Nightshade: Death of a Psychic

"Struck," Strike called as she swung open her door, "I'm back. I brought a friend."

"What?" A zebra-patterned face with a white mane poked around a corner, "Are you sure that's a good idea? Does he know?"

"Not the whole truth, but for now just get comfortable Nights."

"At least she didn't ask if I was dead," He tried to lighten the mood.

He followed Strike into their living room where Thunderstruck sat the couch with her knees pulled in close to her chest. Nightshade shot her a worried look and offered a weak smile but quickly covered her mouth.

Did she have...

He sat down near the Wonderbolt, she looked like she was on edge and absolutely terrified. He knew exactly what was wrong, he'd seen it before. His eyes wandered to her slightly overgrown fur, he just needed to be subtle. Bring it up in a way that would soothe the mare.

"So how long have you known you were a werewolf," Strike froze the moment the words left his mouth and glared at Nightshade.

Subtle, Nightshade thought to himself with a nod before realizing Striker was glaring at him.

"What? She should know! Now you better tell me, if you don't talk I can't help. It's not like you're the only one."

"Pardon my french, but what the fuck are you talking about? That shit isn't real, it's stuff we tell kids to scare them out of the Everfree- "

"Strike, I have a lot of respect for you. But if you truly believe that, you might be the dumbest mare I know. You're a big girl, you should know better." Nightshade said pinching her cheek and she promptly slapped his hand away.

"Prove it."

"I was hoping you'd say that. This is my favourite part, haven't done this since I took Ace to Manehatten. One moment." He was almost giddy as he walked into their kitchen and grabbed a knife before returning. "Strike, hold out your hand. Now if she isn't what I said she is then nothing should happen when I do this."

"You better be gentle- Fuck!" She cursed as he gently sliced the palm of her hand, she reflexively squeezed it closed and they watched as Struck put her nose in the air before stalking over to Strike and hungrily licking the blood from her hand. Strike's face twitched, "This... This is beyond weird. But that doesn't prove- "

Struck yipped and nuzzled up to Strike's leg.

"You were saying?" Nightshade chuckled, "It'll be like you have a dog. Except you won't have to clean up after her. That sounded better in my head but you know what I mean."

Strike tried to remain stone-faced, "You're actually fucking with me, right? This- I can't- This is... So- "

"So cute?"

She growled at Nightshade and took a deep breath, Nightshade appreciated that she was working on her temper issues. "She'll go back to normal right?"

"Well yes, but unless it's a full moon... Call me if she's like this for longer than 4 hours. I'm gonna head to sleep. Have fun."

Nightshade stepped quietly out of the apartment building into the morning sunlight, he tried to stay lighthearted but he felt bad. Strike had no idea what she was in for now, on top of that he didn't know if Struck had already been a werewolf or had been turned. More importantly, he didn't want Celestia to find out. She couldn't find out, it would ruin Struck's life if it didn't end in death or imprisonment. He couldn't ensure Struck's safety or freedom if Celestia ever found out, he didn't want it to happen again. Not to Strike.

He walked into a nearby coffee shop needing a distraction and to sate his newfound need for caffeine. The place was packed but the place felt warm and welcoming, an odd feeling to have in such a cold and proper place like Canterlot. He joined the line of ponies waiting to be served and looked over at a group in a booth by the front window, a tan pegasus with a fiery ginger mane in a long sleeve black shirt and jeans leaning on the shoulder of a raven maned pegasus in a t-shirt and pants. Across from them sat Lyra, Bon Bon, Octavia and Vinyl. The sight put a smile on Nightshade's face, it reminded him.

Speed and Endie!

He stepped over to the table, "Congratulations! No- wait, I meant, good morning! Sorry, the brain's still a bit fried."

Vinyl and Octavia offered smiles while the rest of the group seemed confused as he rushed out of the coffee shop. He knew how he could let everyone know he was back without setting Celestia's alarms off.

With a big smile on his face, he strolled into his old friend Lucky's bar, it fell silent the instant he walked in. Instinctively he tilted his head down towards the floor to avoid the stares, multiple scratch marks lined the floors. He quietly sat at the bar counter. Why is it so packed? It's midday in a bar at the edge of Canterlot. This feels wrong. The bar didn't feel as welcoming as he remembered. That was until he saw a familiar green pony coming his way.

"Hey Lucky how- " There was a gun shoved in his face, "You know you'd think by now everypony would know I'm not afraid of guns- "

He looked over his shoulder, all the other patrons shared scowls in his direction.

"Now why are they angry? You, I could understand-"

The safety clicked off and Nightshade got serious.

"Before you do anything rash, I literally just had the conversation we're more than likely about to have already with Strike."

"You just vanished and didn't even think to make contact with us. That was almost a year ago. Never dropped by to let us know you're alright." Lucky growled as he tipped his hat back, smouldering green eyes glaring Nightshade down. His ginger mane seemed to glow like fire in the bar light.

"You say it like I had a choice."

"Pray tell, lad. What stopped ye?"

"Ace."