I wanted to head out immediately, but I couldn't help but be exhausted by the night’s events. Bedding down after Pursey left, I made a mental note to sleep only a few hours before getting to my recon. When I awoke, I headed outside only to stop when I found that a small jug of water and two cans of food had been set outside, presumably for me.

Grabbing them, I ducked back inside, and dug into my meal, making a note to thank Pursey the next time I saw her. I did feel a bit bad about being snappy with her, but that was more the stress of the situation getting to me than any bitter thoughts I had about her. Still, I decided I’d apologize later that night, and for now, enjoy the can of pasta and slightly coppery water.

Once that was done, I was about to head back out again only to realize that I was still wearing the hoodie. Ditching it, I felt a bit better though I also felt a bit naked, a sensation that had yet to strike me until that moment. I would need to find some kind of body suit or the like that wouldn't get in the way while still ensuring I wasn't nude twenty-four seven.

But that would come later.

This time when I departed my little hideaway, I continued on, heading in the direction of the Grey Shield town I had spotted earlier. The roads were busier than before, meaning it took longer for me to travel the distance without being spotted. Still, I was getting better at this and my dark scales made hiding in the shadows surprisingly easy despite the bright red spots on my sides.

I could even feel that whatever strange innate magic I had was beginning to change, morphing into a different shape. There was a twisting in my chest, and though that alone could mean many things there was some also some kind of instinctive feeling that this was my magic. It made sense that I had some kind of spell-casting ability given the nature of the handshake I had given the night before but it was still a bit of a surprise to find out I had more other unknown talents.

Either way, it was starting to adapt to me and adapt to what I wanted it to do. I just needed time to practice and hone my skills.

On my way to the town from earlier, I stopped at a crossroads, waiting for the traffic to disperse a little before I could sneak across. Then I saw them, a small group of what looked at first glance, to be Irish gangs circa nineteen sixteen. They dressed well enough, pants, coat, undershirt, and tie but they also wore the puffy felt hats like you saw taxi drivers wear. In addition, their wardrobes were worn, beaten up, and repaired frequently, the clothing not quite fitting them as well as it likely once did.

The group numbered only six with the addition of a junk merchant pulling a large cart of odds and ends. Around this elderly earth pony’s neck hung the sign of the rusted cog, while he wore a dirtier version of what his guards had on. He also seemed relaxed, chatting amicably with the six younger men who walked beside him.

“Decent haul today,” he muttered. “Might even be able to pay the weekly bribe to not have my kneecaps broken by those damn predators.”

“If you're short, take it off my pay,” offered one of the older, more worldly of the gangsters.

“Are you sure about that, youngster?” he replied, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah you need your kneecaps, and I don't wanna have to pull that cart,” retorted the suit-wearing mare with a smirk.

“I’m surprised you can afford to take a pay cut given you ain't with the shields anymore,” the junk merchant remarked.

At this point they had begun to stray out of earshot, so I chose to follow them, shadowing the group from a distance.

“We may not have the support of the others but they still know the score. You don't press a fellow shield for rent money,” the gang member exclaimed.

“Not unless you wanna get excommunicated like that punk, Corner Pocket,” added one of the younger gangsters.

“The poor, dumb bastard,” someone else tacked on.

Another of their number shook their head while a second made some kind of religious-looking sign over their chest.

“So, you going to the trial old timer? You're a patron so you’ve got a voice there,” asked one of the younger ones.

“Nah,” answered the junk merchant dismissively. “I don't see that ending in anything other than a blood bath and I don't want to save my kneecaps only to get them busted in by some random hoodlum.”

“Hmmm fair,” murmured another.

I followed them for a bit longer but the small group had fallen quiet. A few small conversations popped up here and there but they never discussed anything important so I went back to the crossroads. While I moved, I contemplated this trial they mentioned and wondered what it may mean.

Obviously, it wasn't a regular trial but rather some kind of gang justice but the weighty way the former shield mentioned it lent it an air of importance. I needed to know more, and with that in mind, I headed the rest of the way to the small town I had originally scouted not long ago. Like before, there were grey shields present, though they were more conspicuous, hanging out in clusters near the entrance and exit of the area, likely monitoring the flow of traffic.

I could tell they were wary, but also that they did not expect someone like me to attempt to sneak into the small town. Finding a particularly large pipe I tore the grate off the end and slipped inside, worming my way through the winding tunnels. Just as I thought I may have gotten lost or turned around, I exited into a large junkyard near the middle of town.

“What kind of dogshit drainage do they got going on in this town?” I muttered to myself, popping the grate and placing it back on after I had gotten out of the pipe.

Thankfully it was just rainwater pipes and I was not going through sewage but it still wasn't a pleasant experience. Thankfully I had a moment to clean myself off before working back towards the front of the junkyard. As I did so, I noticed that this was even more junky than most junkyards, with a good majority of his supply being smaller items likely discarded by the upper class.

Some of them looked magical, or at least like they had been at one point, though their power supplies were long removed. At about the halfway point I found an open-air shop where several large crystals slowly spun around one another on long copper poles. It looked like a planetarium, or something close to one anyway and though interesting I kept going.

It was then that I came to my first real obstacle, namely that there was very little cover for me to sneak out of the junkyard without being seen. The most I could do was lurk inside the hollowed-out hull of what looked like a torpedo fitted with a seat. From there I could at least listen to people as they passed by, but that was about all I was capable of for the moment.

“Might as well settle in,” I murmured aloud.

Snuggling up tightly, I stretched my awareness and trained my non-existent ears on my surroundings. It was there that I remained for the next few hours, waiting for sundown and the many shadows that would come with the rising of the moon. While I waited, I overhead many snippets of conversation in passing, but none of them were useful.

There were people chatting about their day, whispering about their neighbors, or mentioning something they had read in the paper. It gave me a bit more background information on Canterlot but wasn't terribly useful, that was until a pair of old timers stopped not far from the edge of the junkyard. They seemed to be waiting for someone, or resting while on a walk, as they remained there for some time.

“You ever think of moving back?” A feminine voice asked in a low, gruff tone.

“To the shattered isles?” Replied her masculine partner.

“No, the moon. Yes the shattered isles, ya old coot,” retorted the annoyed but still jovial female.

“Sometimes,” murmured the other one. “I heard from my brother that the crops are doing well, and if they have another good year they’d be able to weather another famine if such a thing happened, that is.”

The pair remained silent for a few seconds, a pregnant pause hanging over them

“But even if that was true, I sold my house for pennies on the dollar to get here, and now I’ve barely got enough to survive. If I could afford the trip, I’d have to live on the street,” he grimly concluded.

“At least here you have something,” offered the female.

“True, and my sons may not be wealthy but they do what they can to help out their old man,” proclaimed the male.

“Lucky,” snorted his partner. “I still haven't heard hide nor hair of my little one.”

“Still nothing?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“No,” she muttered. “Sometimes I worry what may have happened to her but what am I going to do about that? I’m too old for a fight.”

“Maybe I can ask my eldest,” offered the other. “He likes to pretend like he does legitimate work but I know he's still neck-deep in some manner of skullduggery.”

“Don't worry yourself, old friend. I’m sure she’ll come back to me… one day,” muttered the female.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence before switching topics and chatting about romance novels for nearly two hours. I left having learned more than I cared to know about Lord Rodrick and his legendary stick. I did catch a few interesting tidbits about their homeland though so it certainly wasn't a completely wasted afternoon.

The evening passed much the same, with me catching the odd conversation but not much more than that. When finally the shadows grew long, and the sun started to set, I was growing hungry, and thirsty and needed to do my business but I held it for a bit longer. Slipping through the dark corners of the town I was able to locate a narrow dive bar at the edge of the small group of homes.

Weaving my way over, I found that there was a small back area set away from the rest. There several individuals who looked like they held some current or past affiliation with the grey shields sat. They drank slowly, and chatted in hushed tones, leaving only to piss or to change the song on the jukebox. The tunes were surprisingly good, very jaunty and upbeat with some carrying a general seventies-era vibe.

More importantly, there was a dumpster right next to the window, giving me the perfect spot to eavesdrop. Listening in, I was able to tell that like most who claimed to be from the shattered isles, they were earth ponies. They were also mostly male, though there were two females in their number, both of whom were part of the gang and not just girlfriends or hangers-on.

For the most part, they commiserated over the past, talking about the glory days and that kind of thing. There was a distinct air that this golden age was passed and likely wouldn't return with the tone of their conversations being generally kinda sad. I learned a bit too much about this small group of friends but other than some embarrassing stories that was about it.

I was about to move on when a pair of them left, mentioning that they were gonna head out back for a smoke. I decided to listen in on them by clambering onto the roof and watching as the two of them lit up at the bar’s back exit. Sure enough, they arrived just after I got into position, placing a large rock to wedge the door open before pulling out their dented metal cigarette cases.

“Ya hear about the trial?” One whispered, leaning toward the other. “Sounds like things are getting serious.”

“I did, Mr. Breezy finally worked up the nerve to try and take the reins,” the other replied.

“You a Breezy supporter or something?”

“Of course. He seems genuine about bringing the grey shields back to their old ways and who doesn't want that?”

“I don't know,” muttered the first one. “My ex told me he's the one pushing all the red eye that's been going around lately.”

“He wouldn't push that shit on people. ‘Specially not his own people.”

“I’m just telling you what I heard.”

“Well, your ex is crazy. She’s probably on that shit.”

“Hey fuck you, man. She may have been a lot of things but she wasn't a liar.”

“Yeah yeah. I just don't buy it is all. He and his people have been real vocal about trying to get back to where we used to be and what has Bab’s been doing? Nothing that's what.”

“I wouldn't say that. I heard she’s been the one keeping what few patrons we got left happy.”

“I haven't heard nothin' about that.”

There was a pause as they both dragged on their cigarettes and enjoyed the slightly cool wind that was blowing in.

“So you actually going to that thing?” The first one inquired.

“I wanna but it's invite only and I was just a scout when the old man bit the dust and the shields went belly up,” his friend replied.

“Well you didn't hear it from me but apparently it's happening at the hog’s head over on Fifth and main.”

“Really? When?” Pressed his friend.

“Two weeks to the day. Gonna be a big one. Apparently, all the old patrons are gonna be there.”

“Wow if Breezy takes this we really could see the shields come back.”

“Either way something’s gonna change. Even if thats just the number of uncracked heads in the city.”

With that, the pair stomped out their smokes and headed back inside without another word.

“Interesting,” I whispered to myself. “Perhaps I could swing this in my favor. Now to find out who would make a better ally.”

I went back to the window, but despite listening in for another few hours I found out nothing new or interesting. Though I did come around and am totally on Fast Clip’s side, his ex was crazy. I mean who invests everything in timeshares? Everyone knows that's a scam.

Except for getting a little too invested in several stranger’s lives, I didn't do anything useful with the rest of the day. So, with my stomach growling, and my body starting to ache, I returned home, but not after locating an unused outhouse, with plumbing no less, and finally relieving myself. With my hands and face cleaned, I returned to the little hideout I had claimed to find that I was not alone.

Pursey was already present. Not only that but she had managed to set up a table and two chairs. A pair of plates, one full and one empty sat waiting, along with a jug of frosty water that looked only a little grey.

“Evening,” I greeted.

“Holy shit,” Pursey muttered, clasping her heart. “Don't startle me like that.”

“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” I retorted.

Sitting down across from the pony, I looked down to find a heaping plate of spaghetti waiting for me.

“Did you make this?” I asked, prodding it with the provided fork.

“It's not poisoned if that's what you're asking,” Pursey shot back.

“Your mother made it then,” I teased.

Pursey snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well you wouldn't be wrong,” admitted the woman.

“Thanks by the way,” I exclaimed, only to pause before I dug in. “And sorry about yesterday I was a bit harsh back there.”

“It's fine,” she dismissed.

“So,” I began, spinning my fork around until it was heavy with spaghetti. “How was your day?”

“Not bad, all things considered,” Pursey began, swirling around what was left of her drink at the bottom of her cup. “My sister was annoyed but she came around after I told her a bit about what happened last night.”

“I assume you kept my existence a secret,” I prompted before taking another bite.

“I’m not a total idiot,” Pursey retorted.

I shrugged.

“Right, well you’ll be glad to know I picked my dad’s brain and got the scoop on the grey shields,” Pursey offered, leaning forward.

“Go on,” I pressed.

“Well the head honcho was a guy by the name of Lucky Streak,” Pursey began. “He was the brains of the entire operation before he was murdered in his home.”

“Interesting,” I muttered with a mouthful of pasta.

“That's what I thought too,” Pursey exclaimed. “I thought for sure that Babs Seed would be implicated in this, but out of the two, it was Mr Breezy who last saw him alive.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, but the killer was apparently caught. Some azure ocean nut job that assumed Lucky Streek was loaded and was pissed when he didn't have anything valuable,” Pursey continued, leaning back on her seat. “Seems a bit too perfect if you ask me. This Breezy guy leaves earlier in the day then out of nowhere the leader of a major gang ends up the victim of a random B and E.”

“No kidding,” I replied, swallowing hard. “So how are all these people related anyway? It sounded like there is some family blood mixed up in this little schism.”

“You don't know the half of it. One sec,” Pursey declared, holding up a finger.

She reached back and plucked out a trio of newspaper pages, laying them out before me. In one I saw a distant shot of a younger, hat-wearing Babs Seed that was only partially in frame. The other two were nearly identical to one another, with both having three clovers for a cutie mark, a slightly grey skin tone, and black hair. Only the two earth pony’s eyes truly set them apart, with one having a soft gold while the other was an off teal color.

“Brothers?” I asked.

“Uncle, and nephew,” Pursey exclaimed, tapping the pictures in turn. “Lucky Streek was the older of the two, obviously.”

“Huh,” I murmured.

“And that's not even everything,” Pursey picked up. “Babs Seed was the unofficial adopted daughter of Lucky Streek, the older stallion having taken her under his wing after she lost her whole family in the famines.”

“That's… dark,” I remarked.

“Yeah, they argued a ton though and apparently nearly fought one another in public on more than one occasion,” Pursey added, tapping Babs Seed’s picture. “She’s real violent too, though I still think she's innocent, at least in Lucky Streek’s murder anyway.”

“Hmm,” I muttered, mopping up the rest of the food and chucking it down the hatch. “So, we got a family squabble, a break and enter, and a possible cover-up. What about a girlfriend or partner?”

“Huh?” Pursey replied, scratching her head.

“Lucky Streak, did he have a wife, husband, live-in maid? Anything of the sort,” I pressed.

“Oh yeah, husband. He's apparently still kicking but he moved in with Breezy right after this all went down and hasn't made too many public appearances since then,” Pursey answered.

“Hmm…” I whispered. “If anyone had an idea as to who the true culprit would be, it would be him, but I’d need to figure out where he is first.”

“Good luck with that,” Pursey remarked. “Breezy’s hideout isn't exactly public knowledge and the guy likes to keep it that way.”

“Right so, we need to find out where he's holding up first,” I corrected. “Shouldn't be too hard. Just need to find the right person to squeeze.”

“Again, good luck with that. His guys travel in pretty big groups apparently though I do know they like to hang out at this place called The Copperhead, down on the east side at the edge of grey shield territory,” Pursey offered.

“That's a start,” I remarked.

“Now if that's everything,” Pursey began, rising from her chair. “I think I’m gonna head to bed early for once. I slept like shit last night, or should I say this morning.”

“Before you go,” I interrupted. “There is something we should talk about.”

“Oh, and what's that?” Pursey retorted.

“You need to quit your job,” I declared.

“What?” Pursey spat. “That's insane.”

“I assume you have some kind of contract or something like that, yes?” I pressed.

“I mean yeah but it only comes up for renewal in a few months so it's not possible to depart without incurring the brotherhood’s wrath before then,” Pursey murmured.

“Good, then take the opportunity when it does arise,” I stated, rising from my own seat. “I need you to assist me full-time.”

“But what about money? My family needs the help I give them,” Pursey retorted.

“By then I should have a fairly significant war chest,” I remarked. “Plus I’ll need someone to help manage all the various factions and groups I’ve brought to heel.”

“I… but why me?” Pursey exclaimed in shock.

“Because you're organized, you’re detail-oriented, and you're currently the only person I have on my team,” I replied with a smirk. “Besides you would be perfect.”

“I’ll give it some thought,” Pursey murmured after a long pause. “Goodnight.”

“G’night,” I replied.

I watched her go, and once she was gone, I poured myself a cup of water and sat back down at the table. Alone, I drank my fill, thinking about the information I had been given and staring at the three images before me.

“New immigrants arrive from Shattered Isles fleeing famine,” I murmured, glancing at Babs Seed’s article.

“The Grey Shields, a force for good, or merely a violent gang? You be the judge,” I added, picking up Lucky’s article before glancing down at the final piece of print.

“Nephew of notorious crime family leader found innocent of all charges,” I muttered, dropping it as well. “The plot thickens.”

Author's Note

Join me over on patreon or Subscribestar and get instant access to exclusive content and early looks at new stories, patreon only stories and other great stuff! Check it out!
Or just join the discord to ensure that you dont miss an update.

Below are a list of supporters some past, some present that have earned my eternal gratitude. Thank you All.

Jimmi Kristensen Demonxenomorph1987 Orivon Kloud Strahil Terziiski Jesse Goodnight Jessie Smith Kiddwizard Sebastian Molina Ozxecho Damien Scerri David Hedrick Owen Thomas Morr Szilard Afell Tale Weirdocat Dragonus85 Derpydude9001 Generic Pony Yaki Lolman3121 Elysia Joshua Crowell Little Insane Joshua Molina Boonman Lavamoon Big Corn Ewan Maclean OSK Mrburgerdon 2scoopsplz Lacunae Dale Thatguyplays32 Geraldo Plock ConfusAJ Verge T Pensive Random Videos Eclipse_Corp. Lotus Petals ChrisBarnes Mathew Whitney Trixie Lulamoon Matias Duran Aang Sylver SRGTartman Tacocat598 MestreJ Nightwing Dragon'ssheppard1995 Venerable Ro Lich Lord Krosis Canary In The Coal Mine Spacedude Ceepert Peter Coulthard Tom Facinus M VI Watch Starless Tiwake Tailsic Nightwing Sunset Flash.