords live free in relative luxury. Bizarre.”

“I’m getting real jealous here, Blackburn. I might have to steal your coltfriend so I can mooch off him.”

“Welcome to try,” Blackburn quipped with a smirk.

Lockwood exited his bedroom, dressed in his new outfit: a dull brown rain jacket over a plain white shirt, plus his fedora. He looked to Gadget and Blackburn and let out a breath of surprise. “Wow. Okay, so, this place is a little much for me. I’m freaking out a little. I guess I just got so used to living in my old apartment, y’know, and you saw how small that was. This is bigger than your place--”

“We were just discussing that, actually,” Gadget snorted. “You’re sitting pretty here, flyboy. Virtuoso hooked you up like nopony’s business. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he actually likes you. Hmph. Can’t imagine why.”

Crossfire stepped out of the bedroom as well, shaking his head. “This here bedroom’s as big as the one back at our place an’ he gets it all ta himself.” He clapped Lockwood on the shoulder and smiled. “Y’all got yerself a real treat, Lockwood, I tell ya what. Finally get ta live the way y’all deserve fer all the good stuff y’all do fer ponies.”

Lockwood chuckled to dismiss his embarrassment. “C’mon guys, I know it’s great and all but it’s not my fault--”

“Not blaming you,” Blackburn said gently. “Just making observations. You deserve a nice place to live, after what you’ve done, what you’ve been through.” She glanced at the floor and smirked. “Needs a new rug, though. Shall we start looking?”

“Ah ah, you’re not buying me a rug this time, Princess,” Lockwood chided, wagging his hoof. “I already had a hard time letting you guys buy me new clothes, so I’m buying a new rug with my first paycheck, got it?”

Blackburn smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Got it.” She turned to Gadget, then Crossfire, then back to him. “So, all moved in?”

“Yeah, I’m all set up here guys. Thanks again for helping me get everything settled, I really appreciate it.” He scuffed his hoof on the floor. “And, uh… for letting me stay with you all week.”

Blackburn grinned and leaned forward to kiss him again. “Was my pleasure.”

He leaned forward to meet his lips with hers, but she playfully tilted his hat over his face instead. Blackburn knew better than to get too amorous when her friends were in the room with them, and she rather enjoyed teasing him. It made the moments they did share that much more enjoyable; she’d never even considered doing anything of that sort with Briarthorn, but with Lockwood… it was just different.

She cleared her throat. “Now, we celebrate. Dinner?”

“Dinner sounds nice, actually,” Lockwood said as he pulled his hat up. “I need to learn the good places to eat around the area, in case I need to recommend anything to anypony, don’t I? So, where were you thinking? You know the good places I assume?”

“Baroque restaurant on West Tenth: L’Artisan's Ristorante Baroque. High quality. Where we first met Tommy Gun… since he invited us to party where I first met you, felt we should honor him.”

Lockwood smiled and nodded. “I like the sound of that.”

*****

L’Artisan's Ristorante Baroque was still the same tip-top classy place it had always been, but now, at dinner time, without one of Don Virtuoso’s captains keeping the place to himself, it was able to show off just how popular it really was. The restaurant was divided essentially into two halves, the front half with all the smaller tables for pairs, the rear half with larger, family-sized tables. The restaurant was especially crowded this evening; large families ate together in the back, and couples young and old enjoyed each other’s company in the front.

Despite the crowd, Blackburn knew that, as one of the top business partners of Don Virtuoso, she had a little bit of pull; okay, a lot of pull. So, while they would have to wait a short time for arrangements to be made, it only took a mention of the Don’s name to get the maitre d’ - still Upper Crust - to situate things in a way that was satisfying to Blackburn’s tastes.

Which of course meant that she and Lockwood shared a private table for two, alone, in a completely separate room in the restaurant, which was reserved typically for assorted impromptu meetings during busy hours. Crossfire and Gadget remained outside the room at their own little space large enough for them to eat and keep an eye on the crowd; Crossfire, who still wasn’t much on Baroque cuisine, stuck with a salad for the night, while Gadget ordered the biggest bowl of macaroni and cheese they had.

The private room was wonderfully cozy, just big enough for a table - complete with red-and-white checkered tablecloth - two chairs, and little else. They scooted their chairs so they weren’t opposite one another on the table, but close enough that could see each other clearly and not have to reach across the table to touch one another’s hooves. Blackburn had never done anything like this before, even with Briarthorn; a private, romantic dinner setting like this was almost an alien concept to her until now.

“Now, I know I’ve never been here, but I can tell from the way their menu is organized which items are the best,” Lockwood said as he browsed the menu with her; he was the connoisseur between the two so far as Baroque cuisine was concerned. “What did you have last time you were here?”

Blackburn paused to recall her meeting with Tommy Gun all those months ago. “Tommy and I split the stuffed peppers, and I had the eggplant parmigiana. He had the minestrone, said theirs was, and I quote, ‘mwah’.” She kissed her hoof and gestured into the air. “Molto delizioso.”

Lockwood nodded sagely. “Tommy knew Baroque cuisine really well, better than me I’d say. The minestrone is definitely one of the best things on the menu. The eggplant parmigiana is probably pretty popular and I don’t doubt that it’s good, but I don’t think it’s your best option unless you’re craving eggplant. Might I suggest the three-cheese ravioli?”

“Cheese isn’t one of my big things, actually,” Blackburn admitted with a gentle shrug. “That’s more Gadget’s deal, even though the macaroni is more her speed. I think she doesn’t like the texture of ravioli.”

“Fair enough, it’s not for everypony. How about spinach cannelloni? Are you a fan of spinach?”

Blackburn shook her head. “Not particularly, except in a few things here and there. I actually don’t like it cooked, to be honest.”

“Also fair, spinach is a bit of an acquired thing.” He browsed the menu a bit more, then smiled and pointed. “How about the spaghetti marinara? It’s a classic Baroque dish, and they have a double portion here that’s just perfect for sharing. We can go in together on it.”

Blackburn’s eyes brightened. “Ooh, that sounds nice. There was some at Virtuoso’s last week, right? It was really good.”

“I’ll note that Virtuoso used his grandfather’s marinara recipe for that, and I’ll be the first to say that if Virtuoso’s grandfather had decided to open a restaurant instead of going into ‘the business’ he might have been a happier stallion. Buuut, it’s really hard to screw up marinara.” He smiled and snapped the menu closed. “Let’s do it.”

Blackburn pressed a little button on the wall nearby, and less than a minute later, Upper Crust opened the door with a pleasant grin on his face. “Ready to order signora? Signore?”

“We are,” Blackburn said, passing the menus over to the maitre d’. “We’re going to share a double portion of spaghetti marinara, and a bottle of your most expensive wine, per favore.”

Upper Crust shifted his gaze between the two, then his grin curled into a wide, knowing smile. “Ah, may I ask, signora, is this evening one of the… hmm, romantic persuasion?”

Blackburn and Lockwood shared a brief glance, and Blackburn smiled and nodded. “It is, but don’t tell anypony. I have a reputation to uphold, you understand.”

“My lips are sealed, singora,” he replied, drawing his hoof across his mouth and throwing away an imaginary key. “May I suggest, then, that you allow L’Artisan's to make this evening special for you? I assure you, it will be well worth your while. It is very popular among the younger couples, such as yourselves.”

Blackburn considered this, eyeing Lockwood for his opinion; his soft smile in her direction suggested that he was all for it, and that was all she needed. “Hmm… okay, you’ve convinced me, Upper Crust. We’ll do it.”

Upper Crust bowed slightly, his smile wide and genuine. “Meraviglioso. I will inform the chef and make preparations. You will not be disappointed, signora.” And off he went, a spring in his step.

The wait was relatively short considering how crowded the restaurant was, but Blackburn figured her pull gave her preferential treatment, or maybe it was the “special” that Upper Crust had arranged. Speaking of the maitre d’, he returned a few minutes later with everything they’d ordered, and then some, within his field of magic: a large plate of spaghetti bathed in marinara sauce, a bottle of what Blackburn knew was very expensive wine, two glasses for said wine, a basket with fluffy breadsticks and butter, two dishes of olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and a tall, thin, red candle. He spread everything out on the table neatly, lit the candle, poured wine for the pair, then bowed low.

“Buon appetito,” he said. He lit his horn again, and the room’s lighting dimmed just slightly so that the candle was the dominant light source. “Enjoy.”

Then, he left.

As soon as he did, Blackburn and Lockwood heard music coming in through unseen speakers: a strumming mandolin accompanied by a perfectly-played accordion. These two instruments were all that were needed to play a very particular Baroque melody:

“♫Oh, this is the night, it's a beautiful night

And we call it bella notte.”

Blackburn felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she and Lockwood started to twirl some spaghetti into their forks. The tune sounded eerily familiar; the lyrics, too. Where did she know them from? Lockwood didn’t seem to recognize it, or if he did, he wasn’t having the reaction she was.

“♫Look at the skies, they have stars in their eyes

On this lovely bella notte.”

Then, she realized it, and another rush of heat rose through her cheeks. She knew this particular tune, from the instruments playing to the lyrics. They were from particularly romantic, no, iconic scene from a popular cartoon she’d seen as a little filly long, long ago. Despite everything about her life being opposed to embracing such a thing, she still remembered that scene fondly.

“♫Side by side with your loved one,

You'll find enchantment here.”

The fact that she and Lockwood were sharing spaghetti together just topped the whole thing off with the perfect little bow, as if the restaurant specifically prepared for this. She noticed after taking a few noodles to herself that they were awfully long. The one currently in her mouth was, in particular, very long. As was the one in Lockwood’s mouth. Wait, Lockwood had suggested the idea of splitting the spaghetti. Had he known? Was it his idea?

“♫The night will weave its magic spell,

When the one you love is near!”

The heat in her cheeks rose further as she slurped and chewed the noodle, pondering the situation with her typical eye for details. No, there was no question about it. She saw exactly what was happening here, it was too perfect, too well-organized. Lockwood seemed completely oblivious, but she was sure he was pretending to be.

“♫For this is the night, and the heavens are right

On this lovely bella notte!”

Blackburn was not about to be manipulated into such a clichéd moment; nopony manipulated Princess Blackburn. The noodle she was slurping right now, right this second, was long enough that she was not supposed to notice that Lockwood had picked up the same noodle, and that he was slurping it just right so that they’d meet halfway. Ha! If he expected her not to notice, he was sadly mistaken.

She bit down on her noodle so that Lockwood would finish slurping it up alone, and since it was no longer taut, it snapped up and splattered just a little bit of sauce on his nose. He seemed surprised, and looked at her, embarrassed.

Then, without a word, without warning, she leaned in and kissed him of her own volition, not because some damned spaghetti had forced her to do so. No noodle would ever get the better of Princess Blackburn, she’d make sure of it.

When she broke the kiss, she looked him right in those gorgeous, golden eyes of his. She hesitated for half a second, the words caught in her mouth like water behind a dam. For all the nerve she’d shown earlier in denying those treacherous noodles their victory, she found her nerves stymied now by those damned eyes of his.

It gave him enough time to go first. “I love you…”

A feeling of hot fire spread through her body from her heart outwards, making her blurt out some words herself. “I know.” She paused, realizing she hadn’t quite said it. “I mean… I love you too. I love you, Lockwood.”

Nothing more needed to be said.

Chapter Fifteen: Just Jewelry

One Year, Six Months Later

The Gate District of New Pandemonium City was located, as its name implied, directly adjacent to the gate that led in and out of the city for those traveling by hoof. Not that anypony really ever entered the city, apart from a few brave souls with protective gear who would leave and return over the course of whatever work that they performed. Typically these were scientists - geologists and zoologists, mostly - who studied the Wasteland on a frequent basis to determine that, yes, it was still dangerous. Ponies without such gear were allowed to leave, of course, but were not allowed to come back in; these ponies typically didn’t want to return, as they were making the journey for Hope’s Point.

The Docks were located here as well, as airships were the preferred method of travel for those who could afford it whether their destination was ultimately Hope’s Point or Utopia. The Gate District was such a frequently used locale, typically by the wealthiest ponies in the city who used airships to travel to Utopia for vacations, that the whole territory was given very particular care to ensure it was always presentable. Despite being located in the Outer District by virtue of necessity, it was more akin to the Inner Districts in its quality of life.

The silver-and-black buildings were all of a high-tech design rather than the decorative architecture of the Inner Districts - they valued function over form - but more importantly they were clean, with not a hint of rust or disrepair in sight. None of these buildings were shops or businesses, just domicile complexes with numbers; the ponies that lived here were usually the sort that didn’t care for the frills of the Inner Districts, but were still wealthy enough to afford living there. The iron - not concrete - streets were utterly devoid of trash and filth to the point of being sterile. The air was also completely clear of smog, and even had the pleasant scent of freshly-dried linens thanks to air vents that purified and scented the air.

Blackburn and her crew typically didn’t pass through the Gate District to travel to or from the Docks, preferring instead to travel directly there via chariot taxi. On this particular evening, however, they made an exception, since Lockwood had never visited the Gate District before. The native pegasus marveled at the sights, sounds, and smells around him; he marveled at the well-dressed ponies that walked to and fro through the streets; he marveled at the technology used to make the district so clean. He was amazed that the city could, if it wanted to, create such a neighborhood in the first place.

“How do they even manage all this?” he asked, genuinely flummoxed for the first time in the others’ memory at how his own city worked. “I’d heard that the city itself maintains this section of the city, but seeing it up close, that doesn’t make any sense. Where’s all the red tape? Where’s the dangerous negligence? Where’s the outright apathy?”

“The way I see it, the only ponies that come through here are the rich, the influential, and the well-connected,” Blackburn said, gesturing at a gaggle of well-dressed mares that walked by, giggling and talking amongst themselves. “Most of them live in either the Inner Districts or here, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Well, those sorts of ponies typically don’t care about those beneath them. They’d prefer to ignore their existence entirely, from what I’ve seen; nothing against Virtuoso, but I doubt he’d have cared about you one bit if you still lived out in the slums.”

“So the city bureaucracy makes sure this place stays neat and tidy so that those ponies aren’t reminded that the rest of the Outer District exists,” Lockwood finished, shaking his head in disbelief.

“That’s about right, yeah.”

“It astounds me that this city can be so… so dismissive of such a large portion of its population. I always knew the neglectfulness was bad, but seeing this makes me realize just how bad it is.”

“How so?”

“Well, clearly the city has the capacity to maintain something like this, right? So why don’t they? The Inner Districts are self-maintained and mostly self-governed, and I don’t expect everypony to be altruistic, but the city should be doing more for its citizens. It’s deplorable that they just ignore the poor out there...”

“All the more reason to do what we can to give those ponies the help they need to make a better life for themselves,” Blackburn said with a smile. “Thanks to you and me, and to all of the friends and contacts we have, someday, anypony that wants to leave this city will have the means to do so, no matter how rich they are.”

As they reached the entrance to the Docks, which was as crowded as it always was, Gadget, Crossfire, and Blackburn set their suitcases down so they could give Lockwood hugs goodbye, in that order.

“You’d better keep yourself safe while we’re gone, featherbrain,” Gadget said, poking Lockwood in the chest with her hoof. “I swear to the stars, if we find out that anything happened to you when we get back, no matter how small, I’m gonna make you regret it. If you get so much as a stubbed hoof or a damn sore throat, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Okay okay, I promise, I’ll be careful,” Lockwood chuckled, fluffing his wings in embarrassment. “Sheesh, you’d think I had something happen to me every other week or something. Though I do appreciate the concern you have for my well-being.”

“Your well-being? I’m concerned about her well-being, dumb-dumb,” Gadget huffed, gesturing back at Blackburn. “She’s already worried sick about you and we haven’t even left yet! If you give her a reason to worry, and I mean any reason, I’m gonna shove a lightning bolt so far up your scrawny butt you’re gonna think you’re a storm cloud, you got it?”

Lockwood saluted, nearly knocking off his hat. “Got it, boss.”

Gadget then smiled and leaned up to wrap her hooves around Lockwood’s neck; Lockwood returned the hug earnestly.

Crossfire approached next, and after Gadget released Lockwood, he gave the pegasus a huge, bone-crushing bear hug, lifting Lockwood into the air like a little colt, which, to Crossfire’s size, he might as well be. “Ooh, we’re gonna miss ya, pal. Now, y’all’re gonna do what I asked ya ta do, ain’t ya? Ya ain’t gonna back out on me now?”

Lockwood, struggling to breathe, chuckled and nodded. “Yeah yeah, big guy, I promise that I’ll eat more. I promise. You can let me go now.”

“Three square meals a day?”

“Three square meals a day. Please let me go.”

“An’ y’all’ll make sure them meals are all balanced ‘n’ healthy, not just junk food, right? I’m talkin’ real food e’ry now ‘n’ then, not just that Dolor crap.”

“Healthy food, absolutely. Let… let me go... ”

“Even the Dolor Blue?”

Lockwood, turning blue himself, hastily nodded. “Can’t… can’t breathe… but okay…”

“Good.”

Crossfire finally released the hug and set Lockwood back down on the ground; Lockwood took big, long gulps of air and clutched his chest, feeling like his soul had left his body for a minute there.

“Now, we ain’t gonna be gone long ol’ buddy, but I don’t wanna come back in a month from now ‘n’ find out y’all been skippin’ meals, y’hear? I know I sound like an ol’ granny tryin’ ta make sure her gran’kids’re eatin’ proper-like, but dagnabit, I don’t care.”

“I hear you, big guy, I hear you. Please, I promise, no more skipping meals for me, okay?” Lockwood smiled and patted Crossfire’s shoulder gently now that his breathing was back to normal. “Hey, y’know, since you guys are heading down south for a bit, how about you bring some fresh stuff from down south for me, huh? I’d love to try your famous succotash made with what you consider the best ingredients.”

Crossfire smiled and set his hoof on Lockwood’s. “Will do, Lockwood, will do.”

Blackburn approached next, a small smile on her face, and gave Lockwood a tight, loving hug. “We’ll be back soon, Lockwood, I promise. I wish we didn’t have to go, but--”

“Don’t worry about it, I know,” Lockwood replied as he returned the hug just as tightly. “I know it’s only going to be a month, but I’m not looking forward to it either.”

“It’s gonna be the longest month of my life,” Blackburn murmured. “I don’t want to go…”

“Ooh, hold on, I’ve got something for you before you go--” Lockwood reached into his pocket and fished out a small, black box. “This… this is for you. I hope you like it. I was gonna sneak it into your suitcase or pocket or something... but then I thought it would be better to just do it this way.”

Blackburn eyed it warily; she knew what usually came in these kinds of boxes: jewelry. “Lockwood? What--”

He opened it up and revealed a plain silver chain, and not a particularly fancy or expensive one either. There was a small charm on it shaped like and painted in the same colors as the Crown Spectrum logo, which had always been just a stylized version of Blackburn’s cutie mark. Despite the inexpensive quality, Blackburn looked upon it like it was some sort of marvelous, forbidden treasure.

She could hardly speak as she looked at it. “It’s... lovely. You said… you said it’s for me?”

Lockwood helped her take it out of the box and gingerly slip it over her foreleg. “Yeah, of course it is. You’re always getting things for me, y’know, and I figured… I figured I’d get something for you for once. I know it’s not a competition or anything… but I wanted to give back.”

“Lockwood--”

“Hang on, hang on,” he interjected, smiling. “I know you’re not going to be away for very long, but… well, it’s something to remind you of me… of our work together while you’re gone. So that you don’t get lonely at night...” His cheeks reddened and he chuckled nervously. “That… that sounds cornier than it did in my head.”

Blackburn admired the plain silver bracelet on her foreleg like it was the most expensive diamond-and-gold; she had never, ever, been one for jewelry, but because it was Lockwood’s gift to her, she’d make an exception. Just this once.

“It’s beautiful, Lockwood. I love it.” She gently kissed his neck, using her wings to hide the gesture from any prying eyes. She then pulled away, her hoof just lingering on his chest for a moment. She cleared her throat and got back into business-mode. “Speaking of work together, you’ll keep things running on this end, won’t you, partner?”

“You have my word,” Lockwood said with a pleasant smile. “Just you watch, you’re gonna get back here and you won’t have anything to do for once.”

Blackburn bit her lip. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something.” She leaned up and whispered into his ear: “Or somepony.” Just to tease him again, she tugged his hat over his eyes.

When she stepped away, she made a few quick, subtle gestures with her wings, each one meaning a particular word; pegasus wing language was well-known to most, but this was different. This was a secret code that she had developed just for Gadget and Crossfire so she could communicate quietly when words had to be carefully used and chosen. Lockwood knew it too, after spending weeks with Blackburn learning it.

Blackburn just needed three short gestures to communicate her message:

She waved her left wing down words over her face, like a mask: I.

She brought the tip of her left wing to her chest and tapped it three times, quickly, against her heart: Love.

She then spread the feathers of her right wing and pointed the tip towards Lockwood. You.

Lockwood smiled and repeated the gesture right back to her, capping it off by tipping his hat. To a regular pegasus trying to decipher their message using regular wing language, they’d think Blackburn and Lockwood were just complaining about a mutual case of bad heartburn - the chest tapping- so bad that it was giving them the sweats - the left wing over the face - and making them throw up - the spreading of feathers in a forward direction.

With her final message to Lockwood delivered until they returned, Blackburn picked up her suitcase, and Gadget and Crossfire did the same with theirs, then the trio made their way through to the airship dock to board their airship to Newhaven.

The entire route there, Blackburn’s eyes were transfixed on her new bracelet. She absolutely hated jewelry, but had never told Lockwood that or even indicated it, but now she wasn’t sure it was all that bad.

*****

After a home-cooked meal and a pleasant night’s rest at Shining Steel’s home, Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire gathered their things and headed for Newhaven’s airship docks to book passage back for Hope’s Point for the first time in what felt like forever. They were surprised to learn that their ship was slated to be none other than the Southern Sun, which would be docking later that morning to take on a fresh shipment of tech parts - courtesy of Crown Spectrum, of course - as well as the three of them, the only passengers.

While they waited for the Southern Sun to arrive, Blackburn had time to think, and, of course, to worry. She hadn’t seen Briarthorn in nearly two years at this point, let alone spoken to him; in fact, her only contact with him whatsoever had been via proxy through Deadlift, their mutual contact at Pandemonium’s airdocks who handled everything necessary on that end as far as Crown Spectrum’s deliveries were concerned; this was of course all handled by Lockwood, who was in actual contact with Deadlift. Blackburn couldn’t imagine how awkward Lockwood must’ve felt interacting with Briarthorn, knowing full well the extent that their relationship had once been.

Blackburn was more concerned with how awkward it would be for her to interact with Briarthorn herself. Until things had progressed with Lockwood, her only concern with dealing with Briarthorn’s likely insistence on continuing their “relationship”, which he had every reason to believe still existed to some level, was just deflecting his advances with excuses. She hadn’t originally had any intention of completely shutting him down; she’d even kissed him the last time they’d seen one another as if nothing was different. But there could be no more of that, no matter how much easier it would make keeping the masquerade going; it would be a betrayal to Lockwood, even though Blackburn was certain Lockwood would likely dismiss it.

So, when the Southern Sun docked and its crew began loading up their cargo and greeting their passengers, Blackburn had to take a long, deep breath to center herself. This was going to be a long month indeed.

Briarthorn, naturally, flew right over to the trio just as they were preparing to board. “Hey hey, welly well well, isn’t this just a barrel of surprises?” he chirped as he settled down beside them. “It feels like it’s been forever-and-a-half since I last saw you guys. That must’ve been some vacation, huh? Probably explored every inch of the continent, knowing you guys. Soaking up the sun and snow and everything in between, good fun, gooood fun.”

Briarthorn of course knew the truth of the matter, insofar as where they’d really been and what their work needed them to do. Nothing more than that, and certainly none of the specifics of their work, but enough.

Blackburn smiled and nodded, trying not to meet his eyes and hoping Briarthorn didn’t notice her bracelet. “Quite enjoyable. Plenty of stories to tell.”

The trio, with Briarthorn following, boarded the ship; Gadget and Crossfire couldn’t get a word in edgewise if they tried, so they didn’t bother, content to keep quiet and let Blackburn sort things out. The rest of the Southern Sun’s crew made the preparations for takeoff while Briarthorn escorted the trio to the seating area, over the half-hearted objections of the ship’s Cadet, whose job it was to actually do what Briarthorn was doing.

“Excellent, great, and most of all, good! Glad to hear it. We can share some back-and-forths - or ups-and-downs - over drinks back home,” he replied with a wink and a nudge and he gestured for Blackburn to take her seat. Gadget and Crossfire took their seats without his assistance and without a word.

“Perhaps, if time presents itself,” Blackburn lied.

“Well, if you can find the time, I imagine that you’re all sorts of wound up inside, Princess. Let me just say that it is my duty, my solemn honor, in service to the crown, to offer my services to put that pep back in your step and get that swing back in your wings.”

“I’m sure.”

He waggled his eyebrows and held his hooves up with a cocksure grin on his face. “And, FYI, I learned how to give a killer back-and-wing massage, by the way. I’ve even been told that I’ve got magic hooves, not to brag, but yes, to brag. My magic could make a unicorn blush. Believe me, I know.”

Blackburn shook her head as she took her seat, fidgeting as Briarthorn kept trying to unnecessarily help her. “Sounds wonderful, but must decline. Won’t be in city long, have work ahead to deal with. No time, but will let you know if there is.”

Briarthorn frowned for all of half a second before his pep returned. “Well that’s fine, just dandy, and I understand completely, perfectly, and totally. But, but, but, if you should happen to change your mind, I am ever your loyal subject.” He checked the room to make sure that it was only the four of them, then leaned in to kiss her.

He clearly did not expect her to shift her wing up to block his lips. “Not here, Briar, please. Not now. Feeling stressed, did not sleep well, wish to just relax and nap on flight home. Do not wish to get... excited.”

Briarthorn tilted his head, confused and a little disappointed. He paused for a few short moments, then shrugged. “Well, uh… yeah, okay, sure thing Your Princessfulness, you’re the boss. But, uh… yeah, you just say the magic words - I’m thinking ‘Do Me Now’ - and I’ll be there for you, okay? I can hook us up with whoever or however many you want, too, just like last time. Vroom vroom, yeah?”

“Will consider it, thank you.” She managed to give him a small smile. “Glad to see you, Briar. Hope work is going well.”

Briarthorn nodded proudly. “Sure is, sure is. Living the dream, babe, that’s what I’m doing. Speaking of which, uh, I’d better get up top. We’re gonna be approaching the Belt soon and I gotta do my thang.” He politely nodded to Gadget and Crossfire on his way out. “Good to see you guys too, of course! Sorry for the rushy greetings and all, but duty calls! Enjoy your flight!”

He left the room to head up onto the ship to start his Diffusion pattern, leaving the three of them alone.

Blackburn sighed and leaned back in her seat, so far from being comfortable she couldn’t find “comfortable” if she had a map.

*****

A few hours later, the Southern Sun docked at Hope’s Point, and the crew disembarked to start unloading cargo. Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire did the same, but when they did, they were sincerely surprised at the welcome they’d received. They were used to have a small collection of some kind there to receive them, considering Blackburn’s status as Princess, but usually it was a few guards, maybe a ranking officer at best, and it was just a matter of formality, really.

They certainly did not expect to see Gleaming Star, Chief Intelligence and Enforcement Officer waiting for them, and certainly not with a small detachment of guards. Even the crew of the Southern Sun was confused, but they just went about their duties and didn’t get involved; not even Briarthorn did anything, not when his captain made sure to give him something else to do.

Blackburn spent the few seconds it took for her and her friends to walk across the hangar to meet with the welcoming party to figure out why Star was here; by the time they got across the hangar, she'd figured out exactly why. Star pretty much confirmed it a few seconds later as she started speaking:

“Princess Blackburn, welcome back to Hope’s Point,” Star said with a slight bow, her tone polite but not at all friendly considering who she was talking to. “I’ve been asked to escort you to meet with your father immediately upon your arrival.”

“Hmm. Need to unpack first,” Blackburn said nonchalantly, observing Star and the guards for anything worth worrying about. “Won’t take long.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Princess. I am under royal order from His Majesty himself to escort you immediately after you arrived in the city, in case I was not clear about that before.” Star turned to Gadget and Crossfire and scowled. “Your bodyguards--”

“Friends,” Blackburn insisted, giving Star a sharp look. “Do well to learn proper terminology.”

Star flinched just slightly under Blackburn’s gaze. “Your… your friends can deliver your things to your quarters for you and unpack them, if you wish, Princess. However, His Majesty asked that they not be allowed to accompany us under any circumstances, so that should give them something to do if you’re worried about them being… bored.”

“Uh uh, no dice. We’re her friends and bodyguards, Chief,” Gadget said, taking a bold step forward to but herself between Blackburn and Star. “Where she goes, we go, under royal order from King Flashfire: we are sworn to protect her.”

Star leveled Gadget with a glare of her own; Gadget didn’t flinch for an instant. “I am well aware of that fact, Gadget, as is His Majesty, but His Majesty King Stormchaser’s orders trump your duties for the moment even if they were given by the previous King Flashfire.”

“An’ what if we refuse ta let ‘er go wit’out us, huh?” Crossfire said, also taking a step forward and stepping in front of Blackburn, forming a shield with himself and Gadget. “No offense, Chief Star, but our duty is ta protect Princess Blackburn under any 'n' all circumstances, an’ we can’t rightly do that unless we go wherever she goes.”

“Oh, believe me, I understand your concern, and I also understand your orders,” Star said, shaking her head in disappointment. “But I have my orders too, and if you wish to prevent me from following His Majesty’s orders, I’ll have to have the two of you arrested. I do apologize, but that’s just the way of things. Don’t make things difficult.”

“You’re welcome to try it--” Gadget started, grabbing her sidearm with her magic; this caused the guards with Star to reach for their own weapons.

Blackburn held up her hoof to keep Gadget from doing anything rash. “Gadget, Crossfire, stand down,” she said, looking at them both with sincere authority. “I’ll be fine. Take our things to my quarters, do nothing else until I arrive. Understood?”

Gadget and Crossfire shared a look with one another, then sighed and nodded in unison. “Yes, Princess,” they said together.

And with that, they collected their things as well as Blackburn’s, and headed off down the hall towards the stairs instead of the elevator, shooting piercing glares at Gleaming Star as they went.

Once they were gone, Star let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you for seeing reason, Princess. I wouldn’t have to do anything--”

“Only did it so your guards wouldn’t have to get electrocuted into drooling messes on the hangar floor.” Blackburn turned to the guards and gave them a nod. “You’re just following your orders. Don’t blame you.” A few of the guards shared looks with one another and immediately relaxed. Blackburn then turned to Star. “You, however… escalation was tactless.”

“My esca--” Star stopped herself, took a heavy breath, then gestured towards the elevator in the opposite direction. “Whatever. Shall we, Princess?”

Blackburn nodded, but said nothing more.

The elevator ride up to the royal palace was long and awkwardly quiet; Blackburn glared daggers at Gleaming Star the entire way up the elevator shaft, only shifting her gaze when the elevator reached their destination floor. Here, they walked just a short distance to a small, circular, private room which was empty of decorations and only had a small table and half a dozen chairs; Blackburn knew it well, as her grandfather often used it for hastily-organized meetings for arriving dignitaries.

It was not empty, though. King Stormchaser waited patiently in one seat opposite the door, and beside him sat Queen Silver Glow. The latter wore a lovely dress that matched her beautiful mane, her face painted with a neutral expression that Blackburn knew was just as polite as it was nervous; Silver Glow knew she didn’t really belong here, but had come anyway, probably at Stormchaser’s insistence. Stormchaser wore one of his many royal dress jackets, this one black-and-green and decked out in lavish gold chains. His face was decidedly hostile, his mouth curled in an angry scowl, his eyes narrowed and brows furrowed as Blackburn entered the room.

Not a single word was spoken just yet. Gleaming Star arrived and left with her guards after a bow to the king, her orders fulfilled; for such a powerful, influential pony to be used as what basically amounted to a mob enforcer did not escape Blackburn’s notice.

Blackburn took a seat directly across from her father and stepmother, her stellar poker face on and ready to go. She wasn’t nervous in the least; the moment Gleaming Star had opened her mouth down in the hangar, Blackburn knew why she was asked to be here. Blackburn was angry though, because she knew what was coming, because this was all just a huge waste of her valuable time, and because this could present an obstacle to her work now and over the coming month.

After a few tense moments of uncomfortable, pregnant silence, Stormchaser leaned forward ever-so-slightly in his seat, hooves pressed together tightly in front of him, and, with the most intimidating sneer he could manage, finally addressed his daughter: “Welcome home, Blackburn. How was your vacation?”

“Can’t complain,” Blackburn said, her voice flat and uninterested. Her attention was more focused on her bracelet than anything her father was saying. Her only thought now was whether or not whatever happened here would make getting back to Lockwood difficult.

“Don’t play cute with me, young lady!” he snapped, rising up and slapping his hooves on the table with a loud bang. “I know what you’ve been up to, missy. I know where you’ve been, and I know what you’ve been doing when you thought I wasn’t watching. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you’ve been gone for nearly two years?! Do you think I’m an idiot?!”

“Idiot? Not at all, dad,” Blackburn said, shaking her head calmly. “Perhaps… slow on the uptake?”

Stormchaser’s grit teeth indicated he made to say something particularly vulgar, but he calmed just slightly as Silver Glow put a hoof on his shoulder and spoke instead. “Blackburn, please, this is serious. Your father--”

“Let him speak for himself, my Queen,” Blackburn interrupted, eyes still on her father. “I can take it.”

“You watch your tone when talking to your stepmother, Blackburn,” Stormchaser snarled. “I don’t care what you think of her, she is my wife and you will treat her with respect!”

Blackburn didn’t react in the slightest, not even a word or the barest movement of her mouth or body.

Stormchaser, seemingly satisfied, pushed a datapad across the table towards his daughter, hard enough to nearly fling it straight off. “Take a look at that. Would you mind telling me what you see? It’s very interesting.”

Blackburn glanced at the datapad out of the corner of her eye. Displayed on it was an image: the logo of Crown Spectrum; her gaze shifted to the charm on her bracelet, which bore the exact same appearance down to the color. She looked back up at her father, still expressionless. “Looks like some company logo.”

“Don’t give me that. Don’t play your little mind games with me. You know damn well it looks like your cutie mark, young lady,” Stormchaser said, stepping away from the table and circling around to come behind Blackburn.

“Hmm. So it does. And?”

“I noticed it once this Crown Spectrum company started to dominate our import shipment sheets. At first I didn’t mind having them be so prolific, since their prices were low and they even contributed to our infrastructure, but then, I noticed that logo,” he said, pointing at the datapad image; he didn’t notice her bracelet.

“So, I had Gleaming Star look into this Crown Spectrum about, oh, say… a year ago? It took her a few weeks to sort through all the diversionary data, but she was eventually able to find out a few very interesting pieces of information. Want to take a guess what she found?”

“No. Waste of time. Going to tell me anyway.”

Stormchaser snorted, annoyed at her ambivalence. “The owner of the company is one ‘Thunderbolt’.” He tapped the datapad a couple of times, showing a picture of Thunderbolt herself on the screen, which, of course, was just Blackburn with a different manestyle, a more casual outfit, a pleasant smile, and makeup covering her scar. “Wow, doesn’t she look familiar? Where have I seen her before?”

Blackburn shrugged; she fiddled with her bracelet absently with her other hoof. “Suppose she does.”

“Stop playing cute with me, dammit! That’s you!” he spat, jabbing the picture with his hoof. “You’ve been up north in New Pandemonium running a damned tech company for over a year! You’ve been going behind my back!”

“Certainly seems that way.”

“Would you care to explain yourself, young lady? Would you like to tell me, your father, what you’ve been doing?”

“What’s there to explain? You caught me, dad. Congratulations.”

Stormchaser’s eye twitched. “What? That’s it?”

“You caught me, dad,” Blackburn said, shrugging again. “Not much else to say. Not important. Don’t see the big deal.”

Silver Glow looked between the two for a moment - Stormchaser with his practically audible glare, Blackburn with her composed apathy - then cleared her throat loudly enough to distract her husband. “Blackburn, dear, don’t you think--”

“Nothing to say,” Blackburn interjected, shifting her gaze to her stepmother for just a moment, the first time she’d given any attention to anypony but her father.

Stormchaser took a deep breath and grit his teeth, trying to remain calm and failing horribly. “Fine. If that’s how you want to be, I’ll explain it for you. Gleaming Star was able to piece everything together for me, but I just wanted to hear it from you, to give you a chance. But if you’re going to give me that self-righteous attitude--”

“Don’t need your ‘chances’, dad.”

Stormchaser slammed his hoof on the table; she was getting deep, deep under his skin, as usual. “You deliberately went behind my back to ignore my royal edicts! Solarian’s database constructor was installed while you were on vacation, just months after Crown Spectrum was founded, and mere days before you returned from your ‘vacation’. That was you who installed it. And I have a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t his idea.”

Blackburn merely nodded, but otherwise said nothing, just stared forward.

“But, since Solarian still gave you the plans for it, whether it was through carelessness or done intentionally, he still went behind my back to help you, so his punishment still stands. Just in case you were thinking he’d be off the hook now that I know it’s because of your actions.”

“Never had any such thoughts.”

“He was punished for what you did, Blackburn,” Silver Glow interjected, giving the sternest look she could manage, which wasn’t much. “Don’t you feel even a little--”

“Solarian knew risks. A shame he was punished for my actions, but ultimately worthwhile.”

Stormchaser drew in a breath to try and keep calm; again, he was failing. “And around the same time, this… this Crown Spectrum company started shipping tech parts to the city en masse, completely outstripping the connections I took years to make before I became king. That was you again. You went behind my back to travel up north, you went behind my back to install that database constructor, and you went behind my back to undermine my contributions to this city.”

Blackburn eyed her bracelet, then nodded. “Will grant former two. Latter, debatable. Intent was preventing competitors from undermining you. Should be… proud? Hmm… you’re insecure about your contributions.”

Stormchaser was shaking with rage at this point. “Whatever your intentions were, you put yourself in danger to do it!” he shouted, face red, veins bulging. “After what happened to your mother, why would you even consider putting yourself in danger up north? And for what reason? To try and show off? To make me look bad? Why would you do this?!”

“Don’t.” Blackburn shifted her gaze to her father, though she still remained expressionless. “Don’t bring up momma. Your fault--”

“And stop blaming me for that,” Stormchaser seethed. “I’ve told you, I told your grandfather, I’ve told everypony that would listen: that was not my fault. Don’t think I feel horrible about what happened? She was your mother! My wife! I loved her too, Blackburn.”

Blackburn narrowed her eyes at her father. “Yet, thanks to database constructor, was able to do research on Crimson Dust. Were you aware Steelbank Engineering’s largest shareholder is the NPAF? That Crimson Dust’s brother is an NPAF Captain? I took interest in full story even after all these years; you let it go unanswered, content with your lack of blame.”

Stormchaser was given pause for a moment. But he was not about to let Blackburn get to him more than she already had, and his mouth twitched in a slight sneer. “If that’s true, then that’s all the more reason not to endanger yourself like that! I thought you were supposed to be smart, Blackburn! But this… this field trip of yours is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. Maybe if you’d established yourself in the Inner Districts, where it’s safe, I would understand, but--”

“Inner Districts source of most NPAF investors; if exposed, greater risk. Also more expensive, would require more resources; risks imposing on Hope’s Point to make it work. Took best option available, spent months planning it.” She shrugged. “But, what’s done is done, dad.”

Stormchaser slammed his hooves on the table. “Stop brushing this aside, dammit! Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Huh? Do you? As far as I knew, until Gleaming Star found you you’d been missing for over a year! Nopony knew where you were except the few ponies covering for you, and they had no way of helping you if you got in trouble! Ponies I have no authority over--”

“Ponies you couldn’t force to talk, you mean,” Blackburn corrected. “Besides, had Gadget and Crossfire with me, was never in any danger. No need to worry--”

“And those two!” Stormchaser snapped, slamming the table again. “I should remove them from their posts immediately and strip them of their benefits for letting you put yourself in such danger! They’re sworn to protect you, and that should imply preventing you from endangering yourself!”

“Take them away from me, then? Take away only friends?” Blackburn snorted and shook her head. “Just like your actions and incompetence took away momma?”

Stormchaser was given pause again, and he was about to retort, but Silver Glow spoke first.

“Honey, they were just doing their job,” Silver Glow said, rising from her seat and tenderly putting her hoof on Stormchaser’s shoulder. “You know they’re sworn not just to protect her, but to take orders from her--”

“Didn’t ‘follow orders’,” Blackburn interjected, turning to Silver Glow again. “Helped me because I am their friend. Also knew risks, will accept punishment.”

Silver Glow blinked. “But… but they--”

“Will accept punishment if His Majesty feels he needs to deliver it,” Blackburn repeated. “However, insist that punishment belongs to me, and me alone.”

Stormchaser took a deep breath, able to calm himself a little with Silver Glow giving him a chance to breathe. “Your actions, young lady, are absolutely unforgivable. You made me sick with worry. You went behind my back. And, you made me look like a fool doing it.” He pointed right at Blackburn. “You are grounded, young lady.”

Blackburn allowed a small grin to crop up as she eyed her bracelet. “I’m an adult, dad. You can’t ground me.”

He leveled her with a glare. “Just watch me. As of right now, you, and your friends, are confined to the palace indefinitely. You will not be visiting the surface. There will be no visiting your friends in the residential sector, no matter who that may be. And you are definitely not ‘visiting’ Newhaven or anywhere else outside the city.”

Silver Glow cleared her throat and rubbed her husband’s back gently. “Honey, don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”

“She could’ve been killed, Silver!” Stormchaser shouted, not looking at his wife as he did so, not wanting to shout at her. “My little girl put herself in danger and could’ve been killed, and she went behind my back to do it! She needs to learn that there are consequences to her actions.”

“But honey--”

“Don’t need you to defend me, my Queen,” Blackburn interjected, her mouth curling in a snarl. “What’s done is done. Understood risks--”

“I am not defending you, Blackburn,” Silver Glow interrupted right back, fiercely narrowing her eyes; it wasn’t a particularly intimidating look, but it was surprising enough to quiet Blackburn. “I am merely trying to see this from an objective standpoint. Your father’s right, darling, you put yourself in terrible, undue danger. You went behind his back to disobey the rulings he made, and undermined his efforts and authority in doing so, even if that wasn’t your intent.

“But... what your father has neglected to mention,” she continued, giving Stormchaser the same fierce look, “is that what you’ve been doing up north has helped this city, and obviously that was your intention: to help Hope’s Point by any means necessary.”

Blackburn paused, eyebrows raised; she’d never seen this side of Silver Glow before. It came as a total shock.

“Crown Spectrum, from what I’ve heard at least, is now the largest provider of technology for the city, and at prices cheaper than what we used to pay to your father’s old connections. Furthermore, most of that same money we pay Crown Spectrum for their technology is invested right back into our infrastructure. That’s why your father was suspicious, dear, but it turns out it was to our benefit, was it not?” She tugged Stormchaser’s ear gently. “Honey?”

Stormchaser blinked, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to find the words to retort. He couldn’t.

“In addition, several ponies have arrived in the past year or so that used Crown Spectrum as a reference, and many of those ponies have proven of use in important fields.” Silver Glow closed her eyes to recall a few names. “Doctor Heartthrob, a gifted surgeon and specialist in magical diseases; Cookie Dough, a former Dolorcorp representative who helped improve our ability to synthesize the product ourselves; not to mention the rather large amount of engineers.”

Silver Glow then turned back to Blackburn, her face still stern, but no longer angry. “Now, you may have done these things to be of benefit to the city, darling, but you also should have let your family know what was going on and what you were going to do about it. If you had a plan in mind to fix all these problems you saw, your father should have known about your ideas, so that he could help--”

“Help?!” Blackburn blurted, eyebrow raised. “Had to do what I did the way I did because his policies prevented doing it openly!”

“Because those things were dangerous and expensive for anypony to do!” Stormchaser retorted. “The risk you put yourself in… the risk your actions put the entire city in should anything have happened to you--”

“Enough!” Silver Glow shouted, unintentionally flaring her horn and knocking over all the chairs in the room with a burst of magic. “Enough, both of you!” She glared at the two of them with intensity Blackburn had never seen before, even when she was mad earlier. “You two are father and daughter! You are family! You should be supporting and loving one another, but all you do is bicker and argue over everything! If I were able to bear foals, I’d… I’d never--”

She paused; the other two’s looks of anger immediately softened as they were reminded of her condition; she kept it to herself, and the only reason they even knew was because they were her family here in Hope’s Point.

Silver Glow then turned to Stormchaser, her voice soft. “Honey… Stormchaser… before you do anything rash to punish your daughter, think about the things she’s done. Think about the reasons she had for doing them. You’ve heard her piece, so… so just think about it first. If you still feel the need to punish her after that… then do so. But not before you think.”

Stormchaser paused, then snorted, shaking his head in disbelief, clearly not expecting this meeting to go the way it did. He gave a terse look to Blackburn. “Fine. I’ll think about it. You, young lady, are to remain in your chambers until further notice. I’ll let you know what I decide in the morning.”

And with that, he left the room.

Blackburn sat in silence for a long moment, not looking at anypony or anything in particular, just staring off into space as she considered what had happened. She never considered for a moment that her father’s stubbornness could even remotely be diminished, let alone by Silver Glow of all ponies.

After a minute to think, she rose from her seat to leave as well; as far as she was concerned, there was nothing else to say. Silver Glow was tepidly putting back the chairs she’d knocked over.

“Wait,” said Silver Glow, raising a hoof. “Stay a moment, Blackburn… please?”

Blackburn paused, looking at Silver Glow in consideration, partially confused, partially intrigued. She nodded in acceptance; she had the time for now.

Silver Glow rose from her seat and walked over to Blackburn and gave her a weak smile. “I know I’m not all that close with you, darling… and I know we don’t speak much. But… I know you well enough that I can tell when something is off with you.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow; this was legitimately confusing. “Off?”

“Your father might not have noticed anything because he was too upset and angry about what you did, but I noticed.”

“Noticed… what?”

“You were clearly distracted, darling, if you don’t mind my saying.” She pointed at the bracelet on Blackburn’s foreleg. “You were distracted by that, to be specific. That lovely little charm bracelet.”

Blackburn glanced at the bracelet, then back at Silver Glow, not following her stepmother’s train of thought at all; she hadn’t been distracted, had she? “What of it?”

“You were so focused on that little trinket, dear, that you merely deflected your father’s questions most of the time. You hardly bothered to defend yourself, or your friends, over what happened up north, not the way I’m used to seeing. You hardly even argued with your father, Blackburn. You.” She shook her head in disbelief. “It was a pleasant change of pace, to be honest.”

“Didn’t see point in arguing. Had facts to present, nothing more.”

Silver Glow chuckled lightly. “Mhmm, ‘no point in arguing’? Now I know something’s changed, darling. And that bracelet is to blame, I’m sure of it,” she said, gesturing at the charm. “You’ve never been one for jewelry, Blackburn. Ever. I believe the last time I tried to give you a necklace for your birthday, you threw it against a wall. And it was most expensive.”

“Point?”

“The point is, if you’re wearing jewelry at all, let alone something like that… somepony truly special had to have given it to you.”

“That’s quite a leap,” Blackburn said, nervously pawing the bracelet with her hoof; this was not a conversation she wanted to have, least of all with her stepmother.

Silver Glow noticed her stepdaughter’s sudden nervousness and gave Blackburn a coy grin. “I believe that the charm itself resembles your cutie mark, yes? That means that it’s not just some simple bracelet; it’s a personalized gift. I highly doubt either Gadget or Crossfire got that for you, considering they’d know you hate jewelry more than anypony would. So... who are they?”

Blackburn narrowed her eyes. “There is no ‘they’--”

“Blackburn, really, I’m no stranger to the matters of love. I know all the signs, no matter how subtle, and I remind you that have a fine eye for detail.” She lit her horn to create the illusion of an empty box. “Let’s see… you’re unusually distracted? Check.” A check mark appeared in the box; another box appeared below it. “You’re acting abnormally in recognizable situations? Check.” Another box. “You’ve spent an inordinate amount of time away from home and are keeping secrets about what you’ve been doing there? Check.”

Blackburn made to retort, even though she knew anything she said would be an outright lie; Silver Glow was hitting nails on the head with astounding accuracy.

Silver Glow pressed her hoof to Blackburn’s lips to quiet her. “Don’t try to deny it, dear, but don’t worry. You don’t need to tell me anything.” She paused for half a second, then moved in and, without warning, wrapped her hooves around Blackburn in a gentle hug. “Whoever they are, Blackburn… I hope they’re making you happy.”

Blackburn stood still, stunned, silent, and shaky on how to respond to whatever this was that was happening. She felt like she was being accused of something.

“I know I’m not your mother, Blackburn… I never could hope to replace Blue Blitz, and… I never wanted to replace anypony. I know that a moment like this is something that should be shared with her… but...” Silver Glow tenderly rubbed Blackburn’s back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Blackburn…”

Blackburn, still motionless, could only mutter. “Don’t… don’t be sorry. Not your fault…”

“I never wanted to try and replace her, Blackburn. I just… I can’t…”

Silver Glow shook as she started to cry. Blackburn, without a single bit of hesitation, put her hooves around Silver Glow’s back as a sudden rush of sympathy washed over her; she knew about Silver Glow’s condition and came to a realization that all her stepmother wanted was a son or daughter of her own. This was the closest she’d ever be able to come to that feeling.

The two mares remained like that for a long, long moment, before Silver Glow regained her composure and pulled herself away, wiping tears from her eyes.

Silver Glow sniffed and pulled a handkerchief from her dress to wipe her nose. “You should really get going, darling. Your friends are waiting for you. Your father…” She hesitated a moment, knowing what she was about to suggest. “Your father will be busy considering your punishment, likely for the rest of the evening if I have anything to say about it. If you want to leave… to go back north… you need to go. Now.”

Blackburn paused, then nodded in agreement. “Yes. Yes, need to go now.” She made for the door, but, just as she went to leave the room, she turned back to Silver Glow and gave her the tiniest hint of a genuine grin. “You… you would like him, I think…”

Silver Glow smiled back. “Then go to him, Blackburn. And never let him go.”

Chapter Sixteen: Wonderful Waltz

Lockwood woke up in the morning feeling both refreshed from a good night’s sleep and depressed by thoughts of loneliness. Until Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire had left, he’d never realized just how much he’d come to rely on them for companionship this past year. Most of the other ponies he knew were just business associates, not really friends, and the friends he did have were busy with so many things that he knew it would be difficult to spend time with them.

Lockwood set about his usual morning routine, albeit slower than usual, not in any particular hurry to do anything with the rest of his day. He brushed his teeth. He combed his mane. He picked out a raincoat and shirt to wear. He made breakfast, a plate of sliced tomatoes. Then he took his food, sat on the couch, turned on the television, and tuned in to the news.

It was a slow news day today, actually, which was surprisingly atypical of the city. No fires. No riots. No traffic jams. Not even a sports game. For the briefest moment, Lockwood wondered if the city knew how he felt and changed itself to reflect his mood, as impossible as that sounded.

While the news, or lack thereof, played in the background, Lockwood pulled out a datapad that Gadget had given him for use in his work, and while he wasn’t as proficient with it as she was, he’d still learned enough from her to make some headway into researching some of the new tenants.

The ponies here at Southeast Point were a varied bunch, but roughly half of them were part of Virtuoso’s empire, as that was Virtuoso’s intent when he purchased the building. The other half came from all walks of life, but over the past year of looking into them, he’d determined that none of them would be of any help to Blackburn. A few, though, were the sort that might want to go to Hope’s Point someday, so he kept tabs on them.

Satisfied that the newest tenants - a sports photographer, a garbagepony, and a construction worker and his wife - were on the up-and-up, Lockwood then set about looking into the things Blackburn had asked of him, namely keeping Crown Spectrum’s interests managed. Nothing much needed to be done yet, as Blackburn had been thorough before she left, so he just made sure that there wasn’t anything odd in their files. All clear, though.

Lockwood was done with all the work he could do from here. He looked at the clock on the wall; still morning. With a groan, he leaned against the couch. This was going to be the first long, long day of what was looking to be a long, long month.

Suddenly, there came a knock on the door. A familiar knock. An impossibly familiar knock, at that. Lockwood paused in his seat for a moment, unsure if he’d just misheard it, or if his ears were playing tricks on him, or if the sound had come from the television, or maybe if it had come from a different door elsewhere in the hall and was just particularly loud.

But then the knock came again, louder this time.

Lockwood, confused, rose from his seat and approached the door, cautious as he could manage. Beside the door was his umbrella; he took it in his mouth, intending to defend himself; he knew the knock was supposed to mean it was safe, but there was no way the knock belonged to who it was supposed to belong to.

Then, in one swift motion, ready to strike whoever was on the other side, he opened the door. But he froze right up when he saw what was on the other side, dropping his umbrella in the process. He was absolutely certain now that he’d somehow overslept and was just having a very vivid dream. A good one, too.

That’s when Blackburn swept into the room and hugged him tight with both her hooves and wings around him.

Lockwood, flummoxed as could be, returned the hug after a long moment of figuring out what was going on. This dream certainly felt as real as could be, disturbingly so. The warmth of Blackburn’s body pressed against him, the tightness of her hug, the sweet scent of her mane and coat; it all felt extraordinarily real. Even Gadget and Crossfire, who remained in the hall, watching and waiting with small smiles on their faces, seemed genuinely real.

“Okay…” Lockwood murmured, his eyes darting between the two out in the hall. “Somepony better start talking. Either I’m dreaming - and that’s my theory so far - or I’ve been in a coma for a month and just woke up. What’s going on here? Is this real?”

Blackburn pulled back from the hug to give him a warm, loving kiss. Lockwood was starting to doubt his dream theory now; her lips tasted too real. “I’m here, Lockwood. We’re all really here. Not a dream.”

“That’s exactly what a dream would say,” he replied, skeptical.

Blackburn slapped him gently on the side of the head. The pain felt real, too. Which meant it was; why would his dream hurt him, after all?

“You’re really here, then… but…” Lockwood shook his head, confused. “But it’s only been a day. I thought you were going to be gone for a month?”

“Change of plans, needed to return immediately.”

Lockwood furrowed his brow; this was unlike her. “Nothing’s wrong, is there?”

Blackburn shook her head. “Nothing worth discussing. Just a change of plans. Had to leave, or…” She returned to hugging him again, tighter than before.

Lockwood returned the hug in earnest. She was obviously lying; something was seriously wrong, and while he didn’t know what it was, if it made her feel bad he felt it was his responsibility to take that pain away. Whatever it was, if Blackburn had so drastically changed her plans for an entire month on a whim, it had to have been particularly troublesome. She’d tell him what it was when she was ready, so it wasn’t necessary to ask about it now. All that mattered was that she was here; the how and why weren’t important.

“Are you guys hungry?” he asked with a grin. “I already ate breakfast, but I can whip something up for you if you want.”

“That would be nice,” Blackburn said, nuzzling herself against his neck. “Haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

This concerned Lockwood, and just made him more aware that whatever had upset Blackburn had really upset her. There was no way Crossfire would’ve let her go without food unless it was an emergency.

“Well, come on in,” he said, waving for Gadget and Crossfire to join them inside. “Take a seat, guys, I’ll get something going.”

“If’n y’all don’t mind, I’ll take care o’ breakfast,” Crossfire said with a nod as he walked past Lockwood. “Y’all jus’ take care o' her.”

“No no, go ahead,” Lockwood said with a smile. He turned to Gadget. “Um… I got started on a few things with that datapad--”

Gadget brushed off his statement with her hoof. “Don’t worry about that right now, Lockwood. Breakfast first, then we talk.”

Lockwood closed and locked the door behind them, then took Blackburn over to the sofa to take a seat. Crossfire took a few minutes to slice up some tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers, sprinkle some spice on them, and serve them up to Blackburn first, then to Gadget, then to himself. Nopony spoke as they ate.

When the others were done eating, Lockwood cleared his throat. “So… uh… my plans for the afternoon were to head out and visit a few contacts, if you guys want to join me?”

Blackburn shook her head. “Just need some sleep. Did not sleep well on flight back.” She leaned against him on the couch, already starting to drift off. “Stay with me. Please.”

Lockwood didn’t even need to think about agreeing; the bags under her eyes were proof that she needed some rest. “Sure thing, BB. Here, let’s get you into bed, okay?”

Blackburn nodded, and rose with him off the couch to head into the bedroom, where he helped her get into bed with him. She wrapped her hooves around him and closed her eyes, breathing softly.

Gadget, who walked to the doorway, cleared her throat quietly to get his attention as she walked up to the side of the bed. “You gonna be okay like that for a while?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Lockwood replied running a hoof through Blackburn’s mane to reassure her until she finally fell asleep. “What about you two? Did you guys need some sleep?”

Gadget shook her head. “I slept on the ride from Hope’s Point to Newhaven, and Crossfire slept on the ride from Newhaven to here. How the big lug can sleep through all that turbulence, I’ll never know, but there it is.” She sighed. “Crossfire’s gonna stay here and keep watch to make sure nopony gives you guys any trouble. I’m gonna head out and finish getting our apartment set back up. She was insistent we get here as soon as possible, so we just dropped off our stuff and that was it.”

Lockwood began to preen some of Blackburn's feathers which had, in her stressed-out state of mind, gotten ruffled. “Whatever happened down south must’ve been pretty bad to shake her up like this.”

“I’ll leave it to her to tell you what it was,” Gadget said. She headed back out of the room. “Thanks for being there for her, flyboy.”

“I always will be, Gadget,” Lockwood replied with a nod. “You can count on it.”

Five Months Later

The Romantique District was home to one of the finest apartment complexes in New Pandemonium, The Tour de L’amour, which was the second-tallest building in the city after Pandora Tower. Like The Torre Gloriosa, it was primarily made of white concrete, but was stabilized with silver-plated durasteel instead of gold-plated, and decorated with blue and gold accents and awnings. It had a wide base and thinner floors as it got closer and closer to the top, which tapered off into a point. Also like The Torre Gloriosa, its concrete had been textured, here to look like marble.

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire arrived by chariot taxi, dressed not in their typical high-class clothing, but in attire more fit for a night of dancing. Blackburn and Gadget each wore a long ballroom dress; the former’s dress was black with blue and white accents, giving it the look of a clear night sky, while the latter’s was a deep purple with a golden floral pattern. Crossfire wore a ruffled white tuxedo shirt with a high collar underneath a black vest.

Lockwood wasn’t with them; in fact he’d already arrived at the venue before them, for a number of reasons. First, he always arrived first to get-togethers and events that both he and Blackburn-as-Thunderbolt were invited to, because they had never been invited together; second, since nopony was supposed to know they were a couple - hence why they were never invited together - they knew that arriving together might raise suspicion; and third, this event was less about business and more about social interaction, and Blackburn had a reputation to maintain in her Thunderbolt persona as the business-before-pleasure sort.

The trio showed their lavish invitations to the doorpony, a pegasus mare dressed in a grisp gray-and-gold uniform, who smiled and nodded in greeting. She then showed them inside before gesturing off to the right, towards a large set of double doors. Two more doorponies, unicorns both, stood by these doors and, when the trio approached, they bowed and opened the doors in one motion, presenting the room beyond.

This was The Tour de L’amour’s distinguished Salle Arc-en-ciel, the most famous, most gorgeous, and most expensive ballroom in the entire city. Tonight, it served as the venue for a charity ball held by none other than Mint and Matcha Tea who, thanks to some generous contributions from Crown Spectrum, could afford to rent out the ballroom for the night, where they could attract the highest class of attendees.

The ceiling was high and painted with old Utopian iconography: a starry sky devoid of clouds, Equestria’s twin moons overhead. The image was painted with such careful skill and precision that the stars and moons even appeared to be moving. A classical band of ponies stood on a stage at the end of the room and played a lovely waltz for the attendees; Blackburn was certain she saw Virtuoso up there conducting them. A large space in the center of the room had been dedicated for ponies to dance, and even now it was quite crowded with pairs of ponies moving to the music.

The crowd of ponies, dancing or no, were dressed in classy ballroom attire of the most luxurious quality bits could buy; these were some of the richest ponies in the city, and once Mint and Matcha got their hooves on them, they were sure to make some plentiful donations. Even if not all of their intentions were altruistic, it didn’t matter much, because the money that would come in due to this event would be used for a good cause with the Tea sisters at the helm.

Blackburn spotted Lockwood across the room, dressed in an outfit nearly identical to Crossfire’s, but he’d chosen to wear a bowtie where Crossfire had not and he didn't fill it out quite like Crossfire did. Blackburn did not approach him, and even averted her gaze from him for now, because she knew it would be hard not to if she didn’t make the effort while she had the chance. Lockwood was in the midst of a conversation with a young unicorn mare in a pretty white gown.

Instead, Blackburn took up a spot near the edge of the room, where the Tea sisters, dressed in identical ruby-red gowns, were conversing with some other guests by the catering table, which was laden with Romantique hors d'oeuvres and champagne.

Gadget, meanwhile, wandered off on her own to seek out a dance partner. She had been anticipating this evening for a week now in hopes of, in her words, “finding a rich sugar daddy”. How much of that was Gadget’s typical jocularity or not even Blackburn couldn’t tell, but she seemed like she was intending to enjoy the evening one way or another.

Crossfire, on the other hoof, went straight to the catering table to sample the menu. This was no surprise to anypony.

Mint and Matcha noticed Blackburn nearby, so they finished up their conversation with another guest and approached her together. “Thunderbolt, so glad you could make it!” Mint said, a wide, pleasant smile on her face. “Isn’t this room just gorgeous?”

“It is,” Blackburn said with a nod and a polite smile as she looked around at the decorations. “I’m glad you were able to get it on such short notice. The donations you make tonight, no matter how much or how little, are going to a great cause. I hope everything goes well.”

“I’m sure it will, thanks to having this venue. We couldn’t have gotten the coveted Salle Arc-en-ciel without your contributions, Thunderbolt,” said Matcha, raising her glass in appreciation. “You and Crown Spectrum have really made a difference in this city after such a short time. Those Utopian customs really must’ve rubbed off on you after all.”

“Yes, I suppose they did. I’m just happy to be of help.” Blackburn turned her attention to the dance floor, where the ponies dancing had just cleared off to take a breather before the next waltz started. “It sure looks like everypony’s enjoying themselves out there.”

“Oh yes yes, of course they are,” Mint chuckled, hoof over her mouth. “If there’s one thing that really gets a crowd of these fancy Romantique ponies excited, it’s a good old-fashioned ball. As soon as we put out the event fliers, our office was flooded with invitation requests.”

“Literally,” Matcha added with a wide grin, sipping from her glass. “We opened the door to the office and out they tumbled, just wave after wave of the things. This whole event went a lot better than we were expecting, and we were expecting a packed house as-is.”

“Now then, if you’ll excuse us,” Mint said, setting her and Matcha’s glasses down on the tray of a passing watier, “we have to go seek out some handsome partners for the next waltz. Speaking of which, there certainly are some truly gorgeous stallions out there this evening, aren’t there Thunderbolt?”

Blackburn’s eyes drifted over to Lockwood briefly; the Tea sisters didn’t notice. “Yes, there certainly are.”

“Are you going to find a partner for the night, dear?” Matcha asked with a coy grin. “I’m sure there are plenty of stallions in that crowd that would kill for the chance to dance with a mare like you. The one-and-only Thunderbolt!”

Blackburn shook her head, embarrassed. “I’m really not that much of a dancer, to tell the truth. I’ll probably just watch and try out all the food you guys got catered.”

This wasn’t a lie. Blackburn had tried to learn some very basic dance steps when she was younger, at her father’s insistence, so as to impress the higher class of ponies Stormchaser frequently mingled with. She’d never taken to it in the least bit; “four left hooves” is what her instructors said she had. Gadget was a pretty decent dancer, though, and even Crossfire had a bit of a knack for it, but not Blackburn. It was one of the only things she knew she was terrible at, next to cooking, as well as having zero artistic or musical talent.

“Oh, well that’s a shame,” Mint continued. She smiled and tilted her head off towards the crowded dance floor. “Well, if you change your mind, Thunderbolt, I’m sure somepony will be more than happy to have you for a partner. Have fun either way, though!”

“Thanks. You too.”

The Tea sisters waved farewell and melted into the crowd, leaving Blackburn alone near the catering table, where she started on her first glass of champagne for the evening. As the next waltz started up, she noticed Lockwood make his way onto the dance floor with a pretty young mare in a frilly green dress. She knew this was going to happen eventually, even expected it, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

Lockwood had always been a social butterfly, she knew that, and she also knew that it was thanks to his friendly demeanor and natural charm that she’d been able to succeed as well as she had over the years she’d known him. So, she didn’t object to the mares that wanted to chat him up, because for all she knew, one of them could be connected to some company, bureau, or government office that would be of help to her goals here in the city. But that still didn’t mean she had to like it.

As the music of another waltz swept through the chamber, Blackburn took the time to scan the crowd for any familiar faces, but she knew that was ultimately unlikely. There were the Tea sisters, of course, because their position in the city gave them no reason to leave; Ivory Charm was out in the crowd as well, dancing with whatever stallion - or mare - approached her and winking at Virtuoso all the while to make him jealous. But that was it. So many of her contacts had taken the opportunity to move to either Hope’s Point or Utopia, and most of the ones she still had in the city weren’t the sort to come to an event like this.

As soon as one waltz ended, another waltz seemed to begin with hardly a break in between. At first, a few handsome stallions had approached Blackburn to ask her to dance, but she declined every time, politely as she could manage while jealously watching Lockwood. Soon, nopony was even coming over to talk to her.

After about an hour of waltz after waltz, Blackburn had been the one and only pony in the entire venue, apart from the waiters and musicians, of course, that hadn’t danced even once; even Crossfire, to Blackburn’s surprise, had been roped into a dance, which he had politely accepted and performed before returning to the catering table. It was just the one, but it was still more than Blackburn had done.

As yet another waltz ended, and Lockwood finished dancing with an older mare in a puffy blue gown, Blackburn had had enough of watching. She’d been enthralled with his dancing all evening; he hadn’t been lying about his passion for it. But seeing all these other mares get to enjoy his company and participate in such a deep, personal experience with him, even if it was just so he could urge them to consider a donation, was infuriating. She was going to put a stop to it.

When the music died down so that the dancers could clear the floor and relax for a moment, Blackburn made a beeline through the crowd towards Lockwood, shifting through pony after pony like dodging bullets. She was a mare with a mission. When she finally made her way to the other side of the room, Lockwood was in the midst of a conversation with an attractive mare in a sparkly purple gown, but neither of them noticed Blackburn’s approach.

The musicians indicated the coming start of another waltz so that dancers could grab their partners and make their way onto the floor, just as Blackburn reached Lockwood and his prospective new dance partner. The other mare opened her mouth and gestured towards the dance floor, clearly about to ask him to dance. Blackburn beat her to the punch, stepping right beside the mare and practically shoving her aside to put herself directly in front of Lockwood, nopony else.

“Dance with me,” Blackburn said, eyes narrowed in a fierce gaze. It wasn’t a question or a suggestion.

The other mare scoffed, smoothing her dress. “Excusez-moi--” she started.

Blackburn turned her head just enough to level the other mare with an intense glare she usually reserved for ponies that had earned her wrath, which this mare certainly had. “Find somepony else to dance with. Go on.”

The other mare turned to Lockwood, clearly expecting him to come to her defense, but Lockwood merely adjusted his bowtie and cleared his throat, clearly more transfixed on Blackburn. “Miss Thunderbolt, this is highly unorthodox--”

Blackburn took a step forward so they were nose-to-nose. “Dance with me.” Again, not a request.

Lockwood’s mouth curled in a tiny grin for half a second. “Well, since you’re so insistent… shall we?” he said, gesturing cordially towards the dance floor. He briefly turned to the other mare. “Next time, Miss Diamond.”

Blackburn shot the other mare - Miss Diamond - another glare, then allowed Lockwood to lead her out onto the dance floor just as the next waltz was starting. Lockwood took the lead, of course - it was a waltz, after all, and he was definitely the more experienced dancer between the two - and it seemed to be going well… for all of a few seconds.

Blackburn knew the steps from watching the other dancers perform all evening, and assumed that she could perform the maneuvers just as well as she could when she’d been learning to fly. But, despite how graceful she was in flight, she was not nearly so graceful on her hooves, not where dancing was concerned. She tripped, nearly bringing Lockwood down with her, but he managed to hold them steady. “Four left hooves” indeed.

Blackburn heard a scoff from the watching crowd: Miss Diamond hadn’t let the trip escape her notice. Blackburn shot Miss Diamond another terse look before rising back up to take Lockwood’s hooves and make another attempt.

This one went better than the last time… but only for a moment. As the tempo of the waltz picked up and Lockwood led, as he was supposed to, Blackburn found she just couldn’t keep up no matter how hard she tried. Again, she tripped, and again, Lockwood struggled to keep the two of them from falling over.

There was a giggle from the watching crowd, this time a pair of mares that had danced with Lockwood earlier, and who had done so much more gracefully. Blackburn scowled at the two, but rose up and tried again. And, again, she tripped, and this time brought Lockwood with her. Another set of giggles and laughs came from the crowd.

Blackburn rose back up and scowled at the mares laughing at her. Then, the waltz came to a close, and Blackburn knew the dance was over, that she had failed in her attempt to be close with him in this event. Her face red with anger and embarrassment, she made to leave the dance floor in a huff.

Lockwood stopped her from doing so by spreading his left wing out in front of her path. She almost ignored him and just kept going, but in the brief moment that she gave him her attention, he gestured with his right wing, just once, into the air. Their secret signal for “up”. Blackburn wasn’t sure what he meant at first, but then the musicians indicated another waltz was beginning, so she had no time to consider it as he swept her back onto the dance floor and took up a position with her, just as the other dancers were doing with their partners. She noticed, however, that their hooves were reversed so that she was leading.

When the music started, Lockwood spread his wings and tilted his head up briefly. Blackburn realized what he was doing now. So she took the lead, spreading her own wings and taking him with her up into the air. Here, with her wings in control, she was as graceful as a feather in the wind. She swept Lockwood with her in a dance unlike anything being performed down on the floor below. An airshow in a ballroom.

Those in the crowd not dancing watched enthusiastically as Blackburn took Lockwood through the motions: spinning in a gentle roll; looping slowly, wings outspread; swift descents followed by steep ascents; twisting, tumbling, and twirling to and fro. In the air, Blackburn was at home, in her element, and even though her movements proved difficult for Lockwood to follow, he managed to do so, for her.

When the waltz ended, and the pair descended, Blackburn looked out into the crowd at the mares that had laughed earlier. They weren’t laughing now; in fact they looked dumbfounded, as did several others in the crowd. There was a murmur of approval from those who hadn’t been dancing, even those who had, and a few ponies even clapped.

Blackburn smirked, and turned back to Lockwood to thank him for the dance. She was surprised when he gestured to her again with his wings; first, he spread them both and tucked them forward in a sort of prayer-like gesture, bowing on the floor as he did so. He then offered his right wing out towards her while tucking his left over his heart.

He rose as soon as his gesture was done. To a pegasus who knew wing language, he’d just said he was having chest pains and needed to sit down. Blackburn wasn’t completely sure what he’d said, though. Despite clearly being the special code they’d developed, he’d put the gestures in such an order that she was having trouble putting it together. But then, after a moment to consider it, she had a guess:

My heart belongs to you.

At least, that’s what she figured he meant.

Blackburn fought every urge in her body to react to what he’d said right now, and it was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. Her heart was telling her to grab him right now and kiss him like she’d never kissed him before; her head was telling her to say something back; the rest of her was screaming at her to tear off his tuxedo and do him right there in front of all these ponies.

But she managed to fight those thoughts. Barely. Barely. Instead, she merely left the dance floor in a flustered huff, face as red as a ripened tomato, just as a new wave of dancers was coming along to take their positions for the next waltz. Blackburn sntached Gadget away from a stallion she’d just walked onto the floor with; Gadget went to protest at first, but she stopped when she noticed the expression on Blackburn’s face. Blackburn then swept by the catering table to grab Crossfire, who saw her coming and grabbed a mouthful of snacks before she could pull him away.

The trio then left without another word.

*****

Lockwood was not surprised at all to find Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire waiting for him in his apartment when he arrived an hour or so later. He’d have been surprised if they weren’t here, actually. They hadn’t changed out of their fancy attire, though Crossfire had loosed his tuxedo and Blackburn and Gadget had clearly had theirs tailored to be comfortable. So, Lockwood wasted no time in loosening his bow tie and removing some of his uncomfortable clothes so that he could be more relaxed, as they were.

“That was some party, huh?” Lockwood asked, a smile on his face. “Did you guys enjoy yourselves?”

Blackburn remained quiet.

Gadget did not. “Golly, I must’ve danced with twenty or so stallions tonight. A veritable smorgasbord of rich, handsome, eligible bachelors to feast my eyes on, get my hooves on… but nothing else.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “As the Romantique say, c’est la vie.”

Crossfire let out a small belch, then covered his mouth and pounded his chest. “‘Scuse me. Ahem. Well, them snacks they had were mighty fine, I tell ya what.”

“Didn’t I see you dancing with a mare once out there?” Gadget asked, a coy grin on her face. “Did somepony draw you away from food?”

Crossfire shrugged. “I mean, I guess? She said I was the best lookin’ guy there, but I don’t know ‘bout none o’ that. She asked so polite-like ‘n’ all, I couldn’t be rude ‘n’ say ‘no’, right?”

Gadget blinked. “So… that’s it? You danced with her once, then right back to the table?”

“Yeah? Why? She jus’ asked me fer one dance--”

Gadget groaned. “You… you are such an idiot.”

“Now what’s that s’posed ta mean?”

Suddenly, Blackburn stood from her seat on the couch to approach Lockwood. “Your message to me. Repeat it… please.”

Lockwood paused a moment, then smiled and nodded. First, he spread both wings and tucked them forward in a sort of prayer-like gesture, bowing on the floor as he did so. He then offered his right wing out towards her while tucking his left over his heart. He remained in that position while Blackburn watched, until he was satisfied she had gotten his message.

Blackburn pondered it, just as she had before, but now, without distractions, with time to focus, she could get a good feel for what he was saying. It was exactly as she’d read it before:

My heart belongs to you.

Blackburn, red in the face, nodded appreciatively, and gestured for him to stand up. As he did, she pulled him forward and intertwined her wings with his, a deeply intimate gesture among pegasi. Lockwood knew what it meant, and turned as red as she was. “Blackburn…”

She shook her head and put her hoof to his lips. “Shhh. Have something to say.” She took a breath. “I came back because… if I didn’t, might never see you again. Unbearable thought.” She hung her head, pressing it against the underside of his chin. “Life without you… can’t imagine now. So… so I…”

She pulled back to look Lockwood in the eyes. “I love you. You are… we are of a kindred soul. You have given me everything… and you have asked for nothing in return. Even when you gave me your love, you did not ask that I return your feelings… and that is why I do. You and I… we share a bond unlike anypony else…”

She turned to Gadget and Crossfire. “Gadget… Crossfire. My friends. You have stood beside me since we were young. We have bonded together as family.”

Gadget nodded and smiled. “We have, Princess. Haven’t we?”

Crossfire smirked. “Sure as shootin’.”

“There is nopony else I would trust with my life, as I do with the two of you. I love you both dearly. And… I want to be sure that you approve of--”

“Of course we do, Blackburn,” Gadget said. “There’s nothing that could convince me you’re not doing the right thing.”

Crossfire nodded. “Y’all got our approval. We’re there by yer side, no matter what.”

Lockwood looked between the two of them, then back to Blackburn. “What are you three talking about?”

Blackburn took a deep breath, then knelt down in front of Lockwood, wings still intertwined with his. “I want to… I want to ask… Lockwood, will… will you… marry me?”

Now, Lockwood was stunned, left blinking, mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words to react. It took him a long moment before he was able to manage: “Yes. I will.”

Blackburn rose up in an instant and kissed him deeply, hooves on the sides of his face. He didn’t fight it, not even out of a brief moment of surprise.

Gadget and Crossfire glanced at one another, then left the room without a word.

Chapter Seventeen: Emergency Exodus

Two Months Later

Today was an otherwise typical morning in Blackburn’s apartment. She and Gadget sat at their dining table enjoying a pleasant homemade breakfast of pancakes and maple syrup courtesy of Crossfire, who joined them after cleaning up the kitchen. While they ate, they watched television, as usual; the morning edition of the news would be starting shortly, and Blackburn always made it a point to keep up-to-date on the city’s news. She knew that until she felt the time was right to return to Hope’s Point and make amends with her father, New Pandemonium would be her home.

Crossfire took his seat at precisely seven o’clock, just in time for the news. An upbeat jingle played over a background displaying many sweeping vistas of New Pandemonium City - notably and impossibly smogless - as shiny gold text scrolled across the center of the screen: “Channel One Eyewitness News in the Morning”. The text then encircled a silver emblem that bore a glittering “1” in the center. A voice with a clear, deep tone spoke over the program’s introduction:

“You are watching Channel One Eyewitness News in the Morning. With Morning Light--”

The text and emblem swept off the screen to reveal an orange unicorn mare with a long red-and-yellow mane dressed in a neatly-pressed blue dress suit, a bright, professional smile on her face. Her name appeared at the bottom of the screen in the same shiny gold font as the earlier text had been.

“-and White Lily in the studio.”

A white earth pony mare with a wavy pink mane replaced Morning Light. Her dress suit was green and frilly, and she bore a confident grin. She was thinner and prettier than Morning Light by a fair margin, and also much younger.

“Featuring Meteorologist, Cloudy Day, with the weather--”

White Lily was replaced by a gray pegasus stallion with a short, dark blue mane. His bright yellow suit was clearly too large for him and clashed horribly with his coat and mane colors, and he wore an oversized bowtie. He gave the camera a little wave and smile, showing off his big front teeth.

“Stalwart, with sports--”

Next was a bulky sky-blue earth pony with a brown mane kept in a short crewcut. His dark blue sports coat was incredibly tight against his broad physique. He gave the camera an assured nod, otherwise wearing a neutral expression.

“And Skyline with the traffic--”

Another pegasus stallion, this one sea-green with a white-green mane tied in a long ponytail. He wore a red, decorated flight jacket and goggles, and gave the camera a brisk salute identical to those used by the NPAF.

“This... is Channel One Eyewitness News in the Morning.”

The jingle died down, and the images on the screen shifted to show the first two ponies, Morning Light and White Lily, sitting behind a newsdesk and shuffling papers in front of them, pleasant smiles on their faces as the cameras focused on them.

“Good morning everypony,” said Morning Light, light gleaming off her smile. “Our top story of the day has already been making the rounds on our sister station, Channel Two, and we’re here to present to you live with new information exclusive to Channel One.”

The camera angle changed, and Morning Light was now on the left side of the screen, a serious look on her face, while a still image appeared on the right. The image was that of the NPAF logo: a winged, plunging sword. “NPAF representatives have confirmed that last night’s attack on Hope’s Point was successful--”

Blackburn dropped her fork; it clattered to the ground like a rock. “What did she say?” She turned to Gadget in a panic. “Turn it up!” Gadget was already doing that before Blackburn had even asked.

“--City of Traitors, for those in our audience who may be unaware, was founded decades ago by the so-called ‘King’ Flashfire, a former NPAF Commander and deserter, along with a number of other ponies who are now enemies of the state, including other NPAF soldiers, scientists, and city personnel. The city has stood as a mockery of New Pandemonium’s dominance ever since.”

The camera shifted to White Lily, who also bore a serious expression. “While the Traitor King Flashfire was confirmed dead years ago by brave NPAF agents who entered the city to bring us information on these traitorous ponies, his son, Stormchaser, took up the mantle and has continued to spit in the face of New Pandemonium, taunting the NPAF with its supposedly impenetrable shield.

“Last night at around eleven-fifteen, the NPAF launched another surprise attack against the City of Traitors with new weaponry, under the brave leadership of Captain Air Raid. NPAF reports indicate that the field test of their newest weapon has met with rousing success. The once-impenetrable shield was brought down for the first time since it went up, and though it only stayed down for five minutes, that was enough time for NPAF forces to strike a serious blow to Hope’s Point.”

Blackburn paled. “No… no no no…”

Gadget shook her head in disbelief. “How the hell could they bring down the shield? Between Solarian and Spark Plug, that thing withstood everything thrown at it for decades! Decades! Something’s fishy here…”

Morning Light took over again. “NPAF readings of the damage inflicted and number of casualties at this point are only estimates, but initial reports are suggesting hundreds of thousands of bits in damage to the Hope’s Point’s infrastructure, though the extent of the damage done is speculative, and a death toll in the hundreds based on average power of NPAF weaponry.”

“Aw hell…” Crossfire muttered, hoof over his heart, a scowl on his face. He pounded his hoof on the table. “Damn them! They’re talkin’ ‘bout murderin’ our ponies like it’s some kind o’ high score! They’re celebratin’ it!”

“However, the best news is yet to come,” Morning Light continued as the camera shifted again. Beside her in a previously empty seat was a pegasus stallion with a red coat and gold mane, wearing a decorated black flight uniform. “With me now is Commander Air Raid, promoted just this morning after last night’s successful attack.” She nodded politely at the pegasus. “Commander, it’s wonderful to have you here this morning.”

“A pleasure to be here, Morning,” the pegasus said, cheerful and polite despite everything.

“An’ lookit this jackass,” Crossfire snarled. “Smilin’ there like he didn’t just kill hundred o’ ponies.”

“Congratulations on the promotion by the way, Commander,” said Morning Light.“I’m sure your family is very proud.”

The pegasus nodded. “Oh, absolutely. And thank you, my family and I appreciate the sentiment.”

“So, Commander, I hear that you have new information for us in regards to the attack, exclusively here first on Channel One?”

“That’s correct, Morning. I received a new report on the damages inflicted to the City of Traitors while on my way here for this interview, and I thought I’d share it here first. Channel One and the NPAF have always had a good relationship, after all.”

“We certainly appreciate the support, Commander, thank you. So please, tell us about this report.”

“As you know, the NPAF employs a number of agents with the express goal of infiltrating the City of Traitors in attempts to undermine their efforts to combat the NPAF, to gather information on their plans, and to deliver news to us that may be of interest. While I regret that some of the agents that brought me this report did not make it out of Hope’s Point safely, their memory will live on in the message they’ve brought me: fortune has favored the NPAF at last.”

“Fortune, Commander?”

“Yes indeed. According to the information I have received from our agents, the Traitor King Stormchaser was among the casualties in the attack--”

Blackburn sharply rose from her seat, knocking her chair over and moving the table in the process. “No!”

“--as was his Utopian Queen, Silver Glow, and a number of other critical personnel. We’re still sorting through which other individuals were killed in the attack and any had crucial or influential connections with the city--”

Blackburn stood in stunned silence, her face white, finding it hard to breathe properly. She couldn’t even manage to think of any words to say or what emotion she should be feeling. Rage? Sorrow?

Gadget and Crossfire couldn’t think of anything to say to her, or if they even should anything, or even if they should approach her, comfort her, shake her out of her sudden state of shock. What was there to say?

Morning Light leaned forward in her seat. “With such a substantial blow dealt to the City of Traitors, Commander, do you think that your next attack will be more successful? Is this the end of Hope’s Point at last?”

Air Raid chuckled. “I certainly think so, yes. We have a means to disrupt their shield technology now, and while it might take another year before we can produce them for all of our ships, or to have them last longer than a single use, rest assured that the NPAF will claim their victory over the subversives soon enough.”

“And what of the other leadership of Hope’s Point?” asked White Lily. “Our sources indicate that the Traitor King Stormchaser was not the only leader there.”

“We have reason to believe that at least one member of their city’s so-called ‘council’ was also killed in the attack, though we don’t know how many seats exist on this council. However, without the Traitor King and Queen, the City of Traitors has no central leadership as of this moment.”

“Did the city not have somepony in place to take over for Traitor King Stormchaser in such a situation?”

Air Raid nodded. “His daughter, Blackburn, is next in line for the ‘throne’. However, my information suggests that she has either gone missing during the attack, or was killed. Until I have confirmation on it either way I can’t make any further decisions, but we are operating under the assumption at present that she was with the Traitor King and Queen when they died.”

White Lily chuckled. “We can only hope.”

Morning Light nodded politely. “Thank you, Commander, we appreciate your time, but we need to go to commercial.” She turned to face the camera, her smile bright again. “Stay tuned, fillies and gentlecolts, for more--”

Gadget turned the television off, a fierce snarl on her face. “Those bastards! Those heartless bastards!” She tossed the television’s remote across the room; it shattered into a few dozen pieces against the wall. She turned to Blackburn, who was in a sort of fugue state. “Blackburn? What’re we gonna do?”

Blackburn didn’t respond, merely slumped onto the couch in a wordless stupor.

“Blackburn?” Crossfire said, stepping forward, hoof outstretched as if to comfort her. “I know it’s bad, but what’s the plan? We need ta do somethin’, don’t we?”

Again, Blackburn didn’t respond, just started breathing heavily, clearly having trouble doing so.

A familiar knock came at the door. Blackburn gave no indication of noticing it; Crossfire did, though, and answered the door swiftly, letting a very exhausted Lockwood into the room. Lockwood carried today’s newspaper with him.

“Did you guys see--” he breathed, taking no time to catch his breath. Then, he noticed the television remote’s remains on the floor, the despondent looks on Crossfire and Gadget’s faces, and more importantly the horrified, heartbroken expression on Blackburn’s face.

He immediately went over to Blackburn and embraced her in a tight hug, cradling her against him. “I’m so sorry, Blackburn. I came as soon as I heard.”

Blackburn finally reacted, hanging her head in dismal exhaustion. “It’s my fault… it’s all my fault, Lockwood...”

“No, it’s not--”

“It is. When we went south… I was going to present plans to our Chief Engineer. Improvements to the shield system. Backup generators.” She gestured glumly towards the television, even though it was off. “Might’ve prevented this…”

“You don’t know that, Blackburn,” Lockwood said, pulling her close. “You don’t know what that their weapon could do. You don’t know if your improvements would’ve prevented this. Don’t blame yourself. This is the NPAF’s fault, not yours.”

“Princess, I don’t mean to rush things here,” Gadget interjected, a sad-but-determined look on her face, “but we need a plan on getting out of this shithole city, and we need it now. We can’t stay here. Hope’s Point needs you more than ever.”

Blackburn took a long moment to collect herself, but then took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes... they do. Need to leave immediately.” She turned to Crossfire first. “Pack our things, essentials only. You have ten minutes. Gadget will assist when she finishes other assignment I have for her.”

Crossfire saluted briskly. “Roger that.” He headed off into the bedroom to start packing immediately.

Blackburn turned to Gadget next. “Gadget, are any Hope’s Point ships in New Pandemonium docks?”

Gadget raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take a look, sure, but what’s your thought process here, Princess? It’ll be easier to take a flight to Newhaven like we usually do.”

“Easier, maybe; faster, no. Also any of our ships here may be in danger of discovery. Priority is protecting citizens of Hope’s Point. Will encourage them to leave before caught, with us on board.”

Gadget nodded, took out her datapad, and started searching immediately and with great fervor. It took less than a minute for her to get results. “Just one, Princess: the Nighthawk, Captain Snowflake’s small-scale cargo vessel. They arrived yesterday afternoon, a few hours before the attack, apparently, to pick up a shipment of tech parts. They might not even know what happened yet.”

“Then that’s our ride south,” Blackburn said with an affirming nod. “Now, help Crossfire pack. Double time, please.”

Gadget saluted. “Right away, Princess.”

Blackburn then turned to Lockwood, her expression now tremendously sad. “Lockwood… when we go, we can’t come back here. I can’t come back. To the city. To you.”

Lockwood nodded. “I know.”

She paused for a moment, then shook her head. “Come with me. Please come with me. I don’t want… I don’t want to leave you. Not again.”

“I can’t, Blackburn. You know that.”

Blackburn sighed, and nodded glumly. “...I do. You can’t leave your family, not like this, not so suddenly. Crown Spectrum not fully automated yet, need to be in Hope’s Point to make that happen. Your passport isn’t upgraded, will take time to do. Our departure: potentially dangerous.” She looked him in the eye with a small smile. “Still thought I’d try…”

Lockwood stepped in to give her a tight hug. “Your city needs you now more than ever. They need their Princess… no, they need their Queen. You need to rebuild Hope’s Point, to reassure your ponies. You can’t do any of that from here.”

Blackburn leaned in and returned the hug. She used all of her effort not to break down in tears. “I don’t want to leave you…”

Lockwood pulled back and pressed his forehead to hers so that they were looking each other in the eyes. “You’re not leaving me. You’re putting me in charge of things here until I’ve put a plan together to get back to you. Until then, your city needs your focused determination. We’re in this together, Blackburn. Okay?” He kissed her nose. “We’re in this together. Distance isn’t going to keep us apart.”

She leaned up and kissed him full on the mouth, briefly. “I know you’ll come back to me, Lockwood.” She pressed her hoof against his chest, over his heart. “Until then, keep your promises. Stay safe; take care of yourself too.”

He smiled and nodded. “I promise...”

“I love you…”

“I love you too, BB.”

He broke away from her after a moment, then gestured to her with his wings. It his special gesture to her, letting her know that his heart was hers. She knew.

Gadget and Crossfire returned from the bedroom and saluted. “All set, Princess,” they said in unison. They saw Lockwood and Blackburn together, clearly having said their goodbyes.

Gadget approached him first, hugging him tight. “We’ll see you again, Lockwood. Stay safe until then, okay?”

“I will, Gadget,” Lockwood said, returning the hug. “You guys stay safe too.”

Crossfire didn’t wait for Gadget to break away before he wrapped them both in a hug together and lifted them into the air. “An’ y’all better’ve gained some weight next time we see ya, or I’m gonna have ta give ya a real piece o’ mah mind, got it?”

“Got it, Crossfire,” Lockwood coughed.

Blackburn took a deep breath. “Gadget, Crossfire, let’s go.”

The two bodyguards broke away from Lockwood and grabbed the suitcases they’d packed. The trio then headed for the door and made to leave.

Just before she left, Blackburn made to turn back to Lockwood, a weak frown on her face. “Have to leave now. Stay safe, Lockwood.” She was fighting with every ounce of her being the urge to stay, and the only way she could do it was if she left without another word.

Lockwood let them go without saying anything either, knowing that if he did, it would just make it harder to leave. He waited a few minutes in their apartment, taking the time to clean up their abandoned breakfast and the broken remote, then grabbed the key from a hook on the wall and closed and locked the door behind him.

He started thinking about what his next order of business was going to be. Closing down the “main office” of Crown Spectrum was a given, since he had no idea how to run the company the way they did, and needed an explanation for why ponies wouldn’t be able to contact Thunderbolt to do business. Claiming she’d gone to Hope’s Point was not only true, but made her sound like the altruist her reputation suggested.

Once that was done, and once he was certain nopony would bother him, he let the tears well up in his eyes. He’d be unable to contact her either. The emotions poured out all at once, and Lockwood finally allowed himself to break down.

*****

Airship tickets weren’t required for getting into the Docks themselves, so Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire were able to get inside without any trouble, aside from questions about their light packing, and make their way straight for their destination: Docking Bay 94. Because the bay was in use by what was explicitly a cargo ship, there weren’t any clerks or attendants standing nearby to take tickets that they didn’t need. The trio could just walk right into the docking bay without any sort of trouble at all; there wasn’t even so much as a guard pony on duty to question them.

The Nighthawk was docked in the center of the bay, currently at rest and in the process of being loaded with metal crates packed with cargo bearing the distinct Crown Spectrum logo. The ship itself was shaped like the head of a hawk with a protruding “neck” section; it was colored slate gray with silver accents. Its small crew busied themselves with the cargo and dealing with the two dock workers overseeing the process.

Blackburn recognized one of the dockworkers as Deadlift, who was a hefty white pegasus stallion with a short blond mane, but he wasn’t there long, didn’t notice her, and she’d had no pretenses of speaking with him anyway. It would just waste unnecessary time.

One pony of the crew, who looked to carry herself with authority, noticed Blackburn and her entourage approaching. She was an ice-blue pegasus mare with a short sea-green mane, wearing a flight jacket over her snug flight suit; the jacket was dark blue, the flight suit was gray-and-gold.

She immediately moved to intercept the trio, spreading out her wings to make herself look more intimidating. “Whoa whoa whoa, what’s this? What’s this now, hey? You folks can’t be here,” she said firmly. “This here’s a private docking bay--”

“We know,” Blackburn said, terse. She’d dropped all signs of her Thunderbolt persona now; as far as she was concerned, Thunderbolt was dead. “Are you leaving for Newhaven soon, Captain Snowflake?”

The mare blinked. “How in the blazing blue hell do you know my name, lady? You don’t look like you work at the docks.”

Blackburn narrowed her eyes in a withering glare. “Answer my question first. Quickly, if you would.”

Snowflake backed down a little under Blackburn’s gaze, her wings drooping just a little. “Uh… yeah, we’re heading to… to Newhaven…” she paused, and squinted as she looked at Blackburn’s face; Blackburn didn’t have makeup over her scar as she usually did while in Pandemonium. “Hang on a minute now, you look… really familiar…”

“I should,” Blackburn replied. “Have a new destination for you: Hope’s Point. Need to leave immediately.”

Snowflake scoffed and shook her head. “Look, lady, you’re barking up the wrong tree here. We’re not a passenger vessel, first of all--”

Gadget cleared her throat, drawing the captain’s attention. “Captain Snowflake, maybe you oughta take a second to think about who you’re talking to before you say something stupid?”

Snowflake looked at Gadget to retort, but paused, then looked to Crossfire, then back to Blackburn. The trio saw the gears turning in the captain’s head, could almost hear them cranking along. That’s when Snowflake’s jaw fell. “Shit.” She bowed low to the ground quickly. “I’m so sorry--”

“Not here, Captain,” Blackburn said, just as quickly gesturing for Snowflake to rise back up. “Need to return to Hope’s Point immediately. How soon can you depart?”

Snowflake was at a total loss for words. “I, uh… we… ahem! Right, yes, of course. We’ll be ready to leave in another hour or so after we finish loading up all the cargo--”

Blackburn shook her head, unsatisfied. “Not soon enough. Forget cargo, make preparations for departure immediately. How long will that take?”

“I… but… the cargo--”

“Answer the question,” Blackburn said, stepping forward and narrowing her eyes again, “Captain.”

Snowflake withered again, almost whimpering, in fact. “Uh… w-well, if we s-start right now, we’ll be r-ready to go in about f-fifteen minutes--”

“Then do it. Need to leave immediately.”

Snowflake raised her eyebrow, completely lost at this point, and dared to voice her confusion. “I hope it’s not too much to ask why the rush, Princess?”

“Hope’s Point was attacked last night,” Gadget interjected before Blackburn burned the poor captain alive with her glare. “The NPAF used a new shield disruption system and managed to get through the city’s shield. The King and Queen were both killed in the attack, so Princess Blackburn needs to get back to Hope’s Point immediately to assume the throne and begin repairs. Also, you and your crew are in danger if the NPAF realizes that your ship is from Hope’s Point.”

“That… but… H-His Majesty is dead? And Her Majesty, too?” Snowflake was floored, eyes wide and looking at the ground in shock. “That... can’t be--”

“It’s been all over the news today, which is how we found out,” Gadget continued. “I knew you guys likely hadn’t been keeping tabs on the news from here since you’re trying to get going and all.”

“Need to leave immediately,” Blackburn repeated. “Make preparations, double time it. Leave cargo.”

Snowflake nodded rapidly. “Right away, of course, Princess!” She turned towards her crew and flew over to them in a hurry. “Listen up, you slowpokes! We’re making preparations to leave, and we’re doing it now! Drop what you’re doing and report to your flight stations!”

The two crewponies, a unicorn and another pegasus, shared confused glances with one another. “Captain?” they said together.

Snowflake flared her wings in a huff. “Did I stutter?! To your posts! Now! Double time, move move move!”

“Yes ma’am!” The two crewponies saluted, dropped what they were doing, and started checking and double-checking instruments and sections of the ship to prepare for takeoff.

Snowflake flew back over to Blackburn and saluted. “Go ahead and get on board, Princess. There’s a small space in the forward section for passengers if we take them, which we usually don’t, but--”

“Thank you, Captain,” Blackburn said with a nod.

She, Gadget, and Crossfire moved to the boarding ramp and made straight for the mentioned forward section of the ship, finding a small seating area with five seats accompanied by seatbelts. As a cargo ship, the Nighthawk did not have stabilizers inside the ship to keep passengers comfortable, so the seats were designed to hold passengers tightly in place. Blackburn sat in the center seat, with Crossfire and Gadget on either side of her.

“When we land, and for long after, things will be hectic,” Blackburn said calmly to Gadget and Crossfire. “Will require assistance to maintain sanity; peacekeeping a priority. Will need to split duties at first; you are, have always been, my right and left hooves. Other ponies will respect your authority.”

“You’ve got it, Blackburn,” Gadget replied with a nod. “I’ll start by meeting with Spark Plug to make the arrangements needed to reinforce the shield systems. After that, I’ll start making a few rounds with the security department to ensure we don’t have this happen again. I should be able to set up a system to evaluate NPAF deployment preparations before they happen.”

“Excellent.”

Crossfire nodded. “I’ll meet wit’ Featherfree ‘n’ Gleaming Star ‘n’ start makin’ plans ta repair the damage done ‘n’ try ta put together whatever they might need. Then I’ll focus on makin’ sure survivors’re taken care of: food lines ‘n’ clothes ‘n’ all that. Surface levels sound like they took quite a poundin’.”

“Good.” Blackburn sighed and leaned back into her seat in an attempt to relax, which wasn’t working too well. “Will need to focus on establishing authority, filling positions of ponies who perished, showing leadership. Together… together, we can get through this.”

Gadget and Crossfire grasped her right and left hooves, respectively, in their own, a showing of unity between them. “Together!” they said as one.

*****

The following day, every station on every television and radio, every loudspeaker, and every datapad stream in the entirety of Hope’s Point, from the surface to the underground levels, broadcast in unison.

It started with an instrumental version of the Hope’s Point anthem, loud and proud, an arrangement of trumpets and drums in brilliant, triumphant fanfare. After a few moments to let the music’s passionate message sink in, the instrumentals quieted down, and the clear, concise voice of Queen Blackburn came to every household, business, agency, and street in the city.

“King Flashfire founded Hope’s Point on a dream: providing light in the darkness of the north; a beacon of hope for ponies wishing to escape their despair. His dream has stood for fifty years, withstood aggressions of NPAF time and time again. Has not fallen.

“King Stormchaser maintained that dream. Even with loss of his wife, passing of father, maintained that dream. Did not falter. Kept hope alive. Built upon his father’s legacy, brought prosperity to our city. His vision: true power of the north, more than a beacon of light, but a gleaming star.

“NPAF struck a blow to our great city, yes. But they think they have won, think we have been beaten. They are wrong. We still stand. Hope’s Point still stands. The dream still stands. They have not won, never will win, so long as you, the ponies of Hope’s Point, do not let them.

“The time has come, Hope’s Point, to rally. In unity lies strength. And we are strong. We are united. We will still mourn, but will also rebuild, will come together as one city, one nation. Show NPAF they will never extinguish our light. There will be no victory for them, can be no victory.

“We will be vigilant, will be aware. We will not give in to demands, will not submit to authority. Will fight them at every turn: in the streets, in the skies, in our hearts and minds. We are Hope’s Point, and we are the light in the darkness, and our light shall never falter.

“I will not let it. I will watch over every one of you, illuminate every dark alley, shine light through the sky, keep you safe. There will be no quarter for those that mean us harm, no place to hide for those that seek to destroy us, no forgiveness for those that would betray us. I will keep the dream alive, like my father before me, and his father before him. I am Queen Blackburn, and I will be your light.”

And with that, the broadcast ended, and everypony was returned to their original programs. But the message had been delivered.

Six Months Later

Early that evening, Queen Blackburn, dressed in her royal white coat and her lucky green-and-gold scarf, walked through the halls of the royal palace, Gadget and Crossfire by her side, and made her way for the council meeting chamber. She’d called a brief meeting about an hour ago, scheduling it for five minutes from now; the only pony she knew would not be in attendance was Concord, who wouldn’t be able to make it from Newhaven on such short notice. This wasn’t a problem; she already knew what his contribution to the meeting would be.

When Blackburn arrived at the meeting chamber, she was the first and only pony there, but only by a few minutes; she made it a point to always arrive early, without exception, as her father had often arrived late. As the other council members arrived, she greeted them politely, one-by-one, until the meeting room was full. The council had changed significantly since the attack, partly out of necessity, partly out of Blackburn’s preference, but there hadn’t been any major objections to her decisions, at least thus far.

The only ponies still on the council from the time of her father’s rule were Chief Engineer Spark Plug, and General Avalanche. Blackburn saw no reason to fix what wasn’t broken, and the two had always been capable and trustworthy.

Secretary Featherfree had retired a month ago, the stress of rebuilding the entire surface level of the city in five months taking a serious toll on her physically and mentally. Blackburn was sad to see her go, as she’d been a dedicated servant to the crown and exemplary in her work, but she wasn’t going to work the poor mare to death.

Skyrocket had, of course, been fired outright about three months ago once it was clear Blackburn didn’t need him, and he had accepted the decision without much protest. He, and everypony else on the council, knew that he was far from the most qualified pony for the position and had only gotten it because of his loyalty to Stormchaser.

Gleaming Star was, unfortunately, among the casualties of the attack, as she had been with the King and Queen at the time. One of her lieutenants said that she’d gone to warn Stormchaser of the impending attack and suggest an evacuation, but hadn’t been able to convince him of the danger. Blackburn admitted that Star, while nowhere near Evening Glitz’s level, proved herself a loyal and useful officer, and so had dedicated one of the new passenger ships in her honor and memory.

Sunbeam had resigned just two days after the attack; Blackburn hadn’t intended on firing him, but accepted his resignation without objection. When asked why, Sunbeam had said that he didn’t feel confident in his ability anymore, mainly because he felt he didn’t do enough to prevent the attack. Everypony knew it was really because Gleaming Star had been killed; the two were romantically involved and he was so broken by her death that he couldn’t stand to be in the city. He retired to the Utopian countryside, far, far away from anything that could remind him. Blackburn couldn’t blame him, really; she’d already blamed herself for the shield’s failure, after all.

Thus, the new council members were as such:

Moonglass, Chief Science Officer, a cream-yellow unicorn mare with a red-and-blue mane that she kept in a short ponytail. She wore a white lab coat over a purple turtleneck sweater. She’d come highly recommended by Solarian; her qualifications were developing a number of improvements to secure Hope’s Point network code, which would in turn improve the database constructor’s ability to compile data.

Secretary Cherry Tart, Chief of Sanitation and Infrastructure, a wine-red earth pony mare with a wavy pink mane, dressed in a simple white blouse. She’d been born and raised in Hope’s Point and was just barely older than Blackburn herself, but had a gung-ho attitude as a contractor; Featherfree often hired her on for projects, particularly after the attack, so she’d come highly recommended as well.

Fleet Master Lightning Flash, a sea-green pegasus stallion with a gold mane, wearing a decorated black flight jacket. He was a defector from the NPAF that had joined the fleet shortly before Flashfire’s passing, but had been passed up for promotion to the council - Skyrocket had taken the seat - despite his qualifications because Stormchaser didn’t know him well enough. He’d been vetted heavily by Evening Glitz, of course, so Blackburn trusted him; as for his qualifications, he’d been an NPAF Captain in charge of deployment logistics for years. This made him an excellent advisor for Gadget in developing her new algorithm.

Stellar Storm, Chief Intelligence and Enforcement Officer, a dark purple unicorn mare with a bright red mane, wearing a suit of body armor; her face was decorated with a series of scars and her horn was shattered. She, too, was an NPAF defector, a more recent one, and had been a high-ranking security officer before a series of demotions after disagreements with her superiors over their methods. She’d taken the land route here, and earned her scars dealing with the dangers en route while protecting those with her. Witnesses during the attack said that, even though she was not part of the Hope’s Point militia, she’d protected several ponies from A.M.P. Troopers, by herself, despite her shattered horn.

Once the entire council - save Concord, of course - was present, Blackburn cleared her throat to get the meeting started. “Will be brief. Discussed addition of new council seat at last meeting. Called this one, final debate on the matter, don’t wish to waste time. Does anypony have objections before we begin?”

Nopony objected; they knew already what this meeting was about and knew they only needed to be here to vote, really.

“Very well.” Blackburn leaned forward in her seat, hooves together on the table. “As I’ve presented before, I lack King Stormchaser’s experience in economic matters. Father never taught me, never wished to learn; regret that decision now, wish to correct. Proposal: new council seat with focus on city’s economic growth. Input, counsellors?”

Spark Plug spoke first, as his seat position was first in the order. “I don’t see any reason not to include a seat with that intent, to be frank with ya, Your Highness. I sure as hell don’t have much bloody know-how in the subject so I’d be at a loss if ya asked me any questions unless they were in my field, and even then it’s a stretch.”

Moonglass adjusted her glasses. "While I agree with Spark Plug's assessment of the issue, I see no reason to actually add a seat to the council to make such decisions. However, I do agree that that none of us have considerable experience with the subject of finances, budgets, and whatnot, so I can't in good conscience make a vote on a matter I don't really understand, and so will differ to the rest of the council on this decision. I abstain."

“I also approve of the addition of the new seat,” Avalanche added with a nod. “Like Spark Plug, I see no suitable reason why we wouldn’t. The only reason I can think of why we didn’t have the seat before now is that your father was more knowledgeable than anypony else on the council on the subject of money, except maybe for Featherfree, and that’s a big ‘maybe’.”

Cherry Tart cleared her throat. “Which, by the way, is why I object to the addition of the new seat, Your Highness. While I agree that the position is important, I think that economic growth issues should fall under the jurisdiction of my department, especially since the Infrastructure Service has been eating up a large portion of the budget since the attack.”

It would’ve been Concord’s turn to input next, but his seat was empty at present. However, Blackburn presented an envelope. “Concord unable to arrive on short notice; sent me this telegram minutes before I arrived here. Cross-oceanic communication regretfully still slow.”

She opened the envelope and set the letter that was inside in front of Concord’s seat so that everypony could read. “Concord expresses desire to abstain from vote as he cannot be present, but does not wish to impede decision.”

Next was Lightning Flash. “I also object to the addition of a new seat, Your Majesty. The handling of economic matters should be a field we all share a part of, as far as I’m concerned. However, I also disagree entirely with Secretary Tart’s assertion that she should assimilate such a responsibility into her department. If anything it should belong to mine, since the fleet’s focus is primarily on the import and export of goods anyway.”

Lastly, Stellar Storm. She leaned back in her seat. “I agree with both Cherry and Lightning: a focus on economic growth belongs to both the Infrastructure and Fleet departments. Therefore, it’s unfair to create a new seat or to give either of their seats control over that responsibility. I’m more of the opinion that if a new seat is added, it should focus on negotiating trade as well as economic growth. I abstain.”

“Two votes for, two votes against, three votes abstain.” Blackburn hummed and nodded. “Then I will break the tie.” She turned to Stellar Storm. “Agree with Stellar: an economic position should also focus on trade negotiations. Also agree that giving responsibilities to infrastructure or fleet exclusively could lead to bias in decisions; hence, a neutral new seat required.”

Blackburn then turned to the council as a whole. “I vote for adding the seat with that stipulation: they also focus on trade.” She clapped her hoof on the table once to indicate the vote was final. “Meeting will now adjourn,” she continued. “New seat has been added, need to consider candidates. If anypony has recommendations, communicate with me over the following month - will appoint somepony to new seat at month’s end.”

The council nodded in agreement, even those that had voted against; despite their protests, they were still loyal to their queen and city and knew the decision had been made fairly. They then waited for Blackburn to rise from her seat before rising from theirs, but they left the room before she did, as was proper procedure. Once she was alone with just Gadget and Crossfire, Blackburn took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.

“Glad that’s over,” she muttered.

“Golly, I was almost - almost - worried for a second there,” Gadget said, wiping her brow with mock enthusiasm. “Stellar Storm sure knows how to make a point in the most suspenseful way possible, doesn’t she? I thought for sure she was gonna vote against the decision. No tie, no tiebreaker, no new seat.”

“O’ course ya realize that wit’ a new seat on the council, y’all might have ta use them tiebreaker responsibilities more often, what wit’ there bein’ an even number o’ seats ‘n’ all,” Crossfire pointed out. “Y’all okay wit’ that?”

“Tiebreaking less important than additional points of view,” Blackburn noted. She turned to her friends and let out a breath of relief, then gestured to the door. “Come. I’d like to get something to eat.”

Just as they were leaving the room, Gadget suddenly stopped in place as her datapad gave a loud beep and started vibrating in her pocket. She drew it out, tapped the screen a few times, then huffed in annoyance. “Welp, gonna have to put dinner on hold for a few minutes, Your Majesty.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Why? Surely it can wait, whatever it is.”

“Apparently your presence has been requested in interrogation room seven, on a priority one channel. Don’t know why they can’t wait a few minutes or gotta do it this late at night, but--” She tapped a few more buttons, then her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. Oh. Golly, that’s… yeah, okay, I can see why that’s a priority one call.”

“What is it?”

Gadget flipped her datapad around to show Blackburn information on the pony being held for interrogation.

Blackburn’s eyes widened in surprise too: the mystery pony was none other than-- “Virtuoso? What’s he doing--” She shook her head, knowing it was a dumb question; Gadget wouldn’t know, and nobody had interrogated him yet. “Why is he in one of our interrogation rooms? Why the priority one?”

Gadget pulled the datapad back around to her and examined the data. “Uh… hmm, according to this, he used your Thunderbolt alias as his voucher to get into the city when asked for one.” She shook her head. “Wait… no, that can’t be right. All of our contacts were told specifically who to use to get in if they needed--”

“And we never told Virtuoso any of that,” Blackburn noted. “Never had reason to believe he would leave Pandemonium. Somepony told him…” She paused, then shook her head again, again knowing it was a waste of time thinking of it here. “No sense speculating. Let’s find out.”

*****

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire stood on the opposite side of a one-way mirror looking into interrogation room seven, which was a small, nondescript room with nothing more in it that a clean, white metal table and two similarly-made chairs, one on either side; it was brightly lit and completely clean, its walls a dull gray. In the chair opposite the mirror sat none other than Don Virtuoso, who was dressed well but looked tired and aggravated. No, Blackburn thought, she knew that expression he had fairly well: he looked defeated.

Blackburn frowned and shook her head, both confused and depressed. “Something’s seriously wrong. He wouldn’t be here otherwise. Hmmm…” She turned to Gadget. “Voice modulator operational?”

Gadget nodded. “All set, Your Majesty. It should prevent him from recognizing you, especially if you’re not talking like ‘Thunderbolt’. If he guesses who’s who, I mean, you’ve got to give him some serious kudos.”

Blackburn sighed, then pushed a button beside the mirror to activate the intercom system. When she spoke, her voice came through the other end altered to be quite a bit deeper, like a stallion who smoked a pack of cigarettes every day.

“State your name,” Blackburn requested.

Virtuoso didn’t startle at the sudden voice in the room, merely glanced at the intercom in the corner briefly, then back towards the mirror that he definitely couldn’t see through, no matter how hard he tried. “Virtuoso,” he said.

“Business here in Hope’s Point?”

Virtuoso leaned back in his seat and sighed, rubbing his hooves in his eyes. “I’m seeking asylum. Refuge. Sanctuario. Whatever you want to call it. I fled from New Pandemonium, and I came here under the assumption that you ponies provided such things.”

Blackburn pondered this for a brief moment. Why would Virtuoso, of all ponies, be seeking asylum? And from whom? “What reason would Don Virtuoso of the Fantasia crime family have to seek asylum in Hope’s Point?” she asked. “Your empire should provide all the protection you need.”

That got Virtuoso’s attention. “So, you know who I am, then?”

“I’m asking the questions,” Blackburn said quickly, keeping him on guard, but relaxed; she wanted to seem like she had information, but wasn’t skilled at interrogations. “Answer.”

Virtuoso paused, then snorted; he’d taken the bait, assuming he was dealing with an amateur with a good spy network. “You’re right, as leader of the Fantasia family, I should have all the resources I need to do whatever I want. What I wanted was to maintain a good relationship with the rest of the Three Families--”

“Rossa and Amore. Former family made peace with your grandfather decades ago, focuses on casino business these days; latter has your aunt - mother’s sister, to be precise - in position of power, mainly focuses on real estate development. See no reason why either would give reason to need asylum.”

Virtuoso merely blinked, then gave the glass a cocky grin. “Who exactly am I talking to that thinks they know so much about me and my history?”

“Blackburn, Queen of Hope’s Point.”

Virtuoso paled. “You… you’re the queen?

“Correct.”

“Ah… perdonami, Your Majesty, I meant no offense--”

Blackburn smirked on the other side of the mirror; he’d taken the bait and fallen into her trap. She’d always liked to tease and test his skills, and was pleased with how well he usually handled her, but she couldn’t resist teasing him even now.

“Apologies unimportant; more concerned with answers. Hmmm… start of problems began within recent years. Coincides with time of major infighting between Three Families due to multiple factors, including betrayal of one… ‘Cotton Candy’?”

Virtuoso froze up, looking defeated once again. “Yes… that’s right. That... mare ruined my relationship with the other families, made them think I was responsible for their own problems which she was causing. I called a few meetings, fatto ammenda - made amends - or so I thought. The Rossa family turned out not to be as forgiving as they claimed to be.”

Blackburn frowned as she put the pieces together in her head. The Rossa family was, like she said, supposed to be involved in the casino trade these days, not at all involved in the competitive, violent nature of decades past, primarily thanks to Virtuoso’s grandfather. Apparently they’d decided to “get back into the game” so to say, and still blamed Virtuoso for Cotton Candy’s rampage, even with proof it wasn’t him.

“What happened, exactly?” Blackburn asked. “Seeking asylum, suggests your life is in danger, that you’ve lost everything. Your family - your real family, Ivory Charm, Crown Jewel - are they safe?”

Virtuoso nodded, surprised at the sudden concern and her intimate knowledge of his life. “They are. They came with me to Hope’s Point when we fled New Pandemonium. They’re all I have left, Your Majesty. Them and a few other ponies in my employ.”

“Who, specifically, from the latter group?”

“My underboss, Lyrica. She helped me escape. Brought her wife with her, as well as two members of her crew, Cutlass and Barnacle. They’re the ones that brought her the warning in time to get us out. There would’ve been more, but the Rossas found out we were trying to leave. Lost some good ponies getting to the Docks. Possano riposare in pace.”

Blackburn breathed a sigh of relief; she was sad to hear the Don had lost everything all over again, when she knew he’d been sincere in his effort to rebuild and contribute to the city and had spent so much time and effort doing it. But, she was glad that his family was safe, as well as one of his most loyal friends, Lyrica. She was also glad that Lyrica’s wife was alright; the world didn’t need more ponies being separated from their loved ones.

Now that she knew the what, why, and how for Virtuoso being here, there was still the question of why he’d mentioned Thunderbolt. “You used Thunderbolt as a voucher. Why?”

Virtuoso leaned forward in his seat, growing a little more comfortable speaking with her now. “I was told by a mutual friend of ours that Thunderbolt had come to Hope’s Point about six or so months ago, looking to expand her company and bring aid after that NPAF attack. I’d conferred with him about my departure in secret, since he’s a dear amico and business partner, and I wanted to make sure he knew what was happening.”

Blackburn felt her heart catch in her throat; he hadn’t put Lockwood in any danger, had he? “Why Hope’s Point?”

“To be honest, Your majesty, I was going to take my family and crew to Utopia, try and settle down there, but… I knew it wasn’t our speed. No good scotch,” he added with a chuckle. “Our mutual friend suggested here instead.”

“And he told you to use Thunderbolt as a voucher?”

“Yes. He said that if I gave Thunderbolt’s name when I arrived here, they’d let me in. I guess he was right, because they did, but I certainly didn’t expect to be hauled into a little room like this afterwards like some sort of common rat.” He snorted, unamused. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why, Your Majesty? I’ve done nothing wrong but escape New Pandemonium with my life.”

“Certain ponies used as vouchers, suspicious. This ‘mutual friend’ of yours who told you, did he suggest anything? Ask anything?”

Virtuoso paused, confused, then nodded. “As a matter of fact, yes, he did. One of your guards confiscated a box from me earlier after I named Thunderbolt as my ‘voucher’. Our mutual friend asked me, sincerely, to give it to Thunderbolt if I saw her.”

Blackburn gestured to Gadget, who nodded in understanding, left the room, then came back a moment later with a small, nondescript box held aloft in her magic that she’d collected from the guard outside.

“What’s in it?” Blackburn asked, addressing Virtuoso.

Virtuoso shrugged. “He didn’t tell me. He just asked me to give to Thunderbolt if I ever saw her. He asked me to give it to her personally, I might add, so I’m a little upset that it’s being looked at by ponies who aren’t her, capische? I mean no offense, Your Majesty, but--”

“Don’t worry, Virtuoso, will ensure that Thunderbolt gets it.”

Blackburn motioned for Gadget to open the box. There wasn’t anything inside. However, Blackburn was well acquainted with the telltale signs of a hidden compartment, as was Gadget, because they’d worked together to put such compartments into their rooms in the palace when they were younger, into their apartment up in Pandemonium, into their luggage, and more. They'd even shown Lockwood how it was done. So, without needing further prompting, Gadget opened said hidden compartment.

Blackburn’s eyes widened in genuine surprise.

Inside the compartment were two items placed with delicate care. The first was a photograph of her, Gadget, Crossfire, and Lockwood posing together in front of the auditorium where Crown Jewel had performed her dance recital long ago. She and Gadget were hugging tight and smiling at the camera, close as sisters; Crossfire was standing tall just behind them, a polite smile on his face - he’d always been bad at getting his photo taken - like the big brother they never had; Lockwood was beside Blackburn with a bright smile of his own, his wing held up behind Gadget’s head so his feathers looked like bunny ears.

Gadget snorted, a loving smile on her face. “I’m gonna get back at that featherbrain one of these days, I swear…”

Beneath the photograph was Blackburn’s bracelet from Lockwood, which, in her haste to leave New Pandemonium after the attack, she had thought she’d lost. She teared up as she drew the bracelet out, set it around her foreleg, and examined it like an old friend that had been gone for, well, months. It had been polished to a lustrous shine that caught the dim light of the room perfectly, both on the chain and on the charm.

“So all o’ this… is from Lockwood?” Crossfire asked as he looked fondly at the photograph.

“He figured out a way to get a message out to us,” Gadget noted. “Do you think we can get a response to him somehow?”

Blackburn hummed and nodded with a smile. “Would involve careful use of smuggling teams; NPAF keeping better tabs on our ships. Manageable, however, if risky. Will consider options, take volunteers when appropriate.” She took a breath. “Time for the reveal.”

She pressed the button to speak into the intercom again. “Virtuoso, do you know who I am?”

Virtuoso raised an eyebrow. “You said you were Queen Blackburn earlier. That’s all I know about you.”

“Correct. But more to it than that.”

Blackburn gestured for Crossfire to turn on the lights in their room, which brightened immediately to reveal the white room around them, eliminating the effectiveness of the one-way mirror. Virtuoso could now see her relatively clearly, though without her makeup over her scar, and without her mane styled in just the right way, he wouldn’t recognize her immediately, only if he took the time to try. Naturally, he was trying.

“You look… familiar,” he muttered, eyes narrowed, stroking his mustache. “Do I know you?”

Blackburn nodded. “You do, Virtuoso. You know me better, of course, as Thunderbolt.” To prove it to him, she pressed the photograph against the mirror. “Photograph taken at your daughter’s dance recital the night of the fire that destroyed Lockwood’s neighborhood. Later that evening, you provided new home, new job: Southeast Point.”

Virtuoso squinted to look between Blackburn and the photograph, then his eyes widened in shock. “Mucca sacra. I’ll be damned, so you are. And are those… Tinker and Fireblast behind you?”

Gadget and Crossfire each gave a polite wave in response.

Virtuoso smiled and laughed. “Sorprendente. All this time, Thunderbolt the business mare was really Blackburn the princess, and now she’s the queen. I knew there was something special about you…” He shook his head in amused disbelief. “You play a mean game, Miss Thunderbolt… or rather, Queen Blackburn? Which should I call you now?”

“The latter,” Blackburn said with a nod. “Tinker and Fireblast are also false identities. Real names: Gadget and Crossfire. Fair to reveal it to you now.”

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Virtuoso leaned back in his seat and put his hooves behind his head. “So, Your Majesty, all those questions you asked, they were just to make me sweat, huh? You knew a lot of the answers already--”

“But not all. Got the answers I needed, but also needed to keep up appearances at first. Reputation to uphold, policies to follow. You understand.” She took a breath. “Guards weren’t rough with you?”

“Not at all. They were polite and understanding, actually,” Virtuoso said with a shrug. “Asked me if I needed anything - water, stuff like that. Felt like I was being waited on more than being brought in for an interrogation. But they were thorough, too, and insistent. You run a tight ship here, Your Majesty.”

“I try,” Blackburn said with a smile. “Glad to hear your wife and daughter are safe, Virtuoso. Must be hard on them: new place, new situation, unfortunate reason to leave.”

Virtuoso sighed and hung his head, clearly troubled. “Ivory has been handling things pretty well, all things considered. She’s just happy we’re all safe, even if we had to leave everything and everypony behind. My little Jewel, though, she’s… she’s having a tough time with all this. I hope she’ll be able to adjust, but I know things will be tough. She’s lost all her friends, been taken from her school… la mia dolce bambina.”

“Will be happy to help in any way to accommodate them, provide them with what they need,” Blackburn said with sincere compassion. “Consider you a friend, Virtuoso. I do not abandon my friends.”

Virtuoso gave her a knowing smile. “Oh, I am very much aware of the lengths you’ll go for your amicos, Your Majesty. So… grazie. I appreciate anything you can do for my family. Speaking of which… I can only assume Lockwood knows who you really are?”

“He does.”

Virtuoso nodded in understanding. “That explains all the segreti. Now that I know why you two kept it secret all this time--”

“Kept what secret?”

Virtuoso smirked. “Ha! Your Majesty, you may have denied it every step of the way, but Ivory and I know what two ponies innamorato look like. She saw what happened between you two at that charity ball, same as I did. I can also see that charm bracelet there on your foreleg… and I know he got it for you.”

Blackburn hung her head. “Of course you do. He asked for your help, I assume? Doesn’t mean anything, necessarily.”

“He did, in a bit of a roundabout way. Didn’t use any names, of course, but I knew who he was getting it for. So, there’s no sense in denying what was going on between you two to me, amica. But, you don’t have to worry, I’ll keep your secret.” He crossed his hoof over his heart with a sincere smile on his face. “Attraversare il mio cuore.”

Blackburn nodded in appreciation; there was no sense in hiding it from him, after all. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat and swiftly changed the subject. “You say that the only ponies you have left with you are Lyrica and some of her crew, Cutlass and Barnacle?”

“Yes, purtroppo. Those were the only ones I had with me that managed to escape when I did. I lost several other good ponies in the process of escaping, and had to leave many more behind. I only hope the ones that remained are taken in by Amore instead of killed by Rossa… but that’s all I have left now: speranza. Hope.”

“Appropriate, given our current location,” Blackburn said, attempting to reassure him. She thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded, more to herself than anypony else; she’d made a decision. “Virtuoso… have a proposition for you, if interested.”

Virtuoso raised an eyebrow, definitely interested. “I’m listening.”

“As of tonight, Hope’s Point council adding new seat: Secretary of Commerce. Focus: trade and economy, including budget matters. Hadn’t considered many candidates yet… but fate works mysteriously, doesn’t it? Virtuoso, former Don of the Fantasia crime family, lands in my lap. Perfect candidate.”

“You… want me on your council? In your cerchio interno?”

“You are a trusted friend, Virtuoso. Also skilled negotiator, well-versed in money matters. Competed with city’s shipping contacts for a decade, dominated import market until Crown Spectrum… even profited from takeover. Thought I always had upperhoof with you, you proved worthy opponent.” She smiled. “Can think of nopony better for position.”

Virtuoso blinked, stunned, then, after a moment to process the offer and what it meant for him, nodded in appreciation. “I’ll accept your offer, Your Majesty… on three conditions.”

Blackburn gave a knowing smile. “Of course, cannot resist negotiation. Name conditions.”

“First, I want my crew taken care of: Lyrica, Cutlass, and Barnacle. I owe them my life, and I can’t repay them properly on my own, not now that I’ve lost everything.”

Blackburn nodded. “Will provide or suggest positions for them. Cutlass and Barnacle, perhaps with security department; proved skilled at noticing impending danger, dealing with issue. Will put them in touch with Stellar Storm, Chief of Intelligence and Enforcement. Lyrica… possibly could consider militia, has appropriate skill set, but may wish to settle down with Sweet Cream; recall discussion of starting a family.”

“Bene. They’re good ponies, Your Majesty, and they won’t let you down wherever they go.”

“Second condition?”

“You keep all that Cotton Candy business buried. Seppelliscilo. I don’t want a word spoken about it to anypony, ever, period. That whole business ruined me, ruined my family legacy, put my life and the lives of my wife and daughter in danger… and I want to put it behind me, for good. Capische?”

Blackburn nodded. “Agreed. Third condition?”

“You take me and the family out for dinner tonight,” Virtuoso said with a coy grin. “Crown Jewel might just forget everything that’s happened when she finds out her father’s business partner for all those years was a princess who became queen, and is now her father’s capo. Plus, I think we skipped dinner because of this whole ‘interrogation’ thing.”

Blackburn chuckled. “Also agreeable. Skipped dinner as well, same reason.” She turned to Gadget. “Gadget, arrange reservation for… ten at finest Baroque restaurant.” She turned to Virtuoso. “Invite the others that came with you, of course. Gadget and Crossfire will also join us.”

“Ovviamente.”

Gadget nodded in understanding and started tapping her datapad rapidly as she went about her orders. “Can do, Your Majesty. I think the one up on Nineteenth is particularly popular. Bella Serata?”

Blackburn paused in thought for a moment, then added: “Also… is your new algorithm functioning?”

“The new algorithm? Oh! Yeah, it sure is.” Gadget breathed on her hoof and scuffed it against her coveralls. “With the system I’ve got in place, Hope’s Point will be able to predict an NPAF excursion with ninety-nine-point-ninety-nine percent accuracy, give or take point-zero-one percent.”

“Good. Find out when next attack is scheduled. I feel refreshed, no, invigorated,” Blackburn said with a devious smile. “Want to prepare special ‘welcome wagon’ for them.”

One Month Later

“This... is Channel One Eyewitness News in the Morning.”

As with every morning, Morning Light and White Lily sat behind a desk with bright smiles as they prepared to present that morning’s news reports

“Good morning everypony,” said Morning Light, light gleaming off her smile. “Today’s top stories--” The camera angle changed, and she was now on the left side of the screen, while an image appeared on the right displaying a triple-seven jackpot on a slot machine. “The grand opening of the new Rolling Aces Casino is underway, and we have an exclusive look at the exquisite all-you-can-eat buffet and live entertainment slated for the coming month.”

The image shifted to that of the Dolorcorp logo: a simple “DC”, nothing fancy. “Also, Dolorcorp has officially released a ballot poll to all citizens of New Pandemonium City in an attempt to vote on the flavor of their new Dolor Black product, which has completed its trial safety phases and is proceeding through the next stages of the creation process.”

The image shifted again to show the NPAF logo. “And in other news, the NPAF has reported on a failed follow-up attack on Hope’s Point yesterday, placing blame squarely on recently-promoted Commander Air Raid.”

She then turned back so that she was in the center of the screen. “But first, here’s your weekly weather forecast with Cloudy Day.”

Lockwood leaned forward in his seat and waited anxiously for the weather report to conclude. He’d already seen the week’s weather forecast, which was rather typical: smog today, smog tomorrow, more smog after that. He’d wondered for years why they even bothered to have a meteorologist on the news team, at least in the studio, since the weather rarely changed and the anchors were more than capable of reporting freak acid rain or lightning storms.

Next was the morning traffic report with Skyline, which was also typically useless to him. Ground traffic was generally always clear enough except in the case of major events - the grand opening of the casino, for example - and air traffic was more important for pegasi that flew everywhere. Lockwood preferred to walk.

The other stories of the day were of little interest to Lockwood, either. He didn’t have the bits or desperation to care about a casino, even if the buffet sounded nice, and he was well aware that the casino had only opened because the Rossa Family had taken over more than half of Virtuoso’s empire in the past month. That last part meant he wasn’t about to visit one of their casinos anytime soon. As for the Dolorcorp news, he’d already cast his vote the night before - for black liquorice, incidentally - when a friend got him an early copy of the ballot.

The last news story, saved for just before the sports section, was where his interest lay.

White Lily presented the story with enthusiasm in a way that seemed to downplay the importance of the information. “In our last story of the morning, the NPAF has reported that yesterday’s attempted attack on Hope's Point was met with failure, due entirely to exaggerated information presented to them by former Commander Air Raid following the attack seven months ago.

“NPAF officials were quick to point hooves at Commander Air Raid when it was discovered that the surface levels of the city had not only been repaired fully following the previous attack, but that they had actually grown in size. In fact, one source stated that the City of Traitors looked like it hadn’t even been attacked in the first place.

“In addition, the City of Traitors had seemingly been informed of the approach of NPAF forces and displayed mocking banners and effigies, as well as employing skywriting to display vulgar messages directed at the NPAF cruisers. All of this was displayed behind their operational shield system, which proved resistant to Air Raid’s lauded shield disruptor, which reportedly had no significant effect.

“And finally, the NPAF’s agents in the field within Hope’s Point all reported in, having been extracted during the attack. There are no longer any NPAF agents within Hope’s Point according to our sources, who also claim that the new Traitor Queen, Blackburn, is ruling with an iron hoof and stamping out dissidents with tactics reminiscent of vermin extermination.

“The NPAF’s Admiral Hotstreak had this to say on the matter at a press conference early this morning.”

The image shifted to display Admiral Hotstreak, a dull-pink pegasus with a short, graying mane and matching bushy mustache, dressed in a black dress uniform and wide-brimmed military cap, the latter of which was laden with medals of all colors. He stood behind a podium with several microphones in front of him, and the distinct flashes and clicks of cameras peppered him.

The Admiral cleared his throat. “The actions of the Traitor Queen Blackburn are essentially little more than those of a rebellious teenager. She rides on the coattails of ponies smarter than her to achieve things she does not deserve. Her actions are those of a murderous tyrant, mad with power and without the maturity to handle her position.

“To any citizens of New Pandemonium that may consider supporting the City of Traitors and their queen, you will be treated as enemies of the state and may be subject to imprisonment or capital punishment. The NPAF will not stand while this mad dictator spits in the face of our city.

“For his role in allowing the Traitor Queen to make a mockery of our sovereignty, of our freedoms, of our values, and of the valiant stallions and mares of our armed forces that give their lives to protect each and every one of you, Commander Air Raid has been dishonorably discharged from the NPAF and will be subjected to trial to determine his loyalties.”

He then shuffled his notes and nodded stiffly to the audience. “Thank you for your time this morning, fillies and gentlecolts. No further questions, please.” And with that, he left the podium and walked off-screen.

The image then shifted back to White Lily. “And there you have it folks,” she said with a small grin. “Now, to Stalwart with sports--”

Lockwood turned off the television and leaned back in his seat, a wide smile on his face.

Epilogue: Mystery Mares

Four Years, Six Months Later

Blackburn woke up that morning the same way she did every morning: early. While she couldn’t see the sun from Hope’s Point, she knew what time sunrise was in Utopia and had gotten used to waking up at that time every day for the last four years. She rose from her bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, letting out a yawn as she did, and glanced fondly at the nightstand by her bigger-than-big bed, where she always kept her bracelet and the group photograph from Crown Jewel’s recital. She only wore the bracelet in private these days; ponies knew by now that Blackburn didn’t wear jewelry, and since at least two ponies had realized what the bracelet’s significance was, she didn’t want to risk more finding out.

Blackburn didn’t take long to wake fully and begin her morning routine, starting with a cold shower to give her a strong jolt of energy. She always washed with the highest-quality toothpastes, shampoos, and conditioners; the queen needed to look and smell her best, after all.

It had taken time to convince her subjects that she didn’t need any attendants in her washroom. Apparently her father had had a trio of mares tending to him in his baths, which Silver Glow had not only been accepting of, but had apparently suggested in the first place. Supposedly that was how the heads of the Utopian noble houses did things, and she’d thought it appropriate that a king should receive the same treatment. Blackburn, of course, was a very private mare with no need for such frivolous services.

Once Blackburn was cleaned and refreshed, she summoned Gadget to her chambers; since Gadget was on morning duty today, she was just outside the door and so was inside immediately. From there, the duo of mares conferred on any and all developments that happened over the night while Blackburn had been asleep, as well as planning out the queen’s business over the remainder of the day.

The first order of business was breakfast, of course; Crossfire always insisted that Blackburn eat something first thing in the morning so that she’d be energized for the coming day, and Blackburn saw no reason to argue. Virtuoso and Ivory Charm had already arranged to meet Blackburn at the Baroque restaurant, Bella Serata; the couple was particularly fond of the restaurant’s sweet crespelles with chocolate sauce, though Blackburn prefered hers with strawberries and cream. Supposedly they had big news to share; Blackburn was about ninety-nine percent certain what it was going to be, but she avoided speculating too much so as not to ruin their surprise.

After breakfast, Blackburn had a security meeting scheduled with Stellar Storm; supposedly the latter had found a perplexing irregularity in the profile of a recent gate visitor and wanted to go over it before approving or rejecting it. After that, Blackburn had a meeting over lunch with Fleetingmaster Lightning Flash to make final adjustments to their “welcome wagon” for the NPAF, who would be attempting their next attack three days from now according to Gadget’s algorithm.

After lunch, Crossfire would be taking over for Gadget while Blackburn went about her evening rounds in the palace, which typically included hearing possible petitions from citizens and addressing the concerns of any staff who hadn’t arranged an official meeting.

Gadget, incidentally, had requested tonight off days ago so that she could go on a date with her new coltfriend, who she purposefully told Blackburn as little as possible about; Blackburn enjoyed the challenge, and so far had determined that he was an engineer or technician, that Gadget definitely wore the pants in the relationship, and that tonight, Gadget was planning on getting laid. Blackburn wished her luck, of course, much to Gadget’s consternation.

Once Blackburn was satisfied with her schedule for the day, she got dressed in her royal white coat and lucky green-and-gold scarf, which she always wore these days, then she and Gadget left the royal palace for the surface level. They didn’t bother to travel incognito anymore and had no reason to; the ponies of Hope’s Point had, over the last four years, learned not to disturb their queen when she was busy, which she always was, and since Blackburn’s policies had completely removed any chance of potential infiltrators, she wasn’t worried about being attacked personally.

*****

Breakfast at Bella Serata was a pleasant affair, much as it always was. The food quality was always excellent, and the atmosphere was always comfortable; there were traditional red-and-white checkered tablecloths, of course, but no candles - those were better suited for dinner. Blackburn, Gadget, Virtuoso, and Ivory had a private table situated at the rear of the restaurant, far from the crowds and prying eyes; every restaurant that Blackburn frequented typically had a separate room, booth, or table somewhere just for her use, and Bella Serata was no exception.

Virtuoso and Ivory Charm’s good news was exactly what Blackburn had figured it would be, but it was still a wonderful surprise to hear it from them:

“I’m pregnant,” Ivory said, a bright, happy smile on her face as she held hooves with Virtuoso over the table. Virtuoso had a proud, happy smile as well.

The couple hadn’t changed much in the past few years. Since Hope’s Point didn’t have the same kind of societal norms and needs as Pandemonium, Ivory had taken charge in establishing an actual fashion scene and so still maintained her supermodel figure; whether she’d do so after having a second foal, only time would tell. Virtuoso’s mane had started graying a little and he’d put on some weight, but he was otherwise still the same imposing unicorn he’d always been.

“Congratulations,” Blackburn said, returning the smile. “Wonderful news. When did you find out?”

“Last night,” Virtuoso said, giving Ivory a coy look. “We’ve been trying for a few weeks now, so Ivory’s been checking nightly for confirmation.” He sighed contentedly and kissed his wife’s neck. “Ah, la mia adorabile moglie. Going to be a mother again.”

“I must zank you again for your advice on a fertility doctor,” Ivory said putting her hoof on Blackburn’s. “Doctor Rosepetal ‘as been wonderful wiz ‘er ‘elp.”

“Glad to hear I could help, then,” Blackburn said, nodding gently. “Crown Jewel is excited, I assume?”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe,” Virtuoso said with a chuckle. “She went to school this morning cheering about having una sorellina or un fratellino, though I had to remind her of the latter possibility. I think she’s certain the new foal is going to be a filly.”

“Well you’ll probably be able to find out one way or another in a few months,” Gadget noted. “They’re doing wonders with medical techno-magic these days, y’know? Unless you guys are going for the whole ‘surprise’ thing.”

“Speaking of ‘wonders of techno-magic’,” Blackburn said with a grin, “heard similar congratulations for Lyrica and Sweet Cream. Surprised they didn’t go more traditional route; plenty of eligible ‘donor studs’ in city.”

“I zink zey considered it at first,” Ivory said with a coy grin of her own. “Zey asked me if I knew anypony zat might make a good candidate. I suggested a few, but I zink in zee end zey decided to try zee less ‘traditional’ mezod. I still find it so strange, to make a foal wizout zee...urm, zee ‘fun’ part.”

“I’m sure they have no trouble having their own kind of fun, mia amata,” Virtuoso chuckled. He gave Blackburn a nod. “Grazie, Your Majesty… Blackburn. Thank you for everything. I don’t know if Ivory and I would’ve tried for another foal if it wasn’t for how welcome you’ve made us feel here in Hope’s Point.”

Blackburn smiled. “Of course, Virtuoso. What are friends for?”

*****

Once breakfast was finished, Blackburn and Gadget made straight for Stellar Storm’s office back at the royal palace. The office was small, but covered wall-to-wall with computer screens; a similarly small, ring-shaped desk sat in the center of the room so that Storm could easily see any of the monitors present. Blackburn admired the way Storm worked, and had made a similar setup for herself in her throne room, which these days doubled as her observation chamber.

Stellar Storm had changed quite a lot since she’d taken on the role as Chief Intelligence and Enforcement Officer. Years of living in Hope’s Point with a prestigious position had given her the chance to live a healthier lifestyle, much as many ponies from New Pandemonium did if they hadn’t had the bits to frequently eat well before.

Most importantly, though, she had a prosthetic horn - a silver spike with neon blue rings - implanted to replace her shattered one; while it was originally purely aesthetic, and gave her a fearsome appearance, it was unable to give her the ability to use her magic. However, with help from Gadget and Doctor Heartthrob, the horn had recently been fitted with a modified version of Gadget’s Telekinesis Simulator, allowing Storm to at the very least use unicorn telekinetics to a basic level, as well as some semblance of combat magic.

When Blackburn and Gadget entered, Storm rose from her seat and gave a brisk salute. “Your Majesty,” she said, her expression stiff as it usually was.

Blackburn nodded in response. “Stellar Storm. Shall we proceed immediately?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” She gestured for the seat opposite her, which Blackburn took without a word. Storm then returned to her seat, pulled out her datapad, and immediately went into high gear:

“Two days ago, two of our security agents at the city gate - Cutlass and Barnacle, I believe you know them?” she asked, but she didn’t wait for Blackburn to respond because she already knew the answer. “Cutlass and Barnacle had a visitor arrive requesting entry. So far, so good. The pony in question had not gone through the typical entry procedure, which I’ve since confirmed with Agent Clearview at the New Pandemonium Docks.”

“Did they have a voucher, then?” Blackburn asked.

“The pony in question did not provide one,” Storm replied, shaking her head. “This was already unusual, as ponies almost always do one or the other; this discrepancy was the first red flag that Cutlass informed me of. The next was that the pony refused to bribe Cutlass even when given varied options to speed along a background check; visitors who go through our channels even if they don’t go through the prior procedures are aware that it is customary to pay.”

Blackburn pondered this. “Made an excuse, did not have bits I assume?”

“Correct. She - the pony was a mare - also refused Cutlass’s alternative offer of paying via physical labor; Cutlass claims she mistook his offer to be sexual in nature and was highly offended.”

Blackburn snorted. “Wouldn’t have assigned Cutlass to you if I thought he would act as such, but ironic anyway; his husband would be most upset.”

“Yes, quite. Moving on, Barnacle was able to get a name out of the mare and pulled up her NPRD profile to give to me on Cutlass’s request due to aforementioned red flags,” she said as she pushed a few buttons on her datapad. “They’re waiting for orders from me to move forward on her background check, whether to skip her ahead or put her at the bottom of the list, or otherwise. After looking it over, I thought you’d like to get involved.”

She pushed her datapad across to Blackburn, who took it and examined it. The mare in question had a cyan coat and a beautiful rainbow-colored mane; she wore a bog-standard flight jacket and a pair of cracked goggles. Name: Rainbow Dash. Hometown: Ponyville, Utopia. Blackburn felt an eerie sense of familiarity when she looked at this mare; something about her eyes and the cocksure expression on her face reminded her of her mother. But that was neither here nor there; her hometown was clearly the biggest red flag of them all.

“‘Ponyville’?” Blackburn asked, not expecting an answer but merely confused, no, baffled.

“That’s what her NPRD profile says,” Storm confirmed, shaking her head in disapproval. “Obviously, it’s an out-and-out lie: you and I both know there’s no place down south called ‘Ponyville’, and that it’s an obvious fabrication.”

“And an awful one,” Blackburn said with an amused chuckle. “Uncreative. Perhaps neighboring town to ‘Stallionberg’ or ‘Fillytown’.”

“I was thinking something more direct, like ‘Colt City’,” Storm joked. “I know the northern ponies have generally awful naming schemes for locations, Your Majesty, but this one really took the cake for me. Gave me a good laugh.” She cleared her throat. “At any rate, that’s just the first red flag: she obviously lied about where she was from when applying for her NPRD citizenship.

“The second, of course, is saying that this ‘Ponyville’ is in Utopia, of all places. Utopian ponies haven’t traveled to New Pandemonium in three of four centuries and have no reason to. They’ll come here, sure; our ponies and theirs tend to have like minds and similar values. I doubt anypony down south is stupid or crazy enough to take their altruism straight to the source up north when they can help more from here.”

“Agreed. This ‘Rainbow Dash’ is a puzzle in pony form,” Blackburn said, nodding her head in understanding. “Appreciate bring issue to me. Suggest a thorough background check; may be new NPAF strategy to infiltrate. Poorly performed, certainly, but possible.”

“I’ll get right on that, Your Majesty,” Storm said, bowing her head in approval. “I already took the liberty of checking out the story this ‘Rainbow’ gave to Cutlass and Barnacle.”

Blackburn leaned forward interested and impressed with Storm’s initiative; then again, she always had been, which was why she hired her for this position in the first place. “Oh? What was her story?”

“She claimed that she had others with her, not present at the gate but en route, and that she’d flown ahead to get help for them. Naturally that sent up another red flag, especially since she didn’t provide any information for the rest of her party before she left, presumably to report back to them first.” Storm reached over and tapped her datapad again. “So I took a little look through her profile to see if I could find out who these ‘others’ might be.”

Blackburn eyed the datapad screen as it showed five other profiles, which she could browse at her leisure.

“These five mares were listed as emergency contacts for this ‘Rainbow’, and they all also hail from this ‘Ponyville’, so naturally I’m all sorts of curious. At this point I’m fairly certain either this is some new NPAF tactic to infiltrate the city, or we’ve got ourselves a bunch of ponies that escaped from a lunatic asylum. I already gave them a look, but I thought you’d be interested in seeing for yourself.”

Blackburn clicked on each of the other five mares’ profiles to give them a brief look; they were just basic NPRD profiles, nothing too robust, but she could at least get a feel for these mares based on their photos and clothes.

The first, Twilight Sparkle, was a lavender unicorn with a dark purple mane with a purple-and-pink streak through the middle, wearing what looked like a stage magician’s cape. Her identification photo, different from her NPRD profile photo, made her look like she was drunk. Still, the mare’s eyes had a glimmer of intellect to them, and while her coloration was slightly different, she couldn’t help but be reminded of an old photo of Evening Glitz from some thirty years ago.

The next, Pinkie Pie, was a pink earth pony with a pink mane - her name was appropriate - wearing what could only be described as an entire goodwill donation box worth of clothes, none of which matched whatsoever. Blackburn frowned - the mare certainly looked like a younger Cotton Candy, but her eyes didn’t quite match the latter’s blatant psychopathic mindset; a different kind of crazy, maybe, but not psychopathy. Blackburn wasn’t a psychiatrist so she wasn’t going to take a guess.

The next, Fluttershy, was a dainty little butter-yellow pegasus with a long pink mane wearing a short, no, provocative blouse. Her eyes were kind, but her expression was definitely one of somepony that was scared and shy, at least in the photo. Blackburn was reminded of former Secretary Featherfree, who while she was enthusiastic in her work, was a bit of a wallflower in social interactions.

The next, Rarity, made Blackburn very sad for a moment; the alabaster-white unicorn, with her curly, luxurious purple mane, was just about a dead ringer for her stepmother, Queen Silver Glow. Not just in how she looked, either, but how she carried herself; despite the middle-class quality dress she wore, she carried herself like she belonged in a class well above that.

The last, Applejack, was more of a mystery if only because Blackburn didn’t feel any bizarre sense of déjà vu looking at her. She was an orange earth pony with a blonde mane, wearing a work shirt and a stetson hat that looked completely out of place, since such hats weren’t in style anywhere but the Utopian continent. So at least this “Applejack” was putting in an earnest, honest effort to look like she belonged where she said she did.

Once satisfied with the ponies presented here, Blackburn passed the datapad back to Stellar Storm. “Agree that they’re suspicious, possibly dangerous whether NPAF agents or escaped lunatics. Perform a full background check, have it ready by tonight if you can.”

“I can do that, Your Majesty,” Storm said with a nod. “I’ll put myself on the case, make it my first priority. What are your orders in case they show up before I finish? I’m assume… delay them?”

“Correct, delay them. If they have others with them, perform background checks on them as well, priority one.” She pondered it a moment, then shook her head. “Exception: if they do have others with them, other stipulations for entry do not apply, except for vouchers. Distant possibility: these six have legitimate reason to fabricate information, are being helped south by a friendly contact.”

“Hmm… so you’re thinking this ‘Rainbow’ might’ve just been dumb muscle that got sent ahead because she could fly, and that one of the others, or even one of these other five, has a voucher?”

“As said, distant possibility. Improbable, not impossible.” Blackburn rose from her seat. “Anything else, Stellar Storm?”

Storm shook her head. “That was it, Your Majesty. Thank you for your input on the matter.”

“Very well.” Blackburn paused, then smiled. “Don’t forget to take a break, Storm. Background checks are priority one, your health is priority zero - takes precedence.”

Storm bowed her head and smiled back. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

*****

Once the meeting with Storm was concluded, Blackburn and Gadget met for lunch with Fleetmaster Lightning Flash at the latter’s favorite diner; he was particularly fond of their soups and sandwiches, which came in an astoundingly large selection. Blackburn didn’t come to this diner that often - she liked their waffles, but that was about it and it wasn’t breakfast time - but they still had a private booth because of the Fleetmaster.

The meeting itself wasn’t too complicated and was concluded in about one minute, allowing the trio to enjoy their lunch and each other’s company; Lightning Flash proved to be an incredible replacement for Skyrocket and the fleet had expanded tremendously in the past four years. Blackburn had even had his help in constructing her own private airship, the Wyvern, to serve as the fleet’s flagship if there was ever a call for a full-scale war.

Blackburn and Lightning only needed to decide on the details of their “welcome wagon” for the NPAF when they launched a “surprise” attack in three days from now. The conversation went as such:

“Are we planning on doing anything different this time around, Your Majesty?” asked Lightning.

“Hmmm… nothing new to ‘show off’ to the NPAF,” Blackburn mused. “See no reason to change normal procedure.”

Lightning nodded in approval. “No sense in messing with the classics, eh? Right on, then, I’ll put in all the confirmation orders as soon as we’re done eating.”

The “classics”, incidentally, were large, decorated banners spread throughout the city, and an airshow performed by the fleet’s stunt flyers, replete with skywriting, the more vulgar the message, the better; Blackburn gave prizes to the most creative, and Briarthorn made a good showing every time. Same as the first time the NPAF attacked after Blackburn became queen. Blackburn noted that while the city in general greatly enjoyed mocking the NPAF at every opportunity, Lightning Flash and Stellar Storm took particular pleasure in it, having deserted on moral grounds.

Just after lunch, Crossfire met with Blackburn and Gadget en route to the palace to take over for the latter, who was all prepared to head off to get ready for her date. Before Gadget could leave, however, she received an alert on her datapad.

“Aww, c’mon,” Gadget grumbled as she took her datapad out to check on the message. She scanned it briefly, then her eyes widened, and her mouth curled in a little grin.

“What is it?” Blackburn asked.

Gadget gave Blackburn a bright smile. “Somepony at the gate just put in a voucher request. For Briarthorn.”

Blackburn and Crossfire broke into bright smiles as well, and both Crossfire and Gadget swooped in to give Blackburn an ecstatic hug.

They were excited for a very simple reason: of all of the hundred or so contacts they had in New Pandemonium, every single one of them had been given specific instructions on who to use as vouchers - ponies within Hope’s Point that could vouch for their legitimacy and usefulness - usually related to their fields of expertise. These same voucher ponies were given all the information they could possibly need on their contact so as to make the process quick and to integrate them quicker.

But none of them, not a single one, down to the very last pony, was ever told, under any circumstances, to request Briarthorn, not just because none of them knew him but because Briarthorn’s field was unrelated to anything anypony in the northern city would be skilled in. That, and because Briarthorn had become… unique in the past few years, mostly as his Diffusion sickness began taking hold, addling his mind as it had his father, grandmother, and grandfather before him.

There was, of course, one exception to all this, which could only mean one thing:

Lockwood was finally here.

Author's Note

For further reading, this story continues in CRISIS: Equestria, the original story from which these characters all hail from. This epilogue itself links directly into Chapter Twenty-Six of that story, as readers of the original can likely tell!

Chapter One: Precocious Princess

The city of Hope’s Point was situated on the edge of a cliff on the farthest southern tip of the northern continent of Equestria. Not the Equestria that you may be familiar with, but a different Equestria, one governed by the dichotomy between the two halves of two wholes. In the south was the great Utopian continent, a land of light, harmony, love, and peace; to the north was the dark continent, a land of darkness, chaos, death, and violence.

Despite being in the north, Hope’s Point was built as a gateway to the south, a literal beacon of hope to ponies that wanted better lives for themselves and their loved ones. To its north was the vast swath of dark, lifeless Wasteland, devoid of nearly any and all plant and animal life. To its south was the Sea of Endless Torment, a massive ocean that divided the world in two. From Hope’s Point one could just see the Belt of Tranquility, a magical storm stretched across the equator that prevented conventional travel across it.

Hope’s Point itself was, on the surface, a small city, large enough to house more than ten thousand ponies as well as commercial and service buildings to accommodate their needs. A magical energy field covered the city in a dome of gold, protecting it from the elements and, more importantly, from would-be invaders. Below the surface, however, the city took up a huge underground cavern, which housed all the residential neighborhoods, the city’s power plants, military and medical buildings, and the royal palace, home to the city’s leader and founder, King Flashfire.

Today, the royal palace was busier than it had been in several years. Banners of red and gold had been put up on both the surface and below, and most of the television stations were covering the event. A crowd of ponies had gathered around a large television set up in the city’s largest thoroughfare, where a news anchor - an orange earth pony stallion with a red mane, dressed in a crisp suit - was presenting the story to the audience.

“Today is a red letter day in Hope’s Point,” the anchor said, turning in his chair to look at the camera. “For the first time since our great city’s founding twenty years ago, we will be privy to the birth of royalty. Truly a great moment for the royal family to recover from the tragic passing of Queen Windwhisper just this past month.”

He turned in the chair again when the cameras switched, and a still image on the side of the screen showed a picture of a happy pegasus couple. The stallion had a light gray coat and an orange mane, and was handsome and charming; the mare’s coat was grayish-blue, and her mane was bi-colored dark blue and light purple. The two were walking together through one of the city streets, flanked by guards.

“Prince Stormchaser and his wife, Blue Blitz,” the anchor continued, “are reportedly the proud parents of a new foal as of eleven twenty-four this morning. Details are scarce, but our reporter in the field, Quartz Band, is outside the royal palace now covering the story as it happens. Quartz?”

The screen shifted to a reporter - a gold unicorn stallion with a blue mane - who was posted just outside the palace. “Thanks Tangerine.” He gestured behind him at the royal palace, a grand, red structure decorated with oranges and golds. “I’m here at the royal palace as we await word from King Flashfire himself with news on the royal birth. Our sources on the inside suggest that we can expect His Majesty within the next five minutes.”

He gestured to the side, and the camera panned over to show a crowd of ponies, some of whom were other reporters with their own camera crews. “As you can see, a large crowd has formed at the palace gates in anticipation of the reveal.”

The anchor, Tangerine, spoke: “Have you received any further information on the status of the newborn?”

Quartz shook his head. “As of yet, the only news we have is that the new foal is healthy, but we have not been given any other infor--” He paused, putting a hoof to his ear. A look of surprise crossed his face. “Oh! I’m now hearing that King Flashfire is about to make a statement. The moment of truth!” He and the camera turned to face the balcony closest to the palace gates.

After a moment, the doors to the balcony opened, and King Flashfire strode out. He was a tall pegasus stallion with a dark red coat and graying orange mane, wearing a black and silver jacket. Beside him was a personal bodyguard, a white unicorn stallion with a blue mane dressed in light, purple-and-gold metallic armor. The crowd below cheered as the king approached the balcony. A few pegasi camera operators flew up to record him; unicorn camera operators lifted their cameras up with their magic to do the same; the earth pony camera operators angled their cameras to get the best view they could from the ground.

As the king reached the edge of the balcony, he lifted his hoof up to silence the cheering crowd. “Citizens of Hope’s Point!” he announced, his voice loud and full of vigor. “Today marks a historic event for our great city. My dear son, Prince Stormchaser, is now a proud father of a foal of his own. This is a great moment for my family and for you, the ponies of this city.”

He took a deep breath. “After the passing of my dear Queen Windwhisper, the pall of death has brought despair to me and my family. May Harmonia rest her soul. If she were here today, none would be as ecstatic as she to bring new life into this world. It falls to me, your king, to present this grand event in her stead. Please welcome my son, your Prince Stormchaser, and his wife, Blue Blitz.”

He gestured to the door behind him, and from the doorway came Prince Stormchaser and Blue Blitz. Stormchaser wore a simple blue jacket, while Blue Blitz was wrapped in a pink blanket and was wheeled out in a wheelchair. She carried a small bundle with her that she delicately held close to her chest. They, too, were accompanied by a guard, a green unicorn mare with an orange mane dressed in light armor.

As they approached the edge of the balcony, Blue Blitz unwrapped the bundle so everypony could see the newborn foal she carried. The pegasus filly had a smoky black coat and a turquoise mane.

Prince Stormchaser nodded at his father. “Father. Thank you.”

Flashfire clapped his son on the shoulder. “Your daughter is a blessing upon this house, my son. Congratulations.”

Stormchaser addressed the crowd. “Ponies of Hope’s Point,” he announced, his voice confident and excited, “thank you all for being here for my wife and I as we bring our beautiful new foal into the world. As much as I’d love to give a speech, you’ve all been waiting long enough for the big moment. So, without further ado--”

He gestured to Blue Blitz, who smiled and lifted the newborn up for him to take. He took the foal gently, and carefully angled himself and her so that all the camera crews could see. “Presenting: Princess Blackburn!”

The little filly blinked up at the bright lights of the cameras. All eyes in the city were upon her in one way or another. She didn’t know it then, but for years to come this would not be an odd experience for her.

While Stormchaser presented his newborn daughter, Flashfire came behind Blue Blitz and put a hoof gently on her shoulder and leaned close to her ear. “You will be a good mother, Blue Blitz. You lack my son’s ambivalence and stupidity. Little Blackburn will learn from you, and from me. Not from him. Is that clear?”

Blue Blitz kept her eyes on her husband, who was laughing and giving their daughter all the attention she deserved, but nodded in response to the king’s question. “Of course, Your Majesty. You can count on me to raise her right.”

“That’s a good girl.” Flashfire rose back up and trotted back to his son. “Son, our subjects have had enough of our new princess for now.”

Stormchaser kept smiling at the crowd below. “I disagree, father. Look how much our ponies love my daughter. They could do with a little more excitement.”

Flashfire clapped his son on the shoulder. Hard. “Son. Inside. Now. You never know who could be watching.”

“Hmph. No need for the ‘royal treatment’. Very well, if you’re going to let your paranoia ruin this too.” Stormchaser looked out amongst the crowd and gave them a gentle wave. “Thank you, ponies of Hope’s Point! Thank you for welcoming little Blackburn into our great city!”

The crowd cheered again as Stormchaser passed Blackburn back to Blue Blitz, then wheeled her back into the palace. Flashfire stepped back to the balcony’s edge, waved his own farewell to the crowd, and then made his way back into the palace.

“And there you have it folks,” said Quartz Band into the camera. “The newborn Princess Blackburn has joined the ranks of the royal family. May Harmonia’s blessings be upon her as our city eagerly watches to see the kind of mare she grows up to be. This is Quartz Band, signing off.”

Eight Years Later

Princess Blackburn trotted through the halls of the royal palace, accompanied by a large earth pony stallion - yellow coat, red mane - in heavy armor: her bodyguard. She wore a too-long green-and-gold-striped scarf around her neck and a simple white dress, which didn’t hide that she had yet to earn her cutie mark; she wasn’t self-conscious about it. As she strolled by servants and guards in the palace, they acknowledged her presence with bows and salutes. Blackburn grinned and gave them little salutes of her own in return.

Blackburn and her guard came up to a large door flanked by two guards, who opened the door as soon as Blackburn approached. On the other side, Flashfire was having a tense meeting with two soldiers and his bodyguard. They turned to the door as Blackburn walked in, and Flashfire’s dour expression immediately softened.

“Grandpa!” Blackburn called as she ran up to him, excited and full of pep.

Flashfire leaned down to scoop her up and hugged her tightly. “Hey! There’s my little ray of sunshine. How are you today, my sweetheart?” He turned to the soldiers and gestured for them to leave. They did so with a salute, and closed the door behind them. Flashfire’s bodyguard remained and gave a nod to Blackburn’s; the two stepped over to the door to stand guard.

Blackburn hugged her grandfather back, rubbing her cheek against his. “I’m doing good, grandpa. How are you? You look so tired.” He tapped her hoof to the bags under his eyes.

“Just busy, my dear, just busy.”

“How come?”

Flashfire raised an eyebrow. “You’re being awfully curious today. Looking to learn a little something from your grandpa?” She nodded excitedly. He smiled back. “Well, there were a few attempted infiltrations over the weekend, so I’ve been meeting with my security agents to make some improvements to the process of letting ponies into the city. Those two are relaying some information from my friend Evening Glitz, who’s in charge of that sort of thing.”

“What kind of improvements, grandpa? Like more guards?”

“More guards doesn’t really help much here, unfortunately. The best we can do at the moment is to try and get better at spotting possible enemies of the city before they get in. Identify them before they get past the gate.”

Blackburn scrunched her nose. “How are you gonna do that? You said they look just like everypony else.”

Flashfire chuckled and booped her nose. “That they do, sweetheart. That’s why it’s so difficult for us to find them. We’re doing what we can, but it’s hard to keep tabs on everypony that might be coming in. There are enemies everywhere; never can be too careful.”

“So… you need like, a book of names of trustworthy ponies?”

Fireflash lifted her up and smiled. “That’s exactly it, sweetheart. We’re trying to put together a database of references so we can spot bad ponies, but it’s not easy and it’s taking a long time.” He sighed. “It’s my hope that by the time I’m gone, my family and my subjects won’t have fear of anypony ruining this great city.”

Blackburn released her grandfather and hopped back down to the floor. “I hope you do it, grandpa. When I'm the queen someday, I want everypony to be safe too, just like you!”

“I’m glad to hear that, sweetheart. You’re such a smart girl, maybe you’ll think of a way to make it happen.” He ruffled her mane. “Oh! That reminds me, I have a surprise for you!”

Blackburn gasped. “A surprise?! What is it?!”

Flashfire smiled and walked towards the door. “Follow me, sweetheart.” He turned to his bodyguard and nodded; the bodyguard nodded back and put a hoof to his ear, muttering something into his collar that Blackburn couldn’t hear.

Blackburn followed eagerly behind her grandfather through the royal palace, their bodyguards in tow. As they walked, taking flights of stairs and passing through halls, Flashfire spoke with his granddaughter. “Your mother tells me you’ve been taking an interest in flight training.”

Blackburn nodded excitedly. “Yup! When I get older, I wanna be the best pilot in the whole fleet!”

“And is your mother okay with that?

“Uh huh! She says I’ve got the perfect figure for stunt flying, just like her, so she’s been helping me get my wings up. I’ve been practicing, look!”

Blackburn began beating her tiny wings as fast as she could. Her scarf loosened and tumbled to the floor from all of two inches up; she couldn’t get very high, and she was clearly straining to stay afloat, keeping her eyes closed tight and biting her lip. After only a few seconds, she dropped to the ground, breathing hard, and picked up her scarf.

“See?” she huffed. “Momma says I’m a better flyer than most fillies and colts my age.”

“You certainly are, dear. You’re going to be a strong flyer when you get older.” Flashfire grinned and helped her put her scarf back on. “I’m glad your mother’s sharing her experience with you. You know she’s our top pilot?”

“Uh huh! She says when I get old enough, she’s gonna train me herself. Teach me how to do all the maneuvers and everything. I started reading about all the different kinds.” She closed her eyes as she tried to remember them. “There’s a loopdeloop, barrel roll, immelman, aileron scissors--” She bumped into a wall. “Oof!”

Flashfire laughed and patted Blackburn on the back. “I admire your dedication to your new hobby sweetheart, but don’t forget to keep your eyes forward. Don’t get distracted by your passions, lest you lose sight of what’s important.”

Blackburn rubbed her nose, embarrassed. “Right, grandpa, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just be careful. There’s no room in this life for regrets, sweetheart. The only way to succeed is to avoid failure in the first place, and to learn from those failures you cannot prevent.” He turned to the end of the hall and pointed at a door there. “Come, we’re almost to your surprise. It’s just inside that room.”

They approached the door, which led to a room on the opposite end of the palace from where they’d started. The room was mostly empty, save for a small desk and chair in the center - similar to those found in typical classrooms - and a large projector screen that dominated one of the walls.

Blackburn entered first, looking around for something exciting. The screen drew her attention first, then the desk, which she eyed with curiosity. “Where’s the surprise, grandpa?” she asked, not seeing anything. “There’s nothing here.”

“Soon, my dear, just be patient,” Flashfire said as he entered the room. “Patience is as much of a virtue as caution. Take a seat at the desk for now.”

Blackburn did so. She shifted in her seat excitedly as she tried to get comfortable, then looked expectantly at Flashfire, waiting for the surprise.

A few moments later, another stallion entered the room, a unicorn with a reddish-pink coat and a short, pale gray mane, dressed in a tight white lab coat decorated with a red insignia. He bowed to Flashfire as he entered the room. “Greetings, your Majesty. You certainly summoned me far earlier than I initially expected or was led to believe.” He turned to see Blackburn seated at the desk. “Ah, I see the Princess is here as well. Wonderful.” He bowed to her as well. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Princess Blackburn.”

Blackburn nodded with a small smile. “Hello.” She turned to Flashfire. “Who’s he, grandpa?”

Flashfire stepped over to the unicorn and clapped him proudly on the shoulder. “This is Solarian, a scholar and educator from Pandemonium that joined me in building our city. One of the most brilliant minds I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. He developed some of the technology we use for the city’s shield and our smaller-scale airships.”

“Your flattery is appreciated as always, sire,” Solarian said with a nod. “However, you forgot to mention my improvements to the city’s shipping database system, which is understandable since the developments aren’t as critical. Just thought I’d mention it.”

“Right, of course, I did forget that, ha ha,” Flashfire said with a chuckle. He turned back to Blackburn. “He also developed the flight system your mother uses. For a unicorn, his knowledge of pegasi anatomy and flight is exquisite. We’re lucky to have him.”

“Well I certainly can’t take full credit for that much, sire. I do owe a great deal of the development cycle to Briarpatch’s assistance since I had to ensure it’s synchronicity with the Diffusion system.”

Flashfire’s expression soured just slightly. “Certainly, I didn’t forget. Harmonia bless his soul.”

“It’s nice meeting you, Mister Solarian,” Blackburn said. “But, um… what’s this all about, grandpa? Why are we here in this room?”

Flashfire smiled at Blackburn. “Solarian here has agreed to be your personal tutor, sweetheart. I want you to have the best possible education, and Solarian is the best possible educator there is. You should be studying more than just flight maneuvers.”

“A tutor, grandpa? My surprise is… a tutor?” Blackburn stared at her desk in confusion. “But… what?”

“Your confusion is understandable, Princess Blackburn. From my understanding you have received no formal education of any kind thus far, but your grandfather decided it was time to correct that.” Solarian turned to Flashfire and tilted his head inquisitively. “Shall I proceed immediately, sire?”

“Naturally, Solarian, no sense in wasting time.” Flashfire stepped out of the door with his bodyguard, leaving Blackburn, her guard, and Solarian in the room together. “I’ll return when I’ve finished with my duties for the afternoon to check on you two before dinnertime. You’re invited of course.”

“Hmm, dinner with the king, what a marvelous experience. I might just indulge myself in your invitation, sire, thank you.”

“W-wait! Grandpa!” Blackburn sputtered. “You’re just gonna leave?”

“There’s no need for me to be here, sweetheart. Don’t worry, Solarian will instruct you in everything you’ll need to be a great queen some day - just pay attention to everything he says, and make use of it. Make me proud, okay?” Flashfire closed the door behind him and walked off, his hoofsteps getting quieter as he walked out of earshot.

Blackburn turned to Solarian, narrowing her eyes. “This surprise stinks, Mister Solarian. I was hoping for a new toy, or some candy or something...”

Solarian smirked. “It is a subversion of your expectations, which is an important tactic in battle as well as negotiations, political or otherwise. You’d do well to learn it, Princess. It provokes your enemy into making mistakes.”

He moved to the projector screen and pulled an electronic tablet from his coat, tapping it to the screen. The screen flickered to life, displaying a variety of labeled folders and files. “Your desk contains all the material you’ll need for note-taking. Please utilize it as you see fit.”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow, then lifted up the top of her desk. Inside was a notebook and a selection of pens. She removed them and placed them on the top of the desk. “I have to take notes? C’mon…”

“I’ll be covering material at a fairly rapid pace. It would be advisable to take notes so that you may review them later when not in session and improve your performance.”

“How am I gonna take notes when you talk that way, Mister Solarian? It’s hard to understand you. Uh… no offense.”

Solarian raised an eyebrow. “You find my loquaciousness difficult to understand? I disagree, Princess, it’s actually quite simple if you really take the time and effort to evaluate it. Your father suggested that you take in all the information I am presenting and extract that which is pertinent.”

Blackburn took a deep breath. “Okay… I’ll try.”

“Wonderful. Let us proceed.” He clicked his hoof on his tablet, changing the display on the projector to a slideshow presentation. “Our first lesson will cover the history of Hope’s Point. The city was founded thirty years ago, give or take a few months and some days, when your grandfather, King Flashfire, traveled down here to the southern tip of the continent with a contingent of like-minded individuals with a dream: escaping the city of New Pandemonium and creating a safe harbor for ponies looking to do the same.

“They began with the underground cavern in order to construct the power station that fuels the protective shield around the city, which as noted I helped develop and based on the defensive shield system utilized by the New Pandemonium Air Force’s heavy cruisers. Once the underground facilities were established, work also began on the docks beneath the cliff and the city on the surface.” He paused and stomped his hoof. “Princess, sum up the information as presented thus far.”

Blackburn snapped to attention in a panic. “Oh… um… sure, okay…” She looked at her notes. “Um… Thirty years ago, grandpa came down south here to the tip of the continent from New Pandemonium with a conteng… a contingent of other ponies--”

Solarian stomped his hoof again. “You’re just repeating what I said, Princess, only with slight modifications to lower the complexity of my word choices. As I and your grandfather have stated, you must condense the information presented to a clear, concise point.” He took a breath. “Again.”

Blackburn furrowed her brow. “But… but I--”

“Again, Princess.”

Two Years Later

The classroom was, as usual, only occupied by three ponies: Princess Blackburn, her tutor Solarian, and her bodyguard, still the same from when she was younger; like her grandfather, she’d never switched her personal guard. Her father was notorious for requesting a changing of his guard every few weeks. Most of the guards considered serving Prince Stormchaser a rite of passage.

“--and it should be noted that though Newhaven is only the second-largest port on the Utopian continent, House Sky has been making great strides in their connections with traders from Hope’s Point in an effort to increase their influence both with us and with their fellow noble houses.” Solarian took a deep breath, shutting off the projector. He hadn’t changed a bit in the past two years. “And that concludes today’s lesson. Repeat the key points for me please, Princess.”

Princess Blackburn, meanwhile, had grown up just a little. Her wings were larger and healthier, and she’d taken to wearing less feminine clothing; she still wore her too-long green-and-gold striped scarf, but now wore a white jacket that covered most of her body. Her flank was barely exposed, showing off just the barest hints of her cutie mark: a black crown surrounded by blue flames. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it’s meaning.

She took a breath. “Utopian noble houses number eleven at present: Houses Dawn, Flower, Golden, Green, Light, Night, Silver, Sky, Snow, Waters, Wind. Three most prolific: Silver, Waters, and Snow. House Silver retains importance from ancient times, regarded as heroic bloodline, deep connection with Harmonia; House Water controls Seaside, largest port on coast; House Snow has strong ties with Zeb’ra’den. House Sky making strides, established connections with Hope’s Point traders in Newhaven, next largest port.”

Solarian nodded. “Excellent. As an additional point, House Wind and House Sky are the most likely rivals for Hope’s Point attention. Competition breeds innovation, so it might be worth considering either house at this point, which I have noted often to the King. He has expressed some interest.”

He took a deep breath. “Now, to test your lessons on extrapolating information. I will give you a statement, but utilize much more terse language. It will be based upon today’s lesson, so you will be using your knowledge to point out connections. Ready?”

Blackburn nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Ahem.” Solarian adjusted his coat collar. “I work in Deepgrove’s A-level mines as a supervisor. Last week I went on vacation, met a nice lady named Skytrader. Talked shop a bit. I think she might be interested in buying a few crates of gems.”

Blackburn paused and considered it. “Supervise A-level mine, implies position of power: likely works for House Golden. Contact with a member of House Sky, Skytrader; Skytrader wants gems to trade with Hope’s Point, key component in power generation. House Sky also seeking trade alliance with House Golden.”

Solarian smiled and nodded. “Good, good. All correct. You’re getting better, Princess, much better.” A knock came at the door. “Enter!” Solarian called.

King Flashfire open the door and strode into the room with his bodyguard, a small grin on his face. “Solarian. All done with Blackburn’s lessons for today?”

“Yes. Precise timing, sire, we’ve just concluded today’s lessons.”

“Excellent. There’s much to do tonight, but I didn’t want to interrupt. Glad to see my timing is impeccable as always.” Flashfire then turned to Blackburn. “How are your lessons progressing, sweetheart?”

Blackburn smiled and rose from her seat. She approached him and leapt up to give him a hug. “Very well, grandpa, thank you. Master Solarian says that I’m progressing well.”

Solarian nodded. “Indeed, she’s an excellent student. Eager to learn, eager to impress. She’ll do well in her future, mark my words.” He turned to Blackburn. “Go on, tell him what you’ve learned today, Princess.”

Blackburn cleared her throat and recited her notes from memory. “Utopian noble houses number eleven at present: Houses Dawn, Flower, Golden, Green, Light, Night, Silver, Sky, Snow, Waters, Wind. Three most prolific: Silver, Waters, and Snow--”

Flashfire smirked at the tutor. “She’s certainly learned how to condense the details, hasn’t she?”

Blackburn blushed and scuffed her hoof on the floor. “Oh… s-sorry, grandpa. I… I’ve been so used to doing it in class for reciting notes, so I thought--

Flashfire smiled and put his hoof on her shoulder. “No need to apologize, my little ray of sunshine. One day, when you’re the smartest mare in the room, ponies will wish they could think like you. But I digress - there’s business to attend to.” He turned to Blackburn’s bodyguard and gave him a slight nod. “Livewire, you are dismissed from your current duties, effective immediately.”

The bodyguard, Livewire, raised an eyebrow. “Your Majesty?”

“I’ve got a new assignment for you: an ambassador from House Snow of Utopia is visiting in a few hours, and I’d like a solid security detail to keep her safe. She’s looking to see how our city might fit in with possible trade routes with the zebras, so her detail is to escort her from place to place, show her around the city. I want you on it.”

“Me, sire?”

“Yes, Livewire, you. There aren’t many bodyguards in my employ that I’d trust with this sort of assignment. Are you unwilling to take it?”

“No, sire, I will do as you ask,” Livewire said, bowing low. “But… what of the princess?”

Flashfire turned to Blackburn and gave her a smile. “I have a new detail to assign to her, and your worry is appreciated. You have your orders, Livewire. Report to Hangar Six.”

Livewire nodded. “Aye, sire.” He gave Blackburn a nod. “Princess. It has been a pleasure serving you.”

“Livewire,” Blackburn said, returning the nod. Livewire left the room and headed down the hall outside. She turned to Flashfire. “I don’t understand, grandpa. Livewire’s proven capable over the years. You mentioned a new bodyguard assignment?”

“Yes indeed, sweetheart.” Flashfire turned to the door. “You may enter now.”

Two young ponies, roughly Blackburn’s age, entered the room nervously. One, a short unicorn filly, had a pale pink coat and bright orange mane; she kept her mane out of her face with a pair of safety goggles, and wore a purple jumpsuit. The other, a taller earth pony colt, had a light brown coat and dark brown mane, and wore light, metallic, bronze-colored armor.

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Hey… you two look familiar…” she murmured. She thought for a moment, then it all came together. “You guys sat next to me at the New Year’s Banquet.” She pointed at the filly. “You really liked the spicy peppers. Gadget?” She then pointed at the colt. “And you’re from Newhaven. Um… Crossfire?”

The two young ponies looked impressed, but didn’t say anything.

Flashfire smiled brightly. “Very good, very good. I noticed that you three hit it off pretty well, and that made them perfect for this assignment.” He looked down to the young ponies. “Go ahead you two, reintroduce yourselves and your qualifications,” he told them.

The filly stepped forward first, and bowed to Blackburn. “That’s right, Princess, my name is Gadget.” She rose back up and smiled brightly. “I’m a tech specialist and engineer.” She pulled a small gun-like weapon from her holster with her magic. “And this baby is my SP-100. Made it myself. I’m not allowed to use projectile rounds - not after the, uh… incident - so this sweet thing fires a stun pulse strong enough to knock out even the hardiest of earth ponies.”

Blackburn hummed. “SP… Stun Pistol? That’s a neat abbreviation. What’s this ‘incident’... wait, there’s that rumor of an accident on the firing range two weeks ago. You studied under Chief Engineer Spark Plug?”

Gadget blinked. “Uh, yeah. I did. How did you--”

“A simple observation. Spark Plug was testing new rifle for earth pony soldiers. Nopony was hurt. However, there were several thousand bits in damages.”

Gadget turned red and rubbed her neck. “Uh… yeah. Golly, you’re good, princess.”

Blackburn turned to the colt. “And you?”

The colt stepped up and bowed as well. “Like ya said, my name’s Crossfire, Yer Princessfulness, and I’m a weapon specialist. A pleasure ta meet ya. Uh… again. Yeah, I’m from Newhaven. Mah parents’ve served House Sky fer generations, an’ now--”

“They’re looking to strengthen relations with Hope’s Point, so they’re serving the royal family. Understandable. We covered that in today’s lesson, in fact.” Blackburn nodded appreciatively. “You’re a weapon expert? That’s kinda odd for anyone from Utopia, even if you’re not from city proper. It’s a mostly pacifist society, apart from the Harmony Guard, isn’t it?”

Crossfire smirked. “Pa’s been showin’ me how ta work some o’ the weapons y’all use here, ma’am. I guess I just took to it like a duck ta water, so I signed up ta join the guard.” He turned to grin at Gadget. “I ain’t been banned from practice rounds, neither.”

Gadget rolled her eyes and fixed her stun pistol in his direction. “Keep talking, bud, and you’ll be drooling on the floor in a few seconds.”

“Try it, horn face,” Crossfire huffed.

Blackburn smiled at the two. “A pleasure to meet you. Uh, again.” She turned to Flashfire. “These are the new bodyguards, grandpa? But… they’re so young and inexperienced - no offense,” she added, looking to the two younger ponies apologetically. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Flashfire smirked. “Correct, they are to be your new bodyguards. They’ve undergone their basic training and have proven quite capable so far, and I trust them to do their job well. Additionally, I think you should have ponies your own age around you, rather than only hanging around us adults. And since you three hit it off at New Year’s...”

“Still not getting it...”

“I wanted you to perhaps develop a friendship with your bodyguards, not just a professional relationship. Livewire was qualified as a protector, certainly, but he was older than you by several years and would never have imagined being more to you than a guard. Certainly not a friend in the truest terms. He’d give it a try, sure, but--”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. “Friends, grandpa? Aren’t… aren’t we friends?”

Flashfire smiled warmly and pulled his granddaughter in for a hug. “Oh of course we are, my little ray of sunshine. We’re the best of friends. But… you need friends your own age too.” He stepped over to his bodyguard and put a hoof around his shoulder. “I’ve told you how long Shining Steel has been with me, haven’t I?”

Blackburn pondered it only for a few seconds. “You became friends while serving in NPAF. He joined you on the journey to establish Hope’s Point and served as your security expert in the initial construction, at least until Evening Glitz came along.”

“That’s right.” He gave Shining Steel a light tap on the shoulder. “But no matter how loyal every guard in this palace is to me, or to you, they could never be as loyal to you as a true friend, like Shining and I are. A true friend is so loyal to you that they don’t just follow orders because you’re the princess or queen, but because they believe in what you’re asking of them. And if they don’t, they’ll correct you. Guide you. You’ll be stronger for it.”

Blackburn eyed the two new bodyguards. “Point made. Okay. You two will be my new… friends.” She gave them a slight smile. “I will try. We will try. Together.” She turned to Solarian. “Master Solarian, am I dismissed for today?”

Solarian nodded. “You are dismissed, princess.”

Blackburn turned to her grandfather. “Grandpa, are you free for dinner? I have plenty of free time with my lessons concluded.”

Flashfire smirked. “For you, my dear, of course. There’s always time for my little ray of sunshine.” He turned to Shining Steel and started out of the room with a wide smile. “Come, Shining, we’ve got a date with the princess. This is a red letter day.”

“Magnificent, sire,” Shining said with a nod, following behind.

Blackburn turned to Gadget and Crossfire. “Gadget. Crossfire. Shall we?”

“Of course, princess,” Gadget said with a nod.

“Roger that, Yer Princessfulness,” Crossfire said with a salute.

Two Years, Six Months Later

Every year, Hope’s Point held an air show and festival for its citizens to enjoy, a display of the skill of the pilots that made up the city’s fleet, and of the royal family’s generosity and love for the citizens. The streets of the city’s surface were crowded with ponies attending the festivities present: stands of food, drinks, gifts, toys, clothes, and other souvenirs; stages set up for entertainment in the form of plays, music, and dancing; booths set up with games that tested luck and skill; and ride contraptions to excite and thrill, including a ferris wheel, a carousel, and a miniature roller coaster.

Princess Blackburn strolled through the crowd amongst the ponies of Hope’s Point, dressed in a gray hooded jacket without her scarf to conceal her identity. At her side were Gadget and Crossfire, also in hooded jackets - blue and purple, respectively - as the identities of the princess’s bodyguards were well known and would obviously reveal who the mysterious third pony was without question. Gadget carried with her a plush blue bear as big as she was.

Without their usual garb, Gadget and Crossfire’s cutie marks were plain to see: Gadget’s was a simple steel combination wrench; Crossfire’s, a black-and-white crosshair.

Blackburn stopped at a food stand selling sliced pineapples on a stick, coated with colorful red and orange seasoning. She eagerly took one from the stand’s operator and passed him the bits needed to pay for it, took a bite and let out an ecstatic, “Mmmm”, then turned to Gadget and offered her some. “Gadget, try some of this. It’s delicious.”

Gadget eyed the pineapple and gave it a sniff. “Ooh, smells spicy.” She leaned up and took a bite, then nodded approvingly as she chewed. “Oh yeah, spicy. Love it. Golly, that’s real pineapple too. Good find, Blackburn.” She turned to Crossfire. “Hey Crossfire, you gotta try this. It’s amazing.”

Crossfire scoffed. “Y’all know I hate pineapple, Gadget. Makes my tongue all itchy.” He shook his head and looked out towards the other food stands. “Ain’t there any bean stands? I could go fer a plate full o’ lima beans.” He turned to Blackburn with a smile. “Did I ever tell ya ‘bout this bean joint in Newhaven? Legume’s Legumes, real classy place, been around fer two generations. Best lima beans in all the south, yessir.”

“Haven’t tried lima beans,” Blackburn mused. “Don’t think we get much call for it in the city. Haven’t seen a stand.” She raised her head up to look out at the stands as well. “What do lima beans taste like?”

“Kinda starchy, like taters, but they got a buttery texture to ‘em. Y’know, real soft like, easy ta chew. My ma mixes ‘em wit’ tomatahs ‘n’ onions, calls it succotash.” He licked his lips. “Mmm mmm, I could really go fer a plate o’ that right about now.”

Gadget shook her head in disbelief. “There’re like fifty stands out here serving all kinds of food from all over the world, and all you can think about is some dang beans?” She gripped the pineapple stick in her magic and took another bite. “You’ve gotta expand your horizons there, Crossfire. Branch your palate out a bit.”

“Agreed,” Blackburn said with a nod, yanking the pineapple back over to her and taking a bite. “You’re too picky. You eat the same things all the time when we get real food: beans, tomatoes, potatoes. Boring.”

“Hey now, it ain’t like I just eat those three things an’ nothin’ else,” Crossfire huffed defensively. “I have ‘em prepared in different ways at least, ain’t like I’m eatin’ ‘em plain or nothin’ like that.”

“Fair.”

“Fair schmare. Look over there,” Gadget said, gesturing to a stand on the opposite side of the street. The stand was selling candied fruits. “Tell me you’re not gonna go try some candied oranges with us. Go on, I dare you.”

“Candied oranges sound mighty nice, actually,” Crossfire hummed.

“Then it’s decided.” Blackburn nodded and led them towards the other stand, passing a collection of bits to the stand operator while Gadget floated three cups of candied oranges over to herself. Blackburn turned and held out an expectant hoof; Gadget placed one cup in it. Blackburn lifted the cup up, took one of the candied orange slices in her mouth, and ate it. She rolled her eyes up into her head and smiled. “Wow, that’s yummy.”

Crossfire took a cup for himself and ate one slice. His eyes widened. "Hoo-ee, that there's a right treat, I tell ya what. Ain't like no candy I ever tried before."

“Well if it's got Mister Picky himself singing it's praises...” Gadget ate one of hers, then closed her eyes and hummed in appreciation. “Oh. Oh wow. There’s a party in my mouth, Blackburn, and everypony’s invited. Golly. Golly.” She grabbed some more oranges from her cup and stuffed them in her mouth.

“Ya got a bit o’ drool right there, Gadget,” Crossfire laughed, tapping the left side of his chin. Gadget blushed, and lifted her own hoof up to wipe the offending liquid. “There ya go.”

Blackburn giggled. “Take it easy. They’re good, not good enough to be sloppy.” She turned towards the end of the street, gesturing with her hoof. “Come on, let's observe the entertainment venues. I heard there are good shows this year.”

The trio trotted down the street full of food vendors and rounded a corner, coming to another, wider street where small stages or spaces had been set up for all sorts of performers. Some were playing musical instruments: a chubby earth pony stallion was playing bongo drums; a small jazz band made up of various ponies played an upbeat tune; a unicorn mare played a large harp and sang a lovely song.

Some performers were dancing: a pegasus mare tap-danced on a stage barely large enough for her; a pair of earth pony stallions with big beards, wearing kilts, stomped around in a frenzied circle. Some performers were putting on plays such as a small troupe putting on a show from a popular tragedy; a yellow earth pony mare with a curly purple mane was performing stand-up comedy; a unicorn stallion was putting on a puppet show for younger ponies, depicting a heroic stallion saving a beautiful damsel from a monster of the Wasteland.

At the far end of the street, however, a larger stage had been set up, and it was this stage that Blackburn and her entourage headed for. They pushed their way to the front of the crowd just over to the side. They were just in time to catch the end of the previous show as the announcer, a lanky earth pony stallion with a golden brown coat and dark brown mane, thanked the crowd. The previous performer, a brown-coated earth pony mare with a light gray bowl-cut mane, bowed to the audience as she shuffled off.

“Thank you, Rockcrusher, that was quite a performance!” called the announcer as he came on stage from behind the curtain. “Okay folks, our next performer hails all the way from Pandemonium City. Let’s give a warm welcome to The Amazing Accolade!”

The announcer stepped back off stage and let the next performer step from behind the curtain. She was an icy blue unicorn mare with a dapper black tuxedo and top hat covering her white mane, and as she strode out onto the stage she twirled a little black wand with her magic. The crowd applauded generously; some ponies cheered.

“Greetings, ponies of Hope’s Point!” she said with a flourish and a bow. “Prepare yourselves for the greatest show in Equestria, as I, The Amazing Accolade, display the finest feats of magic you’ve ever seen!”

With another flourish, the stage exploded with glittering puffs of smoke and sparks. Several ponies in the crowd clapped excitedly, especially the younger fillies and colts. Crossfire was particularly enthusiastic; Blackburn not quite as much, but she still clapped and smiled. Gadget was considerably less impressed.

Accolade tossed her wand in the air with a twirl, removed her hat, set it on the stage, then caught her wand in one swift series of motions. “Behold!” She lifted her hat up to show the insides to the crowd. “The Amazing Accolade’s hat is empty! Or… is it?!”

She twirled the hat through the air, set it back on the stage, and tapped it three times. Another Accolade’s head poked out of the hat and stared out at the crowd, then hopped up out of the hat and stood on stage beside the first; she, too, was dressed in a tuxedo and carried a wand, but did not have her own hat.

The two Accolades spoke in unison. “Voila! Double the Accolade, double the magic!” Another flourish of their wands together, and the hat in between them spewed a torrent of sparklers into the air.

Another round of applause went through the crowd.

Gadget rolled her eyes. “Simple doppelganger spell, nothing fancy.”

“Still impressive,” Blackburn noted. “Doppelganger spells are more advanced magic, not easy to perform even for talented unicorns. Impressive, no?”

“Yeah, maybe, but it’s still not particularly impressive. Certainly not ‘finest feat of magic’ level like she says. That would require something like teleportation or transmogrification spells.”

“Can y’all do that there doppel… dufflel… ugh, double magic, Gadget?” Crossfire asked with a smug grin. “Or how ‘bout any o’ those other spells y’all just mentioned?”

Gadget paused, narrowed her eyes at him. “No.”

“Then let the mare show off her magic. It’s entertainin’, ain’t it?” He gestured into the crowd. “Everypony here seems ta like it.”

“It’s just regular unicorn magic!” Gadget sputtered. “Even all the flourish and stuff is just pyrotechnics, not even real magic. Just smoke and mirrors.”

Blackburn snorted. “I’m surprised at you, Gadget. Thought you had more tact.”

“Tact?”

“The mare is performing to entertain ponies, so if the ponies are entertained, why get ornery?”

“B-because it’s all fake!”

“So? She’s a stage magician. Unicorn magic is commonplace, true. The natural assumption of the show is entertainment with flair and flamboyance, and her boasts come part and parcel with that.”

“Anypony that would get all uppity at stage magic just ‘cause it ain’t ‘real’ magic’s got some confidence issues, Gadget,” Crossfire added. “Anythin’ y’all wanna tell us about?”

Gadget huffed. “Whatever.”

Suddenly, there was a loud ping that sounded through the air; everypony in the crowd and the streets, even the performers, turned their attention towards the source of the sound: a speaker system set up on a tall pole near the stage. A stallion’s voice came over the speaker: “Attention. Attention. The Hope’s Point Thirty-Fourth Annual Air Show will be starting in thirty minutes. Once again, the Hope’s Point Thirty-Fourth Annual Air Show will be starting in thirty minutes.”

Blackburn brightened. “Finally. Come on,” she said, gesturing back towards the street. “We can reach the airfield before the show starts and see the pilots.”

The trio made their way through the crowd back to the street even as the two - or was it one? - Accolades resumed their act. Several other ponies did the same, seeking areas to sit as they got ready for the air show; pegasi flew up to claim spots on the roofs of the buildings lining the streets and helped their non-pegasi friends and families to do the same.

Over the twenty minutes it took Blackburn and her entourage to reach the airfield, the streets had almost entirely cleared out as the crowds took to the rooftops. The airfield itself was at the southern edge of the city, but was atypical compared to what most would expect from such as it was underground. A large launch bay door covered the field when it was otherwise not in use. At present, the bay doors were open and the field had been elevated up to surface level.

As the trio approached the entrance to the airfield, they removed their hoods. The guards at the gate nodded to Blackburn as she approached, letting her through without a fuss. She and her entourage walked past several pilots as they prepared their airships; as this was an air show, only the stunt pilots and their ships, which were smaller - about half the size of a fighter jet - were present, rather than any of the larger cargo or passenger ships.

There were very clear flight teams set up, as their ships shared designs: one team’s ships were elongated ovals, colored royal blue with gold stripes; another’s were shaped like arrowheads and colored black with silver trim. Some ships were unique in design and didn’t belong to any sort of team: one was shaped like a bird, another like a disc with distended top. Each ship was large enough to accommodate a pegasus pilot and all of the systems needed to allow them to pilot the ship; each ship had one engine and a number of fins to make them aerodynamic.

On the other end of the field, in a section sanctioned off all by itself, was another ship unique in design from the others in the field: diamond-shaped and colored gold with red and white stripes. A decal of a rainbow-colored lightning bolt was plastered on the side, emblazoned with text reading “Rainbow Blitz”, the name of the ship.

Beside the ship were three ponies: Blackburn’s parents - Prince Stormchaser, dressed in a lavish dress coat, and Blue Blitz, dressed in a full-body red-and-gold flight suit - and another stallion, a unicorn with a deep purple coat and reddish-pink mane wearing a business suit. Stormchaser and the other stallion were examining the ship’s engine; the former looked like he was showing it off to the latter.

Blackburn brightened immediately when she saw her mother, and rushed forward to greet her. “Momma!”

Blue Blitz smiled wide as Blackburn approached. “There you are!” She scooped Blackburn up in a hug as her daughter reached her. “I’ve been looking all over for you, my little treasure. Here--” She reached into the pocket of her flight suit and pulled out a green-and-gold striped scarf, handing it over to Blackburn. “No need to go incognito anymore.”

“Thanks, momma.” Blackburn smiled and wrapped the scarf around her neck.

“Did you have fun at the festival?”

Blackburn nodded excitedly. “We had all sorts of snacks. I liked the candied orange slices the most.” She turned to Gadget and gestured for her to bring over the plush bear. “I won this at one of the games. Gonna call him ‘Bluebeary’: a pun on ‘bear’.”

“He’s adorable,” Blitz said as she pet the plushie’s head. She gave Blackburn a bright smile. “You excited for the show, kiddo?”

“Uh huh! I can’t wait to see you fly, momma. Gonna do any tricks for me?”

Blitz tapped her chin. “Hmm, I dunno, kiddo. Have you been practicing your basics like I asked?”

Blackburn nodded. “Yup!” She broke away from her mother and took a running jump so she could take to the air with her wings, flying a tight circle around Gadget and Crossfire. After two loops around, she pulled up and did a small loopdeloop, then landed. She staggered a bit, dizzy, but shook it off. “See?”

Blitz clapped her hooves together. “Very good! You’re a natural, kiddo. Tell you what: I’m gonna make the biggest loopdeloop you’ve ever seen, just for you.”

Blackburn pumped her hoof in triumph. “Yes!”

Stormchaser finally seemed to notice his daughter had arrived. “Is that Blackburn?” He trotted over from the engine; the unicorn with him lingered by the engine just for a few seconds, giving it a good once over before following. “There you are. Where’ve you been all day?”

“At the festival,” Blackburn said, her voice not quite as peppy as it had been talking to her mother. “I told you and momma I’d be there until the air show.” She turned to the unicorn stallion. “Who’s this?”

Stormchaser turned to the unicorn and patted him on the shoulder. “Oh, this is an associate of mine from Pandemonium, Crimson Dust. He works for Steelbank Engineering, one of the largest firms in the city.”

The unicorn, Crimson Dust, gave a friendly smile. “You must be Princess Blackburn. A pleasure to meet you.” He gave her a slight bow.

Blackburn nodded in return. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Dust. How do you know my father?”

“We met through business, naturally. Mostly trading in engineering and weapon parts for your air fleet.” Crimson gestured to the engine of the Rainbow Blitz. “My company produces the parts used by the engines your ships use and some of the smaller weaponry. This engine here is a new model I helped design.”

“And why are you here?”

“Blackburn!” Stormchaser hissed. “Don’t be rude to company. What’s gotten into you, huh? I told you I don’t want you getting analytical around me, especially with my guests.”

Blackburn backed down, ears flattened in embarrassment. “I’m… I’m sorry, dad. I’m just… used to asking questions when meeting new ponies. Grandpa wants me to--”

“Grandpa. Of course. Of course! You’ve been spending too much time at those meetings of his,” Stormchaser scolded. “You know I don’t approve of your grandfather’s rampant paranoia. I hope you don’t start picking up any of his other bad habits.”

Blitz touched her husband’s shoulder gently. “Honey, don’t be so rough on her.”

Stormchaser ignored her. “Apologize to my guest, Blackburn.”

Blackburn looked at the ground, embarrassed. “Sorry, Mister Dust… sorry, dad...”

“It’s okay, Stormchaser, I’d be happy to answer her question,” Crimson said with a grin. He turned to Blackburn. “I was just checking out the engines some of your ships have installed to see the modifications made. Stormchaser had me investigate the Rainbow Blitz’s engine personally since it’s a newer model, and of my design.”

“I hope that satisfies your curiosity,” Stormchaser said sternly. He turned to Blitz, his mood changing immediately back to lighthearted. “We’re going to take our seats now, dear. Good luck today.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and he and Crimson headed off towards the edge of the airfield.

Blitz gave Blackburn an apologetic look. “Don’t worry about your father, kiddo. He’s just trying to show off to his friend.” She pulled Blackburn in for a hug. “And don’t you ever apologize for being the smartest mare in the room, okay? You’re gonna do great things someday, treasure. Mark my words.”

Blackburn returned the hug. “Thanks, momma…”

Blitz patted Blackburn’s head and walked back towards the ship. “Come on, kiddo, I’ll show you the flight system.” She tapped the underside of the ship, and a hatch opened up to reveal a boarding ramp leading inside, which she ascended.

Blackburn followed her mother - Gadget and Crossfire remained outside - and marveled at the interior of the ship. The cockpit had a single large console panel with a number of dials, buttons, and other displays. At present most of the readings were at zero since the ship was at rest.

“Wow…” Blackburn breathed, eyeing the cockpit’s wondrous technology.

“Fancy, huh? Most of this stuff is only for when we have a copilot, so it’s not gonna get used much today - we don’t need copilots when we’re just doing stunt flying, only for combat.” Blitz gestured at the circular glass tube in the center of the cockpit. “And this is where the magic happens.”

Blackburn put her nose up against the glass. “Cool…”

Blitz pushed a button on the console, and the tube slid open; she stepped inside and motioned for Blackburn to stand back. The tube closed over her, and after a few seconds, a black aerosol sprayed from the ceiling onto her wings, coating them in a liquid-like black substance that clung to her feathers. A panel opened on the ceiling and a green visor descended over her face.

Blackburn watched with interest. “Master Solarian developed this?”

Blitz gave her a smile. “He did. This liquid is a sort of conductive sleeve that wirelessly connects to the ship’s flight controls, allowing a pegasus pilot to control the ship’s flight as accurately as possible. It’s a big improvement over the old-school throttle and stick for us pegasi.”

“What’s it feel like?”

“Like I’ve got my wings covered in maple syrup.” Blitz gave Blackburn a grin and a wink. “Bramblejam says it tastes like three-week-old coffee. So, y’know… don’t eat it.”

Blackburn stuck out her tongue in disgust. “Blech.”

The cockpit console gave a loud, rapid beep. “Oh, there’s the signal. The show’s starting soon.” Blitz gave Blackburn a bright smile. “Go find a seat, treasure. I’m gonna blow this crowd away.”

“Ooh! Wait!” Blackburn called down the ramp to Gadget: “Gadget. Bring Bluebeary.”

Gadget ascended the ramp with the plush bear, taking a second to examine the cockpit while she could. “Golly. This is some fancy--”

Blackburn yanked Bluebeary from Gadget’s grip and put it down in the cockpit. She gave Blitz a grin. “For luck. Not that you need it, best flier in Equestria!”

“Aww, sweetie,” Blitz cooed. “Thank you. I’m really gonna blow this crowd away, thanks to my little treasure’s good luck charm. Now go find a seat, the show’s starting soon.”

Blackburn and Gadget left the ship, and the boarding ramp closed behind them. As they walked off, they heard the Rainbow Blitz hum gently to life. Several other ships on the airfield were doing the same.

A building on the edge of the airfield had been set up with comfortable bleachers for certain VIPs, which naturally included Blackburn and her entourage. The trio made for section that had been sanctioned off just for them on raised seats at the back, where they’d get the best view considering their shorter stature. Stormchaser sat front and center in the bleachers, joined by Crimson Dust and a few other guests, all dressed in exquisite or formal clothing - only his bodyguard was dressed in protective attire. King Flashfire, dressed in red-and-gold royal livery, sat closer to the middle, joined only by Shining Steel at his side.

Blackburn waved at Flashfire and squeezed her way through the other seats to greet him. “Grandpa!”

Flashfire brightened as Blackburn approached. “There she is! My little ray of--” He suddenly coughed, and had to cover his mouth with his hoof.

Blackburn frowned. “Are you okay, grandpa? I thought your condition was improving?”

Flashfire took a deep breath, then smiled to put her at ease. “Just fine, sweetheart, just fine. Only a little cough, that’s all. Looking forward to the show?”

“Yes! I can’t wait to see momma fly. Best pilot in Equestria!” Blackburn said, beaming. “She promised she would perform biggest loop ever.”

“That sounds wonderful, dear.” He gestured to Shining Steel. “Have you said congratulations to Shining yet?”

Blackburn raised an eyebrow and turned to Shining. “Congratulations?”

Shining gave Blackburn a small smile. “The wife and I found out this morning that she’s gonna have a foal.”

“Oh! Congratulations!” Blackburn said with a bright grin. “Give my blessings to Paramour.”

“I will, Princess, thank you.”

Blackburn turned back to her grandfather. “We’re gonna take our seats now, grandpa.”

Flashfire pat her head. “Go on, sweetheart. Enjoy the show.”

Blackburn, Gadget, and Crossfire took their seats in the top row, just as the speakers nearby buzzed to life. “Fillies and gentlecolts, welcome to the Hope’s Point Thirty-Fourth Annual Air Show, where the best pilots in our fleet take to the skies for your entertainment in celebration of our city’s founding!” called an announcer. “Without further ado, please welcome our first performance of the day, the Black Arrows!”

As soon as the announcement finished, a squadron of six ships, shaped like black arrowheads, took off from the airfield and soared over the city, trailing thin trails of white smoke behind them. The ponies in the stands applauded and cheered as they zipped over their building, and while they couldn’t hear it from here, everypony knew the ponies in the rest of the city were doing the same. The speakers, meanwhile, played an upbeat rock-and-roll song to accompany the display.

The black ships banked, looped, spun, rolled, twisted, turned, and sped through the air over the entire city so that every citizen possible could get a good view of the show. They kept in tight formation, twirling around one another in daring displays of aerodynamic mastery. They only stayed airborne for a few minutes before sailing back over the airfield and landing, just as the music was fading out.

“The Black Arrows, everypony!” Applause and cheers rippled through the stands.

Several other flight teams and even a few individual pilots performed after the Black Arrows: the elongated blue-and-gold ships, the Marvelbolts; a squad of green V-shaped ships, the Emerald Vees; a single ship shaped like a fish piloted by one Skyrocket; and many others. After the last team, a squad of white wing-shaped ships called the Angel Wings, finished their set and landed, the announcer came onto the speakers one last time:

“And now, fillies and gentlecolts, for our last performance of the day, please welcome the Fastest Pegasus in Equestria, the Terror of the Skies, the Mistress of Aerodynamics, the one, the only: Blue Blitz and her Rainbow Blitz!”

The stands burst into applause as the Rainbow Blitz took off from the airfield like a rocket; Blackburn, in particular, leapt from her seat to cheer louder than anypony else in the stands. Nopony noticed Crimson Dust leaving his seat.

The Rainbow Blitz trailed glittery rainbow-colored smoke behind it as it flew, spreading literal rainbows through the sky as it soared overhead. It moved faster than any ship before it in the show, dashing about with all the agility of an actual pegasus. When it finished every particularly daring maneuver, it accelerated in a great burst of speed, sending the rainbow smoke out in a booming ring; each boom was met with frantic applause from the crowd, especially Blackburn.

“Golly, your mom’s shows are always great to watch, Princess,” Gadget said with awe. “I wish I could move like that…”

“I don’t think anypony can move like that,” Crossfire whistled as the Rainbow Blitz pulled a tight, looping roll. “Blows me away how y’all pegasi can do that kinda stuff.”

Blackburn beamed as the ship started a huge loopdeloop, just for her. “Just you wait. Some day, I’ll be just as good--”

BOOM!

An explosion rocked the engine of the Rainbow Blitz just as it was coming down from the end of the loop. It was going too fast and was too low to the ground to pull up in time or for Blue Blitz to react. The Rainbow Blitz crashed with a fiery blast in the dead center of the airfield, colliding with a few other ships in a chain reaction of explosions.

Blackburn’s eyes widened. Her lips trembled. “M-momma?”

All the ponies in the stands rose as one. Panic set in quickly, and several emergency crews rushed out towards the site of the crash. To Blackburn, everything seemed to move in slow-motion: her father at the front of the stands rising up in a rage; her grandfather rising up and looking straight towards her; Crossfire grabbing her and pulling her from her seat to get to safety, Gadget drawing her stun pistol to cover them; the rest of the ponies in the stands looking to the royals for guidance.

As Crossfire pulled Blackburn down the edge of the stands, her eyes drifted down towards the ground below. Her eyes narrowed. Crimson Dust was down there, trotting away from the explosion at a rapid pace, pushing past some of the crews rushing towards the airfield. Her thoughts raced. She remembered him lingering near the engine too long. An engine he claimed to help design. An engine that her father had let him examine.

It all clicked together in one horrible realization.

Chapter Nine: Ominous Observations

Blackburn and Crossfire were completely out of breath by the time they reached the dirty alleyway leading to 122 ⅛, the latter only because he was carrying two full-grown ponies on his back over several dozen city blocks. Blackburn hastily located the discolored brick that indicated their entrance and knocked three times. A moment later, the brick slid open to reveal Miracle’s tired face.

“What? What? We’re closed. Beat it or I’ll call the cops,” he said, same as last time he’d answered.

“We’ve got a medical emergency!” Blackburn exclaimed, gesturing towards Lockwood.

Miracle glanced out and saw Lockwood’s injured, laboured-breathing body draped over Crossfire. “Oy, what’s that schmuck gotten himself into now? He looks like he went five rounds with a boxer.”

“Are you going to help him or not?”

Miracle gave a little shrug. “Eh, sure, why not? Come on in. Watch your step.”

Blackburn staggered back as a large portion of the brick wall glowed white, then vanished, leaving an opening wide enough for her and Crossfire to pass through easily; as they stepped beyond the frame, the wall reappeared behind them. Without the wall in the way, they could finally get a good look at Miracle. He was an old and wrinkled earth pony, so it was hard to tell what his coat color was, but Blackburn’s best guess was grayish-green; his wildly-unkempt mane was the opposite, a definite greenish-gray. He wore a tattered old brownish-green coat that looked much too heavy on him.

Miracle wandered further inside, no sign of his old age in his swift gait, so Blackburn and Crossfire had to pick up the pace to follow behind. After a brief walk through a short hallway, they entered into a large room laden with all manner of chemistry and cooking accoutrements: glass beakers and iron pots, small burners and a large stove, etc. Whether this was a kitchen or a lab, Blackburn couldn’t tell. A few steel tables - more like medical slabs - were set up in the center of the room, and it was upon these that Miracle indicated that Crossfire set down Gadget and Lockwood.

Miracle then filtered through his assorted supplies in one of the many cabinets to pull out a thick cloth rag and a bowl of rich, creamy, green liquid, which he then soaked the rag in. He dabbed the soaked rag over Lockwood’s head wound first, wiping blood away to reveal the gash itself, which instantly began healing as the liquid seeped into it. He did the same with the myriad bruises and cuts that riddled Lockwood’s body, and they too started healing up in seconds. Blackburn was astounded; she knew that unicorns with skill in Restomancy - healing magic - could work medical wonders if given time, but this Miracle - an earth pony - was doing the same or better without an ounce of unicorn magic of his own.

Once Lockwood was no longer bleeding, Miracle removed Lockwood’s jacket - Blackburn averted her eyes - and tossed it into a nearby bin, then took the opportunity to evaluate Lockwood’s condition: he lifted Lockwood’s limbs and wings up to see if there was any reaction; he pressed his ear to Lockwood’s chest to listen to his breathing; he pressed a hoof to Lockwood’s neck to check for a pulse. And, once satisfied with is assessment, he gave a little shrug and looked at Blackburn sternly.

“It’ll take an hour or so for all those wounds to heal up, except the big one, I’d give that one the rest of the night. Don’t let him wash it, either, no baths, no showers, no going for a swim,” Miracle explained.

“Thanks, Miracle,” Blackburn said with a polite nod. “He’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yeah yeah, it wasn’t anything too serious, at least not anything I couldn’t fix, but he shouldn’t do anything strenuous for a couple of days. Now, mind telling me why I had to patch the putz up this time?”

“We found him in a pile of garbage in an alleyway wrapped up in a rug. Other evidence suggests that he was attacked in his home and thrown out the window. ”

“Yeah, that looks about right,” Miracle said with a nod. “The bruises were definitely the result of hooves, and the cuts were surface-level knife wounds. The big one up top is where his head hit the ground, likely from the fall. He’s also got some rope and rug burns; he certainly didn’t want to be tied up, I’ll tell ya that much, oy.”

Blackburn stomped her hoof on the floor. “Dammit. Who would do such a thing? Why?”

“Lady, I’m a doctor, not a detective. I’m just here to deliver facts and patch this schlub up. Speaking of which, there’s the, uh, matter of payment. Is this going on his tab or yours?”

“We’ll pay, don’t worry,” Blackburn snorted. “Just forward the bill to me, whatever it is.”

“What’s your name, then? Gotta have a name to send you a bill.”

“Thunderbolt.”

“Okay then, Miss Thunderbolt, consider yourself billed.” Miracle then walked over to Gadget, gave her a quick once-over, then looked back to Blackburn. “What’s wrong with her? She doesn’t look too hurt, just a little bump on the noggin. A bit of ice will clear that right up.”

“She passed out when she saw Lockwood in his condition,” Blackburn explained. “She has a pretty bad case of hemophobia. Passes right out at the sight of even the littlest bit of blood. Usually takes a few hours to wake up.”

“Ah. Well that’s not a big deal, I’ve got something to put a little spring in her step right now. No charge,” he added with a smirk.

Miracle fished a bright pink bottle out of one cabinet, unstoppered it, and held it up to Gadget’s nose. It only took about a second for Gadget to bolt upright in shock and draw her sidearm in one swift motion. “Shit! What?! Where?! What happened?!”

“Easy, Tinker,” Blackburn said, setting her hoof gently on Gadget’s shoulder. “You’re in good company. Just relax, okay?”

“Y’all had a pretty mean spill,” Crossfire added tapping himself on the forehead in the same spot where Gadget had a bruise.

Gadget put her hoof to the bruise and winced, then glanced around the room to get her bearings. She noticed Miracle giving her a bored look. “Are we in Miracle’s place?”

Miracle turned to Blackburn. “Oy, your little filly's a smart one. You should be proud.”

Gadget huffed. She then noticed Lockwood laying on the other table, no longer bleeding, but also nude. “Ah geez! Where’re his clothes?”

Miracle snorted. “Had to take his jacket off to get to all his wounds, little miss. I’ll put it back on after I finish cleaning it up. ‘Cause apparently I’m also a laundry service, why not?”

“Well, thank goodness you guys got him here. Is he okay?” Gadget asked.

“I’d give him a few hours until he’s back to his usual self again. Now, I wouldn’t consider that ‘okay’ but to each their own.”

Gadget turned to Blackburn. “Did you figure out what happened to him?”

“Well, before you passed out, I started putting together a few things,” Blackburn said. “Somepony attacked him, that much is certain, but for what reason, I don’t know.” She turned to Crossfire. “Fireblast and I are going to head back to his apartment and see if we can’t figure something out. The receptionist mentioned he had visitors before us, so those are our suspects at the moment.”

“Just the two of you? What about me?” Gadget hopped off the table and tried to walk, but then stumbled and nearly fell, and would have had Blackburn not kept her from doing so. “Oof… okay… okay, nevermind. Still woozy. Owww...”

“You’re going to stay here for now, Tinker, and keep an eye on Lockwood, okay? You up for that?”

Gadget took a breath and took a seat in one of the many chairs spread the walls of the room. “Yeah, okay. Just… just be careful out there boss.” She turned to Crossfire. “You keep a good eye on her, got it?”

Crossfire smiled. “O’ course. Thanks fer the confidence, by the way.”

“You know what I mean, you dodo.”

“Hey hey hey now, I’m not running a daycare center here,” Miracle huffed. “What do I get outta the deal for babysitting this sassy little filly?”

“You’ll be compensated for it, Miracle, don’t worry,” Blackburn replied. “Just add it to my bill.”

Miracle held up a hoof. “Fine, fine. You all seem like trustworthy folk, being friends with that putz and all. I know I give him a hard time, but he’s a good pony; always pays up front,” he added with a laugh.

“He seems to trust you and your wife a lot,” Gadget noted. “Like, a lot more than just some guy that comes by to get patched up after he scrapes his knee or whatever.”

“Oy, that colt’s been a hassle-and-a-half for as long as we’ve known him, and probably longer than that if I were a betting stallion. As for why he trusts us so much, I suppose it started after a little favor we did for that friend of his a few years back.”

“What kind of favor?” Blackburn asked.

“Hmm? Oh, well, his friend’s mother, uh… what was her name? Vaccine said it was a piece of cake...” He tapped his chin in thought for a few seconds, then: “Ah! Shortcake, that was it. Yeah, Shortcake had some complications during the last stages of her pregnancy. It was her fourth foal and all, but she said she’d never had problems with the first three. I blame the smog.

“Lockwood came running to us in a panic, asking for help. I was ready to turn him away, but… well, Vaccine convinced me otherwise. See, me and Vaccine, we don’t really leave our little home here that often, maybe once a month to go grocery shopping. But Lockwood was completely out of sorts, and Vaccine reminded me that he’d done well by us in the past, so sure, we agreed to go help this Shortcake out.

“Her family lived up in Mid-North somewhere, pretty far from any of the good hospitals. Probably still lives there, I dunno.” He suddenly looked very proud. “Anyway, Vaccine helped her deliver a nice, healthy foal that evening. Named him Shorthoof. Cute little guy. Nice family, actually. I think one of the sons attended an Academy?”

“Well now ain’t that the sweetest thing ya ever did hear,” Crossfire said with a smile. “That’s mighty nice o’ y’all ‘n’ yer wife there, Mister Miracle.”

“Oy, sure, but what a headache it was!” Miracle exclaimed, wiping his brow. “Never doing a house call again, I promise you that.”

Blackburn smiled. “Still, I guess it’s why he tried to put us in contact with you. You seem like good ponies. A shame you’re not interested in doing business with us.” She stepped over to Crossfire and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go. We’ve got a mystery to solve.”

*****

Back at Lockwood’s apartment complex, Blackburn and Crossfire approached the receptionist’s desk just as she was grabbing her things and preparing to head up to her apartment. She noticed the two come in and frowned, rolling her eyes. “Sheesh, you again? You guys must be desperate to see Lockwood.” She noticed the distinct lack of Gadget. “Where’s your other friend?”

“We have a few more questions for you, if you’ve got the time,” Blackburn said.

“Fine, fine,” the receptionist sighed. “Technically I’m on the clock until I start up the stairs, go figure.”

“You said Lockwood had some visitors earlier today, as I recall. They didn't leave any contact information with you, did they?”

The receptionist shook her head. “No, they didn’t. They headed straight upstairs after I buzzed them in, then came straight back down a little while later. They barely said a word to me other than getting Lockwood’s apartment number and asking if he was in.”

“When did they arrive?”

“Oh… about an hour before I took my lunch, I guess? I take my lunch around noon”

“And how long were they up there?”

“I dunno. Twenty minutes? Thirty? I wasn’t timing them or anything.”

Blackburn pondered that. It would be more than enough time for them to do what they did to Lockwood - he didn’t look like he was capable of putting up a fight - and long enough that they’d have to have spoken with him too. But about what? They couldn’t have searched the apartment too thoroughly; everything had been surprisingly neat, they hadn’t noticed the back of the flyer, and they hadn’t taken anything valuable.

“What did they look like?”

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking a lot of weird questions, lady. Are you a cop or something?”

“Something like that,” Blackburn lied. “Lockwood hasn’t been seen anywhere and the last ponies that saw him were those visitors, so I’d like to get as much information on them as I could. What did they look like?”

The receptionist tapped her chin in thought. “Well, they were all mares, first off. Uh… earth ponies, I think. I didn’t see any horns or wings, but I wasn’t paying that much attention. Umm… grayish coats? I think?” She shook her head. “That’s all I can remember, sorry. If they’d left anything, I might have more for you, but they didn’t.”

Blackburn let out a breath. “I suppose if that’s all the information you have, it’s what we’ll have to work with. Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m gonna get back up to my apartment now.” She then headed up the stairs to do just that.

Blackburn and Crossfire left the building and started on their way back for Miracle’s place.

Crossfire huffed. “Well, not much ta work wit’, is there, boss. Y’all got any better ideas? ‘Cause I’m out.”

Blackburn shook her head. “Her information didn’t provide anything particularly helpful apart from a small lead as to who our attackers were, but there must be thousands of earth pony mares in this city with gray coats. Like finding a needle in a haystack… that’s how that saying goes, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. More like findin’ a needle in a haystack o’ other needles, ta be honest.” Crossfire hummed. “Maybe Tinker can do a lil’ search through the database? We got info on every pony in the city, don’t we?”

“It’s a long shot with such a brief description to work with, unfortunately, but that seems like our best option.” Blackburn sighed and shook her head. “Hopefully Lockwood can help us narrow it down a little bit. Come on, he should be up by now.”

*****

Lockwood stirred awake nearly half an hour after Blackburn and Crossfire left, barely able to lift his head off of the table. “Ugh... hmm?” he mumbled. He flexed his wings slightly to find they were unbound, and noticed his jacket had been cleaned. “Wha? Where am I?

“You’re at Miracle’s place,” replied Gadget from a chair beside the table.

Lockwood rose sharply in surprise, then put his hoof to his head as the motion agitated his sense. “Owww... Tinker? What the heck happened? Why am I here?”

“Best we could figure, somepony attacked you in your apartment and dumped you out the window wrapped up in a rug.” She pointed at his head. “The fall damn near split your head open. You’re one lucky pony that it didn’t, and that we found you before morning. Tomorrow’s trash day.”

“We?” Lockwood looked around the room. Miracle wasn’t present at the moment, having headed off to bed, so it was empty save for himself and Gadget. “Hmm… where’re Thunderbolt and Fireblast?”

“They went back to your place to see if they could learn anything about whoever it was that attacked you.”

“Who says anypony attacked me?”

Gadget narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “Are you kidding? You were found rolled up inside a rug, your wings and limbs were tied up with rope, and you had bruises and cuts all over. Now, unless you’re into some really kinky stuff, I think it’s obvious what happened. You don’t seem like the kind of pony that’s into that kind of thing. I mean, maybe I’m wrong, but I doubt it.”

“Hmm… yeah, okay…” Lockwood sat upright, holding his head and groaning. “So I guess you’re here for my protection? You think whoever it was is gonna come back?”

“That’s right.” Gadget held up her sidearm. “Anypony comes here looking to lay a hoof on your scrawny little hide, they’re getting lit up like downtown. Your own private New Year’s celebration.”

“Well, thanks, I appreciate it, but I really don’t need anypony looking out for me.” He hopped off the table and tried to walk, but nearly tripped over his own hooves.

“Hey! Watch it!” Gadget blurted as she just barely caught him. “The heck do you think you’re doing? You’re in no condition to go anywhere, buddy.”

Lockwood grunted. “Look, Miss Tinker, I really do appreciate it, but this is my problem, so I’ll deal with it.” He tried to push himself up and away from her, but didn’t have the strength to do so, even against her small stature.

“Oh, stop trying to give me the whole ‘tough guy’ act, Lockwood. You’re the least tough stallion I’ve ever met, and I’ve met quite a few wimps, let me tell you. You’d need to be twice the stallion you are to make me even think you could just walk this off.”

“I don’t want to impose--”

“Thunderbolt’s insisting that you stay put, so you’re gonna stay put.” She used her magic to help him up to his hooves and sit him back up on the table. “Now, if you want to tell anypony that you don’t want to accept their help, you can tell Thunderbolt when she gets back. I’m gonna just go ahead and wish you luck now.”

Lockwood rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, you got me, I’ll wait for her. Sheesh.” He sighed, then looked at Gadget curiously. “Why’d she leave you here, if I may ask? Beside the whole protection thing, obviously. I mean, why didn’t she leave Fireblast instead? I bet that little gun of yours would be helpful wherever she is.”

Gadget paused for a moment, then sighed and returned to her seat. “Well, if you must know, it’s because I wasn’t in any condition to go with her when she left, and she didn’t want to wait for me to recover. Didn’t take long but I know how she gets when she’s impatient.”

“Recover? Huh?”

Gadget snorted and looked away. “Nevermind, forget it. It’s stupid.”

Lockwood grinned. “Oh no, you don’t get to start a story like that and then just stop. Come on, tell me. I’m on the edge of my seat.”

“...fine,” Gadget sighed. “But you’ve gotta promise me that you won’t laugh.”

Lockwood held a wing up to his heart. “I promise.”

Gadget groaned and fidgeted in her chair. “Okay. You were bleeding pretty bad when we found you, and, uh… I’ve got a pretty serious case of hemophobia. Can’t stand the sight of blood. I kind of… pass out. Usually puts me out for a few hours. They woke me up but I was still a little woozy afterwards. Better now, sure, but y’know.”

Lockwood paused, then smiled. “That’s it?”

Gadget glared. “What do you mean ‘that’s it’? Of course that’s it, what else could there be? Did you want more?”

“I mean, the only reason you’re here instead of Fireblast is because you fainted when you saw me bleeding? That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it,” she grunted. “You promised not to laugh.”

“I’m not laughing, Miss Tinker, like I promised. See?” He gestured to his face; not a hint of even stifling so much as a giggle. “No laughs here. If anything, I think it’s kinda cute.”

“Cute? It’s not cute, doofus. It’s a huge pain in the ass! I can’t watch a scary movie, I can’t get blood drawn at the doctor, I can’t even get a paper cut without passing out. It sucks. I don’t even know why I have it. Probably suppressed that memory or something, I dunno.”

“Everypony’s got their own fears, Tinker. It’s perfectly natural, nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You say that, but most ponies don’t have such inconvenient fears. Only thing I can imagine being worse is having a fear of heights and living in one of the bigger highrises in this scummy city.”

“Worse than that would be a pegasus that’s afraid of heights,” Lockwood added with a grin. “A little fear of blood ain’t nothing compared to that.”

“Whatever,” Gadget huffed and slumped in her chair. “So there you go, you’ve got your answer: I’m here with you because I passed out.”

“Yeah, maybe, but you were ready to head off with Thunderbolt despite all that, right? You might have that fear, but you’re sure not letting it get the better of you.”

“Yeah… I guess…”

Lockwood stayed silent for a few long moments, then settled back on the table in a comfortable position. “Y’know what I’m afraid of?” he asked, a sincere look in his eye. “Drowning.”

Gadget raised an eyebrow. “Drowning?”

“Drowning. I don’t remember things too clearly, but when I was very young I think I might have almost drowned while taking a bath.” He scratched his chin nervously. “Never learned to swim because of it. Just being near a pool makes me nervous.”

Gadget’s mouth curled in a little grin. “You don’t know how to swim?”

“Nope. Doubt I could even flounder. Kinda compounds the problem, huh?” Lockwood shrugged. “Yeah… I don’t take baths anymore. Showers only for me, thanks.” He gave her a terse look. “So, you don’t make fun of my little phobia, I won’t make fun of yours. Sound fair, Miss Tinker?”

“Yeah… sounds fair to me, Lockwood,” she replied with a smile.

Suddenly, three knocks sounded from outside the hall. A second later, Miracle came trudging out of his room, grumbling all the while. He slid the brick open with a snap. “What? What? We’re closed-- oh, it’s you, back already. Oy, come on in. I’m gonna charge you extra for keeping me up all night, just so you know.” Miracle then walked back through his examination room to his bedroom without so much as a word to Lockwood or Gadget.

Blackburn and Crossfire stepped into the room, and Blackburn’s face immediately lit up when she saw Lockwood was awake. “Lockwood!”

“Miss Thunderbolt,” Lockwood said with a nod and a smile. He gave the same to Crossfire. “Fireblast.”

“Lockwood,” Crossfire said, returning the nod and smile. “Good ta see ya back up ‘n’ at ‘em. Ya took a pretty nasty fall there, bud.”

Lockwood chuckled. “What can I say, I’m a bit of a klutz.”

“How ya feelin’?”

“Like I fell on my head, believe it or not. Hey, how were those hay fries, by the way? Is that joint as good as they say or--”

“Cut the bullshit,” Blackburn said, immediately killing any lightheartedness in the air. “Somepony tried to kill you, you dumb idiot. Who was it?”

Lockwood waved the motion off with his hoof. “Well now, if somepony was trying to kill me, I'd say they did a pretty bad job of it considering we’re having this conversation. Nothing to be worried about.”

“This isn’t funny!” she snapped, freezing everypony in place for a second. “I’ll ask you one more time: who was it?”

Lockwood shrugged. “I don’t really know, to be honest. It all happened pretty fast.”

Blackburn narrowed her eyes; she was used to being lied to, but not so nonchalantly.

“Your receptionist claimed they were upstairs for roughly twenty-to-thirty minutes,” she continued. “Now, unless you’re suggesting they came in, attacked you, then threw you out your window all in the span of a minute, I think you had plenty of time to get a good close-up look at them.”

“Can’t say that I did, Thunderbolt, sorry,” Lockwood said, scratching his chin. “Like I said, it all happened pretty fast.”

“The receptionist also said they got buzzed in, which means that you knew they were coming.”

“I knew somepony was coming, not who it was. To be honest I thought it was you guys.”

Blackburn put her hoof to the bridge of her nose. “After we went through the trouble of arranging a meeting with you, you thought we’d just show up at your apartment an hour before we were supposed to meet?”

Lockwood nodded. “Yeah. That’s why I wrote that note for you. I figured something came up and you were just being polite, and I didn’t want you going away empty-hoofed.”

“Right...”

Blackburn shook her head in disbelief. Lockwood was probably the most terrible liar she’d ever encountered, and he either was well aware and didn’t care, or was too stupid to realize it; she didn’t know which was worse. He wasn’t even making an attempt to defend his position besides more and more obvious lies.

She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Fine, so let’s assume you don’t know who they are. Can you tell me at least what they looked like? Any details would help.”

He shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t get a good look.”

“Tell me whatever you did see. How many were there? Were they mares, stallions, or a combination of the two? What pony clans were they from? What clothes were they wearing? Were they tall or short, fat or thin? Just give me something.”

“You said you talked to the receptionist, I thought? Maybe she saw something more than I did?”

“I just want to corroborate her story with yours. If there’s something that doesn’t match, I want to know which one of you is lying to me.”

Lockwood paused, then shook his head, his face still calm. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything else for you, Miss Thunderbolt. I’m sorry, but I didn’t get a good look. Like I said--”

“‘It all happened pretty fast’, yeah.” Blackburn frowned, then sighed. “I know what’s going on here, Lockwood, and you’re not doing me any favors by trying to ‘protect’ me. Somepony tried to kill you, and you know damn well who it was. They said something to you… I’d say they probably asked something of you, and when you refused to give it to them they tossed you out a window.”

Lockwood smiled and crossed his forelegs over his chest. “That’s a bit of a leap of logic if you ask me, Miss Thunderbolt. What did they ask me then, if you’re certain that’s what happened?”

“That I don’t know, but your refusal to reveal anything useful tells me that you’re afraid that somepony might get hurt if you tell anypony who did this to you. If I were a betting mare - and I am - I’d guess they told you that specifically, didn’t they? ‘Tell anypony and we’ll kill you’? I might not have the precise words, but I think you get the gist.”

Lockwood shook his head. “You’re way off base, Miss Thunderbolt. Nothing like that happened. They must’ve thought I had bits or something because of all the fancy events I go to, and they tried to rob me. That’s it, nothing else. Can we forget it?”

Blackburn leveled a glare at him for all of a second, then returned to a perfectly neutral expression. “Fine. I’ll drop it,” she spat, hoping it would unnerve him - it did, incidentally, “but only if you let us take you back to your apartment.”

“I don’t want to impose--”

“We never had our lunch meeting, Lockwood,” Blackburn snorted. “Are you trying to back out of that too?”

Lockwood frowned. “Right… right, I forgot, sorry. Busy day.” His smile returned instantly. “How were those hay fries, by the way? I hear that joint’s pretty good.”

“I’ve had better in Utopia.” Blackburn gestured for Crossfire to get Lockwood. “Get him off that table, we’re going.”

Lockwood held up his hooves. “Hey, come on now, I don’t need anypony to carry me. I’m just fine and dandy.”

“You’re still recovering from a serious head injury, possibly a lingering concussion, and you’re under doctor’s orders not to do anything strenuous. You’re in no state to walk all the way back to your apartment on your own.” Blackburn smirked. “I could have him drag you, if you want.”

Lockwood huffed. “Fine.”

*****

Back at Lockwood’s apartment, Gadget once again unlocked his door from the outside with her magic, letting Crossfire in to set Lockwood down on his couch.

Lockwood frowned at the empty spot where the rug had once been. “Man, that rug really tied the room together…” he sighed. “Don’t let my fussiness stop you from thinking I’m not grateful for you guys finding me, by the way. I am, really.”

“Save your thanks,” Blackburn snorted. She stood in front of him, right where the rug had once been, leveling him with a serious glare. “Now, I believe we had a lunch meeting arranged. I realize that it’s well past lunchtime, but shall we get started anyway?”

Lockwood grinned. “I dunno, we were supposed to be meeting at a restaurant over a big basket of hay fries. This dump feels kind of lackluster in comparison.”

“Yes, well, circumstances seem to have changed, haven’t they? This will have to do for now. Tell you what, though: if you really want, maybe we can all go out tomorrow and try today all over again.”

“That sounds wonderful. Can we postpone the business meeting until--”

Blackburn narrowed her eyes. “No. No postponing. Tomorrow, we’ll have a wonderful time together chatting over a basket of hay fries like old friends. Right now, though, we’re going to talk business, because you owe me that much.”

Lockwood sighed and nodded. “Alright, alright, that’s fair. Business before pleasure, as they always say. So, what can I do you for, Miss Thunderbolt?”

Blackburn cleared her throat. “The first thing I wanted to discuss was making arrangements to thank the Tea sisters for their help with the advertisements. The ads worked splendidly and went far above anything I’d expected or asked of those two, and I feel it appropriate to show some appreciation. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll see if I can arrange something with Mint and Matcha. Were you thinking of donating something to their charity?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“Perfect, I can get the forms together by tomorrow afternoon and have them ready for our lunch date. Easy peasy.”

“Next, Crown Spectrum will be starting on its newest tech project soon, but we want to make sure we produce something that really impresses our number one investor: Don Virtuoso. We’d like to be more than just a money-making venture for him and his ‘family’, you see. What we really want to be included in his inner circle.”

Lockwood frowned. “And… what kind of help do you want from me on that front?”

Blackburn noted the sudden trepidation in his voice; a clue to his attackers’ identities? “Nothing much, just a little insight into what might be of particular interest to his sensibilities. You’re a personal friend of his, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t go that far--”

“Nonsense. You helped his daughter realize her special talent and earn her cutie mark, didn’t you? He trusts you, somepony not even remotely in the family, enough to be alone with his treasured daughter, so surely you’re close--”

Lockwood tugged his collar and cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah, sure, I can tell you what I know about him and what he likes if you think that’ll help. I’ll have a list or something for you by tomorrow. I can’t exactly go asking him questions like that though, or he might get ornery; I’m just a personal friend, like you said, not a business partner or anything. He doesn’t mix business and personal matters.”

“That’s fair,” she said with a nod. “Moving on, you gave us a few new contacts today that we found worthwhile. Let’s start with Miracle, hmm? He mentioned you come to him often for treating little injuries here and there. What kind of injuries?”

“Oh, you know, just minor things,” Lockwood said with a smile. “I’m not the greatest flyer so sometimes I bump into things. Helps to have a cheap doctor on hoof when you just need to tend to a crooked wing.”

“And is there a reason you don’t use the city’s official doctors?”

Lockwood scratched his neck. “You mean besides Miracle being a cheaper option and is the best at what he does?” He shrugged. “I dunno, I guess I just don’t like having my problems broadcast to the world. I’m a pretty private pony, if you haven’t noticed. Keep to myself and all that.”

“Says the guy with, like, a thousand contacts all over the city, including us,” Gadget scoffed. “Also including the editors on the city’s largest newspaper, a mob boss, and a forgery expert out in the middle of the city’s worst ghetto.”

“Which brings me to my next point: Keeneye,” Blackburn continued. “We’ve made a business arrangement with her to provide her with tech in exchange for lowering her rates. We want to make it easier for ponies to get what they need without all the bureaucracy getting in the way. Crown Spectrum has a reputation, you understand.”

“Well Keeneye’s sure good at doing just what you described,” Lockwood said with a grin. “Glad you guys could work something out. If her prices go down I’m sure she’ll end up seeing more business, too. Win-win for everypony involved.”

“Speaking of Keeneye, we found out something rather... interesting from her. About you. Figured I’d get some confirmation,” Blackburn said with a smirk. “I understand you’re… adopted? Is that true?”

Lockwood blinked. “Ah… she mentioned that, huh?”

“She did.”

“Yeah, so I’m adopted. Why? Is that important or something?”

“Not right now, no. But we might talk about it a little tomorrow. I would like to know as much as I can about my business partners, and this is no exception.” Blackburn nodded, satisfied with the meeting’s results. “Good, that’s all the business taken care of. So, we’ll meet tomorrow at the hay fries joint… but let’s make it for dinner, not lunch. You should take some time to relax. Doctor’s orders.”

Lockwood nodded back. “Okay, sounds good to me, Miss Thunderbolt.” He paused. “If I may, why’d you come by to check on me? And why are you so concerned with what’s going on?”

“I thought we agreed to drop it, Lockwood?”

He winced again at her choice of words. “Just humor me. Please?”

Blackburn paused. “You’re a valued business associate, one that I’d… we’d hate to lose. Somepony attempted to kill you, and I’m not one to let something like that just happen and I’m sure as hell not going to let this city’s incompetent police force try to handle it.”

“Hey, they’re not all that bad,” Lockwood interjected.

“I’ll drop it, because you asked,” she continued, “but you can be damn sure I’m not going to let it happen again. For that matter, why did you assume we would come looking for you in the first place?”

“Huh?”

“Your note, on the back of the Crown Spectrum advertisement. You clearly intended for us to find it, and you clearly did so to keep whoever it was that attacked--”

Lockwood held up his hooves. “Let’s just forget it, Thunderbolt. Okay?”

“Right…” She turned to Gadget and Crossfire. “Let’s get going. It’s getting late.” She turned back to Lockwood. “See you tomorrow, Lockwood. Let’s make it six o’clock, hmm?”

“Sounds good to me, Miss Thunderbolt.” He turned to Crossfire and Gadget. “See you guys tomorrow. Fireblast. Miss Tinker.”

Crossfire nodded. “See ya, Lockwood. Y’all stay safe now, y’hear?”

“See you tomorrow,” Gadget said with a slight grin.

The trio then turned and left the apartment.

Out in the hall, Blackburn turned to Gadget. “I want as much time as you can spare scanning the database for mares with gray coats that might be connected to this.”

“Anything specific to focus on?” Gadget asked.

“Two important details: first, they’d have some means of locking doors from the outside without a key.”

Gadget raised an eyebrow. “That’s… oddly specific.”

“And important,” Blackburn retorted. “The ponies that attacked Lockwood locked his apartment door behind them when they left, but did so without a key. They’d have to possess that sort of skill set. Which leads me to my second point: when I was asking Lockwood about meeting Virtuoso, he seemed nervous.”

“Ya don’t think the Don’s responsible fer this, do ya?” Crossfire asked. “I mean, like ya said, the guy trusts Lockwood alone wit’ his daughter.”

“Exactly. Our suspects are likely enemies of the Don, and either specifically told Lockwood not to tell the Don about their involvement… or he recognized them as somepony related to the Don in some way. Either way, it helps narrow our search.”

Gadget nodded. “So the checklist is: earth pony, mare, gray coat, possible lockpicking skill set, and possible connection to Don Virtuoso. I’ll expand the last two to some general criminal activities, if that sounds fair.”

“It does.” Blackburn snarled. “Whoever it was that did this, they’re not going to get away with it.”