Before she knew it, Sunset’s attention was piqued when she heard police sirens approaching.

“Shit,” she cursed, “how’d they get here so fast?”

Sunset took a cloth from her jacket pocket which she usually used to clean the lenses of her sunglasses, and wiped away the smudge her forehead had left against the glass. She knew any DNA evidence would still be there, but if the CSIs couldn’t see it they may not think to take a sample. She moved to wipe down the doorknob, then hesitated. As far as she knew, the doorknob had the only evidence on it regarding who was responsible for Diane’s death, and wiping away her own fingerprints would also wipe away theirs. She tucked the cloth back into the pocket and hurried back to her car.

She didn’t drive far, just far enough that her car wasn’t in the vicinity of Diane’s house and close enough that she could walk back, and popped the trunk. She took a carrying case containing one of the Rainbooms’ surveillance drones, closed the trunk, and locked the car before making her way back toward Diane’s house.

By the time she returned, a police cruiser and an ambulance had arrived on the scene. Sunset went down another street and after a few blocks turned back toward Diane’s. Diane’s residential neighborhood butted up against a commercial zone, and Sunset was now behind the brick wall of a warehouse, hidden from the prying eyes of any investigators who might otherwise notice her spying on them. She knelt down and opened the drone case, turning it on as she pulled it out. She put on a pair of VR goggles through which she would receive the live footage from the drone’s camera to help her steer, like a video game.

After a few minutes of flying the drone through the neighborhood, she found Diane’s house as a black van pulled up and a handful of crime scene investigators stepped out, including a woman whose platinum blonde hair and pink shades Sunset instantly recognized as a former German immigrant classmate from high school.

“And here I thought Freida Feinberg would become a professional photographer for, like, fashion shows or something,” Sunset chuckled to herself. “Though I suppose documenting crime scenes is a steadier paycheck in this city.”

Freida was directed to the front door of Diane’s house. She looked through the window and Sunset could see her mouth moving, but since she hadn’t been able to plant a listening device before she’d had to leave and the drone unable to have a microphone function due to the sound of the rotors, Sunset was unable to make out exactly what she was saying but zoomed in on the image anyway. Freida check to ensure the flash off and took a picture of Diane’s body through the window before turning toward the others on the scene and presumably saying something about the swarming hornets. She crouched in front of the door and looked at the knob. With a photographer’s trained eye for light and shadow, Sunset had little doubt she had noticed the deformations in the knob. She stepped away so another CSI could brush it for fingerprints. Freida took a picture, then the CSI lifted the prints.

“Good luck with those,” Sunset mumbled. She noticed one of the cops looking up at the sky. “Now what could you be doing?” The cop looked directly at the drone and reached for a pair of binoculars. “Oh, no you don’t,” Sunset declared as she backed the drone behind the chimney of someone else’s house and out of the cop’s eyesight and directed it sideways so she could see the scene from behind the cop car where it hopefully wouldn’t be noticed. When Sunset guided the drone back to a suitable vantage point, she saw that everyone was looking at the sky now, and began to fly the drone back to her.

“A bit too much heat than I’m willing to deal with right now,” she said. Soon she could see the warehouse she was hiding behind in her goggles, and when she saw herself in the video feed she removed the goggles and guided the drone back to her, grabbing it from the air and placing it back into the case. “Even if they don’t get a good print from me, the cops will probably find me or the other Rainbooms to tell us what happened. Freida knew we were close.”

Sunset closed the case and dialed Arianna’s number. She picked up the case and started walking back to her car as the phone rang.

“Yello,” she said.

“Dash, we’ve got a big problem.”

“Damn, another one?” Arianna asked. Sunset detected a hint of sarcasm. “What’s up?”

“Pinkie’s dead, stung by a swarm of hornets that had somehow gotten into her locked house.”

“Isn’t Pinkie deathly allergic?” she asked, then swore. “I promise the pun wasn’t intended.”

“Yup, she was, and I know it wasn’t.”

“Fuck, that’s a terrible way to go.”

“There’s more,” Sunset continued. “By the time I arrived at Pinkie’s house, her door was locked and someone had already called the cops. It wasn’t me, and it looked like no one else on the block was home.”

“So wait, that means someone was there making sure she stayed inside.”

“And that whoever called the cops was directly involved in her death. This is now the second incident and the third Rainboom who has died under supposedly accidental circumstances.”

“Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence.”

“And the third time, it’s enemy action,” Sunset said, completing the quote from Ian Fleming’s Goldfinger. “We’re being hunted.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s a bit severe, don’t you think?” Dash asked. When Sunset began to speak, she interrupted. “Rhetorical question. I’ll get someone to look into it.” With that, Dash ended the call and set her phone down. She drummed her fingers on her desk, wondering how to proceed.

Hearing high heels nearing her door, she looked up and saw Rarity passing by.

“Rarity, got a minute?”

“A tiny minute,” she replied. “I’ve got an appointment at the spa before a date tonight.”

“Great, come in and close the door behind you.”

Rarity nodded and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “What do you need?”

“Sofia just found Pinkie dead in her house, and like with Snips and Snails she suspects foul play, so we’re gonna start figuring out who seems to be out to get us. Be on high alert for threats and start gathering whatever information you can. I’ll tell the others to do the same.”

Rarity sputtered. “Pinkie’s murdered? Why would you tell me that before my date? Now I’ll be upset the whole time!”

“It’s not a big deal,” Dash answered. “You’re going to the spa first, so it should be a piece of cake to process this there.” Dash stood up and opened the door for Rarity. Rarity turned to leave, and Dash put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I hate it as much as you do, but we’ve got to stay focused so we can figure this out.”

Rarity sighed. “I know,” Rarity sighed. “I’d better get going, or I’ll be late for my appointment, and that simply cannot happen!” A smile appeared on Rarity’s face, but even Dash could tell it was fake.

Dash followed Rarity out of her office and made her way across the hall to Twilight’s lab. She knocked on the door and, after a moment of silence, opened the unlocked door and made her way inside, where she was greeted with a synthesized bark.

“Oh, hey, S.P.I.K.E. Is Twilight around?” she asked. S.P.I.K.E. emitted a sound like a whimper, which Dash took to mean “no”. “All right, I’ll just text her then.”

Pinkie just died. Deets later. Sofia suspects foul play so keep your drones in the air

Dash hit send and as she was putting her phone in her pocket she heard a ding and looked up, discovering a pixelated image of a sealed envelope in S.P.I.K.E.’s eyes.

“Oh, come on!” she exclaimed. “She connects you to her phone but doesn’t give you the ability to speak? That’s bullshit.” S.P.I.K.E. let out an electronic bark. Dash turned to leave, then had an idea and turned back. “Did Twilight ever give you the ability to look through security footage or record everything we say in here?” S.P.I.K.E. tilted his head. “Imma take that as a ‘no’ then.” Dash took her phone back out of her pocket and sent Twilight more texts.

Also see if you can set up some extra security measures like programming spike to analyze surveillance footage

I just thanked a robot dog

It’s weird talking to him

You know that, right?

She put her phone away and started making her way to the stairs up to Felicity’s room, but paused on the first few steps. Did she really want to tell Felicity about Diane? It hadn’t been that long since Snips and Snails were found murdered in their apartment, and if Sunset’s theory was right, there was a chance Felicity would become more and more scared as more Rainbooms were hunted. If it was wrong – however unlikely that seemed – Dash didn’t want to scare Felicity any more than she almost certainly was.

On the other hand, she did seem to be growing more courageous as they continued to train together. Maybe she was finally breaking out of her shell.

“Nah,” she decided, “I should tell Flash first.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rarity emitted a soft groan as Alice, one of the masseuses at the day spa, worked a knot out of her shoulder.

“You feel more tense zan usual, Miss Rachel,” she said.

Rarity thought for a moment about whether or not to give Alice some details about why. The only people who knew she was part of the Rainbooms were the other Rainbooms. Not even her parents or her little sister, who for many of her adolescent years wanted to be just like her big sister, knew.

“I received some very bad news today just before arriving here,” she replied. “Fortunately I was coming here anyway”

“Zen it’s a good ting you’re here, so you can process while you’re being pampered.”

“Indeed, darling,” Rarity said and settled into the rest of the massage, letting all her muscles relax so she could focus on thinking, as well as on Alice’s kneading hands.

About one week earlier, Sofia had informed all the Rainbooms that Snips and Snails had been discovered strangled in their apartment. There had been a gas leak, but they didn’t die from the carbon monoxide. Suspicious circumstances, which led to Sofia considering the possibility of a hit, and subsequently tightening security. Since then, some of Twilight’s tech had gone missing and reappeared a few days later, and just this morning Sofia had discovered that Pinkie had died gruesomely in her own home. No, that wasn’t right; Twilight’s computer chip had disappeared before Snips and Snails were discovered, but – according to Doc’s autopsy – after they were murdered. Twilight was known to be so focused on her work that she could develop lapses in her memory, but she was absolutely certain that she hadn’t simply misplaced the chip, and given her robot pet’s scans for the chip had come up empty during the interim, Rarity dismissed the absent-minded theory. Dash unfortunately hadn’t given her any details about Pinkie’s death, but given that Sofia also suspected foul play with her demise, it was reasonable to assume her death was also not an accident.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Miss Rachel?”

“Yes, Alice?”

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Alice said. “I thought I may haf put you to sleep.”

Clearly, Twilight wasn’t the only one to lose track of her surroundings when she got focused.

“Just deep in thought, Alice,” Rarity replied.

“It’s time for your face mask.”

Rarity smiled. “Lead the way, darling.”

Rarity closed her eyes so Alice could begin applying the face mask. There had to be something they were all missing, some piece of information that would definitively connect these events if indeed they were connected as the Rainbooms believed them to be.

“Is that a Rachel I heard next to me,” an effeminate male’s voice next to her said, “or is the face cream giving me hallucinations?”

Rachel lifted a cucumber slice and glanced next to her to see a well-groomed mustache poking out of the cream on his face. This was another of the spa’s regulars and someone with whom Rarity had become well-acquainted with over the last few years.

“Good heavens, Steven,” she said with a smile and replaced the cucumber over her eye. “It feels like it’s been ages, darling.”

“Oh, I know, I know!” he chuckled. “What are you doing here today? I thought your appointments were always on Tuesdays.”

“Special occasion, darling,” she replied. “I’ve got a date tonight, and I simply must look my best.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest. You’re always fabulous!”

“Hm. True.”

They laid in silence for a moment before Steven’s voice broke in again.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. “We don’t usually have moments of silence while chatting.”

Rarity sighed. “Problem at work. We’ve run into some issues recently, and though we think they might be connected, we can’t figure out how.”

“Would you like to tell me, or is this a trade secret kind of thing?”

Rarity smirked. Mafia lieutenants being murdered definitely qualified as a trade secret.

“I can’t discuss details, but the first issue was discovered a week ago, and we’ve had two more incidents since. One of them was just this morning.”

“Three incidents in one week is a lot to deal with.”

“Indeed. We learned the first incident actually happened a few days prior to its discovery.”

“If I may ask – and feel free to say nothing if it’s confidential – did something happen before the first incident that might have led to it?”

Rarity gently shook her head so she wouldn’t disturb her facial. “No, it’s just been business as usual. Actually, that’s not quite true,” she added, remembering that one of the gang’s missions, a mission she had been on with Dash, had resulted in a level of protection they’d never given before. “There was something different that seemed normal at the time. I’ll have to look into that. Merci, Monsieur Magnet.”

“De rien, mon ami.”

With a new idea of how to proceed, Rarity soon found that it was easier to relax. She thought back on all she knew about Felicity, and as she made her way to the hot tub to soak, she began thinking of questions to ask Dash about Felicity and their history together. She settled into the warm, bubbling water, and closed her eyes, barely registering a spa employee behind her asking if she wanted a hot towel while she soaked.

“Yes, please.”

The hot, moist towel was draped over her face, and Rarity noticed a sweet smell from the fabric, assuming it was a new solution of scents the spa was using. However, about twenty seconds later, she felt herself getting drowsy and inhaled again. Her eyes shot open, recognizing the scent of chloroform, and tried to bring her hands up to remove the towel, but hands on either side of her grabbed her arms and held them back in the water. Another pair of hands pulled the towel taut over her face, and despite struggling, soon she’d succumbed to the chloroform’s effects and went unconscious .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trevor Hood sat at the table at the steakhouse he and Rachel had reserved for the night, waiting. Trevor still didn’t know much about his date, but he knew she was punctual, and when she was going to be late by even a minute, she’d send a text. It was now 7:02, and he still hadn’t received a text when a waiter approached his table.

“Are you still waiting on your plus one, sir?” he asked.

“Yes,” Trevor replied after a moment of thought, “but something’s probably keeping her busy, so I’m not sure if she’ll be able to come.”

“Would you still like to order for yourself, then, sir?”

“Ribeye, medium.”

“And for a side, sir?”

“Veggies. Can I get it to go?”

“Of course, sir. I’ll bring your meal out in a takeout container.”

Trevor thanked the waiter and handed him his credit card. He leaned forward on the table and stroked his goatee, thinking. He knew where Rachel lived and worked, as he’d picked her up or dropped her off at both locations on previous dates. Her house was farther from the steakhouse than the music store, and the music store had the added benefit of almost always having other employees who might know where she’d gone.

Soon the waiter returned with his check and a Styrofoam takeout container. Trevor fished some bills from his wallet and gave them to the waiter as he thanked him before turning away to leave the restaurant. He took out his phone to check directions to the music store, finding it wasn’t too far from the steakhouse, so he decided to walk.

Along the way he passed a disheveled man with mismatched clothes sitting in an alley against a building. He looked at the takeout container and decided he wasn’t hungry enough for steak tonight, so he gave it to the man.

“Steak dinner. Bon appétit.”

If the homeless man thanked him, Trevor wasn’t listening as he continued on his way. Soon, he approached the music store and walked in.

“Welcome to the Rainbooms,” an auburn-haired woman behind the counter said. “How can I help you?”

“I’m not here for music, actually,” Trevor replied. “Rachel works here, right?”

“Yes, but she has a date tonight.” the woman answered, then looked at Trevor for a moment and a look of realization spread across her face. “Wait, don’t tell me she didn’t show up.”

He shook his head. “Normally she’d send a text if she was going to be late, but I haven’t got anything.”

“That’s weird. She was really looking forward to this date. She even booked an appointment at the spa this afternoon. Here,” she said, passing him a pen and a piece of paper, “write down your name and number. I’ll do some digging and give you a call if I find anything out.”

Trevor thanked her and wrote down his number, then left the building to make his way back toward the steakhouse to get his car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunset held up the piece of paper with Trevor’s phone number on it, staring through it. After some time she went through the employee door and knocked on the door to Arianna’s office before opening it and making her way inside.

“What’s up, Sunset?”

“The day just got a whole lot worse,” she answered. “Rarity’s missing. She never showed up for her date with Trevor.”

“Fuck. Any chance she’s following a lead and lost track of time?”

“Nope.”

Arianna groaned, rubbing her forehead. “How is increasing security not doing anything?”

“If I had to guess, our alleged mole expected us to increase security and has working around it the whole time. Worst case scenario, it’s just a matter of time before all of us end up dead or missing.” Sunset sighed and closed her eyes. She didn’t want her oldest friend to see her eyes starting to tear up, but still allowed herself some vulnerability. “I know I don’t show it, Ari, but for the first time in a very long time... I think I’m afraid.”

“Maybe we should set up a meeting with Octavia,” Arianna replied. “As much as we want to replace them, we can’t do it if we’re dead. We should ask for some help protecting ourselves.”

Sunset groaned. “I hate that idea. We’d owe them bigtime, and I don’t want that kind of threat looming over us, but I also hate that you’re completely right. We can’t do this on our own. I’ll set up a meeting, and I want both you and Phil to be there this time.”

“What about Jackie? She’s the strongest of any of us?”

Sunset shook her head. “Someone still needs to run the store and protect Felicity while we’re gone.”

“Felicity’s gotten really good at self-defense.”

“Even so, I’d feel better if she had an experienced fighter with her. I’ll let you know when the meeting is,” she said and walked across the hall into her own office.

Author's Note

The chapter title translates to "to discover little altars", similar to letting the cat out of the bag. In this case the discovery of the altars is quickly covered back up, in case there was any doubt the Rainbooms weren't being systematically targeted. They are, and I'm very much looking forward to revealing it.