Far beneath Manehattan's surface was a network of artificial catacombs. After First Quarter decided that this island would be where her base of operations lay, she had taken the time to make it as expansive as possible. Space on the surface was at a premium, so she went for 'subsurface' instead.

During a time when the Griffon Kingdom was still on uneasy terms with Equestria, an enterprising griffon with a penchant for outside-the-box tactics had overseen the creation of these tunnels. The concept never panned out with his race, given their fondness for the open air, so after a few years his project was quietly abandoned.

On the other hoof, Quarter and her allies had seen their potential. After the island was purchased from the griffons 390 years ago, they expanded the tunnels and fleshed them out, turning them into actual rooms and passages over time. Quarter would later add a tunnel of her own that was aimed at the ocean, angled downward to prevent sea water from filling the catacombs' lower levels. That way whenever she needed to, she could slip away from the island without any residents seeing her.

After the official establishment of the Chocolate Mocha Beverage Corporation's headquarters in Manehattan, the office tower incorporated a shaft that connected the conference room near the top with the tunnels down below. From there, Quarter's agents—provided they had some means of safely reaching the entrance deep underwater—could get into the building to meet with her with none the wiser, and subsequently exit into the city.

As for the departments responsible for aiding Quarter in her goal of ousting Celestia, those based in the city all had their offices underground. They could come and go as much as they pleased, but they were instructed to be as vague as possible about who they worked for and where they were situated. Prior to outing himself as a mole, Trifecta would ‘adjust’ the memories of anyone who decided to quit or retire so that no information could get out. As such, nopony in the city knew that Quarter was financing malignant magitech. Even the ever-diligent Honest Crow, the local newspaper’s self-proclaimed best reporter, was unaware.

Initially, what Gray found in the tunnels had nothing to do with what was threatening the city.

Her first stop after descending into Manehattan’s depths was akin to a luxury suite, albeit one with an expansive personal library. The suite was home to a large number of old relics, tomes and scrolls. Carefully opening one such scroll, she learned—after trying for several minutes to parse the badly written script—that some of the materials here were on the order of 800 years old, judging from the dates.

She marveled at how well-preserved everything was. Nearly everything in this room looked, if not excellent, then at least in fair condition.

Oddly, it looked to her like somepony had been staying here recently. In one corner of the suite was a sheet of paper that had been lying discarded, far newer than any tome. Some of the writing had been crossed out, but it looked like the start of a manifesto of some kind. What little was left talked about Cutie Marks and equality. The name “Starlight Glimmer” was wedged into a corner.

Gray grimaced. Whoever this pony was, their writing’s even worse than that scroll I checked. Does nopony know how to make their cursive look legible anymore?

She took some time to scour the suite looking for information. There was none to be had… or at least, none that she could carry with her.

...Though, one of the largest walls did have an expansive family tree inked on it, covering most of the surface. Annoyingly, some of it was blocked by furniture and decorations that she couldn’t move on her own, but what she could see told its own story.

It’s up to date, at least. Caramel Mocha and Hazelnut Mocha, children of Marble Mocha and Triple Berry. She shook her head at seeing those last two names, remembering a newspaper from some years back. Now there’s a tragedy if I ever heard one. I feel sorry for the kids. Anyway, Marble was Cocoa Mocha’s only child, and Cocoa himself was the oldest child of Prairie Grass and Nutmeg Mocha…

I’m always amazed that ponies bother doing this. I can barely even remember any of my great-grandparents’ names. Vector Victor and… Orange Skies were my maternal grandma’s parents. ...Or was it my paternal grandpa’s? Ugh... I always get them mixed up. Doesn’t help that they all passed before I was born.

Her bit of rumination finished, she considered that this tree was important in one respect: the suite was part of the Mocha family’s holdings. Her instincts told her that the family hadn’t been preserving all of these relics for grins and giggles, and she put a tab on it for now. She made sure that everything had been returned to where they had been before leaving the suite, extinguishing the lanterns on her way out.

None of the tunnels were really “straight”. They didn’t cut clear through the island to Mocha HQ. Instead they inclined at an angle downwards or upwards, turned at ninety degrees, or both at once. After fifteen minutes of walking and slow flying Gray was at least a hundred feet beneath the surface, though that number was subject to change at any time.

The decor was a mix of aged and modern. Wallpaper, flooring, carpeting (in some areas), and paneling favored by old money were lit up by the newest electrical lights (and, as she discovered when she found a working restroom, serviced by modern plumbing). None of it gave Gray the impression of being harsh or sterile as she would’ve expected, instead trying to come off as homey as possible. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought that she was touring a maze-like vacation home fit for a minotaur.

Hoofsteps and spoken words reached her, the sounds echoing from somewhere down the line. Gray took quick stock of her location: no vents large enough for her to easily fit in, no nearby doors for her to slip through, and no sufficiently loose ceiling tiles. She was at the top of a ramp that descended eleven feet, and the hallway at the bottom had a left turn.

She grinned and took a few steps back, then hunkered down close to the ground. Her back half wiggled a little as she waited for her prey to get closer.

The voices were audible now. “What’s the story with Boss Ignition having us patrol through here? There’s nothing to guard down here anymore,” a mare was heard wondering.

“If I had a bit for every time I’ve been asked that question… I’d have two—” a stallion started to say, only to grunt when a hoof smacked him.

“Was that joke ever really funny?” another stallion complained. “If I used it before a crowd, I’d get hooked off the stage.”

“Eh, you just don’t understand humor. But seriously, I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Ignition.”

Gray’s muscles tensed. She waited until the sounds of their hoofsteps told her that they were at the bottom of the ramp… and then she uncoiled like a spring, throwing herself through the air at enthusiastic velocities with both gauntlets reaching out. The lead pony had no idea what crashed into him.

She kicked off of the guard—who was now officially hired as the wall’s newest art decoration—and propelled herself at the next in line. The other mare wasn’t spared any time to react as Gray pinballed right off her, throwing her for a loop and onto her back with a large bruise developing on her face. The third and final guard was just starting to raise his weapon when a ghastly blur relieved him of it; as soon as he realized that he’d been disarmed, he was clocked across the back of the head with it.

Gray rolled her shoulders as she got her hooves beneath her. I got the jump on them quickly enough, but I probably won’t be able to have that much fun again, she considered as she set about destroying the guards’ radios. Let’s look around a bit.

Once she was done with the radios she lifted off and jetted down the hall to make up for lost time, leaving the groaning security team behind.

Gnarly Bark was a magitechnician, and a happy one. He was helping to build a new age, coming up with new creations to show the world. He was earning plenty of money, and was going to be granted two weeks vacation after everything was finished. His bosses at the top of the chain were pleased with his work and were using it to attack that robot, somepony he had trouble abiding the presence of.

Machines that you could control? Wonderful. Machines with their own beliefs and thought processes? Madness. Who came up with that stupid idea?

Gnarly finished embossing the runes on his latest creation’s interior, then placed a small crystal cut in the shape of a cube within a tiny container. He connected all of the pieces of the drone’s shell together, then sat back and waited. After a short time, a glow matching the shape of the runes shone through the shell.

The unicorn smiled, pleased with his work. As yet unnamed, this mouse-like design would be ideal for snooping around places where even Sapphiders couldn’t go. He opened his mouth to give it basic instructions, to tell it to wait until a task could be given it.

“Hello, Gnarly Bark,” an unfamiliar voice greeted him, making him freeze in terror at how predatory it sounded. “I do believe that what you’re doing is illegal.”

Something smacked the back of his head, the blow being in just the right place and delivered with just the right force to induce unconsciousness.

…

Gray frowned at the mouse drone that was still on the table. “I hate these things,” she complained. “Too much metal, not enough meat.” She brought her claws down, ripping it to shreds before doing the same to its accompanying blueprints.

Destroying these might be a bit premature, but I’m not lacking for evidence. This is the tenth such office I’ve found so far. Just the proof that they’ve been aiding in a threat to the city would put these goons away for decades.

And mice are pesky little buggers no matter what they look like, though I’ll be first to admit that I’m biased in thinking that.

Quarter’s plan to keep the intruder away from the sub-basement was doomed to failure from the start. Gray wasn’t deterred by things like security placements or traps. She went wherever she pleased according to her instincts. As she’d said a while ago at Bronclyn High: she was the cat that walked by herself, and all places were alike to her.

…

Two members of the drone production team were feeling peckish, so they decided to visit their preferred kitchen. One of the mares was daydreaming about a large chocolate milkshake, topped with whipped cream and a cherry. The other was all but salivating over the idea of making a triple-decker sandwich with every ingredient that was available.

There was a third mare already in the kitchen, making herself a begonia-LT sandwich. “Hello hello,” one of the engineers greeted her. “Haven’t seen you here before. Are you new here?”

“First day on the job,” Mare No. 3 said with a friendly wave as she finished putting the sandwich together. “I was accepted into security, so I figured I’d dress the part.”

The second engineer gave an impressed whistle. “Snazziest suit I’ve ever seen. That’ll get you high marks for sure. Good luck, and remember that if you get lost, there’s maps all over the place. Alright?”

Mare No. 3 politely thanked her for the advice, smiled the best she could with the sandwich occupying her teeth, and trotted for the door.

The two engineers took some time to get their desired meals before sitting down at the table with them. “This is going to be the best lunch I ever had,” the second one claimed as she started to bite down---

And the full realization of what had just happened hit them like an anvil. “...Mysterious-looking pony in a suit and shades… first day on the job…” The engineers traded faces of dread, with the first one feeling the most fearful. “Copper String? We’re in this deep, aren’t we?”

“Like the ocean, Runic Shard. Like the ocean.”

A half-second after that sentence was completed, two metal wastebaskets were jammed over their heads. Their muffled protests and flailing were silenced when something struck them both like gongs, rattling them out of their seats and onto the floor.

…

Gray licked her lips after she swallowed the remainder of her sandwich. “I expect to be fired by the end of the day,” she commented to the empty air. “But that’s okay. The job benefits outweigh the negatives.”

The two engineers groggily started to pull themselves together. Their eyes tilted towards her—

“The two of you weren’t looking where you were going and collided with the wastebaskets. The nice security newcomer helped you both to your hooves, and as a reward you let her have some of your lunch. You are beginning to feel uneasy about your career path. At the end of your shift you will clock out, travel to Diarchs, and disclose to the authorities everything you know. If any co-workers or bosses ask where you are going, tell them that you’re going to hit your favorite bookstore before it closes.”

Runic Shard blinked as she fully awakened. “I can’t remember the last time I was that clumsy,” she groaned. “Ow, my head…”

“Real nice of that new girl to help us up,” Copper String considered, starting to feel uneasy. “Runic, have you… started to get the feeling that what we’re doing here is wrong?”

“A little bit,” Runic admitted, trying to think past a minor headache. “You’re thinking about telling somepony?”

“Yeah. There’s a guy I know out in Diarchs who might be willing to listen…”

Both of them disregarded the fact that the milkshake Runic had made was half empty, seeing it as a reward well-given and nothing more.

…

Gray drifted down the hall, her memory eraser recharging in her pocket. It’s rather roundabout, but I don’t trust that Trifecta was the only mole taking up space at the MRPD. Assuming I’ve played my cards right, this will alert them to the danger beneath their hooves while flushing out any double agents who were caught off guard.

I think that was one of the best snacks I’ve had in a while. Mocha knows their chocolate.

“Security Team #3, come in. This is Chief Ignition. ...Security Team #3?”

Mildly irritated, Ignition ended the signal when it was clear that they wouldn’t be able to respond. Well, that at least is an indicator of our visitor’s progress. He adjusted his radio and tried again. “Security Team #4, report.”

-“Team #4 reporting in,”- confirmed the voice of the team’s leader. -“Sector’s clear. Orders still stand?”-

“Orders still stand. Continue on your assigned course and watch for intruders. Team #3 isn’t responding, so our guest may be headed your way.”

-“Gotcha, Chief. We’ll stop them.”-

I doubt that, Ignition thought as the signal was cut. He looked around the secondary office that he maintained below ground. The room was as secure as he could make it: the door was locked and protected by materials that typically made up magic restriction rings. The overhead vent was screwed in tight, and three of the honey badger-esque Evisceragers were guarding the only way in. It was just him, his desk and file cabinets, a detailed map of the underground, and his connections with every security agent in Quarter’s employ.

He was just about to call Team #5 when the vent cover suddenly crashed down, almost hitting him on the head. He immediately looked up, a hoof raised to strike in case the intruder decided to attack from there; the vent was too small to accommodate anypony other than children, but in his line of work one couldn’t be too careful.

There was nothing. Suspicious, Ignition grabbed a stepladder and a flashlight from his office’s storage closet. He climbed up close enough to see inside the vent and shone the light into it.

Nothing but emptiness.

He frowned, but it looked like he was clear. Maybe the ceiling needed to be double-checked later to ensure that the cover’s screws weren’t coming loose too easily. “Just add that to the list of things to do,” he grumbled to himself.

For now, the cover was a tripping hazard. He started back down to retrieve it—

A pair of gauntlet-clad forelegs reached out of the vent, grabbed him, and yanked him inside with enough force to get him stuck through the opening. His alarmed shout was quickly cut off.

…

About forty seconds later, violence ensued outside the office. That too was soon extinguished.

A set of claws phased through the door and poked at the lock until it gave way. The door opened, admitting Gray into the office. Behind her were the shredded remains of the Evisceragers, their aggressive and tough defense not saving them from her equally aggressive speed and armaments.

She looked up at the ceiling, where Ignition was silently struggling to get free from the vent, and smiled. I don’t think I could’ve done that without my unique approach to life. Maybe I should tout this as a silver lining to Junie sometime.

She exhaled, feeling winded. Though phasing my entire body through solid barriers like that for prolonged periods does give me more of a workout than I’d like. Browsing the cabinets should give me enough time to recover.

Gray shut and locked the door, then cantered towards the cabinets. She paused for a moment to glare at the ceiling before getting to work. Consider that payback for putting my children in danger, half-wit.

Quarter laid in wait in a supply closet not far from the sub-basement. Her radio was silent, and had been for the past twenty-five minutes.

That was not a good thing. She was supposed to be getting at least some messages, whether it was from Ignition or from well-meaning security giving her basic advice. Something was wrong.

Had their unwanted visitor found them? Quarter hoped not. Ignition in particular wasn’t perfect and he wasn’t a fighter, but he followed instructions to the letter, never questioned orders without a good reason, and was competent in his work. Good help like him was hard to find, and if he was arrested…

She cringed and looked off to the side worriedly. If he is arrested, who’s going to look after Carrie after I ascend to the throne? I suppose one of the servants like Flower Night would be a good substitute, but still—

Her thoughts cut off: a shiver was racking her, from her muzzle to the tip of her tail. The shiver’s vibrations intensified, and she found herself rattling a full six inches off the ground. Her teeth chattered, the noise uncomfortably loud in the silence. Her muscles spasmed, and she found herself thrown backwards against a shelf without any input on her part. This sparked a chain reaction that ended in dozens of rolls of toilet tissue raining down on her.

The manic sensation stopped. Quarter emerged from the tissue pile, suddenly anxious. She cared not for the roll that was sitting on her head. That was… that was not a pleasant sensation. I’ve experienced that a few times since I started working with that sense, and they always heralded a momentous event. Something big is on its way.

Very soft hoofsteps accompanied by an equally soft clacking of metal passed by the closet. And given what is known about our enemies, there’s only one pony I know who’s going to be responsible for it.

Quarter poked her head out of the closet just in time to see a suit and a black tail disappear past a sign-laden door. That’s either the Ghost, or one of Trifecta’s fellow agents. Maybe both. Though if they were one and the same, that would explain a lot.

She ducked back into the closet and switched on her radio, speaking quietly but hurriedly. “To all of you listening, this is a Code Cozy. I repeat, this is a Code Cozy. For your personal safety, do not under any circumstances approach the sub-basement. Deliberate ignorance of this order will result in your immediate firing and two weeks severance pay.”

She didn’t bother listening to any replies, instead shutting the radio back off. She slipped out of the closet, intent on activating Project Ashes’ defenses before it was too late. One way or another, I’m going to stop the Ghost in her ethereal tracks.

…

…

Quarter quickly backtracked to the closet and tossed the roll that was sitting on her head back inside, blushing and inwardly thanking Luna that nopony had seen her in those few moments.

Author's Note

Music links include: "Sinister Shadow" from Ys V; and Oingo Boingo’s “Forbidden Zone”.

The re-design of Gray’s Cutie Mark was provided by DecemberBreeze at the MLP Forums.

Gray’s antics were in part inspired by Leroy, a cat that my parents owned long before I was born. They didn’t know much about taking care of cats back then, and as a result Leroy sought out his own amusement: mid-air full-body tackles that Hobbes would be proud of. When my oldest sister was born my mom was concerned that Leroy would start doing this with the baby, so they passed the cat off to someone they knew who was better equipped to take care of him.

I hope you enjoyed this round of lighthearted cartoonish-ness, readers, because the next chapter or two will be trending towards the darker side of matters. I am dreading this like you wouldn’t believe, not just because of my concern as to how well it’s going to go down, but also because it’s going to touch on something that I’ve struggled to deal with for much of my life. Consider yourself warned.

Ko-Fi Tip Jar. Any contributions you can make are very much appreciated, in light of recent medical expenses on my end. (Yeah, I know, but it never hurts to at least ask, right?)

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