It was a rainy night in Manehattan. A week long storm had taken the city in its strangehold and regular floods seemed to threaten the livelihood of the populace. There was some debate over the cause of the storms; whether it was caused by disgruntled weather teams or misdirected magistrates was anypony's guess. No matter, it gave a good atmosphere for the events to come.
A rundown bar's neon lights flickered on and off in the damp underbelly that was downtown Manehattan. The nightlife went on as usual, seemingly unaffected by the weather. Escorts and their 'johns' carried out their business, albeit a bit hurriedly, and dealers didn't stop dealing whatever they could get their hands on.
Four, non-descriptive ponies walked into the bar. Trilbies and trenchcoats were the only interesting aspect about them. Entering, they realized the bar was empty, save for a tired bartender and a drunken donkey who never seemed to find the bottle of his shot glass. Good.
"Make sure nopony pays attention to us. It'll be to your favor," one of the ponies said to the bartender, flicking a large golden coin towards the bartender. A gruff and hoarse voice, no doubt the voice of a heavy smoker. The bartender's eyes lit up like the sign of his establishment. He nodded fiercely, assuring them that they'd have no trouble from anypony.
The pony smirked.
"Alright, find a table, gentleponies. I'll be right with you." The pony moved quickly away from his companions. He was in no rush, but in his line of work, time was always of the essence.
The remaining three sat down in a secluded corner, far from the entrance or the counter. One of the three removed his trilby, showing off a bright red complexion and a wild, golden mane. A long, jutting scar ran along the side of his cheek. He had wrinkles at the edge of his mouth and a certain twinkle in his dull orange eyes; the signs of a true jokester.
A broad smile flashed upon his face.
"Fellas, fellas, fellas! It's been waay too long. I was getting so bored doing nothing but drinking and eating for the last six months and now we decide to meet up? It's too convenient to be a coincidence!" He exaggerated his movements, moving his hooves as he spoke.
"Save it, Ribald. We got some new blood on our hooves." A trilby was put to rest on the table. A bald, beige pony sat with a glare on his face, not amused by his compatriot's antics. He was a very muscular pony, with sharp grey eyes and a defined jaw and chin. "Red got put into the slammer a week ago. Last I remember, you two were on the same page on how to spend your free time," his glare darkened, "He's not going to get out until Celestia croaks over."
Ribald seemed unfazed. "What a tragedy, but such is the life of high-stakes robbery. I suppose this meeting is about him?"
The beige stallion shook his head. "No, it's about our newest addition to the team."
"Oooh, a new guy? Wait, don't tell me. He's a hardened criminal with years of experience and trained in all the arts of violence and thievery. It's about time we get a vanilla character in our group. No offense Joe, but you just never filled your potential as an all-around tough guy." Ribald stood up in his seat to remove his trenchcoat. He was a pegasus by nature, but there were only two scorch marks on his torso on the places where his wings should have been. His cutie-mark was a set of drama masks, not unlike the ones you'd see hanging above a theatre stage.
Mocha Joe didn't respond to that. Instead, he threw a hoof at the offending stallion. Ribald ducked under the incoming punch, and backed away with a quick two-step. "Tsk tsk tsk, slow as ever. You can at least try, you know."
"Shut the hell up and sit the hell back down, Ribald. I'm back," the hoarse voice returned, trilby and trenchcoat levitating before him. He was a light-brown unicorn with no other remarkable features but a cutie-mark of two blueprints; one being the original and the other a nearly identical copy. Nopony ever figured that out, though; they always assumed it was two of the same.
The red stallion bowed down. "Of course, I'd never trample upon a host's hospitality. Especially yours, Smoothie."
Smooth Operator snorted. Smoothie had became a pet-name in his early years, and Ribald would never live it down. The group sat down as one, except for the newest addition, who still wore the clothes he came in.
He didn't bother looking up at the ponies in front of him.
"Roll out the carpets, gents. We have a new member in the family." Smooth beckoned the pony with a flick of his hoof. Joe and Ribald watched with inquisitive stares.
Sky Scraper nodded and removed his garb. He had a coat of flawless white, and a mane of cobalt blue cropped up into a simple buzzcut. His face was remarkably chiseled into fine angles, leaving nothing but skin and bone. His body was a similar story; it was supremely fit and had almost no trace of body fat. A faded tattoo of a pair of wings with a sword between them was etched in behind his left ear.
Ribald whistled. "That's a first. What's a beaten up soldier boy doing messing around with a bunch of thugs like us?"
Smooth shrugged. "Sky Scraper used to be in Her Majesty's Royal Service, if you were to believe him. He's going to be an incredible asset to us, regardless of his past affiliations. I've seen him do what he does, and I have half a mind to say that he's well-suited to this job." The unicorn leaned back into his seat, levitating a lit cigarette into his mouth. "A real killer, isn't that right, Sky?"
The former guardspony didn't respond.
A faint smile tugged at the edge of the unicorn's lips. "I suppose introductions are in order," he leaned forward to tap his cigarette on the ashtray, "My name is Smooth Operator. I run intelligence and communication, and I'm the alpha wolf in this pack. Know your place, and you won't have any troubles." His eyes focused on the new recruit before him, scrutinizing every aspect of him.
Sky nodded.
Smooth relaxed his posture, taking another deep breath of the smoke from his cigarette. "Good. The pony on your right," Mocha Joe bowed his head, "is Mocha Joe. His expertise is weaponry and demolition. Even with your military training, I think you have a thing or two to learn from him. Our practices are not exactly common knowledge, and I doubt that princess-fucking commander of yours would advise even half of what we do out in the field."
Sky could feel his eyes almost twitch at the last sentence, but he mellowed out before anyone realized.
Mocha Joe saw it, though. He frowned.
"I heard what the Royal Guard does to initiates. They break them down, wear down every nerve until they're the rawest killing machines in existence, and then they do the loyalty training," Joe rattled out in a harsh tone, "I especially know how die-hard fanatical they are when it's done right. Know where your loyalties lie, soldier-boy, because I won't hesitate to cut you down." The beige earth pony glared into the former guardpony's eyes, hoping to bring out a reaction from him.
Sky returned a stone cold stare, unfazed.
Joe relaxed at the sight, but his face was still in a scowl.
The grin on Ribald's visage threatened to tear the muscles in his face. "I must say well done, Sky. You've managed to galvanize the most boring pony on our team into squeezing out more emotions than his usual gormless self," the red pony feigned a gasp before he continued, "Ah, but where are my manners. Ribald Riddle, at your service." Ribald bowed like a showman before his audience. "If you need an actor or negotiator, there is no living pony better than I."
Smooth released a final puff of smoke before squashing the cigarette into the ashtray before him. "Ribald runs our operations when we require more than stealth and brute force. He also handles police negotiations, but that is almost never the case. He is also an excellent reader of character, so watch yourself, Sky."
Ribald shrugged. "He's not hiding anything from me. Not yet, anyways."
Sky nodded.
"Now that introductions are out of the way, let's get ready for the next job." With a bright flash of light, a black suitcase appeared on the table before them. Sky questioned its appearance with a stare, but Ribald nudged into his ribs with a free hoof. "He does that from time to time. Fancy magic trick, don't you think?"
Smooth's horn glowed once more, and the briefcase slowly opened. Within, there were numerous drawings and outlines of what appeared to be a large schematic of a mansion, complete with walls, gates, and a spacious backyard complete with a pool area. A caption underneath read "Fancy Pants".
"We've had more than enough time to cool down after the last heist, so let's go with something simple this time. Fancy Pants, Equestria's second richest stallion, is going to host a pool party in his villa outside of Canterlo-," Smooth stopped abruptly, coughing with a particularly unpleasant growling sound. "Ugh, damn cigarettes are going to kill me. Still not going to stop me, though."
Sky's face blanked when Smooth nonchalantly lit another cigarette and levitated it to his mouth. Ribald shook his head in disapproval. "I still don't know how you got addicted to smoking, Smoothie. You hate almost every other vice except for greed.."
The unicorn blew air out of his nostrils. "Mosquitoes."
"What, mosquitoes kidnapped your family and did the horizontal bop with your sister?"
"No. It's because they're mosquitoes."
"Just mosquitoes?"
"Just mosquitoes."
"That's deep, you know. You should write a book on your hatred for mosquitoes instead of this heisting nonsense."
Mocha Joe groaned. "Get on with it. Fancy Pants is hosting a pool party at his villa and we're going to steal his family jewels?"
"Not exactly. We're looking for information, not jewels," Smooth inhaled another cloud of smoke, releasing it instantaneously, "Our insider says that one of the esteemed guests was an architect for nearly every royal bank in the past twenty years."
Ribald raised an eyebrow. "What are we going to do with a washed up old graphic designer? We didn't have trouble robbing any of them before, and Her Majesty is as inept as ever."
Sky's ears twitched. "The reason Princess Celestia hasn't pursued criminal groups is because she is concerned with the livelihood of Equestria, not greedy bureaucrats with lined pockets."
Mocha Joe and Ribald turned immediately to Sky, with stares almost saying "Did he just talk?".
Smooth just nodded in approval. "It seems our 'soldier-boy' is well informed, gentleponies. Her Majesty would never pursue an active interest in our line of work, but I can't say the same for the authorities in Canterlot. They've been on edge ever since the changeling incident a few months back, and I dare say that they are taking the initiative," he shook his head, "Red was arrested by a squad of Royal Service agents six days ago. They had apparently been on surveillance for close to two months after he tried to set up a bank account with his real name."
Ribald's snout scrunched up in disgust. "Irony had always been Red's weakness. He never believed me when I told him that his parents were the worst name-givers," he sighed, "He was the bluest pony I had ever seen, for fuck's sake!"
Smooth continued, "They're getting close. Too close," he bit on his cigarette, "That's why I'm bringing you guys together for one last heist.This is make or break; we could be living on our newly earned pensions, or rotting in a jail in twenty-four hours. The architect's blueprints are going to be our key, and we're going to have to work for it."
Mocha Joe leaned forward, putting his legs on the table in front of him. "What is this 'key' for, exactly?"
"The Royal Reserve."
Joe and Ribald nearly guffawed at once. Sky remained silent, keeping his stare on the unicorn.
"You do realize that the Royal Reserve has never been broken into, let alone heisted?"
"Ohoho, that's a good one, Smoothie. Next you'll be telling me that we'll be stealing Celestia's tiara. Fuuck me, what a laugh."
Smooth remained silent as well.
"You're serious, aren't you?" Ribald calmed down considerably.
He nodded.
"The Royal Reserve? The single largest financial entity in Equestria, and you are saying that we should rob it?"
He nodded again.
"And how are you so sure that this architect knows the blueprints to the place? That place is older than any bank in the last millennium!" Joe pointed his hoof at Smooth, questioning and accusing him at the same time.
"I know for a fact that it's a family secret, and the fact that he's the twelfth generation of that family. That's enough for me." Smooth looked as smooth as his name.
"He is serious," Ribald breathed deeply. "If you wanted to bring down the wrath of two goddess princesses, you could do it an easier way. No way Celestia or Luna is going to let this slide!"
Sky's ears twitched again. Smooth noticed, and gave him a motion as to say "Continue".
"The Royal Reserve is a corporate invention as a fail-safe to protect the banking industries of Equestria and even beyond our borders. Her Majesty Celestia and Her Grace Luna would not agree to such transactions, but they would not act upon it more than they would for any other petty crime." Sky recited his knowledge like an oath or creed.
The table went silent.
Ribald was the first to break the silence. "That military training never leaves the system, huh?"
Mocha Joe shook his head. "This is a huge mistake. What are going to do with all that money when every place in Equestria knows that a group of four ponies broke into the biggest vault in the world? This is pointless!" Joe started to get up from his seat before a hoof grabbed his leg.
It was Sky's.
"Listen to your commanding officer. That's all I'm going to advise you." His glare was as sharp as a dagger ready to strike.
"Do sit down, Mocha Joe. This conversation is too interesting to pass up." Ribald nodded in agreement.
Begrudgingly, Mocha Joe sat down. At this stage, he was too involved to leave anyway.
Satisfied, Smooth leaned back into his chair with a smug grin on his face. The grin of a winner.
"This isn't going to be about money, gentleponies. Between the four banks and *that* apple pie recipe, we have always been set for a good retirement," Smooth inhaled another cloud of smoke, "This is about honor among thieves. This is about respect. I'm not going to settle with hushed stories to my children; I want to be a legend. We could become the greatest robbers in history, gentleponies. This is history in the making."
Ribald nodded deeply in agreement before making a time-out sign with his hooves. "I'm on the same page here, but why bring along Sky? He's no Red, and he's definitely not a robber, I can tell that."
Sky turned to face to Ribald, stone faced. "Red is my brother. His last request was for me to assist you guys for whatever you asked of me."
"And you just agreed to that? What if we murder, rob, or conspire against Celestia herself?" Ribald's hoof made a circling motion, as if to say "Theoretically."
"I hold a code of honor and uphold the laws of the land, but my family comes first. Do not expect me to do any bidding at a whim."
"That serious, huh?"
The table turned silent again.
Even Ribald didn't bother to make a witty response.
Smooth finished his second cigarette of the night. "I didn't bring along Sky. He came to me. He's a great detective and he says that he did all the work himself in finding me. I'm sure his brother had a helping hoof from behind bars but I never did tell anypony where I was going or what I was going to do. That was enough for me."
Mocha Joe looked down, trying to find purpose in his hooves.
Ribald still kept his mouth shut.
It was time for Sky to ask his own question. "My brother never told you guys that he had a Palace Guard for a sibling, did he?"
They all shook their heads.
"That's my brother, then." Sky finished with an affirmative nod.
The silence continued for a good five minutes before Smooth decided to resume the planning.
"The architect, Arched Buttress -"
"HA, buttress!"
Smooth gave Ribald a dirty look.
"Anyways, as I was saying, the architect will be attending the party at approximately 7:30 in the evening. He is a very cordial pony by nature, so we can say that he'll arrive on time. Nearly half of Canterlot's aristocracy is going to be here tonight, so it's absolutely vital that we get in and get out without leaving a trace. Any valuables you find are free game, but don't attract suspicion."
"Any clue on guards?"
"No, our insider didn't give an idea of security. Fancy Pants is a name that carries weight and respect, so I doubt that anypony would be willing to rob him in the midst of a mob of bourgeoisie, but private security is a given at this meeting."
"Why can't we nab the architect at any other point? Like when he's at his home, or something. We can learn that, right? Where he lives?"
"That's a negative. He's avoided both public and private eye in almost every situation, but his reputation and family name precedes him. He's an honored guest, but close to nopony knows anything about him."
"Close to nopony? There is somepony who knows about him, right? A family friend, maybe?"
"He's old and sequestered. It might be interesting to some people if he was young and handsome, perhaps, but he's absolutely the opposite of what the media wants. Most likely, he's the opposite of what anypony wants in a personal companion."
"Any idea what he looks like?"
"Yes. Tan pony with a big, bushy grey beard and a cathedral for a cutie-mark."
"Wait, is Buttress his family name? You're telling me that there is a family of Buttresses, and nopony bothered to tell me?"
"I presume so, Ribald. The first Buttress was just named Archie, though. Strange times. What's stranger, is that they've been official architects of Princess Celestia for a millennium, with no break in the bloodline. It was never hereditary, but every Buttress that became a architect became so of their own merit. Speaks volumes about our target, gentleponies."
"Okay, we're looking for an old geezer with a church on his ass. How are we going to get into the mansion party?" Mocha Joe raised his voice for the first time since he sat back down. Smooth looked back at him.
"Catering services."
Joe's pupils shrunk to the size of peas, a cold chill running up his spine. There was an audible gulp emanating from his throat.
Ribald burst into laughter. "Once a barista, always a barista!"
Even Sky couldn't help but put on a smug grin. There was no point in explaining, but Mocha Joe's expression told the truth better than anypony could.
"T-t-that's not necessary, is it? Why not m-maintenance? Or-r musicians? Why...catering?" The beige pony grimaced like he looked into the eyes of Death itself.
Smooth kept a composed face throughout the exchange. "I considered us posing as repairponies or cooks, but background checks are a requirement and we're too short on time to work up identities. Our best chance is to go in, serve a few drinks, get the architect, and get out."
Sky looked at the unicorn. "This isn't going to be that simple. We need a 'plan B' if our efforts prove fruitless."
Smooth nodded. "It's never simple. That's why we have these." A bright flash enveloped the group, and a bundle of four masks appeared on the table in front of them.
The faces of Starswirl the Bearded, Discord, a timberwolf, and the likeness of a changeling came to life on the table. Every single imperfection and blemish were presented uncannily; enough to fool anypony into thinking that the pony behind it was indeed whomever(or whatever) the mask represented.
"Thick as thieves." Smooth exclaimed with an air of finality.
"Thick as thieves." Ribald resounded affirmatively.
Mocha Joe sighed, and repeated the mantra in tandem with his comrades.
"..Thick as thieves?" Sky asked.
Smooth didn't answer. Instead, he took the mask of Starswirl into his hooves, facing up towards him. He stared into the wizened old eyes of the former sage.
Sighing, he put it back on the table. "We'll take a train to Canterlot first thing in the morning. Have a good night, gentleponies, and don't get into too much trouble."
The four stood up at once, took their respective masks, and departed the bar.
It was early morning in Manehattan, but it was as busy as midday in the big city. The train terminal told a similar tale; ponies by the dozens shuffled about at a frantic pace regardless of their purpose or destination. The large concourse resembled an auditorium more than a transportation hotspot, with gargantuan chandeliers and a sprawling second floor above the railways, complete with vendors of all types and trades.
A single train attendant in a blue jacket stood in front of a roaring train, its great bellows pushing out even greater steam clouds. His hand dived into his pocket, revealing a rather standard brass pocketwatch. One look at the time was enough for him.
Cupping a hoof around his mouth, he shouted.
"6 o'clock train to Canterlot! All aboard! 6 o'clock train to Canterlot! All aboard!"
A horde of would-be passengers soon enveloped the worker as they pushed and shoved towards the boarding doors. It continued for a good minute, leaving a very bruised and battered train attendant in their place. He refused to open his eyes even after the crowd left, wincing in a solitary position.
"Ouch."
"Is this the train to Canterlot?" A gruff and gravelly voice interrupted his moment of solace.
He opened one eye, and then the other, to find himself facing four nondescript ponies in trilbies and trenchcoats. The sight was particularly mysterious, but he didn't question it.
"Yessir, 6 o'clock train to Canterlot? Do you have your boarding passes on you?" He tried to put his best face on; a smile and a tip of a hat.
"How long is the trip?" He didn't answer the question in question, but that was alright. Questions always made the attendant happy.
"Six or seven hours, give or take, but we take a pitstop at Neighagra Falls to give a good look for the tourists. Minimum twenty minutes, sir!"
"Tell the conductor to take a straight trip. If anyone asks, it's an order from the train agency."
The questioning look of the attendant seemed to bore past the garb of the clothed pony.
"On whose authority, sir? I normally do not care to check individual boarding passes, but I need to see yours and your friends right now." His look turned into an accusing glare.
The gravel voiced stallion couldn't help but put on a smug grin.
One of the three clothed ponies stepped forward. The train attendant noticed a white tinge underneath the trenchcoat, but it was not indicative of anything special.
At least, until the pony spoke.
"In the name of Her Majesty Princess Celestia and Her Grace Princess Luna of Equestria, I, Cloud Chaser, member of the Royal Guard, doth command this train to head to Canterlot immediately and without stoppage."
The train attendant broke into a sweat.
"Failure to comply will result in punishment and exile to the moon."
The train attendant started to break down before the white stallion in front of him.
"Oh dear Celestia, please no! I only got this job a week ago and my family and friends are counting on me and I have this girl we've been steady for weeks and...and-d-d...
He felt a hoof being shoved into his mouth.
It was the raspy voiced stallion from earlier.
"Just tell the conductor to not stop along the way. Your job nor your life is in peril, but it would be wise of you not to speak of this to anypony."
The attendant felt the urge to ask them for their tickets, but it was extinguished by the fact there was a palace guard threatening to banish him the moon.
"O-of course, right away. Would sir like to take the first-class cabin for himself and his companions?"
"Do you need to ask?"
Four nondescript ponies, with trilbies and trenchcoats, stepped onto the train.
"Really, 'Cloud Chaser'? I never knew you were ready to impersonate a former colleague?" Ribald laughed into a cup of sweet dandelion wine, taking small sips as he reclined in the luxurious suede seat. The cabin that the attendant chose for them was a medium sized compartment, complete with four chairs and a dining table that closely resembled something from a high scale banquet hall.
"I never liked him to begin with. It would not be detrimental if he were to hear the news that somepony of his name commandeered a train and threatened a servant with banishment and exile," Sky paused to take a sip of water from a similar cup, "At least, not detrimental to us." He smiled.
Ribald found an excuse to laugh even harder as he took large gulps of the wine, finishing it with a final flourish. Satisfied, he sighed and put the cup back on the table. He looked up to notice that Smooth was hunched over a map, taking minor notes with a pen and paper. The sight was not uncommon, as Smooth always used his free-time to prepare for any job ahead, but what was there to planning when they had an entire day to work it out?
At his side, Mocha Joe was similarly hunched over a satchel of what seemed to be fireworks and other pyrotechnics. Joe took pride in his work as an amateur pyrotechnic, and he always volunteered to do the engineering aspects of any job, even if his success rate was less than perfect.
There was no practice to Ribald's art, though. The trade of diplomacy and deception came naturally to him, and he had experience with what would happen if he failed. The blotches of scarred skin on his back served as stark reminders.
Sky, however, was a wildcard. Being a palace guard, he was obviously trained in the arts of war and combat. He was a well-oiled fighting machine that had no remorse for the enemies of the crown. Ribald contemplated what would be his contribution, but he found his answer quicker than he expected.
"Red was the best fighter out of all of us. Were you two close?" Ribald could never forget the sheer skill that Red had when they had to fight it out. His hooves resembled more that of a hurricane than a set of jabs, and his agility in the air was equal to his pugilism.
The fact that Red was the first to get arrested disturbed him to no end.
Sky sobered up quickly at the mention of his brother.
"His choices in life were concerning, but he is of my flesh and blood. In youth, we enjoyed many a pleasure together-," Sky stopped when Ribald started to giggle uncontrollably. An unimpressed look from Sky did enough to quiet him down. Satisfied, he continued.
"After graduation, I pursued a career in the Royal Academy. I found my talent for investigation and that propelled me to my position in the Royal Guard. As for Red, I recall what he did or where he went, but our connections were cut off for several years. Until his arrest, of course."
"And you didn't question his judgement when he was locked up in a cell?"
Sky shrugged. "He pursued a career in criminal activities. I will not judge him, but I uphold the laws of Equestria like any fair citizen."
"Despite that, you willingly join a heist, just because your brother told you to?"
"Yes."
"And what does that make of you?"
Sky didn't respond to that. His stone cold face appeared once more, but his eyes betrayed him as their gaze retreated to the floor.
"I thought so." Ribald's face turned into an indignant scowl as he shook his head.
"You thought what, Ribald? That our friend does not keep his promises?" An equally irritated gruff voice pierced the silence. Ribald turned to see Smooth still browsing the map, but the expression was less than satisfied.
"Of course, how am I to believe that a Royal Guard wants to help us rob a bank because his estranged brother wants him to?"
Mocha Joe kept quiet throughout the conversation, completely lacking for words.
Smooth's gaze slowly rose up from the parchment.
"Believe anything you want to believe, Ribald. He is now one of us, regardless of what you want from me or him. I trust his loyalty, unlike other ponies." His dull grey eyes met that of Ribald's. "You want to know why he chose us?"
A cautious nod by Ribald confirmed his curiosity.
"The moment we pilfer the Royal Reserve, he will hand us in to the princesses."
"WHAT?" The response by Mocha Joe and Ribald was simultaneous. The looks on their faces were petrified in shock and horror, which then quickly turned to anger and unbridled rage.
"Damn it, Smooth! Why'd you think I'd agree to this? This is completely fucking insane!" Mocha Joe was first to respond, but Ribald followed up with an unsavory gesture.
"I'll kill you before they get their hooves on me. I hope you know that, Smooth."
A knock on the door of their cabin interrupted their conversation. The door slid open to reveal a young, female stewardess with a cap on her head. "Um, is there a problem?"
Everypony's gazes turned to the intruder.
The sight of two heavy clothed ponies standing up on their hind legs, ready to brawl, almost spoiled what was going to happen.
"Nothing's wrong. Go back to your station." A gruff voice from the corner of the room reached her before anything else.
"Okay."
The door shut quicker than the group expected.
"Yes, where were we?" Ribald turned around to face Smooth again. He felt the odd sensation that his hooves were tightened by something, but he couldn't put his hoof on it.
He got his answer as he saw Mocha Joe wrapped in a thick bundle of rope. He looked down to see a light brown rope-like substance similarly tied around his hooves.
"Fuck me."
A very irritated Smooth forced a hoof to his head. Sky Scraper was doing the finishing touches on the ropes, tightening them with a strong tug of his teeth.
"I hope you see the reasoning behind our situation, Ribald."
Smooth turned to Mocha Joe. His face was surprisingly placid. "I don't blame you, just your stupidity. I always valued your contributions."
Another turn of the head put him face to face with Ribald.
"Yours too, Ribald. If it pleases you, I'll admit we wouldn't have gotten out of the last heist if it were not for your wit and quick feet, but don't bring it into this. We're doing this for more than ourselves."
"When was it ever more than for ourselves? This is nothing more than your gambit, you sick fuck." Ribald spat with venom in his voice.
A very frustrated Smooth leaned forward to meet Ribald eye-to-eye.
"You really expected to grow old and die in your bed, didn't you? There is no rest for thieves like us, especially after what we've accomplished in such short time. We're a victim of our own success, and there is no road left for us but this," leaning back, he nodded for Sky to continue the train of thought.
"Ahem," Sky cleared his throat, "Under the authority of Her Majesty Princess Celestia and Her Grace Princess Luna, this assignment has been given unofficial recognition of the crown, meaning that the Royal Crown does not condemn our actions nor will they actively support our efforts. On completion of our objective, we will be granted a royal audience."
Ribald's face looked more lost than doubtful.
"I know that feeling, Ribald. Sky said the same thing to me when he found me. It makes sense when you think about it, really. A thousand years of having to deal with the convoluted bureaucracy that is Equestrian politics, and you can't help but have fun in a little while. Luna's appearance only bolstered her resolution," a lit cigarette found a way into his mouth, "We're going to bust the Royal Reserve and prove a point. A very valid point. She knows about us, what we do. She's read the newspapers, the police reports. Now she's giving us a chance to be useful for the good of Equestria, not just our personal gain." A puff of smoke lazily rose from his mouth.
Ribald still found it iffy, but he couldn't resist the urge to nod. "What a conspiratorial and romantic way to get things done, isn't it? Sounds like something that Celestia would do."
Mocha Joe found the will to resist more viable than acceptance. "You're just bullshitting us, Smooth. I know it; you've been a bullshitter since day one."
A smug grin appeared on Smooth's face as he cocked his head towards Mocha Joe. "Tell me, who was it that offered you an escape from that servantile idiocy? A bullshitter, of all the ponies in the world, gave you a chance to make a new life for yourself. If anything, I've been doing nothing but charity work for you, Mocha Joe."
Sky nodded. "I found a note in your apartment that proclaimed that you were ready to burn down the establishment that you worked for. If it was not for Smooth Operator's intervention, you would have been apprehended by police on grounds of arson and property damage."
Mocha Joe's eyes sunk in horror. "You..went into my apartment?"
Another puff of smoke coolly escaped Smooth's lips. "He's a detective by trade. Or did you mistake him for a rancher because he tied you up in the blink of an eye?"
Mocha Joe didn't respond. He had an increasingly common track record for that.
Ribald seemed strangely satisfied with the events that happened, a coy smile appearing on his face. "Oh Smoothie, you're one sly dog, let me tell you. Just tell me one thing, and I'm yours."
Smooth raised an eyebrow. "Tell you what?"
"Where did you find the space and foresight for rope?"
"It's magic. I don't have to explain."
"Right."
Sky opened his mouth to talk, but Smooth raised a hoof. "Don't. This is a moment I want to savor."
Four ponies in trilbies and trenchcoats, two in ropes, sat in the first-class cabin for the rest of the trip.
A very troubled stewardess avoided it at all costs.
It was well past midday when the Manehattan-Canterlot train pulled into the train station. The ride was comfortable enough for the group (even if everypony on the train avoided their compartment at all costs) and they disembarked without a word from any of the attendants present.
The Canterlot train station was more the size of a palace; marble walls and pillars combined with a completely glassed dome ceiling that somehow transfigured all of the incoming light into colors of the rainbow had the power to make any tourist stop and take a look. Ponies of all shapes and sizes made their way through the central atrium, a cacophony of busy talk and conversation all around.
Good conditions to blend in undetected.
Smooth let a moment to let it sink in. "We're being tailed, get a move on."
"By whom, may I ask?" Ribald asked, looking over his shoulders.
Sky needed only a second's glance to confirm. "Yeah, I see them. Two guardponies on our six. They're looking straight at us," he commented, not even facing the direction they were coming from.
Sure enough, there were two guardponies in full armor looking directly at the group behind a moving blob of pedestrians.
"Do they know what we're doing?" Mocha Joe asked, suddenly feeling more insecure under his trenchcoat.
Smooth snorted involuntarily. "I doubt it. The attendant from earlier probably tipped them off, though," he paused to light a cigarette with magic and put it in his mouth, "I suggest we don't stay to find out. Ribald, Sky, take a left and head for the east exit. Mocha, follow me towards the northern one." The group nodded in unison and moved forward.
The train station was so packed that they went past effortlessly, slinking past passerbys and avoiding open spaces where they could be seen. Ribald and Sky had to take a detour under a kiosk selling umbrellas when they saw that one of the guards was actually a pegasus and was hovering in the air. Smooth and Mocha didn't have it any easier, though, as their guardpony was a unicorn and was actively casting a detection spell that took the shape of a ghostly bloodhound. Regardless, they reached their destinations and a single glance at each other was all they needed to know they were home free.
Canterlot was lovely this time of year, as the trees turned into brilliant shades of red and yellow and ponies started wearing autumn fashions that wonderfully complimented the Equestrian city. Canterlot Central was on a normally busy street, full of haggling street vendors and patrician pedestrians. The group met up at a hole-in-the-wall cafe on the other side. Taking their seats and waving away the waitress because they didn't need refreshments, four ponies in trenchcoats and trilbies huddled together at a solitary table in the corner.
"We ditched the moron pretty well back there, Sky. Good thinking with the umbrellas!" Ribald commended Sky, patting him on the back. Sky Scraper shrugged.
"Two of my worst apprentices to date, can't blame Lieutenant for putting them on station duty."
Ribald burst into laughter, managing to surprise everypony at the table and scare everypony in the cafe. "That's right, I forgot you were a pro investigator, but apprentices? You used to teach?" Ribald laughed right in the former guardspony's face. Sky looked back unimpressed, but nodded.
"Standard procedure for senior guardsponies. The experienced teaches the unexperienced, and I had the honor to teach 48 recruits individually. The last two barely made the grade," he remarked offhandedly.
"Enough with the antics, let's get down to business," said Smooth, crushing his used up cigarette into the ashtray on the table. "It's just past midday and the party's tonight, so we don't have much time to prepare for this one. To sum it up, we're gonna have to show up here," his horn lit up and a business card with "JOE'S CATERING SERVICES" and a familiar donut shop owner pasted on the front appeared on the table. Mocha Joe turned a rosy shade of red, but found no words to express his embarrassment.
If Ribald could have laughed any harder he would have had a stroke. Mocha shut him up with a slap on the back of the jokester's head. Smooth raised an eyebrow, but ventured no farther.
"Joe's Catering Service is where we're going to go under disguise and prepare for the party at hand. My contact made sure four unlucky gentleponies were sick with the magiflu today, and the company is conveniently short of four workers. We're going to fill in that gap, but we're going to do more than just passing hor d'oeurves around tea tables." Another flash of magic and the business card was replaced with a pouch made of flax and tied with a string of unknown purple material. Smooth and Sky remained neutral in their expression, but both Ribald and Mocha stared at the bag in question. A solitary hoof from Mocha pointed at it.
"What are we going to do with that? Wrap one of the old coot's hooves up and kidnap him?"
The light-brown mastermind nodded, making Ribald scratch his head and Mocha wrinkle his eyebrows. "It's a Bag of Infinity. It stretches to whatever you can fit in it and said object or objects are held in stasis in an infinite plane..," Smooth stopped when he realized that Ribald had stopped following at 'said'. He sighed, and explained simply, "We're going to put him in a bag, but the bag can fit in a coat pocket. Understood?
"Yeah, I read you, Smoothie. Corner the oldest looking stallion in the party and stuff him into a coin purse," Ribald mimicked the actions of forcing a pony into a space they really couldn't fit into. Smooth felt himself involuntarily roll his eyes, and forced four tuxedos into existence with a flash of light from his horn. Each one had clip-on bowties and fake nametags: Ribald was Rose Bouquet, Smooth was Brownie Delight, Sky was Vanilla Cream, and Mocha Joe was...Mocha Joe.
The look of disgust on the brawny stallion's could have melted the nametag right then and there.
"Why are all of you disguised and I get to be myself? Don't you think that defeats the purpose of getting fake names in the first place!?" Mocha Joe erupted, pointing an accusatory hoof at Smooth.
Smooth shook his head. "Fancy Pants is expecting a representative from the catering company, and you fit the bill quite well. He'll probably think you're the 'Joe' in Joe's Catering Services." Smooth Operator levitated a cigarette to his mouth, lighting it with a simple spark of magic. He took a deep blow, and let the smoke release from his lungs.
"Besides, he'll only be mistaking one brother for the other one. Common mistake, really." He said nonchalantly.
Mocha Joe was absolutely fuming; his ears pointed downwards and Ribald swore that he had seen steam bellowing out of his compatriot's nostrils. Sky sat as cool as a cucumber.
"We've got 30 minutes. Change into your uniforms, grab a bite, whatever. Meet back here and we'll go to the catering company." Smooth said. The group nodded in unison, and four ponies in trilbies and trenchcoats left the cafe on the other side of the street.
