The Viper Of Canterlot

by Jest

Rating: teen
Tags: Violence, Princess Celestia, Crossover, Human, Anthro, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character, Profanity, Adventure
Length: 38345

Brought to Equestria to defend it against the coming of the alien scourge, our hero must avoid Celestia's gaze while pursuing her own investigation into the alien's activities.

Brought to Equestria to defend it against the coming of the alien scourge, our hero must avoid Celestia's gaze while pursuing her own investigation into the alien's activities.

Check out this story's sister fic.

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Published 2022-12-20 03:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2024-12-24 03:52:35 UTC

From The Shadows, I Come

“Hey buddy, you alive? Aw bugger, I hope I didn't screw this up again.”

I groaned, and rolled onto my side, trying to go back to sleep, only to find that there was no pillow beneath my head. Which prompted me to reluctantly open my eyes and find out that I was not in my bed at all. In fact, I wasn't in my house for that matter, but rather I was atop some enormous pillar that was so tall that it pierced the cloud cover. With my head hanging partially over the side, I gazed down the sheer drop with confused terror.

Wind whipped up from the edge, startling me out of my fear-induced paralysis. “What the fuck?” I screamed, hastily scooting away from the edge.

“I wouldn't go too far in that direction either.” Remarked the voice.

I stopped and slowly turned around, instantly glad that I took the voice’s advice considering the pillar I was atop of was only a few feet across. In fact, it was downright tiny, being maybe six feet by six feet and just enough for me to lay down on without my body falling over either side. Hastily standing, I positioned myself in the exact center, only to nearly panic as my gaze inevitably went to the distant horizon marked only by clouds. Quickly sitting down, I wrapped my arms around my legs while trying to resist the urge to hyperventilate.

“Well your alive at least, that's good.” Muttered the voice, before I heard the owner of said voice start to gulp something audibly.

Glancing skyward, I suddenly realized that I wasn't alone, despite the fact that someone had been talking at me for several seconds already. Or something anyway, as a few feet away, sitting on a cloud was a strange mishmash of creatures which I instantly recognized.

“Discord?” I asked curiously.

The creature shook the square bottle it was holding and gazed into it before frowning and tossing it over his shoulder. “Not exactly, but I figured that this form would get the point across quicker if I looked like him.” Remarked not discord.

“Wait, what point?” I asked, only for my jaw to hang open. “Hold on, this is some sort of dimensional hopping, nonsense isn't it?”

“Got it one bucko.” Declared not Discord who conjured another bottle of some dark liquid and threw it back, chugging several mouthfuls of the stuff.

“Wait, does that mean I died or something?” I asked.

Not Discord waved a pawed hand at me. “Nah, nothing like that. I basically created a copy of you after I saw you beat that XCOM game. Can't have you worried about your loved ones or whatever while you got a job to do.”

“Wait, but I remember everything, and…” I paused, pursing my lips. “Well, that just opened up a whole can of philosophical worms, but wait, what job?”

“Yeah well, it turns out that those elder dudes are coming for my Equestria, and seeing as how it's one of my favorite creations I searched the cosmos for a champion.” He exclaimed, waving a dramatic hand out over the horizons. “Until I stumbled on you, who totally whooped those guys butts in that video game thing. Even beat the first two games in the same series, so walla, hear you are.”

“Wait, I only beat that game on like easy though. I liked the combat and stuff, but I’m more of a story guy myself.” I retorted.

“Wait, what? Really?” Not Discord scratched his head. “But you had like a bajillion hours in all three of those games.”

“Yeah, because I sucked at them and had to reload like a ton of times.”

Not Discord frowned, placed his drink aside, and leaned towards me. “Are you telling me I wasted my one chance of grabbing someone and I grabbed a noob?”

“I mean kinda?” I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly. “I’m still decent at it, but the only place I really ever shined were the stealth sections, which I kinda wish those games had more of.”

Not Discord ran a clawed hand down his face and groaned. “Great. Just fucking great. Now what the hell am I going to do with you? I wasted all that time and energy making you and the only thing you can do is be sneaky? Maybe I should just leave you here or something and hope those silly ponies manage to fight them off all by themself.”

The color drained from my face and I quickly stood up. “Now let's not be too hasty here. I can be useful, I promise. I mean, I may be a little overweight, and not very strong, or particularly smart but hey I’m sneaky in real life too!”

Not Discord paused just as he was about to start taking another swig of his liquor. “That's the best you could come up with? Your facing total annihilation and that's what you say?” He sighed. “I knew I should have just grabbed some anime protagonist, even if there was a chance they were from a hentai.”

“Hold on, just gimme a second. I got a better sales pitch coming I can feel it.”

“Alright you got one minute to sell me on you existing, otherwise I’m wiping the slate clean and spending the next century completely inebriated.” Not Discord claimed, swaying slightly atop his cloud.

“Well you see, I… they… hmm.” I paused, tapping my chin.

“Tick tock.” Not Discord reminded me, before sipping a little more gingerly at his alcohol.

“I got it!” I exclaimed. “In every game they always send infiltration experts in first, the thin men, sectoids capable of manipulating the population and controlling politicians. If I hunt them down the population will have a much easier time resisting any future invasion.”

“That could be helpful.” Not Discord frowned, glaring at me. “But that still means someone will have to lead the central resistance effort.”

“I mean don't you think a pony would be best at that anyway? They would know their planet better than I would anyway.” I pointed out. “In fact, putting an offworlder in charge of defense would be kind of dumb. Not only would I not know the area, but I don't know anything about magic, or their government, history, or anything, and they would need the other races on their side in order to have a chance of winning.”

Not Discord placed his bottle aside once more, and slowly began to massage his temples. “Stars above, you're worse than my mother. It seems like the only thing you’re any good at is pointing out the flaws in others.”

“It is a gift,” I exclaimed, shrugging.

“Fine, you know what? You wanna act like my mother, let's give you the body to match.” Not Discord remarked before snapping his fingers.

My eyes went wide and I waved my arms in distress. “Hold on a second, let's jusssst talk about thisss a sssecond.”

I paused and opened my mouth, prodding the large fangs which poked out from my jaw. “Thiss iss sso not cool.” I muttered.

“That'sss not the half of it.” Not Discord exclaimed mockingly.

My eyes went wide as realization dawned on me. “Oh please tell me I can still pee standing up.”

I looked down only to just now realize that my clothes were now gone, and the only thing covering me was a loin cloth. Ignoring the scales which were slowly spreading down my torso, and the pain radiating from my gums, I hastily searched for something more important. Namely my shlong, which I grasped desperately at.

“Oh thank goodness, your sstill sssafe.” I exclaimed.

“Well yeah in the game they are hermaphrodites.” Not Discord pointed out. “You're welcome by the way.”

“Wait, they so don't have both sets of part. Unless your talking about someone’s fan fiction.” I declared, jabbing a now clawed, and scaled hand at not Discord. “The elders just bred only females so they needed the elders for their race to survive.”

Not Discord sighed and ran a paw down his face. “Augh you would know something as dumb and obscure as that. Well, whatever, I could change you back, but this is funnier.”

“It isss not.” I hissed back at him, faintly aware of the fact that I now sported a long, forked tongue.

“Well stow your whining, the fun part is about to start.” Not Discord casually remarked, the cosmic being reclining on his cloud and drinking his booze while watching me twitch in rage.

My angry retort died on my lips, which I just realized were gone, replaced by dark, scaly flesh. Feeling the sides of my face, I was able to discover that my facial hair was now gone, and a second later the hair atop my head followed suit, the wind carrying it away.

“This is too weird,” I muttered. “Well, at least I stopped hissing quite so much. That was annoying.”

“It's about to get weirder, and here, let me help with that.” Not Discord snapped his fingers, and conjured forth a full-body mirror which floated just over the side of the pillar.

“Not… cool?” I murmured, transfixed by the person staring back at me.

At the moment I looked like a scale-coated human male with fangs, claws, and a pair of red eyes, but that was changing quickly. The fat I had put on since that McDonald's opened up a block away slowly shifted, spreading both lower and higher. The higher section split and grew into a pair of rather large breasts that were bereft of nipples which made at least some sense.

Though the fact that I had tits at all was kind of dumb in my opinion, as vipers were egg-laying reptiles. “Why are they so fucking huge?” I whined, gripping the heavy, pair of tits now attached to my chest.

“All that fat has to go somewhere.” Not Discord paused just as he was about to take another sip of his drink. “Plus it's funny. Besides, they are venom sacks now.”

I was about to offer some witty retort about how dumb that was when my face suddenly extended for lack of a better word. My eyes narrowed, my neck grew longer, and a hood opened on the side of my head, finishing off the changes at least from my neck up anyway. Glancing into the mirror I found that my human appearance was completely gone, replaced by that of a viper who had sharp, seemingly glowing red eyes.

“Because that's not intimidating at all,” I muttered, turning my head slightly and peeking at the crest atop my hood which was a mix of mainly black scales with a blood-red diamond in the center. “You have got to be kidding. I’m gonna scare the pants off any ponies I meet! Never mind this is a bit edgy, even for me.”

“Oh don't be such a baby, the black will help you be stealthy and the red will make you stick out because fuck you.” Not Discord exclaimed, before breaking out into a fit of cruel laughter.

“Not funny,” I growled, or at least tried to, as the sound came out more as a hiss.

“You're missing the show by the way.” Not Discord remarked before tossing aside his empty bottle and belching loudly.

I reluctantly took my eyes off not Discord and looked back at myself just in time to see my waist narrow, and the scales begin to descend even lower. “At least my underbelly isn't jet black,” I muttered to myself, noting that although dark, it was at least a deep gray that only bordered on black.

A second later and the last of my belly fat shifted lower, forcing my legs to connect, fusing them together perfectly. I shivered in disgust, the strange sensations beginning to grow increasingly weird by the second. In a few seconds, my legs were gone, replaced by a serpentine tail that was remarkably long. Though that made sense as in order to support my weight the tail would have to be pretty lengthy.

The last thing to come in was the red diamonds that formed on the back of my tail and extended up my back. Slithering in place, I shifted awkwardly in my new body, right up until something seemed to click and the movements felt natural. The headache that came after was a doozy though, and I clutched my temples as strange, foreign influences surged through my brain.

“Jesus fuck that is annoying,” I muttered.

Not Discord snorted. “Sorry, I could have made the procedure easier on you, but I don't really care. But hey, it was necessary, unless you wanted to relearn how to sit, spit poison, or walk. Though I suppose slither is a more apt description of your mode of locomotion.”

I groaned and flipped him the bird while my brain continued to feel like it was being turned inside out. That wasn't all though, as I could also feel my insides begin to shift in an uncomfortable and frankly disturbing manner. Organs were repurposed, new ones grew, and old ones vanished, or at least I assumed that's what was going on. All I knew for certain was that I wanted to throw up yet I couldn't do so for some reason.

Thankfully that didn't last terribly long, and all at once the gut-turning sensations and terrible headache lifted. I blinked in shock and gazed at my completed form, confused, and a little strangely aroused if I was being honest. Though it wasn't like I was going to tell not Discord that, though I did briefly wonder at the philosophical implications of being attracted to one’s self.

“I am going to need so much therapy once this is all over,” I muttered to myself.

“Boy, you already needed therapy.” Not Discord remarked before chugging more of his mystery booze.

I glared daggers at the cosmic being. “Great, I’m a chick now, sorta. I can still feel my junk, but I don't wanna open that can of worms at the moment. Now what? Do I at least get some armor, or something better than a loin cloth?”

“Nah, that takes too much energy, plus I kinda like ogling those tits of yours.” Not Discord exclaimed while nakedly staring at my chest.

I swiftly crossed my arms. “I’m a sort of girl for less than a full minute and I’m already being objectified, great.”

“Oh don't be such a stick in the mud, you were looking too.”

“Yeah well, they are mine so I’m allowed to do that!” I exclaimed. “I think.”

Not Discord rolled his eyes. “Whatever, spoilsport. Let's just get this over with already.”

“Yes, let's.” I declared, keeping my arms firmly in place. “Just send me to the Everfree already so we can get out of each other’s hair. Or hood? Whatever the viper equivalent to that saying would be.”

Not Discord smirked and leaned forward, brushing aside the mirror in order to float a little closer. “What made you think I would do that? Canterlot is the most likely place for spies to have been sent after all.”

I shrugged. “Fine, send me to Canterlot then.”

“As you wish,” Not Discord declared, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“I swear to god if you send me somewhere super populated, I’ll rip your goddamn arms off!” I shouted while keeping my own arms firmly in place.

“No take backsies.” Not Discord raised a hand. “Oh and give Celestia all my best.”

“Wait no!” I shouted, surging forward, only for everything to go white for a split second.

Then I got a face full of a different shade of white as I plowed directly into someone, causing us both to topple to the ground in a heap. My own lengthy body betrayed me, coiling unconsciously around the other being as I struggled to figure out what was going on. A shout went up around me, and the person I had run into let out a confused yelp at about the same time I did the exact same thing.

Blinking, I looked down at what appeared to be a bipedal, anthropomorphized version of Princess Celestia. A horn rose from the center of her head, and wings would have extended from her back, had I not been pinning them to her sides along with the woman’s arms. She was clearly ancient, and although my brief description didn't exactly do her justice, I didn't have long to give her a good look as her horn began to spark.

Only for nothing to happen and she looked up at me in confusion. “How are you doing that? Nothing can suppress my power.” She claimed in a surprisingly calm tone of voice.

“Err, sorry?” I exclaimed with a slight shrug.

“Princess, what do we do?” Asked a nearby voice.

I looked up where a circle of guards had surrounded me, their glowing spears drawn and pointed right at me. They wore what looked like world war one era body armor only bulkier and underneath a medieval breastplate. Again, there were more details that were probably important to this story but I didn't have time for that at the moment.

“Don't do anything hasty captain,” Celestia exclaimed. “We wouldn't want to startle our guest.”

“Err yeah, and stand further back too,” I shouted, jabbing a clawed hand at who I presumed was the captain Celestia had just spoken to, ignoring the fact that my voice had risen a few octaves.

The guards hesitantly did just that, taking a step back and giving me a bit more room.

“What are your demands?” Celestia asked.

“Oh uh.” I tapped my chin. “Tell your guards to go away and…” I paused in order to look around, and orientate myself.

It was then that I realized several things at the same time, one of which was that I could see heat but that vision somehow overlapped with my normal one and that I could switch back and forth at will. The second was that my sense of smell was now amazing, and I was fairly certain I could smell the fear coming off of one of the guards, and the smell of a sewer from somewhere nearby. The last I noticed was that I was smack dab in the middle of what looked like the royal gardens, right near the entrance to the hedge maze.

“And then take us over there,” I added, pointing to the maze, and silently hoping that my nose and or tongue had not betrayed me.

Celestia stared up at me for several seconds, unnerving me more than a little bit, especially when I considered the possibility that she may simply attack me. “Fine. Guards, leave us.” She commanded.

“Yes, your majesty.” Announced the captain.

He and the rest of his armored fellows walked away, though they kept their hands on their spears even after they were well over a dozen meters from us.

“Would you mind giving back the use of my legs?” Celestia gently asked.

I blinked. “Oh, uh sorry about that,” I muttered, pulling my weight a little further up her body and allowing the alicorn to move her legs.

“Thank you.” Celestia declared before coiling her limbs under her and somehow managing to rise into a graceful stand, with me still wrapped around her upper body. “You’re quite strong, you know.”

I blinked. “Thanks, I think. Is it too tight?”

Celestia shook her head as she walked us over to the entry of the maze. “Though binding you are not hurting me.”

“Well that's good I suppose,” I muttered. “Sorry about all this by the way.”

“I suppose now you're going to flee, yes?” Celestia inquired, the alicorn fixing me with a look.

“Err yeah. I kind of figured that this kind of thing usually gets you executed.” I exclaimed.

“Usually yes, but I feel as though there are extenuating circumstances around your arrival,” Celestia stated calmly.

“That's an understatement.” I shook my head. “Look, I don't have long. Something big is coming, and their agents are already here. Now I gotta knock you out now, sorry if this stings.”

Celestia merely frowned, and turned her neck to the side, exposing her jugular. “I must warn you that I will have to hunt you after this. Even if you are the prettiest scaled being I’ve ever beheld.”

“I’m well aware that you will have to come after me and though I’d prefer not having to hurt anyone. I rather enjoy existing, thank you very much.” I muttered before opening my mouth wide and extending my fangs. “Sorry in advance, I’ve never done this before.”

Celestia’s eyes went wide. “Wait hold on a secon-”

I didn't let her finish, however, and bit down on her neck, pumping her veins full of a mixture that I knew would only knock her out. I wasn't exactly sure how, or why I knew that mind you, but it was a strong hunch at least. A second later and the alicorn’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed to the earth like a puppet with its strings cut.

A shout went up, and I could hear the guards charging at me but I was already gone, slithering in the direction of the maze and vanishing into its depths, following my nose. I was remarkably fast despite not having legs, and in a few seconds I had left the guards far behind me as I zipped around several corners. My newfound sense of smell or taste assured me that this was the correct way to go, and I pushed my new body to its limits as I raced deeper and deeper.

The flap of wings heralded the arrival of reinforcements, and I pivoted in place, waiting for the pegasus guard to come into view. The second I saw her, I launched a wad of poison that splattered across her confused and terrified face.

A heartbeat later she dropped out of the sky, eyes having rolled into the back of her head a second before she lost the ability to control her body. I winced as I heard her hit the ground, though I took a small amount of solace in the fact that she had at least landed in a bushy plant. Turning back around, I pushed myself onward, heading towards where I had seen the castle wall earlier

A few more pegasi guards tried to catch me, but I was able to either outmaneuver them or knock them out of the sky with more poison spit. By the time I rammed through the hedge and came out the other side my poison glands were nearly empty, and I could hear guards converging from all sides. Thankfully my nose had served me well, and all that stood between me and freedom was a two-foot wide rusty gate.

“Bingo,” I muttered.

Leaning down, I tore the gate off in a single firm tug, before slipping into the narrow opening, my body flattening somehow in order to make access possible. My shoulders slimmed, and my arms pressed tight against my side, allowing me to slip through the narrow opening and out the other side.

Which led out onto an empty street, something that would not have been a good thing if not for the fact that there was a manhole nearby. Slithering over to the entrance I hastily removed it, lifted the thing above my head, and leaped into the hole. I somehow managed to place the cover back perfectly, and though I was now nearly waist-deep in sewer water I felt relief flow through me.

Not wasting any time I began to slither off in a random direction, noting that no one seemed to be following me initially. My grin slowly spread, and after twenty minutes, plenty of tight squeezes, and more than a little shit, I came to the conclusion that I had managed to get off scot-free.

“Fuck yeah. Eat that you morons.” I shouted, pumping a hand into the air, only to punch the stone ceiling. “Ow, that's right, I’m taller now.”

Nursing my bruised hand, I contemplated where to go.

“Wait, did she call me beautiful?”

Seedy Underbelly

“Can't think about that right now,” I murmured, looking around. “Where to next?”

I thought about it for a moment before choosing to go right, winding my way deeper into the sewer. Thankfully I entered a newer area that had raised sections on either side and large pipes visible overhead. The normal brickwork and primitive concrete were also left behind in favor of far more solid construction complete with small lights every few feet.

I hadn't noticed it before, but my night vision was almost completely perfect as I had seen fine up until now. It only got better in the low light, allowing me to peer into even the deepest crevice with relatively little effort. Crawling up onto the side area I took a moment to clean myself of the worst of it while holding down the urge to vomit.

I wanted nothing more than to shed my skin right then and there but wasn't even sure that's a thing they did in the game. Regardless, I pushed on, staying on the dry walkways, and slithering deeper into the more modern area. I could tell that there was probably some manner of factory or heavy industry nearby as I could hear the distant chug of machines. That and there were pipes bearing a warning label strikingly similar to the OSHA one for high voltage, only it had a magicky-looking sparkle symbol instead.

I tried to recall what I had seen of the city in order to place my position but came up with nothing. I had only seen the gardens and a single street that was filled with fancy shops and three to four-story buildings of some age. I doubted that the show would include references to heavy industry either so that wouldn't be much help for me.

“Do you think it's still down here?” asked a voice suddenly.

I perked up and spun around, glancing back the way I came.

“Celestia seems to think so,” offered another masculine individual just outside of my line of sight. “These sewers are fairly labyrinthian due to how much the city has been overhauled in the last two decades so it's probably lost down here.”

I’m not lost. I thought defiantly. Because I don't know where I was going in the first place.

Spinning around, I quickly found that there was only one way out, and that was to go even deeper. Sticking to the raised section I surged onward, and was surprised to find that the tunnel came to an abrupt halt, with the pipe going straight down. I could see that a ladder would aid me, but I wasn't sure if I should even be going in this direction in the first place.

I didn't have any other options save fight, and I didn't want to hurt them or get hurt myself so that was right out. Lowering myself onto the rungs was a bit weird given my lack of legs, but after a second or two of scrambling, I got it figured out. After that my natural instincts kicked in and I made my way down swiftly and easily, all but slithering downwards somehow.

I wasn't going to question it though, and continued my search the moment I felt my weight settle on something solid. Peering around, I noticed I was on a higher elevated area, with the pipe’s contents splashing loudly a dozen feet below my position. The passage itself went straight, before turning left, the walkway ending abruptly but not before I noticed a door.

Even though the crash of water was nearly deafening, I could hear the thump of hooves above and behind me. They were coming closer, meaning I had little time to think and nowhere else to go. So I went over to the door and grabbed the handle before stopping and looking up to where a small sign sat above it.

Sector Seven Underplate Access. I read.

With a shrug, I tried to open it but found out that it was locked. Thankfully I had gotten a good handle on my newfound strength by then, and with a firm twist, I broke something inside the thing. After that I pulled it, slipped behind the door, and braced myself, keeping one hand on the knob just in case.

Sure enough, I heard the two guards from earlier make their way down to the final catwalk, and finally over to my position. The lead soldier attempted to turn the knob, but after finding that he couldn't do so, stopped abruptly. There was a slight shuffle before his partner tried it as well, but my strength was greater and they gave up as well.

“Still locked. It couldn't have come this way,” I heard someone mutter. “Let's head back to the top of the spout and wait there. We can't let it get through this door and onto the catwalk. It could easily slip out into the city from there.”

Catwalk? Underplate? This just keeps getting more and more confusing. I thought.

I waited there for a moment before the guards left, at which point I released the knob, and turned back around. The room I was in was small, rectangular, and had only a few crates, and a half dozen pipes going from ceiling to floor. There was a door on the other side which I tried and was happy to find was unlocked, the thing swinging open a little too easily.

“Holy shit,” I muttered.

Staring out into the open air I found what looked to be a jungle of metal pipes and crisscrossing catwalks. On either side of me, there was flat stone, which quickly became more uneven when I looked down. Something I immediately regretted doing, as it was a very long way down before I saw the ground, only it wasn't ground. It was flat and extended all the way to where the plate right above my head ended.

“There is a second level to the city,” I remarked aloud. “No wonder there are no factories or heavy industry above, it's all down here. I must have been hearing all whatever technology they use to pipe stuff down there.”

My assumption seemed true, as there were numerous smoke stacks, scrap heaps, and junkyards littering the area below me. Factories were common, but I could also tell that there were a few dry docks in the middle of constructing what looked to me like blimps.

“Or was it dirigible… zeppelin?” I asked no one. “Wait, what's even the difference?”

I shrugged and decided to ignore that little problem for the moment, as it wasn't really relevant, even if it did annoy me. Glancing around I saw what seemed to be large circular arrays ringed with bright orange crystals with light coming out of the bottom. Light generators, only they used magical runes and crystals rather than bajillion watt lamps.

“Getting some final fantasy seven vibes,” I murmured to myself.

Continuing my inspection I saw that there were also some houses and slapdash residential areas below. Built mainly out of scrap, or discarded husks of an airship, they were pretty ramshackle even at the best of times. The exception to this was a smaller sub-plate that budded off from the main one and contained a mansion as well as a few other buildings. The entire thing was gated off and seemed to be the home of someone rich and powerful.

There were others like it, including two smaller plates that extended midway from the bottom plate, and the top one. These were military in nature, as they had docks, high walls, and only a single access point, an elevator that connected it to both the top and bottom. Winged ponies could be seen lazily patrolling the airspace around these areas, clearly not on high alert, at least not yet anyway.

“Look for a way down,” I reminded myself.

Looking around, I noticed that there was a single massive pillar that connected the two areas together. At the base, there was what looked like a train station of some kind, while all around it were various caged areas containing moving boxes. There had to be a dozen or more of the things each going either up or down, their passengers sitting on either one of the two rows of seats.

“Wow my vision is amazing,” I stated, only now realizing that I had been staring at something miles away with ease as if my eyes were binoculars or something.

Though this area was caged off, I could see that the openings would be large enough for me to fit through. A pony likely couldn't, but I could, so that's all that mattered.

“Right, sneak over there, ride the thing down, and sneak off into that junkyard nearby,” I declared. “After that, find a bath, or someplace I can shed my skin because wow do I feel gross.”

With that bit of motivation in mind, I slithered off, winding my way through the various catwalks that crisscrossed the area. It was weird and seemed a little over-engineered, but hey I wasn't some kind of city manager or bean counter. If it cost the equivalent of a small country to make it was no skin off my non-existent nose, though it did indicate to me that there was more going on.

Were they intending on constructing something else down here and this was a first step? It wasn't a concern of mine, so I brushed aside such thoughts for the moment and focused purely on my destination. Which I was rapidly approaching after momentarily getting lost amidst the sea of metal pipes, and support beams.

Reaching the end, I paused to marvel briefly at the huge pillar, and the many rising or falling elevators. My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden clunk as something heavy and metal moved only a few feet above my head. I reacted on instinct, clambering up the side of the cage and clinging as close to the metal ceiling as possible.

A new elevator appeared a moment later on the other side of the cage, its passengers not noticing my slim form. After it passed me by, I slipped through the grate, and landed atop the the transportation cube, using my nimble form to make the action completely soundless. I then found that there was a perfectly square box at the very top of the machine, a vent allowing air to pass in and out.

Though it wasn't very large, I could tell that if I squished myself up against it I’d be more or less invisible. So I did just that, compacting myself as much as I could and remaining perfectly still as we traveled down toward the plate below. It was frankly a marvel that I could squeeze down into such a small shape, given just how long I was and how big my venom sacks were.

It also wasn't very comfortable, as you may or may not have guessed, but I was stuck there so complaining wasn't going to help. Complaining also likely would have got me caught, so I did it quietly in my head the whole way down to the bottom. Though colorful, it was mostly me just saying fuck repeatedly, so I’ll spare you my narration.

Upon nearing the bottom I realized that I was about to have a new problem, namely that I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do next. The elevators fit neatly into the compartment below, creating a smooth top that didn't allow me to actually enter the plaza. Sure I could rip off the air exchanger, and slip in that way, but why would I want to do that? I wanted to get away without attracting attention so I had to plan an alternate plan across the roof of the plaza.

“Aha,” I murmured.

I had spotted a large pipe that rose up from the ground a dozen feet from the roof, which went nearly the entire way to the junkyard I had spotted from above. It also conveniently bypassed the security checkpoints, and walls that I saw surrounding the station and the immediate area. It was perfect, and thankfully it wasn't long before the elevator began to slow down before finally docking.

Narrowing my body, I slid out through the small gap, and onto the roof, slithering my way as silently as possible to the other side. The tin roof was uncomfortably warm and was starting to burn me by the time I reached the edge but I dare not utter a hiss in pain. I could hear dozens, maybe hundreds of creatures below me, each one milling about as I moved amongst them, unseen.

Upon getting as close as possible without being seen, I squeezed down real tight and coiled my body as much as I could. I then waited a few seconds, and heaved with all my strength, leaping across the narrow way and landing atop the large pipe. Immediately I began to move, not trusting my luck at this point, especially not with pegasi flying just below the level of the pipe. Few bothered to ascend higher than that, which was my only saving grace, however, I didn't want to see how far I could push it so I moved as quickly as I could. Though I heard the flap of wings occasionally become rather close, no one bothered to fly high enough to reveal me.

It was then when I was staring at the junkyard entrance did I realize just how big the place really was. Skeletal husks of dozens of airships lay strewn about the area, intermingled with what looked like primitive cars, and early airplanes. Clearly, they were in the midst of industrializing, in contrast with the very medieval upper Canterlot that seemed to be from another era.

I wondered if Celestia had foreseen some manner of conflict, and was beefing up her technology just in case. It made sense that the aliens might not see equestrian magic coming, but psionics was kinda magical and the invaders were patient observers. I didn't know what to think, so I put that thought aside with the growing mountain of concerns and worries building up at the back of my mind.

Slithering down the pipe, I quickly slid across the ground, through a hole in the fence, and into the junkyard proper. Here I navigated toward the back of the heap towards one of the older airships mostly obscured by a trio of wrecked cars. It didn't take me long to locate a hatch about eight feet off the ground, which I opened with a bit of elbow grease before slipping inside.

A firm tug put the hatch back into its place, allowing me to relax and look around. Sure enough, it was a large, semi open area that wasn't quite as big as I hoped, due to how the back half had collapsed. A wall of junk obscured any light, and there didn't seem to be any other exits that I could see so I assumed I was safe.

Settling down on a long, flat piece of metal I started to wipe my scales clean of any lingering residue from the sewer. While I did so, I couldn't help but wonder how exactly I could complete the task in the most optimal manner.

The most obvious solution was to simply corner Celestia again, and convince her but that would be hard for obvious reasons. I lacked any substantial physical evidence besides my own person, but even that wasn't exactly foolproof. I would need to find a thin man, or whatever hybridized equivalent was already here on Equestria.

With one of them captured I could force Celestia to see what was coming but that still left a lot of steps in my plan that had question marks right now. A thin man was likely to be infiltrating the government in some capacity, or seeking places of learning in order to gather intel. If there were nobles then chances are thin men were likely watching them closely, eager to figure out a weakness or use a sectoid to mind control one of them.

Regardless of what the thin men were currently up to, I would need contacts, a team, and some serious manpower, or ponypower in this case. While I gathered this group, I would seek out more information on Equestria, its history, its players, and who, if any, have been acting suspiciously. It was a massive task, and it nearly overwhelmed me with its enormity, but I ignored it, focusing instead on the more present issue.

“I need a shower.”

Author's Note

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On Overwatch

My living space was… not good, but by the look of all the dust, it hadn't been touched in a while so it should at least be private. It was nice to know that I could at least lay low here for the moment before I got things moving and established a better position. With that in mind I… I sniffed and remembered why I had been so adamant on finding a shower, as I reeked.

“I’d settle for an acid bath at this point,” I muttered to myself.

Though I’d planned on settling down until at least nightfall, in the hopes of getting some rest before beginning my recon, I really did need some way to stop smelling like an open sewer. To that end, I clambered back out into the open and started maneuvering my way through the junkyard toward the building at the forefront of the property. Keeping my keen senses active and engaged, I was able to make it to the structure without noticing anyone.

A quick glance towards the setting sun told me that it wouldn't be long until nightfall, which was weird because I hadn't thought that much time had passed. Still, those were thoughts for later, for now, I was looking for a hose, or even a pool of water at this point. A bit of searching revealed that there was indeed a hose, but it was only a few feet long, and it was sitting directly under a large, window.

Taking a peek inside revealed that someone was at the counter directly behind the window, chopping something with a long knife. Behind them lay a cramped dining room where two other ponies sat playing cards and chatting amongst themselves. I decided to risk it, and slipped over to the house, pressing myself against the side and slithering under the window.

Thankfully the back of the house directly overlooked the junkyard so it wasn't likely that I’d be seen. Even any passing pegasi would find it difficult to spot me due to the towering piles of junk and derelict vehicles that cut off any sight lines. Secure in my spot, I settled in and slowly shifted over to the hose before turning the tap on.

The flow was not significant, but I didn't want to risk turning it higher lest I end up getting heard. Thankfully no one made any sudden movements, signaling to me that I was still undetected. I waited a few more seconds, and after there were no shouts of confusion or calls to see what moved outside, I began to scrub myself.

It was a slow process so I decided to focus my hearing at the house, hoping to listen in on any conversations occurring within. To my surprise, it barely took any effort to pick up what was going on inside, my strange biology making eavesdropping easy. It made sense, given the viper’s role as an ambush predator, but even with that in mind, I still wouldn't have anticipated that they’d have this level of keen hearing.

“How was the market this afternoon?” Asked a masculine-sounding voice I assumed was the patriarch of the house.

I kicked myself for not paying more attention to the ponies’ appearances before I got into position as I couldn't put a face to a voice yet.

“Not bad,” answered a soft, female voice from further in.

“Did those roughians harass you again?” asked another feminine-sounding voice from right next to the window.

“No. They came by but after they saw the cog they left,” answered the earlier soft voice.

“You can't leave that at home. Without the protection of the R.C, those hooligans will rob you blind,” added the other female voice that I was from then on, calling Pony Mom.

“If you don't get a little use out of it then those union dues were wasted,” remarked a slightly bitter, slightly relieved-sounding masculine voice I named Pony Dad.

“I know, I know,” murmured Pony Child. “It's just that the elevator market is usually so heavily patrolled that I didn't think I’d need it.”

“You can't think like that. Those Crimson Dawn weirdos may look like nothing more than buckball hooligans but they have contacts in the guard,” Pony Dad pointed out.

“Same goes for the Azure Ocean,” Pony Mom added.

“But they don't come out this way,” Pony Child retorted.

“Yes, but Culvert Center is their territory,” Pony Mom exclaimed.

“I forgot about that… this sucks,” Pony Child muttered. “Is there anywhere not being controlled by those stupid gangs?”

“Not down here,” Pony Dad declared. “But you knew that already.”

“I know,” Pony Child murmured bitterly. “I just hate it down here. It's always dark and everything smells.”

“Don't you worry kiddo. Shouldn't be more than another year or two and we’ll have enough bits to move topside,” Pony Dad stated confidently, though I could tell that there was a certain emptiness to his words.

“Alright, everypony. Come load up. Salad’s ready,” Pony Mom offered.

“Augh Mom. It's not a salad if it's just lettuce and dressing,” Pony Child whined.

“It is if you add crotons,” Pony Dad stated.

Pony Child groaned.

“Stop complaining and come get your food,” Pony Mom declared.

“Wait, aren't we short one plate?” Pony Child asked.

There was a tense, but momentary silence.

“Your sister already left for work,” Pony Dad remarked.

“We thought you knew,” Pony Mom added.

“No,” Pony Child muttered. “She didn't say goodbye.”

“I’m sure she’ll be back tomorrow. Now come eat before it gets soggy,” Pony Mom softly ordered.

“Okay,” Pony Child agreed.

By then I had more or less cleaned myself off, and I ran the water for a few extra seconds to was away any trace of me being there. Once done, I lingered for a moment, curious if they were going to give me any more juicy information. However, the conversation turned to more mundane, with talk of their day and what wreck Pony Dad was working on coming up.

“Interesting,” I whispered to myself.

Slipping back the way I came, I slithered through the shadowed junkyard back to my little hideaway. After wrenching it open, slipping inside, and settling into a nook, I began to mentally review the bit of accidental recon I had just done. First off, though I had not anticipated that there would be multiple large gangs present, I also hadn't anticipated an entire underclass to be sitting right under Canterlot.

The R.C. as it was called sounded a bit like a union but one that was probably between various junk vendors rather than just everyone who worked at this one junkyard. That kind of mercantile banding had happened in humanity’s past, so it made sense that it would happen here. Really it was just a bit of a surprise that a bunch of junk merchants could even cobble together the resources necessary to protect themselves in such a manner.

Clearly, the junk trade was a bit more lucrative than the name would have you believe.

Crimson Dawn, Azure Ocean, red, and blue. Reminded me a bit of various gangs both historical and contemporary from humanity. Heck, as far back as roman times there were gangs that fell under those two opposite colors, having been born from the wildly popular chariot race teams of the time.

It also reminded me a bit of a certain video game, but that was a less relevant observation.

Lastly, there were the markets. Elevator market was likely close to the elevator, which made sense for reasons which should be pretty damn obvious. It being monitored by the guard seemed logical, though it painted a grim picture of the guard’s priorities. They wanted to secure travel to the upper plate, but beyond that, they didn't seem terribly interested in policing the streets.

“Yet there was a military base on the side of the mountain,” I remarked to myself. “Weird.”

Culvert Central was probably just another market, this one likely a little further inland, likely near a culvert. Though a useful tidbit of info, it wasn't nearly as illuminating as the other things I had uncovered during my impromptu shower. Still, it was enough to spark an idea, one that sounded a lot better than sneaking around at night in a strange place.

“I could follow this junk seller around. Get a lay of the land, and listen in on things,” I declared, only to frown. “I still need to get a more general vibe check of the place first. Find out where I could hide, and if there is even enough cover to get from A to B without being spotted.”

That settled it. I’d still need to do an initial sweep of the area while I had the aid of the night, but after that, I’d get my initial intel from following the kid and listening in at a market. Trade centers were the quickest way to take measure of a people and a place, after all. With that in mind, I settled in between the metal ribs of the downed aircraft and rested my eyes for a little while.

I jerked upward two hours later, suddenly aware of the fact that I had slipped into a sort of hunter’s trance where I didn't move a muscle, was aware of everything but was still able to rest. It felt like I had become a loaded spring, only the act of remaining cocked and ready cost me nothing and in fact had been rather nice. Though it made sense logically, given my new serpentine nature, it was still a bit of an odd realization.

“Wait a second. That's just waiting from a Bethesda game,” I muttered aloud. “I wonder if I can set a sleep timer for myself and wake up an exact number of hours later.”

I hummed to myself.

“A thought for later,” I concluded.

Setting out, I paused at the exit to my new home and peered out over the junkyard. As I had previously guessed, it was dark, lit up only by a pair of flickering flood lights no doubt meant to deter trespassers and thieves. They weren't very good at their job though, creating large areas of darkness that I could easily use to slip in and out of the yard with little effort. All without being illuminated.

Doing just that, I spotted the hole that I had used to get in here, to begin with, and made my way over to it. Once outside, I looked around to find that the road, or what did a good impression of a road, was fairly empty. The elevator leading up was fairly dark, with only a single one of the metal boxes operating at such a late hour. A glance in that direction confirmed only a skeleton crew of guards that had formed a box-like perimeter around the station.

Turning away from the elevator area, I slipped into the shadows and headed deeper into the plate. What I found was a winding maze of tunnels, streets carved from junk mounds, and enough random pipes to fill a Mario level. In short, I could move just out of sight completely unseen with very little effort while also keeping a close watch on the road.

I spotted a few ponies moving about at this hour, but they wore heavy clothing and kept to the shadows. There were a few more brazen individuals I spotted, real tough-looking sorts that cared a lot less about being spotted out in the open. Though their apparel varied greatly, it all fit into the style of a punk biker gang along with a bright red bandana usually worn about the neck.

Observing one group of these hoodlums, I watched as they strode down the street, talking animatedly to one another. Making no effort to quiet their conversation, I could hear everything from my position in a nearby ditch.

“-And then this giant earth pony showed up and told me to buzz off or she’d stomp my head in,” one of them declared. “When I asked her whose turf this was, she said that the shop was under the protection of the matriarch.”

“What's that?” asked another voice.

There was the sound of a fist impacting the back of someone’s head followed closely by a grunt.

“What did you do that for?” demanded the earlier voice.

“You should know this by now, you dope. The matriarch rules the Platinums. She's their big head honcho,” shot back the first voice.

“But I thought they only let unicorns into their gang. You said this pony that bothered you was an earth pony,” murmured the now humbled second voice.

“I don't know what her story was or why she was working for those horn head supremacists, but she had the pin and everything,” replied the first pony.

“So what did you do?” Asked a previously silent third voice.

“I left,” stated the first stallion. “We’d need a whole heap of boys to take down an enforcer and even then we wouldn't be making it outta that scrap without a few new scars.”

“And a few less limbs,” added the third voice.

“I still don't get it. I thought you said there was only one of them,” retorted the less bright second speaker.

“If you think you can take an enforcer of the Matriarch on all by yourself then the next time you see one of those white suit-wearing horn heads, challenge ‘em to a fight. See how it goes for ya,” grumbled the bitter, angry first stallion.

They turned a corner a few seconds later, leaving me behind to think about what I’d heard. Unicorn supremacists were expected, but that name, Platinum, along with the relative fear that even a single one of them carried was not. They were clearly more well-organized then these street-level thugs, though there were at least a few smart cookies in their midst.

I continued on, winding my way through the trash and observing my surroundings, listening in on whatever conversation I could. Occasionally I’d stop and peek into one of the ramshackle homes, or glance down a back alley. Most of the time my inspections did little to help my situation, as most folk weren't keen on chatting out in the open. Couple that with the relatively barren nature of the streets at this hour as well as the general lateness of the day and it made sense that I wasn't picking up anything useful.

Sure I was able to eavesdrop on a few conversations and observe a few ponies but I couldn't glean anything important. Those I stealthy passed by were eager to return home after a late shift, their skin covered in soot or pockmarked with burns. The conversations I heard were mostly small talk, discussions of the weather, the rising price of bread, and things like that.

That was until I stumbled upon a slightly denser cluster of homes and businesses that made up a small town amidst the sea of junk. Right at the edge, in an ill-used alleyway I spotted a pair of guards beating a random pony senseless behind a dumpster. Though my first inkling was to help, I resisted that urge and clambered on top of a nearby roof to get a better view instead.

The guards had taken off their helmets and covered their armor with cloaks, but even at a glance, they were easily clocked. One was a tall, thin male with a pointed horn on his head and a bitter gleam in his eye. The other was a squat, wide-shouldered pegasus mare who seemed more bored than anything, kicking their downed foe with little true effort.

This third pony was a pencil-thin stallion that looked to be about middle age. He wore a raggedy jacket, beat-up jeans, and a cloak that would be easily opened to display some hidden contraband he kept on his person. Any such vials or bottles of banned substances were smashed on the ground a few feet away, piled in the corner of the alley.

“I think he’s learned his lesson,” stated the mare, stepping back from the downed male.

“No, he, hasn't,” growled the other guard, punctuating each word with a solid kick.

“He has. Lay off him,” ordered the mare.

“Fine,” muttered the unicorn guard.

He took a step back only to lurch forward and hoof the rising stallion in the midsection, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending him to the ground in a heap.

“Are you done?” demanded the mare.

“Yeah,” murmured her partner. “I’m done.”

“Good,” the mare began, leaning down until she was face to face with the groaning stallion lying on the ground. “Now if I ever hear about you selling drugs to my partner’s son. Or any child for that matter. The captain will hear about this. Got it?”

“Got it,” wheezed the downed stallion between labored breaths.

“Right. Let's get out of here. Elevator’s gonna be shut down soon. Can't miss our trip topside,” declared the mare as she stood back up and faced the other guard.

“Thanks again for this boss. I don't know what I’d do if I found more of that shit in his room,” murmured the lanky stallion.

“Don't worry about it. Keeping dirtbags like this in line is what the Regulators do,” replied the mare before the pair trotted off.

As I watched them go, the mare retrieved her helmet from behind a peice of scrap and plunked it on her head. As she did so, her cloak slipped from her shoulder, revealing a tattoo. It was a large shield not unlike an antique police badge, with a pair of crossed, blood-covered swords over it, and the numbers five, zero, and one at the bottom.

“Looks like even the guards got gang problems,” I whispered to myself. “Though it's a bit hard to argue in defense of an asshole that sells drugs to children.”

I watched as the stallion slowly rose back to his hooves, wheezing all the while and clutching his midsection. Again I wanted to help, but again I stifled that desire, choosing instead to remain in the shadows. There wasn't much point watching as he scrambled around in search of any remaining drugs though so I left the alley, slipping down a drain pipe and reentering the street.

In search of more interesting bits of information, I began to make my way through the small cluster of structures. What I found was a relatively tight-knit community guarded by grey-cloaked ponies that stood at both of the two entrances into their tiny village. Though they were ponies, that was about all I could figure out about them as they kept their faces hidden from sight with deep hoods and heavy clothing. I could also see that they had weapons either obvious or half-hidden beneath their dark robes.

They carried themselves like guards, but the sight of them didn't exactly elicit hope. Fearful ponies cowered in their homes, glancing only occasionally out their windows to where the silent, grey-cloaked ponies stood. A scant few street lights lit with magical fire bathed the entire area in an eerie glow, adding an odd backdrop to the entire scene.

I spent a few minutes lurking around the area, hoping to pick up some bits of conversation or the like. I came up empty-handed, as none of the grey cloaks did anything but stand around in utter silence. Seeing as though I wasn't going to get anything out of this little expedition, I set off, heading towards another cluster of structures a bit further away.

Unlike the mostly residential area I had just passed by, this space was dominated by several large factories. Most looked as one may assume, blocky, dark, and occasionally belching steam or smog into the air. One however, stood out, as it was illuminated by neon lights and bore a large sign indicating to all that this was the ‘Velvet Underground’.

Even from a distance, I could hear the pulse of music, and the distant hum of conversation drifting on the wind. Slipping through a pipe, and across a narrow expanse, I took roost in the second story of a burnt-out home overlooking the entrance. There I was able to see that there was a duo of bouncers standing outside, observing a small line of patrons eager to enter.

The operation clearly wasn't as large as the rather ginormous former steel mill would have you believe. Most of the structure remained dark or was boarded off, with only the main factory floor being lit up with rainbow strobe lights or the twinkle of a disco ball. The bass was powerful, knocking tiny tufts of dust from the rafters with each titanic thump.

“Apparently dubstep is alive and well here,” I murmured to myself.

Training my hearing at the front entrance, I observed the line and noted that they looked like locals. They all wore some manner of clothing as did all ponies, with most wearing some mix of punk, metal, or goth aesthetics. A few looked like gang members, but none wore the colors they were known for, having evidently left their allegiances at the metaphorical door.

It was an interesting cultural snapshot of the area but that was about all it was. The conversation was surprisingly mundane, with those waiting in line mostly talking about their day or mentioning how excited they were for the evening. Only the two door guards were interesting, being that they were both earth ponies with grey skin, and had a sort of military punk aesthetic going.

They wore army helmets that bore the letter A on them, and while one had a large spike at its top, the other had a row of the things running from her brow to the back of her head. They had leather jackets, tall, nearly knee-high steel-toed boots, and plenty more shiny metal spikes, as well as anarchist markings.

One of them also looked a bit familiar, with dull purple hair, grey skin, and a permanently bored expression. She seemed to be in charge while the other one leaned against the wall near the entrance, rolling a butterfly knife around in her hand. They looked cool, with their mix of goth, military, and punk aesthetics that blended into a unique style that I couldn't help but appreciate, if for no other reason than the intimidation factor alone.

I could only enjoy the view for a while before I started to get bored and antsy. Nothing was happening and I wasn't interested in listening to distant dubstep or random, unhelpful conversation. I had gotten up and was about to continue on my way when a random spot near the entrance began to glow and sparks shot up from the ground.

All eyes turned to the spot, and though some ponies seemed confused and surprised, the door ponies weren't the least bit startled. From that, I assumed that this was probably something they had seen coming, with the magical hum likely heralding the arrival of V.I.P. When the spell was completed I turned out to be wrong, as although there was indeed a pony there, she had arrived with several large wooden crates.

The new arrival wore a robe of blue and purple, and while she held a staff in one hand, she had a clipboard in the other. Her face was obscured by a deep hood, one that was impenetrable even to my heat vision. There was simply nothing inside the clothes, either that or there was some kind of magic at play that kept their identity hidden.

Either way the individual was approached by the two door guards, with the leader taking the well… lead.

“Are you from the Cabal?” Asked the door guard.

“I am,” came a distorted, almost mechanical-sounding voice from within the mage’s hood. “I assume you are our contact with the Daughters of Discord?”

“I am,” replied the towering earth pony.

“Please,” the mage began, extending her hand and offering the clipboard. “Sign here.”

The other party did just that, before handing it back to the new arrival.

“Everything seems to be in order. Thank you for choosing the cabal for all of your illicit substance needs. Please come again soon, we should have quite the sale of magical weapons in the coming week,” the mage replied.

“Thank you. Good night,” replied the door guard.

“And to you as well,” the mage replied, bowing slightly before vanishing in a small explosion of multicolored sparks.

“I’ll bring it inside. You watch the door,” ordered the lead guard.

“Yeah, I know the routine,” whined the other helmeted woman.

The other female simply leaned down and plucked the largest wooden crate from the ground without so much as a grunt of exertion. She may have hoisted it with ease, but it definitely looked heavy, as the woman’s shoulders flexed, and her muscles bulged. Though her expression remained neutral, I could tell that her jaw had tightened and that she was focusing completely on her task.

Though it looked for a moment that one of the ponies from the line may try to sneak inside, one look at the massive, muscular mare was enough to stop that from happening.

Once inside, things calmed down again, leaving me to contemplate the bit of information I had just received. Two new names, the Daughters of Discord, the apparent owners of this palace, and the cabal, a less than scrupulous dealer of banned substances. Though intriguing, I was most interested in the teleportation magic that they had used to get here, as that would be quite useful to me in the future. The Daughters were less intriguing, even if I half-remembered one of them from somewhere.

With that thought in mind, I decided to wander a little deeper, winding my way through the litter-strewn streets of the factory area. Making my way to the backside, I noticed that although one of the great shops was cold, and dark the other was still operational. The clank of metal and the thunder of titanic impacts could be heard as I slipped past the chainlink fence that barred outsiders. It didn't exactly do much to someone who could slither through the drainpipes that were too narrow for all but a child to enter.

Once inside the perimeter, I weaved through piles and piles of long metal pipes. Organized by length, and other factors I couldn't figure out from just a cursory glance they likely represented millions of bits in product. The yard was large, but sparsely lit, with only the area immediately behind the building containing any people.

There, ponies hefted pipes onto the back of small, narrow trucks though where they could possibly be destined wasn't certain to me. It wasn't like they could go up the elevator, though now that I was thinking about it, the central pillar could hold the key. Large enough that even a dozen of the model T-looking trucks could fit within it, if it was indeed a freight elevator that would make sense.

The only other option was bringing it topside via one of those sky dock things which seemed silly. Either way that was a concern for another time, as although it was interesting, I wanted more info about the various factions at play. Working the angles, exploiting weaknesses, and taking control of things from the shadows would come after.

That thought made me stop and made me realize just how much of my own thought process was for lack of a better word. Alien.

Already I was imagining how best to black mail the various leaders in order to gain their compliance and support. With their aid, I’d be able to build a pack of killers that would be tough enough to take on the invaders. None of that bothered me in the slightest, yet only a day ago I was for lack of a better word, meak.

I had never really gotten in a fight, and could barely bring myself to hurt someone even if they deserved it. I had only ever raised my fist in anger to punch walls or strike punching bags. Yet here I was, imagining all the people I’d probably have to kill to get my way.

Was this purely my new alien physiology at work? The unique biochemistry of our bodies do push and pull on our psyche that much I knew from Earth but could that be enough to change me? Or was this part of the transformation forced on me? I had been given a mission, and my every thought bent toward that goal as if it were a black hole, pulling me in.

“Existential crisis later. Finish recon now,” I muttered to myself.

I wondered, briefly, if that urge to refocus myself on the mission was even my own thought. Then I brushed it aside and pushed onward, aware of the fact that I had already spent about three or four hours out on recon already. I needed to conclude things and give myself time to get back to the haunt I had claimed in that junkyard.

Lingering around the workers I discovered very little so I continued on after listening in for only a few short minutes. Heading further into the plate, I slipped through a crack in the fence and headed towards a larger, taller series of scrap structures in the distance. Or at least that was the plan, as I noticed that a half-collapsed warehouse in the middle of a mostly abandoned area had a light on.

I clung to the shadows and made them my home as I slipped ever onward toward the point of light I had previously noticed. I tried to peek through a window, but it was so warped I could see only colored blobs on the other side. Though dilapidated, the warehouse still had good enough soundproofing that I couldn't make out anything either.

Remembering those old Batman episodes, I slithered over to a drain spout and clambered up it all the way to the very top. Sure enough, there was a skylight and one illuminated by the flickering of the same soft blue flame I had spotted earlier. I made careful not to let the sound of my slithering body alert anyone, straying only to what few spots on the roof that didn't seem ready to collapse.

In the end, I was able to get over to the window without making a single noise. Peeking over the lip, I found that I was almost perfectly above what appeared to be a meeting spot of some kind. A single pony sat at a table illuminated by a lantern within which was a soft blue flame that flickered on some unseen breeze.

“Who are you… hmm?” I whispered.

The pony’s large ears twitched and I blinked in shock, more than a little surprised that she had heard me. Even still, there was no way she could have figured out my location, and sure enough she looked left and right before relaxing. Likely thinking it was just the breeze, the hat-wearing pony extended her black-gloved fingers and began to drum them against the table.

I would have left after the first few minutes passed by without change, but something about this stranger struck me as familiar in the way the other pony had. I felt like I knew them, but seeing only their gloved hands and the top of their hat left me with few clues about who they could be. They had style, that much was obvious, as the black chapeau had a wide brim with a single white feather sticking out of it.

Thankfully the curiosity fairy heard my pining for more information and decided to help a brother out. This assistance came in the form of the sound of a distant door opening followed by two sets of footsteps- hoofsteps? With one approaching the table and taking the seat across from our strange while the other stood nearby.

The new arrivals had many similarities, such as very little hair or feathers. On their head, a white shirt, black jeans, and entirely irrelevant suspenders. The differences lay in the fact that the person who sat down was a griffon, as made obvious by their large wings, pointed beak and clawed hands. I immediately recognized one of them to be Gilda, due to the light purple color around her eyes and overall attitude.

How one managed to make the feathers atop their head short I don't know, but she had done it. There was a bit of mystery around how the scrawny male standing next to her was, as they were a kirin who had simply shaved their head. Though broad-shouldered, the kirin was rail thin, and had the appearance of an addict or someone who cared very little for their health.

“Good evening, Gilda, Fern Flare,” greeted a familiar voice.

“Wait… is that-” I whispered, only to catch myself before I said another word.

The hat was removed and placed on the table before them, revealing that it was indeed a black-suited Rarity. Impeccably dressed, she looked like the picture-perfect mafia member, complete with a black tie, red lipstick, and subtle dark eyeshadow.

“Evening, mediator Rarity,” Gilda exclaimed.

“Whatever,” muttered the Kirin.

“Your companion has very poor manners,” Rarity remarked, retrieving a knife from somewhere in her suit, flipping it open, and stabbing it into the table. “Very poor manners indeed.”

“You won't intimidate us,” growled the kirin.

“Fern. Shut the hell up,” Gilda shot back.

The kirin flinched and took a step back, his jaw clenched tight.

“Thank you, Gilda,” Rarity offered.

“Whatever. Let's just get on with this,” Gilda muttered.

“Very well. Since you have forgotten your manners I suppose I should also assume you’ve forgotten the reason for this meeting,” Rarity began, splaying her gloved fingers. “You stand accused of damaging the brotherhood’s property and since you refuse to do us the kindness of simply paying for what you’ve broken we have negotiated this meeting.”

“I didn't break shit,” Fern spat.

“I will not say this again Fern, shut the fuck up,” Gilda spat, glaring daggers at her companion. “If I have to repeat myself one more time I’m going to rip your balls off before she even gets the chance.”

Fern seemed ready to fire back only to bite his tongue and visibly shrink.

“Apologies,” Gilda exclaimed, her jaw tight with rage. “Continue, mediator Rarity.”

“Thank you kindly, Gilda. Now then,” Rarity began again. “Witness, you may enter.”

There was a click, and then the sound of nervous hooves approaching from behind Rarity. I couldn't quite see them from my angle, but they sounded young, not child young but not yet a full adult. They were also dainty as if their owner didn't have much weight to put behind them or they had been trained not to.

Fern stiffened at the sight, and Gilda just sighed knowingly, melting into her chair.

“Is this the man who assaulted you the other night?” Rarity asked, pointing to Fern.

“It… it was,” whispered a voice so soft I could barely hear it.

“Well then. Thats concluded. You may return to the other room if you like,” Rarity dismissed.

“If it's all the same to you mediator. I’d like to watch,” murmured the new arrival.

Rarity paused for a moment before chuckling.

“Very well darling. It is your call,” Rarity declared.

“You just couldn't fucking listen, could you?” Gilda spat, glaring at Fern.

“Wha-what? You're just taking her side?” Fern declared. “Just like that? On the word of some whore?”

“I’ve had to sit here enough damn times to know that when that while the light of that lantern lands on you, can't tell a lie. So, Fern. If you really didn't do it, just state that you didn't do it,” Gilda shot back.

“Well, go on darling,” Rarity offered.

“I did- I didn't do-” Fern’s face contorted as if he was fighting his own tongue. “I did it. Fuck!”

Gilda just sighed.

“Well, then darling. I’m afraid you know the punishment for such a transgression,” Rarity declared, withdrawing the long silver knife from the table. “If you don't fight back I’ll make it as clean as I can.”

“I told you the girl was off limits. But did you listen?” Gilda muttered.

“What? You can't be serious Gilda. We’re the fucking predators and you’re just handing me over like that? Come on if we fight her together we-” Fern tried to say.

In a surge of motion, Gilda leaped up and struck him in the breadbasket with enough force to knock the kirin to his knees. Wheezing, and gasping for breath, he grabbed at his midsection, gulping for air that would not come.

“Yes, we are the predators but that means that we respect strength, and the brotherhood is strong. Thus we respect them,” Gilda explained, kneeling down in front of the kirin. “We may stalk the prey of this world, but we are not alone out there. We give a wide berth to the others who feed upon the weak.”

Gilda rose back into a stand.

“And now they will feed on you, as is their right as the strong,” Gilda concluded, turning away from the still gasping kirin. “You have my apologies mediator Rarity. I did not believe even he was foolish enough to defy me.”

“Perhaps you should keep your men on shorter leashes,” Rarity offered with a chuckle.

“Hmm, perhaps we should,” Gilda muttered before walking away.

Rarity strode forward, and knelt down, pressing a hand against the Kirin’s shoulder.

“Shhh now darling. Go softly, go with dignity,” Rarity whispered.

The man tried to swing a wild haymaker aimed at the suit-wearing woman, but Rarity simply weaved around it like she were water. In a flash of steel, the glimmering dagger plunged into his throat, disappearing inside the kirin all the way to the hilt. As fast as it thrust forward, it was pulled back and away, sending the crimson vitae of its victim across the floor. Now clean, the blade was folded in half and slipped back beneath Rarity’s suit, tucked securely into some unseen pocket.

Fern gurgled and scrambled for a few more seconds before falling still, his eyes became distant, unseeing.

“Satisfied?” Asked Rarity, turning to the unseen pony.

“Y…” the unseen pony gulped audibly. “Yes.”

“Excellent,” Rarity proclaimed. “Take the week off. Return to your family.”

“I can still work, I can-”

“That was not a request,” Rarity interrupted, her stern expression melting into a soft smile. “Worry not darling. I have already smoothed things over with your superior.”

“But I won't make any money,” murmured the pony.

“Oh, darling. I would not order you from work if it wasn't paid,” Rarity declared. “The next time you collect your earnings you will find that you will find a small bonus for assisting me in taking out the trash.”

“Oh… thank you mediator Rarity,” murmured the unseen girl.

“No thanks needed darling. Now then. Let us leave this place quickly. I feel like I’m about to get tetanus just sitting here,” Rarity murmured in disgust.

“Yes mediator Rarity,” agreed the other female.

I watched the pair go before laying there, in silent awe of what had just been revealed to me.

What did this mean for the story of friendship of magic? What did this mean to the eventual redemption of Luna? What implications could this have for the elements of harmony?

There were so many possibilities, so many concerns, and so many variables that I had never thought had even been in play to begin with. I just assumed that although this world was different, that who the elements of harmony chose would remain the same. Yet obviously that couldn't be true, as Rarity sure didn't seem like the generous type.

Okay, so she was still generous in one way but definitely not in another.

“Augh. This is making my head hurt,” I murmured, clawed hands gripping either side of my skull. “Go home. Rest first. Worry later.”

Author's Note

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First Strike

The trip back ‘home’ was uneventful, thankfully.

My mind was elsewhere during the whole length of the trip, leaving my body on what was essentially autopilot. It was one step away from astral projecting but felt also weirdly natural like this was something vipers did all the time.

Wait, hold on, I thought to myself. Was my species even called vipers?

They never clearly stated what it was, or wasn't in the game. The lore was always vague, and to be honest, a lot of my memories thereof were clouded with fan theories. That and other fan-related content that I wouldn't let myself think about at the moment.

Getting my brain back on track I focused myself solely on movement, feeling my snake-like form as I wove through the ever-present junkyard. Though I clung to the shadows my pace was quick, some primitive part of my brain pointing me towards darker paths instinctually. It felt almost like my waking or conscious mind was weaving itself more intimately with the instinctual half that came with this body.

I ruminated on it for a moment and realized that in time I should unlock more of those instinctual responses. I just needed to be patient and let myself get used to not having legs, and other such things that came with this new shape I found myself in. This probably meant that I would get abilities like tongue pull and poison spit, but could also mean that I may acquire magic.

No, that was silly I told myself. I may be on Equestria but I was certainly no Equestrian. However, they did hint that seemingly non-magical creatures did have some latent magical potential.

I gave my head another shake and dismissed the thought. I would need the help of a magical expert before I could even have a hope of answering that question so best to leave it aside for the moment.

Putting my brain to task, I began to formulate the next part of my plan.

Returning home was the obvious and immediate next step but after that, things got grey. I had been a methodical, and well-planned person in my previous life but I had been far from an exceptional Xcom player. Long-range strategy and macro decisions were my strengths, minute-to-minute gameplay, and snap decisions were where I suffered.

Thinking a bit more abstractly, I tried not to think about the immediate, and instead metaphorically zoomed out. I needed more information, that much was clearly obvious as this was far from the Equestria I knew from the show.

I needed access to the Wikipedia of this world, or failing that, at least a library before I could really get going. Given the lack of public services down here that meant I would either need to infiltrate the plate above or give up on that avenue of info gathering. I decided to think a bit more broadly, and consider that I may have to get my information from a source that was less reliable, but had a greater weight of experience.

A local was the obvious answer, like a shop owner, or the like.

The junker family wasn't optimal for this purpose but it certainly wasn't the worst possible choice. With that that in mind I decided that was a good place to start, after that, I could seek out experts, or other, more knowledgeable ponies.

Oof, that felt better.

Being so rudderless had been grating, but with a path forward I was able to keep anxiety at bay, at least for now.

After that, I would need money, manpower, and most of all, a team. I could lead in a more general sense, but I would require someone to take control of the squad. After that, I would need someone to fill out the various roles I would require like science lead, and with that done we could get a backup squad and maybe a flex squad when going in quietly wasn't necessary like when the chrysalids showed up.

The thought of those bug bastards made me shiver all the way from the tip of my tail to the top of my head. I was not looking forward to that.

My brain wanted to keep planning, to keep setting out goals, and ideas but the sight of home dashed that notion. The moment I was able to slide back into the relatively private space, my body began to release all the tension I had built up. My tail uncoiled, and I fell to the cool floor, absorbing the pleasant cold of the dirty metal.

It wasn't hygienic, but after all that exercise, and distance covered I had started to grow warm, too warm. Like a lizard that had sunbathed a bit too long, I sprawled out, and laid there, soaking up the pleasant temperatures. For a few minutes, my head was empty and my endless thoughts finally quieted themselves.

I wanted to stay longer, to keep experiencing the pleasant emptiness in my mind but that desire was all for not. My body had grown cool, and my instincts were telling me to find a small cramped place to curl up in so I could sleep.

I groaned like a teenager told he needed to leave his bed in the morning and dragged my sorry carcass towards an upturned pipe. I took a peek inside and after finding it empty and the perfect size, I slid inside, coiling comfortably into a tight ball. It felt a bit like a sleeping bag and also a straight jacket, only in a good way.

It's difficult to convey exactly how I felt so I’ll just say that I was comfortable, immensely so. In fact, I barely even managed to settle in before I could feel myself start to drift off. The equivalent human sensation was a bit like going to bed and falling asleep so fast that you barely feel your head hit the pillow.

When I awoke, I felt good, amazing even.

Slithering from my sleeping pipe, I uncoiled and stretched out as far as I possibly could. I was long, like really long, but after pulling myself together I certainly didn't look it.

“That was nice,” I muttered to myself. “I wonder what time it is.”

A small part of me was already panicking, convinced that I had slept far longer than I intended to but I was too relaxed to even be bothered by this thought.

I took a peek outside, and glanced around, only to be surprised, as well as a bit worried. It was hard to judge time given the fact that we had a city over my head, but some instinctual part of me knew that it had only been three, maybe four hours since I had put my head down. I felt a bit annoyed that I didn't know more reptile facts as I had no idea if this was a normal amount.

With a shrug, I decided that it probably was, as I certainly felt refreshed and ready for a full day.

Putting that thought to action, I began to wind my way through the junkyard towards the house at the front of the property. At about the halfway point I heard what sounded like the clank of metal striking metal. I headed in the direction of the sound and found a male pony attempting to remove a rather stuck-on bolt. Or at least he had been trying to do so, at the moment he was just angrily striking the thing with his wrench while cursing under his breath.

My first observation was that he was larger than I had anticipated, though given that I had only ever glimpsed him from the corner of my eye and heard him talk it wasn't like I had a lot to go on.

He was a fairly well-built dude with broad shoulders, a thick jaw, and some stubble that spoke more of being too lazy to shave than it being any kind of fashion choice. Dressed in oil splotched overalls, and a sweat-stained t-shirt, he certainly looked like a grizzled mechanic. His light yellow nearly white hair was cut short and tucked messily under a well-loved hard hat covered in the kind of stickers you’d expect to see on the inside of a preteen girl’s locker.

Though a bit gruff, something about the way he carried himself just screamed loving father. I couldn't tell you why, as my own dad had been a lawyer, though not a good one. A good father I mean, he was apparently quite the force in a courtroom if the stories are to be believed.

“Consarnit,” he muttered bitterly, scratching the side of his head with his wrench. “Don't tell me they welded those darn things on.”

He then bent back over and started trying to turn the rather bulky bolt. His large forearms bulged, and a vein of his neck grew fat with blood. The man’s entire body strained and for a moment I felt myself transfixed.

Oh no, I thought to myself. Well-built, masculine men better not be my new type. I was already avoiding the wave of body dysmorphia through a mix of willpower and just busying my mind. Adding an attraction to burly men would have sent me over the edge of an anxiety spiral.

Thankfully I realized that it was not lust I was feeling but rather hunger, as my mouth had started to salivate and my stomach started to rumble. Pushing aside the numerous mental hang-ups and uncomfortable issues hanging out at the back of my thoughts, I continued towards the house. I had barely made it more than a few feet before I smelled something pleasant, prompting me to stop.

There on the ground, amidst a small pile of tools, was a lunch box. Why he had chosen to take a lunch when he was within three hundred feet of his house, I didn't know and I didn't care. Popping the thing open, I found a quartet of sandwiches waiting for me and without thinking I swallowed the first one without so much as chewing.

“Augh,” I muttered. “What even is that?”

I pulled open the second one to find what looked like dandelion leaves, what I thought were endives, radishes, cream chease, raw uncooked onion, and what appeared to be mustard. It didn't look half bad pulled apart, a bit like a BLT sorta but there were so many weird flavors. The thing had barely even touched my tongue yet I could still recall how the odd mix danced across my palette.

“Better than nothing,” I remarked to myself.

Tossing back the rest of the sandwiches, I tipped over the lunch box and sprinkled crumbs on the ground. With my daring bit of sandwich robbery completed, I continued towards the house, sticking close to what shadows remained and being as stealthy as I could. Thankfully the man of the house was the only one outside, allowing me to reach his home without being spotted.

I peeked in through the kitchen window and found that a long-haired woman sat at the table, a cookbook and several pages sprawled out before her. Sporting small but immaculately kept wings, she was clearly a pegasus, or whatever they called ponies with the ability to fly. She was also, a stunning, if a bit older, woman.

Her crimson hair flowed over her shoulders and down one side of her face as well as her back. Time had not been kind to her, as already she sported crows feet, more than a few wrinkles, and a few streaks of white. Even all that did not put a dent in her beauty, in fact, it kind of accentuated it in a weird way. I chose not to dwell on my love of milfs for the moment and focused on her appearance in a more detached sense.

She too wore coveralls like her presumed husband, though where his were covered with oil splotches and more than a few patches hers bore different kinds of stains. Smears of green and a few spots covered the heavy-duty denim she wore. In addition, gardening tools as well as electric tape stuck out of her pockets. Judging from the lack of gardening spaces outside I assumed she had some kind of miniature greenhouse set up somewhere in the home.

“She's so resourceful,” I found myself muttering.

Once again I gave my head a shake and focused on what, if any, information I may gain from this little interaction. I couldn't tell much from this angle, and sitting out in the open like this left me feeling exposed. To remedy this, I clambered up a drain pipe and took refuge atop the chaotic landscape that was the roof of their home.

Pipes, chugging machines that did… something, and a generally uneven, slightly chaotic assemblage of disparate parts gave me considerable cover. Sure it wasn't super likely that some pegasus would fly overhead but given the earlyness of the hour it was at least a possibility. Secure in my hiding spot, I tried to listen in as best as I could but despite my keen senses, I couldn't pick up anything important.

There was movement though, and I followed it over to the upper eastern section where I heard the shallow, soft steps of a young person. To get a better view, I wrapped my tail around a thicker, more important-looking pipe and dangled over the lip of the building. Peering in through the window I saw a girl on the cusp of womanhood working on some kind of project involving some primitive-looking electronics.

Sitting at a desk, the girl had a circuit board sitting before her, and an open electrician’s manual propped up against the wall, the tome held open by a small plush dog. With short, teal blue hair, soft yellow fur, and two small wings she was undoubtedly the child of the two people I had seen earlier. A slim build, she wore ill-fitting clothes likely handed down by the illusive older sister that I heard mention of but had not seen as of yet.

It was at about this point I realized I was creeping on a pre-teen and pulled myself back up onto the roof. Yes, it may be important to know more about this world, and the family that I had decided to squat on the property of, but I didn't have to make it weird. To that end I lay there, hidden under some exposed ductwork, my gaze turned skyward while whatever equivalent to ears were still listening in on the room below me. The roof, though thicker than necessary, and sporting more than a few layers, also had its fair share of patched holes so I could easily pick up the young girl’s mumbling.

I reasoned that since I had no foul intentions it was okay, but snooping like this still left a foul taste in my mouth. Brushing it aside, I released a long sigh and stared absently up at the underside of the plate above us. At first, it almost looked like a summer sky, but then my eyes adjusted and I could make out the large lamps pointed down at us.

“How strange,” I muttered to myself, extending a hand to the sky which lay beyond the city above.

I lay there for a few minutes, my mind absently contemplating what best to do next. The obvious answer to this was to find someone I could press for answers to the more basic questions of the world. My first instinct was to strike a deal with one of the adults, or perhaps to simply force them, but that was a bit cruel.

Plus I had nothing to really offer them, so a trade wasn't exactly in the cards.

Either way, I figured I’d spend the day hanging out on the roof, listening through the pipes and non-functioning air control systems to see if I could learn anything.

Though I spent hours up there, I found out very little, other than the fact that this family really enjoyed their alone time. They spent most of the day working on their own various projects, coming together only briefly to talk, eat, or enjoy a cup of tea.

Then they were off again.

In a weird way it was rather pleasent, even if the pleasure I gained was tainted by a strange sort of voyeurism. Still, it was nice to know that these people were normal, decent, and definitely worth defending. I couldn't speak to the rest of the populace but if it meant defending only this single, quaint little family, it would be worth it.

By the time my musings were interrupted, the sun had gone down, and I was considering the possibility of going on another scouting mission. There were more small towns, businesses, and places of commerce that I had yet to see, all of which would net a greater intel gain than sitting here. Then I heard the scurrying of hooved feet doing their best to remain quiet as they ran up to the edge of the house.

I peeked over the side and saw a different face, though one that felt familiar for some reason, I couldn't place why.

Dressed in the somewhat revealing garb of what I assumed was a sex worker, or just someone in the entertainment industry, they looked out of place amidst the sea of junk. Her long light pinkish purple hair was currently being tied up into a ponytail, her dexterous fingers working the elastic band into place with only a few quick movements. Once secure, she grabbed her handbag, brought it up to her mouth, and bit down on it for some reason.

Her deep purple, almost reddish eyes gleamed intensely in the low light of early evening. Her pale yellow body blended surprisingly well with the shadows, though her crimson sequined dress sure didn't. Despite her outfit hardly fitting her attempt at subterfuge, she grabbed hold of the drain pipe and began climbing up to the second floor.

Though she was far from as good a climber as I, she had experience on her side and found every handhold without even looking. She certainly looked like she was the spawn of the two adults who lived here, and judging from the way she carried herself, she wasn't a burglar. So, I chose to simply watch as she ascended to the second story and hefted herself over onto the windowsill.

Though she landed fairly quietly, she was still a bipedal horse, so her hooves were quite loud to my metaphorical ears. I didn't hear anyone stir from inside though, and neither did she as the woman paused for only a few short seconds before continuing. Jamming a nail file under the window, she managed to lever the thing open, allowing her to slide inside and land with a thump in the room beyond.

“Resourceful,” I muttered to myself.

Pulling back over the edge, I laid my head against the roof and listened as she moved around the room. Without the flick of a switch or the sound of a candle being lit, I assumed she was moving about the room solely on memory. She also lacked either a horn or wings so magic was right out, further proving my assumption that she lived there.

I could tell that she was trying to be quiet, but that meant little to me, as my senses were keener than most. Even after she did her best to be silent, someone else had evidently picked up on her present as the door opened. She froze, and I could hear a muffled curse before the door closed once more.

“What are you doing here, Rainy?” Whispered the older of the two in a voice I now immediately recognized.

You are the woman from the warehouse meeting! That’s why I recognized you! I thought to myself.

“A better question is what you are doing here,” retorted the younger woman in an accusatory tone.

“I just… got home and was unpacking is all,” murmured the elder.

“Then why are you changing into your running shoes?” Rainy pressed.

“I wasn't changing into them I was uh, just taking them off is all. But that doesn't matter, you need to go back to your own room okay?” retorted the older sister.

“Touch me and I’ll scream for Mom and Dad,” Rainy proclaimed.

“You wouldn't,” challenged the other.

“Try me,” stated the younger of the two.

Oooh, she's got balls. I thought to myself. I liked her already.

“Fine,” murmured the intruder. “I’m getting some stuff together because I’m leaving tonight.”

“Where are you going?” demanded Rainy.

“Out,” replied her sister.

There was a sound like someone was making a dramatic inhale before the same sister hastily continued.

“Stop, just stop okay? I can't tell you because that would put you in danger,” she murmured in a soft tone.

“What happened?” Rainy whispered.

“A man hurt me, and though he has been uh… dealt with, he has friends,” the older sister whispered.

“What's going on Pursey? Who is after you?” Rainy pressed.

“I can't tell you,” Pursey whispered back. “Just know that I’m doing this for everyone’s sake. Those guys are angry and stupid. That makes them dangerous.”

“I thought you said you had protection from that mediator person,” Rainy offered.

“I did, but… it's complicated. Just let me do this. Please, I’m trying to protect you guys,” Pursey insisted.

There was a long moment of silence before Rainy finally replied.

“Okay,” she muttered.

“Thank you, Rainy. You’re a good sister. Just, wait twenty minutes or so then get Mom and Dad to the basement. If I move quickly I can lead them away and give the mediator a chance to get here,” Pursey whispered.

“Just be fast okay? I can't lose you,” Rainy murmured, clearly on the verge of tears.

“I’ll be okay,” Pursey exclaimed, pausing briefly to assumably hug the other girl. “Now get back to your room. I need to finish changing.”

“Okay,” whispered the younger girl in a low, defeated tone.

Pursey then began to hastily change before opening the window again and slipping outside. I watched her descend back down to street level, the woman now wearing sweatpants, a baggy hoodie, and running shoes. She appeared unarmed but was clutching something tightly in her pocket, presumably a knife.

“Interesting,” I whispered to myself. “A chance to do a good deed, and to get a guide to this strange version of Equestria. How lucky.”

Slithering down the drain pipe, I followed her from a distance, keeping to the shadows and staying out of sight. Both of which weren't hard, as it was late, what street lights worked were lit, and the sun was completely gone. The pony was so wrapped up in her own little plan she didn't notice me following her. Mind you, it was not like she had a chance of spotting me even if she did glance my way.

As I shadowed her, I couldn't help but ponder her plan and conclude that it was stupid.

She was going to run away and give time for the mediator to show up, why not run toward the mediator? Why come home at all? My brain continued to pick apart the plan until I stopped that train of thought and reminded myself that she was young, likely twenty years old at most.

She had been put in a bad spot and had made a snap decision based on a desire to save her family. There would be time to reprimand her for her short-sightedness later, for now, I’d give her a bit of grace and try not to judge her too harshly.

Winding my way through the shadows, I observed as she made her way down a narrow path leading between two towering mounds of scrap. I slipped through shortly after her, ascending up the mounds of cubed trash piled nearly three stories tall at certain points. A junkyard, likely long abandoned, the space was full of winding corridors, small mountains of garbage, and large skeletal flying machines that had been partially taken apart.

It was at about this point that I heard distant voices and the sound of more hooved feet approaching from behind. Ahead of me, the girl moved with purpose, taking each turn with confidence, as if she had an end state in mind and was not just running aimlessly. It wasn't long before she stopped in what appeared to be a choke point of sorts overlooked by a single dim street light and a primitive motor car hanging precariously over the edge.

“A trap. Smart,” I muttered.

I coiled myself tightly around a flag pole jutting from the top of a tall pile of mostly square trash. From that spot, I was able to see both her and the approaching band of men maneuvering through the junk maze. With my telescopic vision, I was able to see that the one in front was holding a small blue cube within which was an even smaller arrow.

“That explains how they found her and why she was so certain she’d be found in the first place,” I remarked aloud. “Must be a pretty cheap piece of magical tech if these losers were able to buy it at such short notice.”

I observed that there were five in total, three of whom were kirin, and the other two of which were griffons. Though different races they all seemed to be related, wearing the same type of clothes and carrying themselves in a similar manner. Wielding either bats or knives, the rather rough group of presumed gang members would have been intimidating if they weren't also kind of adorable. Sure they would have spooked most ponies, but I was a fair bit taller than even the largest of the bunch.

“Shh, there she is,” whispered one of them, pointing towards Pursey.

The woman was standing at the far side of the narrow, dead-end corridor, a confident look on her face. From up here I could tell that the random piles of junk weren't quite as chaotic as they seemed. A long, narrow pipe went from the ground next to Pursey, all the way up to one of the cars on the right-hand side. Perched precariously as it was, I had little doubt that a firm tug would prompt the whole thing to crash down on any unfortunate fool who didn't move in time.

“Pursey Pink,” exclaimed the largest, most broad-shouldered of the group, a kirin that stood a head taller than his brothers. “You’ve made quite a lot of trouble for us you know.”

Pursey didn't reply, at least not with words. She just glared at them from across the way, her eyes occasionally flicking from the car to the spot ahead of the group.

“You should have let it slide you know,” continued the kirin from earlier, the man shouldering a sledgehammer. “But no, you just had to get our brother Fern killed.”

The other men all muttered insults while following in their leader’s wake, hands gripping weapons. Pursey didn't reply to any of it, though she did grimace at the mention of Fern’s death, some small part of her regretting her actions. Or perhaps not regretting them, but rather regretting the necessity of it all, as she remained resolute despite her feelings.

“Now it falls on my brothers and I to partake in the cycle of bloodshed and revenge, but don't worry,” monologued the leader. “For we will ensure this ends tonight, with you and your whole pathetic family dead at my feet.”

“If you think about it we’re just making peace,” offered one of the griffons.

The rest snickered.

“Exactly. So come on,” he remarked, opening his hand invitingly. “Let's give peace a chance.”

When Pursey remained silent and continued to glare, the man frowned and dropped his hammer down into both hands.

“Fine. Have it your way,” he muttered.

Before Pursey had a chance to blink her attackers surged forward, with their leader striding ahead of the pack, a murderous gleam in his eye. Scrambling to respond, Pursey yanked at the metal rod to no avail. Bracing one hoof against the wall, she tugged a second time, and then a third, muttering curses all the while.

In the end, she was able to get it loose and start the chain reaction but it was too late. The car tumbled downward, and crushed one of the men, turning him into a red smear and briefly stunning everyone. The dull boom and accompanying rattle of many hundreds of pounds of metal shook the entire junkyard sending more than a few hunks of garbage tumbling to the ground. My position was unaffected, and I waited for the junkyard to settle before I slithered closer, watching all the while.

“What the fuck was that?” One of them muttered.

“No, she got North Wind!” another of them added.

The leader skidded to a halt and turned to the pile of shattered bone, pulped organ, and pulverized meat that had once been his brother.

“Godamnit. You bitch!” He spat, spinning back at Pursey, and making the woman shrink back in terror. “I was just going to kill you first but now you’re going to be last. Get her!”

As the group surged forward, I moved into a better, closer position.

Pursey saw the four attacking men and swung at the first one with a metal pipe, the wild haymaker catching him in the side. Though fairly strong, her attacker was tougher still, and took the hit without flinching before grabbing the pole before she could pull it back. Ripping the thing from her grasp, the griffon tossed aside the weapon while the rest of them closed the distance.

The space, barely more than fifteen feet across at the widest, wasn't the most optimal area for a fight especially against so many foes. Though they couldn't all engage Pursey at once, the woman still had to fight off three of the men at the same time. Which she did not do very well, as she managed to swing a small knife before getting kicked in the stomach and struck in the upper back with a baseball bat.

Knocked to the ground, bleeding and no doubt bruised, Pursey winced and clutched at her injured arm. The fight, was over before it began, and the griffon she had struck with the pipe grabbed her by the hair. Dragging her out of the narrow cubby of junk she had backed into, she was tossed her in the center of the small clearing.

“Well well well. Not so tough now are ya girlie?” teased one of them.

“She swings like a girl,” added another.

“That's because she is a girl, you idiot,” spat another, slapping the second one upside the head.

“Be quiet you nitwits,” ordered the leader, the man turning his baleful gaze on Pursey. “I have a question for you.”

Pursey continued to glare in silence.

“Was it worth it?” he asked, leaning in close. “Was it worth killing my brother if it ended with you here, lying defenseless before me?”

Pursey was quiet for a few seconds before a smile suddenly came to her face.

“Yes. Yes, it was,” she replied, her grin morphing into a cruel smirk.

Oh, I liked her, I liked her a lot.

“You bitch,” spat the leader. “Let's see if you feel that way after I’ve cracked open the skulls of your family like a couple of cheap walnuts.”

“Pursey,” I called suddenly. “Would you like to make a deal?”

“Who was that?”

“Whose there?”

The leader rose and glared into the darkness. “Who said that?” he demanded.

I slithered through the junk and debris, winding my way around them, casting my voice out so it resounded off the walls of garbage.

“If you accept, I’ll deal with your attackers,” I added, choosing not to tell her that I planned on saving her regardless.

“Make it painful, and you’ve got a deal,” Pursey replied calling out to me.

“You don't even know what I’m asking for,” I pointed out.

“I don't care,” Pursey retorted.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” the leader spat, kicking the downed Pursey in the side.

“Quit hiding you coward!” one of them shouted.

“Then we have an accord,” I remarked with a cackle.

“If you don't want to come out. I’ll drag you into the light!” bellowed one of them before hefting his bat and charging at the darkness.

“You will try,” I mocked.

Rising slightly from the mass of junk, I made myself appear small, and vaguely equine in shape. This spurred the man on, and I could see a feral hunger enter his eyes the moment they fell upon me. When he was only a few short feet away I surged upward, towering over him and startlingly the man for a second.

That was all the time I needed though, as I grabbed his arm at the wrist, before getting a hold of his neck. Hoisting him into the air, I pulled him in close and sunk my fangs deep into his exposed throat. He resisted, of course, but it didn't matter as I was far, far stronger than him and he could only weakly flail about before his panic-stricken heart betrayed him, delivering the poison to every part of his body.

I tossed him back towards his fellows just as blood as thick as gelatin began to bubble out of his eye sockets. He muttered something close to a desperate plea for help before going into spasms, jelly-like vitae oozing out of every orifice.

“What the fuck!”

“Holy shit, what happened?”

“It's poison you idiots. Something’s out there!” barked the leader.

I smiled, a little surprised that even the dark vision of a kirin or a griffon wasn't enough to spot me despite me standing up at this point.

“Come out and fight us!”

“No,” I replied simply.

Weaving my way around them, I smirked as they continued to stare at the spot I had been, confident that I was still there. That confidence remained until I extended my tail as far as it would go and wrapped it around the ankle of the sole remaining griffin. The male managed a shriek of surprise before he fell face-first into the dirt, dropping his knife in the process.

His claws dug into the earth but I dragged him into the darkness anyway, my strength easily eclipsing his own. The moment he was swallowed by shadows, I held him against the ground with a hand against the back of his head. It took only a small shift to expose his neck, and a single bite to end his life.

This time I left him there on the ground, twitching and spasming as his muscles liquefied inside of his body.

“Watch my back, I’ll cover you,” ordered the leader.

“Fuck that I’m outta here,” spat the other kirin.

“Get back here, you idiot!” demanded the largest of the group.

But he was already gone, sprinting towards the small opening left between the junk wall and the fallen automobile. He would have made it too, had I not hit him like a truck, dragging him into the darkness and pinning him against a cube of compacted junk. He barely managed a scream before I sunk my fangs into his neck and pumped him full of something lethal.

A part of me was dimly aware of the fact that I had created several different kinds of poison through unknown means but I would worry about that later. Right now, I was dealing with the leader, who was currently holding Pursey hostage, a knife pressed against her neck. A thin line of red dribbled down her from a small open wound opened by the twitchy kirin.

“Take one more step and I’ll slit her throat I swear I will!” he shouted bitterly.

I glanced down to find that the pole Pursey had used to defend herself was lying nearby. It was long, about three feet or so, and the end had been sheared off at some point, making it look almost like a spear. Lifting it up, I tested the weight and found that it was light, at least for me anyway.

“Say. Have you ever played darts before?” I asked.

“What?” he asked in confusion.

I hefted the pole up, pulled back my arm, and using every last ounce of strength I had, threw the metal pole. The thing whistled through the air before striking the man square in the face, shattering the majority of his skull and splattering the ground behind him in brain matter. Carried backward by the force of the hit, his body tumbled to the ground.

Pursey was lucky, and surprisingly quick, slipping out of his grasp just in time to avoid being dragged down with the body of her attacker. Though dexterous she was still startled but didn't glance over her shoulder, merely rising back to a full stand and staring in my direction. Scared out of her mind, I half expected her to run, panic, scream, or do something like that.

She just stood there though, waiting as I slowly slithered forward.

“What… what are you?” She whispered, my form coming into view.

“A friend,” I replied simply, hand extended. “One you’ve made an important bargain with.”

“What exactly did I agree to anyway?” she asked, her own hand half lifted to meet my own.

“You will help me help me in my mission of defending your planet from invasion,” I answered with a smirk.

“Huh?” She muttered.

“But that will come later. For now, you will just answer a few questions,” I declared, thrusting my hand forward.

“I suppose that's okay,” Pursey murmured, gripping my hand in her own, soft, dainty appendage.

“Then an accord is struck,” I exclaimed.

Our hands glowed with a faint crimson-gold light that dissipated the moment the handshake ended.

“What was that?” Pursey muttered in fear, glancing at her fingers carefully.

“I have no idea,” I answered, turning to the exit. “But that doesn't matter now. Come on, let's get out of here.”

Author's Note

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Striking Deals

Pursey glanced around at the bodies, eying them nervously. “Are you sure we should just, leave them here?” She asked hesitantly.

“You aren't planning on giving them a proper burial or something, are you?” I replied.

“Well no, but-”

“Then leave them,” I exclaimed. “I don't have the time to deal with corpses. Besides, any who stumble upon them will think it's some gang conflict anyway.”

“Oh,” Pursey muttered. “I just assumed you wanted to… Ya know.”

I stopped and gave here a confused look. “What are you talking about?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I just thought, given that you’re a snake,” she continued, gesturing to the dead kirin a few feet away.

“That I would…” I recoiled in disgust. “I don't eat thinking creatures, don't be gross. Now come on, before they start to smell and attract wild dogs or something.”

“Wait, if you want it to look like a gang fight shouldn't you take their valuables?” Pursey pressed. “If it was some kind of deal gone wrong they wouldn't just leave that kind of thing lying on the ground.”

“I…” I began, only to stop and frown. “That is an excellent idea. You get those bunch, I’ll grab these ones.”

The pony immediately regretted her suggestion and looked at me with big, pleading eyes. I, however, did not care, and turned away, slithering over to the nearest corpse, my hands going to his pockets. Though I didn't want to admit it, she had made a good point, and leaving them unlooted would probably cause problems for me in the long run. After all, gang violence can be brushed aside, ignored even, but a serial killer on the loose would warrant investigation, which I didn't want.

I had procured a wallet, and some gold jewelry and was moving on to the next when I noticed that Prusey was standing over one of the bodies. She seemed unnerved, one hand extended though her knees were unbent, the pony stuck halfway between action and inaction. I was about to tell her to hurry up when I noticed a faint golden glow emanate from the top of her head.

A moment later she was rummaging through the dead man’s pockets, a grimace on her face. Though disgusted, she continued her grim task until she had managed to find everything of value. This reminded me that I had my own job to complete, and I moved on to the next corpse, choosing the leader as my next target.

I didn't want to subject the pony to seeing the contents of the dead man’s cranium, so I intercepted her before she could look his way. As I knelt down I expected to feel a bit of revulsion myself but was surprised when I felt absolutely nothing. No, not nothing, but rather a faint hunger, though it was distant, like a whisper at the back of my mind.

It was easily ignored but even then it didn't go away completely, confirming for me that my humanity was well and truly gone. I had known this already given that I had felt nothing when I killed those other creatures but getting forced to face this fact was unpleasant. Still, I continued my self-appointed task, cleaning out his pockets and carrying around a growing pile of random expensive-looking items.

“Here,” Pursey offered after we had finished.

I looked over to find that the pony was holding a small mound of jewelry, wallets, seemingly random objects, and a surprisingly clean shirt.

“What's this for?” I asked, gesturing to the peice of cloth.

“We ponies wear clothes to hide our uh…. unmentionables,” Pursey offered, gesturing to her chest region.

“I know that you dolt,” I shot back, causing Pursey to recoil.

“I just thought that since you didn't have pockets this would help” Pursey continued. “And you can't exactly wear pants so thats not an option.”

I sighed and extended a hand.

“Give me the shirt,” I ordered.

Pursey silently did as she was asked, handing over the pullover sweater and taking my half of the loot. Tugging the thing into place I immediately noticed a problem, that being my rather prodigious bust.

“We’re gonna need something a bit bigger,” Pursey remarked as I struggled with the peice of clothing designed rather specifically for a male.

“Laugh it up washboard,” I shot back while trying to tug the hoodie down so that it covered more than just the top quarter of my torso.

“Hey, I’m not flat,” Pursey retorted.

“Coulda fooled me,” I muttered bitterly.

“You just think that because you have such large uh… wait, why do you have breasts anyway?” Pursey inquired.

“I think it has to do with the storage of poison but that doesn't matter right now,” I exclaimed only to sigh.

I gave up fixing the shirt and took the loot back, stuffing it into my new front pocket despite how awkwardly placed it was.

“Come on. I want to ask you a few questions before it gets too late and people start looking for you,” I ordered, gesturing back the way we came.

“Err, right,” Pursey murmured absently, suddenly crestfallen.

I started slithering back toward the exit, winding my way through the debris while being aware of the fact that I was carrying some loose items. It made my attempts at stealth slightly more difficult when compared to when I was completely nude, but I adapted quickly. Now that I was thinking about it, I kind of adapted quickly to killing and being butt-naked all the time as well. It helped that I didn't have nipples, or any exposed genitalia so it wasn't like there was much to be ashamed of.

Distracted by my thoughts, I left Pursey behind, only noticing that she wasn't nearby when I reached the end of the junkyard. Pausing at the exit, I looked through the junk we had recovered from the dead bandits. It was mostly gaudy, cheap jewelry that was likely fake and a few coins but we were also able to recover the magical device they had used before.

It looked a bit like a shallow bowl with three prongs sticking out of the rim at even intervals. These golden spokes held a single gem aloft in the center, beneath which was a single scrap of cloth. Bringing the peice of clothing up to my face, I gave it a sniff and found that it smelled exactly like Pursey.

“So that's how they did it,” I muttered.

I looked to the entrance to find that Pursey was jogging towards me, out of breath and exasperated.

“There you are,” I stated calmly.

“Oh, I kinda hoped you’d left,” Pursey remarked.

“You won't be rid of me that easily. Besides, we have the same mission now remember?” I prompted, waving the hand I had used to seal the agreement with.

“Uh yeah you mentioned that but what exactly are we defending against? Changelings? Griffons?” Pursey pressed.

“That will be revealed later, for now, let's head back to your place. I’m camped out near the back of the junkyard,” I exclaimed.

“Don't tell me you're squatting in the one-eighty-three airframe,” Pursey groaned.

“I don't know what its designation is but it's large and mostly hollow,” I remarked with a shrug.

“That's the one,” Pursey murmured. “First a bunch of kids make it their clubhouse, and now a snake monster takes residence there.”

“I am not a snake monster,” I hissed, getting right up to her.

Pursey winced and recoiled, raising her hands placatingly.

“S-sorry,” she stammered. “Don't hurt me.”

“I’m not going to do that. Just… meet me there,” I began, only to pause just before I was about to slither away. “Before you do, tell your sister you’re okay.”

I took off before she could reply, slipping into the shadows and vanishing from sight. The last thing I saw of the pony before I departed was her rather adorable confused expression. I’m also fairly certain she muttered something about how I knew that but I didn't care to explain myself.

Heading off, I slipped soundlessly through the debris, winding my way back to my current base of operations. It may have been a bit bold of me to simply leave the girl right after making our little pact but she seemed trustworthy. Not only that but whatever magic I had used on her seemed to be remarkably effective through no effort on my part. There was also the unspoken intimidation I had just used, but that was only mostly by accident.

I contemplated if what I had done was some kind of low-grade mind control, and if it was ethical for a few minutes. I tossed that little conundrum aside for the moment as it didn't seem like I had overridden her personality or anything. Which was good, as she was a sharp one, with a keen mind and a knack for details, that last one being perhaps the most important as it was a talent I lacked.

Thinking about her kind of made me feel a bit inferior in a way. I had always thought of myself as fairly smart, but when she pointed out that the dead gangsters still had their stuff I felt a bit stupid.

All this chosen one nonsense was going to my head, I thought to myself. Plus it didn't help that I had been alone until now, as already I could feel as though my social skills had deteriorated.

I brushed all that aside for the moment, as well as the slightly uncomfortable realization that my own personality was changing slightly.

Nope, stop thinking about that, you are going to go in circles. I told myself.

Thankfully my little self-talk worked, and before I knew it I was home, and my brain was not consumed with self-loathing. Rather, it had turned to the future and the plans that I had yet to lay for this city under a city in which I had found myself.

“Money, manpower, and above all, talent,” I murmured, slipping into my hallowed hull home. “But where to begin…”

I lost track of time after that, contemplating my plan of action for nearly an hour before I heard Pursey approach. I could tell it was her from the way she moved, tentative, yet strangely confident, like back in the warehouse. She emerged from the back end, grunting as she squeezed through a narrow gap and nearly falling after she was finally able to worm her way inside.

“Ahh good, you’re here,” I murmured. “I assume everything is alright.”

“Yeah, it's fine,” Pursey murmured. “My sister promised to cover for me.”

“Good, now tell me about-” I began.

“Wait just a second. I need to ask you a some things first,” Pursey retorted.

“Augh, fine. But only a few,” I murmured.

“Okay, first. What is your name?” Pursey proclaimed.

“I…” I stuttered, my gaze becoming distant.

I hadn't really thought of that little detail despite all the planning I had done. My old name was right out as it didn't fit, not anymore anyway. I needed something intimidating, something cool, but not too edgy as I wanted to be taken seriously.

“Do you have a name?” Pursey asked, her voice carrying a hint of pity.

“Yes, it’s…” I began, holding up a finger. “Seth, just Seth.”

“Thats fitting I guess. Though thats not exactly a very feminine name,” Pursey muttered.

“Well I’m not exactly a female, but enough of that,” I dismissed.

Thank god they didn't have the command and conquer series in this world. The name I had borrowed did fit rather well, I thought. It was intimidating, foreign, and kinda sounded cool when I said it given that I still slurred my s’s slightly.

“So uh who are we defending Equestria from, exactly?” Pursey asked, seemingly only half convinced there even would be an invasion given the levity in her tone.

“Likely an ethereal of some kind,” I muttered. “He or it will likely be at the head of a large extraplanetary invasion force.”

“Extraplanatory?” Pursey asked.

“Extraplanetary,” I corrected. “It means from outer space.”

“I… okay,” Pursey murmured.

“You don't seem convinced,” I pointed out.

“I weirdly am for some reason but it's still hard to imagine,” Pursey muttered to herself. “My dad always used to tell me stories about aliens but I never really believed him.”

“Well you better start believing because they are coming and when they get here they are going to unleash devastation the likes of which your planet has never seen before,” I stressed.

“I believe you,” Pursey stated, glancing down at her shaking hands. “I don't know why but I believe you. I can almost see it but its just flashes.”

“Likely an after-effect of the magic,” I remarked.

“How did you do that anyway?” Pursey pressed.

“I have no idea,” I replied with a shrug. “It's probably some kind of gift given to me by… on second thought you don't need to know about that.”

“Don't need to know about what?” Pursey inquired further.

“Don't worry about it, seriously,” I shot back, giving her a firm look. “First off, tell me about this place in a more general sense.”

“What, like my father’s junkyard?” Pursey murmured.

“No, the plate,” I exclaimed, gesturing around me. “I didn't think a place like this would exist so close to Canterlot.”

Pursey scowled, her expressions darkening.

“You wouldn't think so, given how pristine topside is but every city has its dark side,” Pursey remarked. “The rich and powerful always have dark urges and where money and desire meet, opportunity springs.”

“Very poetic.”

“Y-yeah,” Pursey muttered, snapping to attention. “A coworker of mine used to be a poet before ending up down here. His rants always sounded like they belonged on a stage, rather than in a back alley behind a cat house.”

“Cat ho-oh,” I muttered. “That is interesting, but not really what I’m looking for. How did this place start? Why is it allowed to exist, that kind of thing.”

“Because we do the work that Celestia needs done, but can't officially condone,” Pursey continued, her dour countenance returning. “On paper this is all crown land and we are nothing but filthy squatters. Given topside’s ban on heavy industry and the nobility’s fascination with flying machines, someone had to do the heavy lifting. They sure weren't going to do it themselves.”

“So a cottage industry of flying machines, gambling, and other such illegal activities crop up on abandoned land,” I murmured, rubbing my chin. “The nobles likely apply pressure to keep Celestia from clearing it out and return the people of the plate provide them with certain… distractions.”

“Pretty much,” Pursey all but spat.

“Okay, that makes sense given my observations,” I added. “So, is there a mayor, local governor… what manner of government, if any, is present down here?”

“Officially there is a land management team that holds authority over the entire plate but in reality, it's nothing more than a crime family masquerading as a noble house,” Pursey exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling bitterly. “They are supposed to maintain orders and stamp out the gangs but really only do their job when someone does something really stupid.”

“Interesting, interesting,” I murmured.

“The leader is a guy called the governor,” Pursey remarked. “A real despot and total peice of shit. The major gangs pay him tribute and in return he does nothing but sit in his mansion and host lavish parties.”

“You say that as if you have personal experience,” I pointed out.

“A few years ago. Right when I started dancing and hadn't moved onto a different uh… department,” Pursey began, adding air quotes around the last word. “I was chosen to go to his mansion along with a couple of other girls. I thought it was going to be a great opportunity to make some real money, then I saw how the others looked.”

Pursey squeezed her arms around her chest and shivered.

“It was like they were being marched to their deaths,” Pursey all but whispered. “I made it out with only a few bruises but one girl had her face cut up all because she stared too long at some distant relative of the governor. The brotherhood took surprisingly good care of her but she was never the same since.”

“That is… dark,” I murmured.

“Yeah let's uh change the subject,” Pursey exclaimed.

“You mentioned these other major gangs. Tell me more about them,” I encouraged.

“Right, so there's my employers, the northern brotherhood,” Pursey remarked with a sigh. “As far as gangs go they aren't the worst. They got this whole honor amongst thieves thing and are surprisingly good to their employees but if you cross them…”

Pursey shivered.

“Look, let's just say that they are the last people you want to double cross. The predators might eat you, the regulators might repeatedly beat you senseless and the Platinums may turn you into a teacup but the brotherhood will do shit that would make Sombra blush,” Pursey continued.

“Noted. What about their businesses, base of operations, hierarchy, what do those kinds of things look like?” I inquired.

“They come from up north apparently,” she began, glancing off into the distance, as if she could see through the wall. “The border towns at the edge of the grey wastes, a harsh tundra filled with monsters. They made their fortune digging up old relics and selling them to collectors. Eventually, the market for those kinds of things shriveled up, and they moved onto gambling and whore houses.”

“Very maffiasque,” I muttered. “What about their structure?”

“Lots of emphasis on family but not the blood kind. You get adopted in, and once you prove yourself you’re part of the brotherhood for life,” Pursey stated. “Loyalty is absolute, and your new brothers are everything.”

“Hmmm,” I murmured to myself.

“That's about it really. I could go into more detail but you’ve got the gist of it already,” Pursey remarked.

“Okay, so what about the predators? I assume that’s the group that harassed you earlier,” I offered.

“They are scum,” Pursey spat. “Little more than mindless anarchists who cling to their bullshit code and pretend like they aren't dumb animals. They run a protection racket mostly, even shake down topside businesses sometimes. Other than that they sell themselves as mercs, and operate illegal fighting pits.”

“They don't sound the brightest,” I remarked.

“Most of them are dumber than a sack of hammers but don't be fooled, not all of them are stim-addled goons,” Pursey warned. “The big timers, the alphas, are cunning. Without them, the predators would be nothing.”

“That is fitting given the whole vibe they got going on,” I murmured absently.

“The less said about them the better. The others aren't much better though, especially the regulators,” Pursey continued, the pony clenching her fists and pacing back and forth. “They claim to be the only real justice down here but that's bullshit. I’ve seen them come through the parlour I’ve seen them at the Velvet Underground. They aren't the law, they’re just another gang, the only difference is they wear a uniform.”

I sat quietly and watched as Pursey continued to rant, the woman only becoming more heated with each sentence.

“Sure they sometimes get rid of the real psychos but they’ll only touch you if you’ve been cast out by the big gangs,” Pursey stated, kicking some invisible creature. “All the regulators really do is beat up the small fries because they can't actually do their job. If they had any actual balls they’d have taken on their boss, the governor, but no, all they do is kick the shit out of some greedy dealer and call it a day.”

“At least they aren't as pompous as they dickhead Platinums,” Pursey declared, placing her hand against her head and sticking out a finger, mimicking a unicorn. “They claim to be the true heirs of Equestria but everyone knows the Platinum line died out at the end of the unification wars. These conceited pieces of shit pretend like they are some kind of exiled noble clan plotting to take back the crown but they aren't interested in all that.”

“All their rituals, ranks, and secret orders are a smoke screen for a gang of losers who use their power to take control of the major merchant organizations,” Pursey explained, scowling. “They may act like a bank, with their huge cash reserves but they are loan sharks and gamblers plain and simple. Only an idiot would borrow from the Platinums because if you don't pay, the Matriarch will have your head on a silver fucking platter.”

Pursey turned to me only to realize just how worked up she had gotten.

“Oh uh yeah,” she murmured. “That's about it for the big players.”

“I like the energy,” I remarked. “I certainly ain't a fan of organized crime, but if I am going to get what I need I’m going to have to take over a few of these gangs.”

“It wouldn't be too hard. Most just mindlessly follow whatever the bosses tell them. All you have to do is use that mind magic of yours and you’d have half the plate in your pocket by this time tomorrow,” Pursey stated, gesturing to my hand.

“I have a feeling thats not how it works,” I replied. “They need to know what they are in for, and they have to agree. I might be able to force it but I don't think it would hold for long.”

“Shame,” Pursey murmured.

“So,” I began again, my hand falling to my side. “What about these small fries? Are there any who we might have a better chance of committing a hostile takeover of?”

“Well there is the Crimson Dawn and Azure Ocean,” Pursey remarked, extending a pair of fingers. “They are basically a bunch of buck ball hooligans that don't do much more than rig games, and bash each other’s heads in.”

The red and blue guys I saw when I was scouting, I thought to myself.

“Then there's the Daughters of Discord,” Pursey counted, adding another finger. “They run the Velvet Underground and a few other minor clubs around here. Not much is known about them. They say that the daughters are all discord worshippers but I don't know about that. They seem mostly sane.”

“Mostly?” I pressed.

“You don't do the kinds of drugs that pass through their clubs without ending up with a few screws loose,” Pursey replied.

“Fair, continue,” I offered, waving a hand.

“After that, it's just the Cabal, the Grey Shields, and the RC, or the Rusted Cog,” Pursey concluded, placing her hands on her hips. “The RC is the least bad. Honestly, the worst thing you can say about them is that they are ineffective.”

“That's the union your father is a part of,” I pointed out.

“How did you know that?” Pursey murmured.

“Don't worry about it,” I dismissed. “What do you know about the other two? The Cabal and the Grey Shields.”

“The Cabal is a bunch of unicorn dropouts that got expelled from some fancy topside school over some bullshit trumped-up charges a few years ago,” Pursey answered, a familiar scowl coming to her face. “Apparently they caught the principal dabbling in forbidden magic and tried to get him arrested.”

“And?” I prompted.

“They forgot the principal owned a newspaper company,” Pursey exclaimed. “He dubbed them the cabal of evil wizards in the press and they were the focus of a months-long smear campaign by nearly every news organization in town. Every shitty thing the principal did was put on them, and in the end the pressure worked. Charges were levied against them and a court date was set, likely due to a hefty number of bribes changing hands.”

“What happened next?” I asked, more invested than I cared to admit.

“They disappeared,” Pursey replied with a shrug. “Dodging the royal guard, they ended up down here, working as illegal magical good dealers. Rumour has it they’ll even raise the dead or use blood magic for you if the pay is right.”

“They seem useful,” I remarked.

“You have to be useful to survive down here,” Pursey pointed out.

“Right, so what about the Grey Shields?” I pressed.

“They were big players back in the day apparently,” Pursey began. “Were real good folk too if you believe the stories. Mainly protected the highland immigrants after the famines drove them out of their land.”

“It's like what happened to the Irish,” I whispered to myself. “Interesting.”

“Nowadays they are just another small-time gang clinging to what few towns will tolerate them,” Pursey spat. “Hard to believe that the death of one person would bring them so low so quickly.”

“Infighting? I presume there are more than one who claim to be the true heirs to their organization?” I pressed.

“Mr. Breezy wants to rebuild the Grey Shields, and Babs Seed wants to sell drugs, that's if you listen to the rumors at least,” Pursey answered. “I don't buy it though. That whole thing is one big game of he said she said.”

“The Grey Shields huh,” I whispered, tapping my chin. “They sound… weak.”

“Yeah they got like, three towns left, and no one respects them like they used to so support is pretty much nonexistent,” Pursey stated. “Nowadays they run the odd pub, sell drugs, and generally make a minor nuisance of themselves.”

“That sounds like a good place to start,” I proclaimed. “I just need to find out which one of these two is easier to control, then I offer to take care of the competition.”

“Well, I’d still be a little cautious. There is a reason they haven't been muscled out completely. They’re tough as nails,” Pursey added, pausing to yawn. “Damn, it's late. What time is it?”

“Dawn by the looks of it,” I remarked, glancing up to where the first few stray shafts of light pierced the holey exterior of my home.

“I need to get to bed,” Pursey muttered.

“Go on,” I encouraged, shooing her away. “I’ll start doing some recon. I’ll meet you back here tonight at midnight.”

“You’re really going to do this. Take over the plate that is,” Pursey half asked, half stated.

“Correction,” I began, holding up a finger. “We are going to take over the plate.”

“Oh joy,” Pursey muttered.

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!
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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.

Listening In

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.

Failure Aplenty

Hitting the hay, I awoke the next day to find a can of something that thankfully, wasn't hay. After swallowing the preserved meat trapped within its tin prison, I chugged another water bottle, did my business, and headed out. By then maneuvering through the junkyard was second nature, and I easily snuck past the distracted owner of the place who was taking apart a rusted engine block.

“Stars above this is difficult,” he muttered as I sneaked by. “This fancy spark plug better be worth all this effort.”

I wished him the best in his endeavor and continued on, sticking to the shadows while winding my way eastward. As I moved, I noted there were thirteen days until this big meeting, and I had yet to get anywhere in my investigation. I needed to find out who was in the right, who was more manipulatable, and the full story behind the split.

Thankfully I now had a lead, though it wasn't a big one, it was at least, a start.

With that in mind, I headed out into the day, intent on locating the establishment my assistant mentioned, only to end up in a bit of a traffic jam. Two carts, one motorized, one not had struck one another in the middle of a busy intersection, causing dozens of creatures to end up arguing. The guard was present, and attempting to get a handle on things but they were outnumbered three to one by bitter, aggrieved parties on the verge of throwing hands in the street.

With winged creatures flying overhead, little cover, and the fake sun beaming down on us, there were few shadows deep enough to hide me. There was a chance I could still sneak by, maybe even cause a distraction to help me in this, but the more tempting option was also the easiest. Simply waiting posed no chance of potential issues, and it was only a matter of time before things got sorted so it wasn't like I’d get stuck there all day.

I decided to listen in, and learn what I may, but was disappointed that I couldn't hear much over the general clamor. When I did catch snippets of conversation it was mostly just people complaining, or shouting insults at one another. Annoyed, but undeterred, I waited until the guard received reinforcements, and were hopefully able to get traffic flowing once more.

This took over two hours.

During this time they almost came to blows a half dozen times, with only a few calm voices keeping things from turning violent. Still, I was glad to see them all begin to move once more, and the guard depart, but I was a bit pissed that they had taken so long. It was clear from this brief interaction that they didn't consider the people of the underplate to be a high priority. They likely had few people to spare, and fewer still with the diplomatic know-how to keep things from boiling over.

“I didn't even catch any interesting gossip,” I muttered as I slipped down a side road, hiding in the shadow of a primitive car resembling a slightly more rounded model T. “Did learn a few new swears though.”

That wasn't exactly a benefit I could mention to my assistant and only current team member but it was still kinda funny.

Hornhead, dirt licker, feather brain, and other insults like it were obvious racial slurs but ponies spat them with such little venom. Sure, telling someone their mother was a dirt-licking mud pony was still cruel but there wasn't great a history there. As I contemplated the interchange between oppression and insults, I worked my way eastward with only the vaguest sense of where I was going.

The eastern fringe of Grey Shield territory was a good indicator, but I also had no idea who held what territory. It wasn't like they raised flags over the areas they controlled, and I couldn't just ask someone for directions. The best I was capable of was to see if there were grey shields around, and if so, if there was a bar called The Copperhead.

I snagged some snacks from a vendor who wasn't paying attention and yoinked a bottle of water from the bag of a weary traveler along the way. Unfortunately other than some sustenance, I didn't locate anything of note, not even a bit of useful information. Hours were spent going from one tiny cluster of homes to another, my non-existent ears trained for any mention of my destination.

After spending almost the entire day looking without success, I overheard something interesting.

“-The Copperhead,” whispered a voice.

Perking up, I turned back, glancing at a small group of hooligans I had passed a few seconds earlier. Numbering at a paltry six, they didn't look that intimidating at first glance, but then I looked again. They were tall, well built, and mostly pegasi, though there was an earth pony and a unicorn in their ranks. They also carried weapons of a wide variety like baseball bats, knives, and probably other concealed items that I couldn't see.

“That's where we’re going? Isn't that Grey Shield territory?” asked a towering female earth pony.

“Don't worry,” stressed the first speaker. “We have a contact on the inside. They’ll meet us at the edge of town, and bring us to where the deal is going down.”

“I don't like this,” muttered another of their group. “How do we know this isn't some kind of set up?”

“We’ve done pickups here dozens of times. It's not a setup newbie,” retorted the leader.

“But to pay them that much though? Red eye sells but what are the margins here? Like, ten percent?” Added another.

“It's not about the product or the profit. It's about getting an in,” the more dominant of the group whispered, leaning in close. “Our contact is about to come out on top between those two feuding morons and when they do, they’ll be allies of us, the Azure Ocean.”

“Ooooh that's brilliant,” added another.

“I know it is, so just shut up, keep your hands on that briefcase, and don't ask any more stupid questions. We’re already gonna be late due to Cumulus over there stopping to take a shit every ten minutes,” spat the male.

“I told you I ate something weird the other day. You’re the one that said I should come anyway,” whined a nasally young female.

“That's because I need your magic, now shut up and keep walking. We got a schedule to keep,” demanded the leader.

Sure enough, they grouped back up and started heading south.

I was tempted to follow them, to find out who their contact was, but they were not heading in the correct direction. It may have been a bad idea to ignore them, but my reasoning was sound, I thought to myself. I had a goal, a destination, and getting distracted with side quests wouldn't help me, not while I had something more important to do anyway.

This confidence in my decision-making lasted for another few hours. Then, with exhaustion creeping in and evening turning to night, I made the decision to head back home. I was hungry, thirsty, and defeated.

“I really should have asked Pursey for directions when I had the chance,” I muttered.

As I headed back to the junkyard I had claimed as my base of operations, I took some solace in gathering a bit of intel. If Azure Ocean was seeking an alliance with the soon-to-be-unified Grey Shields, then their rivals, the Crimson Dawn likely doing the same. Given this information, it was safe to assume that one or both had likely already chosen a side and were actively working to help one.

I slithered into the rusted hulk where I slept and noticed that a table had been set for me. There were a dozen cans of tuna, a few more of beans, and a full waterskin along with a note.

“Let's see here…” I muttered, picking up the small piece of paper. “Sorry, I couldn't make it. Went back to work early. Gonna work as many doubles as I can in preparation. If you have any questions or whatever, leave a note here and I’ll pick it up when I can. Will bring by more supplies soon.”

“That's nice of her. Oh wait, there’s more,” I exclaimed, turning it over. “P.S., The Copperhead is in a small unnamed town built inside, The Cage. It's just south of the Vindicator Aerospace plant. You’re welcome.”

“She already knows me so well,” I remarked aloud, somewhat bitterly. “How unfortunate.”

Bitter, and a bit defeated, I slithered into what amounted to my bed and fell quickly to sleep.

I awoke once more, painfully aware of the time I was losing. Twelve days to essentially hijack an entire organization was not exactly a ton of time, heck most projects in university allowed for at least two full weeks. With that in mind, I took care of my bodily requirements and set off, all but sprinting through my brief morning routine.

Hitting the streets once more, I headed off in search of this strange plant that Pursey had mentioned. Thankfully I had left relatively early. So early in fact that the sun had barely risen, and few people had stirred. This was convenient, as I still hadn't quite figured out this place, and maneuvering through the endless piles of trash wasn't easy.

Following Pursey’s directions, I made my way down to where I assumed this vindicator plant was located. This time I actually found what I was looking for, as the large sign atop the five-story tall factory indicated. The enormous letters nearly went from one side of the mammoth structure to the other so it made sense why people used it as a landmark.

“A lot of guards around here,” I muttered to myself as I observed the scurrying white blobs.

From the look of things, this was likely a military asset of some kind, as the area was far more orderly than normal. There were no endless mountains of slowly rusting scrap metal, discarded trash, or narrow dirt roads. Trucks trundled from the factory, towards the military bases that grew like tumors from the side of the mountain.

The path I had been using wound around this structure, giving it a wide berth before splitting off and going in several other directions. It took a bit longer than I would have liked to get around the factory, but guard patrols were frequent and I did not wish to get caught out. By the time I was finally able to put the towering plant behind me, it was after noon and I was growing irritated.

My inability to travel out in the open meant that things generally took far longer than they normally should. Remedying this issue would be one of my number one priorities, but for now, it made for good stealth practice. I could almost hear the ding as my stealth skill improved, going from one arbitrary number to the next and edging me closer to a level.

Thankfully the masses of rusting garbage soon returned, and I was able to move a little quicker as there were fewer guards. More travelers were present, but they kept to themselves and generally made no effort to inspect their surroundings. With a bit more speed, I continued on, following Pursey’s directions to where I assumed the town with no name lay.

It didn't take me long to find… something but it sure didn't look like a town.

A massive warehouse stood in the center of a dozen roads, though it didn't seem to be in operation. At least not in the way it likely been originally intended to be anyway.

Signs advertising pubs, restaurants, an open market, and other establishments of that nature plastered the walls. Each one pointed towards the central opening that allowed passersby to enter the nameless warehouse town. A few shops and stalls were present outside, their operators attempting to flag down travelers to try some food or drink, most common of which was noodles.

Though busy, and surrounded by open space, it wasn't hard to reach the warehouse, as there was plenty of cover. Numerous burnt-out cars sat in a rough mass, the scorch marks indicating that there had been fighting of some kind. Left to the flames, these vehicles were now little more than metal frames occasionally sporting some half-melted components or scorched leather.

I didn't need to know the history to appreciate a free approach.

Reaching the edge of the structure, I took a peak through a window to see what looked like an entire town. Built inside the warehouse, the homes and businesses were packed close together, with almost every single one sharing a wall with another. They rarely exceed one story, but when they did they still did not reach the impressively high roof.

No wonder they call it the cage. I thought to myself.

From my position, I couldn't quite see everything, but I could see a sign advertising the Copperhead which pointed to a set of stairs. There really wasn't anywhere for these stairs to go other then the roof, so that was where I started my search. It was difficult to reach this point though, as the walls were mostly, flat unadorned expanses of sheet metal.

Then I spotted it, some scaffolding that was likely there to replace the drooping sign advertising Rim’s Riceballs. Whoever was working on it had either abandoned the project or was on break, either way, no one was present. I took advantage of this and ascended as high as I could go before jumping the last little bit, coiling myself up as tight as possible before shooting up onto the roof.

There I saw a small cluster of tiny homes likely made for winged creatures as there was no paths that lead to it, and a bar. The Copperhead was made from what looked like a half dozen metal shipping containers pushed together. It was also off to the side, built atop the office area, which explained how it didn't just fall through the roof due to it’s weight.

“Well crap,” I muttered, staring out over the wide open, mostly metal expanse that led from where I was to where my destination lay. “How the hell do I get over there?”

Ducking behind a large exhaust pipe, I began to contemplate how I was going to get over there only to stop. I glanced back around to the bar and noted that there was another of the same air exchange openings near it. The solution was obvious, but I didn't like it one bit, as moving through a ventilation duct wasn’t as quiet as movies would like you to believe.

But I had few other options, and I was relatively exposed which meant I had to move quickly lest I be spotted.

A thin mesh grate was all that blocked my entry, and it was easy enough to remove. I tossed the thing off the roof as to not make my entrance too obvious before heading into the pipe.

What proceeded next was about a half hour of wiggling through air ducts, avoiding fan blades, and getting absolutely covered in a thick layer of rather gross dust. In the end, I reached my destination and clambered out of the pipe while holding back the urge to wretch. I ducked behind a primitive, roof-mounted air conditioner unit to quickly wipe myself off before peeking around the corner.

Though it was getting into the late afternoon by now, it was still early for a bar. A few patrons could be seen through the two large, and only, windows. The flickering yellow light of the sign over the door illuminated the small path that led from the roof access door to the front entrance. Cigarette butts and broken bottles littered either side, creating mini ditches of refuse on the road to The Copperhead.

“Augh gross,” I muttered to myself.

The distance wasn't far and thankfully the trash was not so thick that I was in danger of slithering over any shattered glass. Still, I didn't have a firm destination in mind until I glimpsed the air exchanger strapped to the top of the structure. From it grew a series of slithering pipes that wrapped about the whole building, pumping air in or out of the place.

It wouldn't be quite as convenient as being able to slip into the bar itself, but it offered me a chance to listen in at least. This was a start, and I had hope that it would lead to more opportunities in the future.

With hope bubbling in my chest, I headed out, slithering over to the bar, my body pressed firmly against the roof. A few patrons emerged when I was about halfway across the clearing but the staggering drunks barely even knew the location of their feet, never mind me. With as much speed as I could muster, I crossed the distance and reached the bar. A quick inspection revealed a way up, and with a bit of effort, I heaved myself up onto the ventilation system before clambering up the side onto the roof. From there I was lucky enough to spot a half unmoored tarp flapping in the breeze, which I untied and cast around my shoulders before settling in next to the exit vent.

For a moment I worried that I wouldn't be able to hear anything other than the sound of fans and the churning of the air conditioner. Then, there were voices, distant at first but as I focused, I was able to bring them into sharper clarity.

“That nitwit that always sends back his steak is here,” remarked a bitter, tired masculine voice.

“Don't worry. Pounder is our doorman. If that idiot starts acting up just let ‘em know what's up,” retorted a gravely feminine voice that sounded slightly older.

“Aww fuck yeah. I love that guy,” exclaimed the first speaker.

“Yeah, we know,” exclaimed the second person with a hint of snark.

The male grumbled under their breath but said nothing.

I meanwhile, chuckled to myself and settled in for a long evening of listening in on inane conversations. Sure enough, the majority of it was just that, idle gossip, teasing between chefs, and a bit of ribbing amongst the staff. There was a surprising amount of comradery, and I could tell that everyone who worked there had been employed there for some time. They just had such a rapport with one another that was at the same time endearing and a bit revolting.

If you’ve never worked in a kitchen you wouldn't know, but for those of us who have, it's second nature. Mean comments, teasing, and jabs were constant, however, the intention wasn't to be cruel, at least most of the time. It was a way to blow off steam, a kinda dickish way to do so but hey, it came with the territory.

I learned a bunch about the people who worked there, but most of it wasn't useful. Stuff like; who was dating who, who could grill a good steak, and who wasn't trusted to replace an empty keg. They served a surprising amount of food there, and a shocking amount of meat.

By the sounds of it, the bar half was a late addition to the business, with the restaurant being the original impetus for this place’s construction. It made sense, since by the sounds of it mostly winged creatures visited this place. Griffons, and pegasi alike both had a taste for something bloody, though a few other races shared in these desires as well.

This meant that they were of interest to the predators, who made up the majority of their clientele, but given that the Copperhead was outside their territory, they couldn't lay claim to the restaurant. Still, with so many of their members frequenting the establishment they were unofficially associated with the gang. This worked out relatively well by the sounds of it, as they didn't have to pay protection money but weren't messed with.

The people who worked there were mostly okay with this arrangement, though I could tell some were uneasy with their patronage. They were in the minority, as most were just happy that things were stable and trouble was infrequent. The owner sounded like a real standup guy as well, with the bar operating almost as cooperative, with revenue sharing and stuff.

It sounds altruistic, but it was also practical, as you are less likely to steal from your place of employment if you lose out by doing so. I was getting very emotionally invested in this place and I had to stop myself a few times from shouting into the pipes. It wasn't my fault that I wanted Savory Steve to finally ask out the girl he’s had his eye on for a while.

Hours passed by like this until at long last the bar was an hour from closing time and things were getting late. I was tired, hungry, and was starting to cramp up, my body aching after remaining motionless for so long. Despite my negativity, I was paying enough attention to hear something interesting.

“I can't believe that wingnut with the weird hairdo came back,” remarked an individual I recognized as a server. “You’d think after getting his ass beat he’d keep his distance.”

“That doesn't narrow it down much. All those gang types have crazy haircuts, and half of them have gotten jumped after running their mouth,” deadpanned a bored cook.

“You know. The bright purple mohawk, skinny, supposedly some bigshot in the Grey Shields,” retorted the server.

“Grey Hawk?”

“Yeah, that's the guy.”

“I wouldn't fuck with him. That dude’s nuts” added a third voice. “I heard he’s the right-hand man of Mr. Breezy.”

“He doesn't seem that bad. I mean, how tough could he be if he got his butt kicked?” added a fourth person from a bit further away.

“He was fighting eight other dudes and still put six of them in the medical ward,” declared a gruff voice I recognized as the owner. “I’m fairly certain he’d have won if he wasn't blind stinking drunk at the time.”

“Damn, that is kinda badass,” murmured the server.

“Who ya talking about?” added another of the servers who had seemingly just arrived.

“Grey Hawk. The guy with the big purple mohawk. Decent tipper, used to come here like, every single day before he got in a big dust-up a while ago,” reported the first one.

“Oh, that guy? He just left. He just stopped in long enough to have a beer and pick up some floozy that’s been floating around the bar, not spending a dime all night,” shot back the second.

I shot up, casting aside the makeshift shawl I had been wearing and slithering over to the side of the building. I managed to catch the briefest glimpse of a tall, lanky male unicorn with a tall purple mohawk, and a short, stubby griffin girl tucked under one arm. Then they were gone, the door to the rooftop access slamming shut behind them with a metallic clang.

“He’ll know something,” I muttered to myself. “He has to.”

The only problem was the fact that there was more than one exit and I could only cover one side at a time. I considered maybe waiting along one of the roads extending out from the town but there were dozens of winding paths that led into the junk filled hills. At least I could perch on the corner of the roof and and watch two of the four sides, reducing things down to just a coin flip.

Choosing the closest and most likely corner, I perched myself at the very edge and peered over the side. With my body flat against the cool tin roof, I was basically invisible. My head swiveled back and forth, always on the look out for that distinctive purple mohawk.

Minutes crawled past without any sign of him, and in my panic, I was tempted to get up and sprint/slither across the roof. That would take forever, and I would be exposed the entire time, so that idea was tossed aside before even being seriously considered. The yawning pit of defeat opened up beneath me, threatening to swallow me whole, but then I realized that there was a silver lining.

The guy was apparently a regular, with one of the servers even mentioning that he used to come by every day. Assuming he was back onto his old routine after recovering from his injuries, I just had to wait another day before I found him. With that in mind, I remained motionless for nearly an hour before packing it up and heading back home.

I had gambled, and lost, though the only thing I had given up was my time.

“I’ll get you next time,” I muttered, putting my head down and slithering back in the direction of home. “For now, I must rest.”

Author's Note

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Groggy and Grumblin'

I awoke groggy and annoyed.

After taking care of my needs and eating my fill, I considered briefly writing something to my little partner in crime. My first thought was to compose a report on the previous night’s events only to realize that I had accomplished nothing. I concluded that the logic I used before was sound, but unfortunately, I was just a bit unlucky.

Or so I kept telling myself anyway.

Either way, I had nothing to write so I just left it at that, and headed out immediately, hoping to get to my destination earlier than I had before.

I left so early in fact that no one was around, and the first light of morning was only just barely visible on the horizon. The lamps above were dim as well, giving me plenty of shadows to hide in as I made my way back toward the Copperhead. I got lucky, as they seemed to be rotating the guard just as I was passing through the area.

All in all, I was able to reach the restaurant at just before noon which was apparently when they opened. Scrambling up onto my little hiding spot, I listened in and noted that there was a lot of prep work going on. Noodles were being boiled, sauces mixed, and beer hauled out from what they called the basement, though it was a second structure entirely.

Not sure why the name then but whatever.

I had just settled in for a long day of eavesdropping, and hoping to whatever god would listen that my target would show up when something interesting happened. A server stepped out the back and lit a cigarette, puffing on it quietly while staring out over the junkyard beyond. It was a serene moment and not one I would intrude upon until I heard him speak.

“Gonna be a long night,” he muttered to himself.

I recognized him. He was the guy who had that huge crush but wouldn't say anything about it. His name was… Purple Rain, that's right. I had heard the others talk about him before. Mostly they were teasing him, but there was genuine concern there. Concern born from the fact that he and his crush both liked each other but refused to ask one another out.

The target of his feelings was a younger person whom I gathered was a pegasus while Purple Rain here was a young, wiry minotaur with only one horn. He was cute, and from what I gathered, an earnest and decent person. Which was why I was so tempted to intervene in some way, to give him a prod to get him to act on his feelings.

Slithering down, until I hung a mere foot over his head, I wondered briefly if this was worth it. Only to conclude a second later that if I had to listen to those two love birds for another day I’d hold them at knife point until they kissed.

“Don't move,” I whispered, altering my voice so it was deeper, more masculine. “Don't speak, just nod your head if you hear me.”

The minotaur stiffened up, and after a large gulp, bobbed his head.

“Good. Now listen and listen well,” I continued. “You like Blue Skies, right?”

He nodded a second time, this time somewhat hesitantly as if he were either confused, or worried for her.

“Then do I have good news for you, buddy. She likes you back,” I pressed.

“R-really?”

“Hey, what I tell you about talking?” I spat back.

“Sorry, I-” the minotaur began again only to clap a hand over his mouth.

“I like you, kid, that's why I’m giving you this little heads up. Think of it as a tip, for always being such a decent sort,” I added. “Just uh, don't tell anyone about this okay? I got a reputation to uphold.”

The minotaur nodded his head eagerly and excitedly.

“Now get out there and ask her out already. The guys and I are getting sick hearing you two pine over one another when you think no one’s around,” I concluded before pulling my body weight back up onto the roof.

I peered over the side and watched as the minotaur stood there for several more seconds before nervously glancing all around him. After he saw no one was around, he snuffed his cigarette out against the metal wall, dropped the butt in a bin, and hurridly walked back inside.

I just snickered to myself and went back to listening in on the kitchen, eager to hear how this turned out. He didn't mention the interaction, but he did go straight to who I presume was his manager and request the same break time as Blue Skies. With my little matchmaker plan in motion, I went back to simply observing the little establishment, waiting for my target to arrive.

Time went by fairly slowly after my little interaction with Purple Rain. The lunch crowd arrived not long after and patrons were fairly consistent from then on. From the sounds of it, there was a special on fish, and it was popular, with nearly everyone who showed up being there for seemingly that reason alone.

That changed when I saw several familiar hooligans in blue approach. The small group of five was all armed, but it was mostly with small, easily concealable weapons that could be tucked into a jacket pocket. They looked like soccer hooligans, only they made sure to have a splash of blue on their person somewhere. Be it a bandana, an armband, or just a bunch of blue paint splattered across their leather jackets.

“Odd,” I murmured to myself. “They don't have a briefcase this time. Maybe they are looking for a pickup.”

The small group attempted to enter the establishment but after finding that the place was packed, decided to stand around outside. Half leaned against the restaurant while the other half pulled out smokables of some kind. They lit up these loosely rolled cigarettes and puffed slowly, chatting amongst themselves as they waited.

“Think he’s gonna be okay with us showing up so soon?” One of them muttered.

“Relax, new blood. Grey Hawk knows the deal,” retorted one of the senior members.

“Why you always worrying anyhow?” prodded a third member. “Feels like you don't trust us.”

“I do, I do,” the first guy hastily exclaimed. “I just… am curious is all.”

“Well don't be,” spat the senior gang member. “And quit askin’ where we’re getting all this dosh from. Nobody but the big bosses know, and they’d cut off your balls just for you inquirin’ on the topic.”

“N-noted,” murmured the squirrely, younger guy.

“Yer smart, and I like that, but don't push it. You know what they say about curiosity,” warned the elder member.

“Yeah but satisfaction brought it back,” offered another.

“What?”

“The saying. It starts with curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought him back.”

“I don't think blowjobs are enough to bring someone back from the dead but after the boss guts Glasses Mcgee here for pestering him, I’ll let you be the one to try.”

The group all laughed before falling silent once more.

I hummed thoughtfully to myself and took a mental note on drilling down on that topic. The Azure Ocean having a mysterious benefactor could mean that topside interests were working their way down here. Either way, it wasn't relevant to my mission at the moment so I shelved that thought for later and focused on just observing the place, hoping my mystery man showed up soon.

After another hour of waiting, I was about ready to fuck off and see about stealing some food when I noticed something. The back door had opened, and I heard the nervous, tentative hoofsteps of a certain minotaur. Now curious, I headed toward the back and observed as Purple Rain paced back and forth.

He was muttering to himself, and from what I could pick up, he was doubting himself and me. The poor guy had started to spiral into a circle of panic when the back door opened a second time and a woman strode out. I presumed this individual was Blue Skies, but I couldn't be sure of that fact.

I had to hand it to the nervous, little minotaur, he had good taste in women. The pegasus looked to be the same age as him, though I am not a good judge of age, especially when it comes to mythical creatures. She had a youthful look to her, and carried a confidence that eclipsed his own by an order of magnitude.

Her long red hair was tied into a pair of tight braids that were currently draped about her neck like a wreath. Her skin was an off-gold that looked a bit like wheat that was ready to harvest. The young girl also had a bit of weight on her, but she also had a slightly wider frame overall and I could tell that she had a fair bit of muscle. Most notable about her was the fact that she had only one wing, as well as a single arm, the injury having happened a long time ago as it had long since healed over.

It was at this point that I realized I was listening in on what should be a personal moment that only these two shared. So I backed up, slightly, watching them from afar, but not eavesdropping. I knew that some people may judge me for that, but I just had to know how things turned out for them.

The curiosity was killing me.

Thankfully I was able to guess what was happening judging from their body language and how they interacted.

First, they were both a little awkward around one another, with Purple struggling to get the words out while Skies was gently attempting to coax it out of him. Eventually he just kind of blurted it out, and stood there, shaking like a leaf in the wind, terrified but hopeful she’d accept his feelings. There was a moment of stunned silence followed by the pegasus wrapping her arm and wing around him in something approximating a hug.

The little guy just melted into the embrace, and they shared a quick, chaste kiss before having a whispered conversation. After that, they parted slightly, though they continued to hold one another’s hand while they chatted. It was only then that I realized that the minotaur had only one eye, meaning that they were both missing two things. Yes, the minotaur’s injuries weren't quite as severe, but it was still cute to see two people with so much alike.

I was nearly tearing up when I heard the sound of a familiar voice coming from back near the entrance. Scrambling between the haphazard ductwork and random pipes, I made my way to the front of the structure. There I looked down at the small gang of Azure Ocean guys, and the new arrival who stood slightly apart from them.

Grey Hawk.

He was immediately recognizable for his mohawk, apparel, and overall demeanor, which hadn't changed since yesterday. The only thing that had changed was that he was now holding a briefcase, one that I recognized as having been held by the azure ocean guys.

“Come on,” whined the leader of the small group. “It's such a small thing. Just declare that you’ll ally with us over those dickhead reds and we’ll be able to sweeten the deal.”

“We’ll pay double,” added another.

“Heck we’ll pay triple for new product,” declared the leader.

“Hey now fellas, I’d love to be able to take you up on that but it ain't up to me,” Grey Hawk exclaimed, raising his hands. “If it was, I’d choose you guys in a heartbeat, but I ain't the big boss in charge around here.”

“Look, Grey. Enough of this corpo speak, let's talk real shit already,” began the leader, taking a step forward and opening his arms wide. “Is it this Babs Seed person? Is she what's in the way of this? Cus we can get her out of the picture for ya if that's what it will take.”

“Hey man I appreciate the offer but it ain't that. This whole thing with the Grey Shields, it's gotta be done clean like, ya dig?” Grey Hawk countered. “If we just whack our opponent before the big meet they’ll just dissolve the shields, and leave us with nothin. No, we gotta do this by their books.”

“Really? But you got like, mad people, yo,” one of the other Azure Ocean thugs remarked. “Why are you still playin' by their shit rules?”

“You don't see the long game in this kid,” Grey Hawk retorted. “If we take this without having to stab noone, then that gives us all the leverage we need to snatch back that stupid junkers guild, half the towns we used to have, and all the bits in those old fuck’s vaults.”

“Smart.”

“Damn right it is, and once we do that we’re gonna need an ally. We’re gonna be a big fish, but the oceans are bigger, dig?” Grey Hawk concluded with a grin.

“Ya made your point,” the Azure Ocean leader retorted. “For now let's just keep things going as they are, what do ya say?”

“I say that sounds like a mighty fine idea, my friend,” Grey Hawk proclaimed, extending the hand that held the briefcase. “Oh, and I made sure to include a little extra, just for you guys to enjoy.”

“Appreciated. See ya next week sometime then,” the leader declared, accepting the case.

“See ya then, fellas,” Grey Hawk replied.

As he departed, I sniffed at the air, picking out his unique scent amidst all the trash, and terrible cologne these clods had on. I nearly gave up, only to pick out the faint aroma of lavender, and cheap hair spray that covered Grey Hawk like a second skin. I had detected it a few times before but hadn't really considered that this might be how I would be able to find him.

My senses were heightened though, so it made sense that I would be able to smell him from a fair difference and maybe even follow him. I’d be pushing these skills to their limit, but I was confident despite how little I had tracked other creatures. To that end, I extended my tongue and flicked it a few times before a sort of muscle memory kicked in and I was able to lock onto my aroma of choice. I could feel which direction he was going with such intensity that it was like I had a little indicator pointing me the right way.

The Azure Ocean guys left, but I ignored them, and headed in the direction I felt was the correct one. A part of my brain warned that I was being fairly brazen with my actions, given how little cover there was. Confidence overruled caution, and I slithered over to a different side of the structure and waited, peeking down over the side.

Only a few short minutes later, Grey Hawk reappeared, his mohawk sticking out amongst the crowd of people. I looked only long enough to confirm that it was him. Then, I set off, making my way down a drainage pipe, into a sewer grate, and through to the other side of the street.

I stopped only long enough to shake off the garbage that clung to me before I continued in the direction he had been walking. I didn't spot any sign of him, but a flick of my tongue was all I needed to pick up his scent once more. For once I was thankful for the fact that this creep soaked himself in cologne, as I doubted I’d be able to follow him otherwise.

Heading off, I weaved my way through the junk piles, and ditches while tailing the man as best as I was able. I couldn't see him, even after a few minutes of following, but his scent trail remained strong, if erratic. I got the impression that he knew he was being followed, but how he’d know that was beyond me.

Either way, he only kept this repeated backtracking up for a few short miles. After that ,he likely figured he’d shaken me while in reality, I was still hot on his trail.

I was beginning to grow a little worried, as I had yet to reacquire visual, but his scent was stronger than ever so I had faith I’d find him. Sure enough, I was able to locate him in what looked like a park, the place ill-used, but still mostly green. Likely meant to entertain children at one point, the various equipment was completely covered in spray paint or worse.

Here Grey Hawk stood, the man chatting amicably with a member of Crimson Dawn. Numbering an even six, they had a lot in common with their blue counterparts, though obviously, they were adorned with an excessive amount of red. Like jumped-up soccer hooligans, they had an overall punk aesthetic while also having a way of bearing their bright colors proudly.

They seemed to be talking, and I noticed that Grey Hawk had a backpack in hand, one that was open, revealing that it was filled with bits.

My curiosity piqued, I moved in closer, winding my way over and squeezing myself into a small bush. Though I could feel thorns brushing all over my scales, I could at least hear what was going on so it was a win in my books.

“-Stab no one, then that gives us all the leverage we need to snatch back that stupid junkers guild, half the towns we used to have, and all the bits in those old fuck’s vaults,” Grey Hawk concluded, grinning in triumph. “It's a win-win, see?”

“I get what you're saying, but I still don't like this,” retorted a short, round-looking earth pony with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “Your boss should still declare your allegiance to the Dawn. We’ve been close partners for a while and the higher-ups are eager to get this deal signed.”

“Like I said man, I can't make that choice. All I can say is that once we’re in charge, we’re gonna need an ally. We’re gonna be a big player, but the sun is the biggest player of all, dig?” Grey Hawk concluded with a grin.

You cheeky bastard. I thought to myself. Not only are you working both sides, but you are even recycling the same goddamn lines.

“Yeah yeah. Just take your bits and go,” retorted the round fellow.

“Speaking of which. This is a little lighter than last time. I wouldn't want any discrepancy in the financials to cause the boss to choose another player,” Grey Hawk encouraged, giving the bag a shake for emphasis.

“Augh, fine. You, pay the man.”

“But boss, we counted it all out. It's the same as last-”

A swift strike to the bread basket dropped the Crimson Dawn rookie like a sack of potatoes.

“Did I ask for lip, or for the goddamn money?” He spat.

“M-money,” wheezed the underling.

The rookie then dug into one of his pockets and produced a small satchel.

“Good, now you better not fuck up a third time, new blood. Or your ass will be back on the street,” spat the leader.

The younger Crimson Dawn member bobbed his head as he struggled to stand.

“Where were we? Oh yeah,” the leader remarked, offering up the bag to Grey Hawk. “Here, take this with compliments from the guys upstairs.”

“Much oblig-”

“But, make sure to let your boss know where this came from,” The Crimson Dawn Leader interrupted. “I wouldn't want to hear about how this all ended up in the bottom of your cup. Got it?”

“Of course,” Grey Hawk declared, snatching up the satchel. “I wouldn't dream of stabbing the great Crimson Dawn in the back.”

“And don't you fucking forget it,” spat the leader, turning heel. “Come on boys. Let's get out of here.”

“The goods will be at the same place they were last time!” Grey Hawk shouted.

The leader just snorted and walked off alongside his posse.

I watched this all with mild amusement. I knew this was one slimy bastard from the moment I saw him, but I did not think he had the gall to work both sides like this. He was smart, so he had to know this would blow up on him sooner or later.

Did he simply not care? Or perhaps there was an exit plan of some kind in place? Either way, he was someone to be avoided, and respected.

The man bent down, and popped open each bag, checking its contents briefly before nodding to himself. Confident, he strolled off, whistling a tune, his every step causing the bags of coins to jingle loudly. Cocky little bugger, I’d have thought he’d quickly exchange those for the paper trade currency I’ve seen the ponies use, but he didn't care.

High on the feelings of success, he strutted off without a care in the world, making no effort to hide his wealth. It made following him that much easier, as not only could I smell him from a mile away but I could also hear him. Not only that, but he probably still assumed he’d lost me as his pace was brisk but unhurried.

Regardless, I still hung back a fair distance as I didn't want to trigger any potential wards he may have up. I assumed he had such a defense as I had been extremely careful when I had been following him but still, he shook me. If it helped or not I didn't know, but either way, I was able to tail him all the way back to Grey Shield territory.

Patrols of the drably dressed men were more common, though none were able to spot me as I wormed my way through the various refuse littered around the area. It was a little gross what with the trash hills becoming more common, but thankfully I was able to avoid the worst of it. It didn't last forever though either, as the rusted hulks of metal vehicles returned, and in far greater numbers this time around.

I was wondering why there were so many when we turned a corner, and I found myself staring at an interesting, makeshift wall. Cars stood on their ends and partially buried surrounding the entire perimeter, thick metal cables binding them all together. It was a useful barrier and likely would keep out all but the most concentrated of attacks and it showed.

The guards that wandered around the twenty feet of space around the place were lazy, and more interested in chatting amongst themselves than keeping watch. Even the primitive gatehouse near the main road just hung open, the primitive semi truck it used like a rusted gate was lifted, allowing any to pass underneath. Even from a fair distance away, I could see that the two groups posted near the entrance were basically partying out in the open.

Beer was being passed, several fires had been started, and music emanated from an enchanted player somewhere nearby. It was clear to me that they felt secure in their position, and likely didn't think someone would attempt to infiltrate their base. Even Grey Hawk seemed unbothered, striding through the various Grey Shield watchmen and waving, or exchanging brief greetings with each that crossed his path.

I ignored him for the moment and instead began to surveil the area, finding any weak points. It didn't take me long to find many, with gaps in the barrier being surprisingly common, along with other methods of getting around it. Holes made by rust large enough for me to crawl through, unbarred storm drains so tall that I could almost walk upright.

It was a disaster, and I was going to exploit it.

I moved without thinking, motivated by my previous day's failings, heading past the gate and into the yard beyond. It was perhaps a bit brash, but I needed a win, a feather to put in my cap and I was not about to return home without something to say for myself. With my confidence high, I snuck in and looked around. Only to be surprised by the sheer size of the place.

It had likely been an old steel mill at one point, though its stacks now spouted multi-hued jets of mostly purple vapor into the sky. The office area was now an apartment complex, with several outbuildings servings as barracks, and a mess hall. Nearly every square inch had been retrofitted in some way, turning this place into a fortress, and small town all in one.

It was also mostly unguarded, with the various posts being unmanned, or used as places for lazy guards to nap or read. It was a saboteur's wet dream, and I took full advantage of it by worming my way deeper. Past the interior defences, and to the edge of one structure I went, keeping my body low and my movements quiet.

Peering into a window, I discovered what looked like vats of chemicals where there had once been bubbling cauldrons of molten metal. It was a drug operation on a scale I had not dreamed possible. There must have been over a hundred ponies in there, faces obscured by gas masks, and bodies covered in a white protective coating.

“Woah,” I murmured.

The closest drug producer paused and glanced in my direction, but I was faster, ducking out of sight at the last second. Cursing my hubris, I refocused and looked around for my next target. I could just eavesdrop for a few hours, there was likely an ocean of valuable intel being uttered all the time. Then I noticed something odd. A pair of Grey Shields were climbing a rusted ladder all the way up to the very top of the structure.

Large boxes were strapped to their backs, visibly weighing them down as they clambered up the long ladder. They also had pendants dangling from their necks, but I couldn't tell from this distance if they were magical or not. They were small, however, so I assumed they were simple ornament and paid them no mind.

What to do? I thought to myself.

Choosing to follow the odd duo felt right, and so I headed after them. I wasn't about to chance it, however, so I waited until they reached the top before I began to ascend the ladders after them. Normally this would worry me, as I’d be easily spotted, but the ladder was mostly hidden between a pair of smokestacks so there was a fair amount of cover.

I hit the top floor in little time, though I paused before ascending completely. Instead, I just peeked over the lip, searching for and quickly finding, the two men I had spotted earlier.

“What in the Sam Hill?” I murmured aloud.

Before me, at the far side of the roof was a house. Not one made from rusted metal, and random pipes but a regular old, wooden cottage complete with a yard, and even a white picket fence. It looked cozy, likely only a single bedroom, with a sleeping loft, with a brick chimney for heating and cooking.

It was bizarre, though not as strange as the odd individual I noticed standing at the gate, a small smile on his face. It was… someone. I forgot his name, but he was in the picture I had seen earlier, the partner of the previous Grey Shields leader. The one that had apparently vanished after the murder of his husband all those years ago.

My confusion turned to anger, as I assumed he had done the deed, only for me to realize something interesting. From one of his legs sprouted a chain that wound back into the house itself, indicating that his being here wasn't exactly voluntary. Despite that, he was evidently at least on polite terms with the guards, who he chatted idly with as they unpacked the boxes, dolling out food and water to their prisoner.

Despite my sharp hearing, I couldn't pick up their conversation from this distance and decided to move in closer. I barely got a hand on the top floor when the two guard’s amulets began to flash brightly. In the distance, I could hear the whine of an alarm go up, and without thinking, I ducked back down just in time to avoid their gaze.

Without thinking, I flew back down the ladder as fast as I could go. Music was being stopped, and everywhere I could hear cries of alarm being raised.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” I murmured.

Making a beeline back for the exit, I sacrificed stealth for speed, blitzing through the opening before anyone could see me. To my immense relief, the guard patrol wasn't on the other side of the barrier. Without any obstacles in my way, I slithered into the piles of junk that lay beyond the edge of their perimeter just before a searchlight was lit and began to pan across the outer wall.

I kept on sprinting for another fifteen minutes before finally slowing to what amounted to a jog. Still cursing my stupidity, I made my way homeward once more, but not before doubling spending several hours making sure I didn't leave a noticeable trail. When finally I entered the hovel that was my home, I was exhausted, and the day had long since turned to night.

“Hey you, I-” began my partner in crime, the woman standing up the moment she saw me slink inside.

“Not tonight,” I interrupted. “Too exhausted to think. Need rest.”

“Fine. But tomorrow we need to talk. It's important,” she replied.

I just grunted and curled up in my sleeping spot, ignoring the dirty look my only comrade was shooting me.

God, I suck at this. I thought before drifting off to sleep.

Author's Note

This is part of the countdown to christmas, head over here to keep track of all the cool stuff coming down the pipes. If you want to ensure I can afford to keep doing stuff like this, consider backing me over on Subscribestar or Patreon.