Canterlot,

Central Equestria

“They finally got smart.” Shillelagh glanced up from where she was laying on the bed as her commander slipped back into the room. “They’re blocking off intersections. I can see them going door to door right now,” the pegasus went on as she stepped closer to her senior noncom, her eyes looking at how much blood was visible through the scraps of bedsheet which had been repurposed into bandages to wrap around the crystal mare’s torso. She did a poor job of keeping her worry hidden as she eyed the fletched wooden shaft protruding through them. “They’re about halfway through this street. Another three houses to go before they get to this one.”

The older mare managed a nod but didn’t say anything aloud. It hurt enough to breathe without the added strain of actually speaking.

They’d both known the plan would carry risks, their part in it most especially. Playing ‘grab-flank’ with the Canterlot Royal Guard was the sort of game that had the potential for serious consequences. One of those consequences was presently sticking out of the crystal mare’s barrel right now. That they’d managed to still get away even after that had been no small miracle. Probably a good helping of luck too.

Now their luck had finally run out. Corsair glanced at the window, noting the darkened sky. There was no clock available in the room to note the exact time, but it was enough to know that night had finally come. It meant that there was no longer any reason for them to keep the guardsponies distracted.

“I’m going to go and flag them down,” the pegasus announced. She looked back at her friend. “Will you be alright for the next few minutes?” The emerald mare took another shaky, shallow breath, and offered up another nod. “Okay. I’ll be right back with help.”

Corsair slipped out of the room and down the apartment’s narrow stairs towards the front door. Finding the unoccupied suite had been quite fortunate in the wake of Shillelagh’s injury. Staying out on the street had not been an option, but the Frontier Corps officer had not envied the prospect of breaking into an inhabited dwelling and having to deal with a ‘hostage situation’ on top of everything else. The city’s guards were on edge enough as it was. Evidenced by the fact the crossbows had been broken out to deal with the two of them. Those were almost never brought out to deal with simple apprehensions, especially when nopony had been hurt by the suspects.

It left the pegasus idly wondering what those guards had been told about the two of them that they’d resort to using deadly force without direct provocation…and who’d done the telling.

Brigadier General Maniple didn’t have any direct authority over the capitol’s security forces. Neither did Earl Bitter Creek. On paper, the city's security ponies answered to the Captain of the Guard. Who, in turn, received their marching orders directly from the Princesses. Corsair didn’t want to think of a world where any of those ponies were authorizing the use of bows during an apprehension lightly. Which begged the question as to what they’d been told she and Shillelagh were capable of, or what the two of them were doing in the city at all.

Did they claim we’re here to assassinate somepony? Corsair mused. That sort of claim would certainly justify the response that they’d seen.

The cobalt pegasus hesitated at the door. It wasn’t like this was their first experience surrendering themselves into the custody of otherwise good ponies, only to find that additional measures had been taken to ensure that none of them ever got the chance to be interviewed—interrogated—by investigators. Corsair very much doubted that the desires of the conspirators had changed much on that matter in the last couple of days. She didn’t know exactly how it would happen but the mare knew that, if they surrendered themselves, she and Shillelagh would die in custody before they could get their story into the official record.

The real question became a matter of: when? Surely not while they were surrendering. Like Squad Sergeant Diamond Plate’s team, these guards were almost certainly good ponies doing their job based on the information—lies—that they’d been given. They’d follow policy and arrest the pair and take them to a cell in the city. The possibility that Maniple, Bitter Creek, or that EIS operative that Rein Doe had mentioned, had recruited a conspirator in the city guard on such short notice existed, sure; but it was extremely remote. Even more so that any such hypothetical recruit would happen to be among the guards on this particular street.

Somepony would get around to silencing the two of them—probably that night—but it wouldn’t happen immediately. If their plan worked as intended, then their names should be on their way to getting cleared in the next hour or so. Corsair was gambling that that wouldn’t be enough time for news of her and Shillelagh’s capture to reach the ears of a pony who wanted to do something about it and find a way to do that ‘something’. As gambles went, it didn’t have the longest odds against them, Corsair reasoned. Not great ones either.

They were slightly better odds than her crystal noncom had if she was left untreated for too much longer though. She needed medical attention, and right now their medic was elsewhere in the city and otherwise occupied.

Corsair opened the door and stepped out onto the street. She looked to where the team of guards was going around, knocking on doors and searching through homes. They were just two doors down and one of them noticed her emergence from the building. The gold-plated stallion opened his mouth and was about to issue the pegasus a command to go back inside and wait for them, but then he hesitated when she realized that the pony who’d stepped into view was a dark blue pegasus mare. Exactly matching the description of one of the ponies they were looking for.

Before the guard could rephrase their order for the ‘civilian’ to go back inside into a demand for surrender, the pegasus lowered herself onto her belly, her forehooves stretched out ahead of her and her wings spread to either side. “I give up!” Corsair announced, the words tasting reflexively bitter on her tongue. It was the right course of action, but it still extremely wrong for an officer in Their Majesties’ Cavalry to surrender.

“Shillelagh’s inside,” she continued. “Second floor apartment. Bedroom on the right. She’s badly hurt.”

Two guardsponies had her under their spears in moments. Two more were heading into the building she’d emerged from a few seconds after that. A fifth, whose armor was embossed with a set of polished brass chevrons, strode up and regarded the supplicating pegasus with a sneer—and no small amount of suspicion. It was understandable, Corsair supposed. The two of them had been deceiving and misleading Canterlot's guards for the better part of an hour after all.

“Captain Vought Corsair?” The stallion leading the team’s question was almost certainly rhetorical by this point. He knew who she was. The mare still offered up a shallow nod of her head in confirmation though. “You’re under arrest for treason against The Crowns.” He looked at one of the spear-wielding ponies nearby. “Hobbles and wing-binders. Let’s get her secured. Tightly,” he stressed in a low growl.

Corsair had expected as much, and didn’t resist being restrained, despite the roughness with which the process was conducted. She idly wondered if she’d further wounded the pride of these ponies by simply giving up in the end, after having thwarted their efforts to capture her for so long. Her attention was drawn by the return of one of the ponies who’d gone into the apartment.

“Sergeant,” the mare began, “we found the other one. She’s messed up pretty bad. There’s a lot of blood.”

The noncom’s scowl deepened. There was a moment where Corsair wondered if the guards would disregard Shillelagh’s condition. There were all sorts of policies and protocols that compelled guardsponies to safeguard and care for the ponies they took into custody, even if they were suspected of some pretty serious crimes. But just because there was a ‘rule’ regarding something didn’t remove the ‘pony element’ from the equation. She and Shillelagh were accused of acting against the princesses. That was no small offense. The temptation to simply let such ‘vile ponies’ continue to suffer was likely quite great.

The cobalt pegasus was sure that all sorts of excuses could be made, and that a lot of them would stand up to scrutiny even if the sergeant’s superiors bothered to look into the matter. His job was to take suspected criminals into custody and restrain them so that they could be transported to jail for further questioning. Ordering the crystal mare to be dragged outside and hobbled—regardless of her injured state—would be following the letter of established procedure.

If doing that aggravated the mare’s wounds and ended up hastening her death…well, that wasn’t really something he could be blamed for. He wasn’t a nurse or a doctor. How was he supposed to reasonably judge how seriously injured somepony was?

The guard sergeant turned to a pegasus. “Go find an ambulance crew. Get them here as quickly as you can.” To the mare who’d reported on Shillelagh’s condition he said, “Keep her under guard, but don’t move her unless she tries something. Somepony go inform Captain Watchword that we have Corsair in custody.”

Corsair let out a breath that she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding upon hearing that her friend was going to be receiving the care that she needed. “Thank you, sergeant.”

The stallion snorted at her, glaring. “I don’t need thanks from scum,” he retorted.

She tried not to wince at the comment and was mostly successful. There was a thought in the back of the mare’s mind as to whether things would—or even could—go back to normal for them after this was all in the open and settled. Even if everything went according to plan and worked out for them in the end…a lot of ponies had been told that the survivors of Bronco Company had done a lot of awful things. Not every pony who’d heard the lies would end up being told the truth later. Fewer would believe the truth, she knew. Opinions were easily formed; but difficult—if not outright impossible—to change.

This whole ordeal was a dark cloud that would hang over all of them, maybe for the rest of their lives. At least when it came to the ponies who’d been told the lies. Which, apparently, constituted a good portion of her own Frontier Corps and the Canterlot Guard. Their peers would forever look at them and remember these events. Even if they accepted the truth about the conspiracy, they’d remember that she and the others had once been wanted ponies.

Cravat might not be the only one whose career in the Calvary was effectively over. It was a sobering thought, to be sure. Mostly because Corsair hadn’t ever really had to think about what she would do with her life other than be an officer in the Frontier Corps. This was going to be her career. When she eventually retired a couple decades down the road, she’d be retired. She wouldn’t need to worry about finding another vocation.

But now…that might not be the case.

If everything worked out anyway.

There existed, Corsair admitted darkly, the possibility that it wouldn’t. That the second layer of the 'distraction onion'—as Shillelagh had termed it—wouldn't be enough to keep Cravat from being found out before he could reach the castle. That they wouldn’t succeed in exposing the conspiracy. That the ponies behind it would see to it that she, Shillelagh, and the others, never managed to get the truth to the ears of the ponies who needed to hear it.

And if that happened, well...

She'd almost certainly be dead before sunrise. Likely by way of 'suiciding' in her cell that very night. At least she wouldn’t need to worry about what to do with the rest of her life if that turned out to be the case.

So there was that…

The batpony stallion lunged forward, his leathery wings spread to help him glide across the short distance that existed between him and his target. Bloodied hoof claws were outstretched, moving towards the teal unicorn’s throat a second time. Rein Doe/Saccharine—though her real name might be ‘Nightjar’—was moving to interpose herself between Autumn Brisk and their assailant, but her lingering injury hampered her movements and would surely impede her ability to fend him off.

The envoy let out a terrified shriek as she tried to backpedal out of the way of the attack, her wide eyes focused on the glistening steel blades that were reaching for her.

The EIS operative’s sharp fangs were bared in a wide grin as he anticipated removing one of the major threats to his schemes. It was an expression that didn’t last long, morphing into a snarl of shock and pain as he felt something grab hold of his tail and yank him sharply back. He tried to whirl around and lash out at whatever it was that thwarted his attack, only to find himself being glomped by a black and orange blur.

“You fucking—AAUGH!” The batpony had tried to swipe at his assailant with his hoof claws once more and force him off, only to find his fetlock intercepted by the unicorn stallion’s mouth; teeth biting down hard with the clear intent to crush joint and bone alike.

An unbladed hoof pawed at his face and eyes while a hind leg felt like it was groping around to try and wrap itself around one of his own hind limbs. It soon succeeded. The orange unicorn, who now had a grip on their adversary with their mouth, and a leg wrapped up in theirs, wasted no time in capitalizing on the leverage they’d achieved to roll their opponent in an attempt to straddle their back and—

Flashover collapsed onto the cobblestones with a surprised grunt. The pony that he’d been about to pin in a nearly textbook maneuver had simply vanished, leaving the unicorn sprawled on the ground. The confusion was nearly overwhelming, since he couldn’t figure out what had happened at first. He hadn’t been fighting another unicorn, so it’s not like the batpony could have teleport—

The realization struck him at just about the same moment Nightjar yelled out her warning: “He shifted! Behind you!”

He was rolling away a heartbeat later. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite quick enough to completely avoid getting nicked by the hoof blade again. Flashover let out a pained hiss as he bounced back onto his hooves and spun around to face his attacker, who was once more by the sandwich board outside the café. The leathery-winged stallion didn’t look nearly as happy as he had a minute ago, his smile replaced by a sneer. He was visibly favoring the leg that Flashover had bit.

“You’ll pay for that, you piece of shit!” the batpony snarled at him. “I’ll gut you like a fucking fish,” the steel-gray stallion said darkly, then his gaze shifted briefly to the two nearby mares. “Then I’ll decapitate those two whores and make you stare into their lifeless eyes as you die, slowly, in a pile of your own entrails!”

Flashover recoiled away from the batpony slightly. “...the fuck!? The fuck’s wrong with you, dude? That’s just sick—you’re sick!”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Nightjar muttered from off to the side as she ushered Autumn Brisk further away from the two stallions. The unicorn was the obvious primary target, and so they needed to get her away from this clearly psychotic stallion.

The withdrawal did not go unnoticed but their attacker. While Flashover had been waiting for the batpony stallion to make his next move so that he could react and counter it, he hadn’t planned for the option that the operative ended up taking. Specifically: the batpony turned around and dove beneath the sandwich board. Flashover reflexively charged after the fleeing stallion…

…only to find no trace of him.

Autumn Brisk screamed again.

The orange unicorn whirled around in time to see Nightjar with her forelimbs wrapped around the teal mare in her elaborate dress full of ruffles and frills, flinging the both of them backwards with a powerful stroke of her wings to get out of range of where the stallion was swiping at them after having emerged from behind a cart. The pair of entangled mares rolled along the ground, leaving Autumn Brisk splayed out on her back, her eyes wide in shock as she frantically looked around her.

It took Flashover a moment to realize what had the other unicorn so confused: she wasn’t being clutched by Nightjar any longer. In fact, she was simply being held by an empty maid’s outfit.

Now it was the batpony stallion’s turn to cry out, drawing Flashover’s attention as he saw hooves and wings wrapping themselves around his barrel before tossing him bodily aside. The operative was caught by surprise by the maneuver and went tumbling to the cobblestones. Unfortunately, it looked to the orange unicorn like the mare had paid for her efforts as she staggered and her hind end dropped out from under her. More than just her dress was gone, Flashover saw, as the batpony mare had one of her—now—leathery wings tucked in and pressing itself firmly to her side, over her now torn-open belly wound.

“Get out of here!” Flashover yelled as he finally charged back into the fight, his horn glowing with cyan light. “You’re too hurt to fight; I’ve got this punk!”

Nightjar spared the unicorn a look and Flashover chose to ignore her dubious expression, instead plastering a cocky smirk across his muzzle as he cantered past her. “I’m actually pretty good at this kind of stuff,” he assured her, continuing to ignore the uncertainty obvious on her face…right before her eyes widened in surprise as they darted to what was behind him.

The batpony stallion was surprised too when he got back onto his hooves and turned to rage at the mare who’d gotten the drop on him…only to have his roar cut off when the sandwich board held in the glow of a telekinetic aura swung around.

The café which had owned the sign, like all of the other places of business on Canterlot’s premier avenue, was an upscale establishment which spared no expense when it came to outward-facing presentation. After all, Equestria’s capital city was home to many of the pony nation’s more elite and affluent citizens who would absolutely make judgments about the quality of an eatery based solely on how it looked, even at a glance. So everything about the café was of obvious quality. From the gilded cutlery, to the teak chairs, to the carved marble frescos above the door…

…to the sandwich board sign advertising the day’s specials, which had been constructed from two thick slate slabs framed within ornately carved hardwood.

Striking the batpony upside the head with what was effectively a stone tablet did far more than interrupt the stallion’s outraged screaming. It pitched the pony bodily into the air. Keen to press his advantage while he once more held the momentum, the orange unicorn continued his charge forward even as his magic swung the sign around for another strike, this time with the intent to pinch the batpony between it and the cobblestone street.

“No!”

Flashover was only barely aware of Nightjar’s warning. The stallion was too focused on maneuvering his recently acquired weapon to bring the swift conclusion, grinning triumphantly as he heard it connect with the batpony and slam him into the street with all of the telekinetic force he could muster. Wood splintered. The pieces of slate shattered like ceramic pottery upon the avenue.

The batpony was nowhere to be seen.

Flashover realized only too late the mistake that he’d made by coming at the other stallion from above with the sign, placing it between the batpony and the light of the moon and thus giving him access to moonshadow to use to escape being crushed. The unicorn cursed under his breath and spun around, his eyes darting about frantically to the other shadows being cast by the recently-raised moon which the batpony stallion might choose to emerge from.

He spotted movement under one of the café’s tables, not too far from where Nightjar was still slumped on her haunches, a wing folded protectively over her belly. She was also looking for the other operative, but most of her efforts were focused in the exact wrong direction. Flashover knew that she wasn’t going to be able to react in time to avoid the hoof claws coming for her. Nor was he going to be able to cross the distance and reach her in time. Still he bolted for her. His horn flared to life.

“I said to get out of here!” the unicorn yelled at the stunned mare. The confusion on her face was replaced with pain a second later as a blast of telekinetic energy slammed into her body. Cravat would certainly have admonished him for using as much magical force as he’d had on the mare. It had almost certainly done no favors for her injury and likely even set her recovery back weeks, if not months.

But it had saved her life in the moment.

The pulse of cyan magic sent Nightjar flying backwards through the air, and not under her own power. It hurled her out of the way of the batpony stallion’s intended strike and sent the mare tumbling back into the narrow alley that existed between the jeweler and the café. Her pained cry cut off suddenly the moment she passed into the darkness.

The batpony stallion unleashed another annoyed snarl and turned his bloodied muzzle in Flashover’s direction once more, if only briefly. Then his own gaze was darting around, flicking from one shadow to the next. His ears swiveled around, listening for movement behind him. He wasn’t fully distracted, the unicorn knew, as he still kept his eyes coming back to the orange stallion as he scanned for Nightjar; but he also wasn’t fully focused on the private. So the unicorn charged him once more.

The sudden burst of motion was enough to get the batpony’s full attention. Upon seeing the charge of the unicorn, the winged pony elected to avoid it by leaping into the air and attempting to gain some altitude over his adversary. He got in precisely two flaps of his wings before the unicorn’s horn lit. A aura matching its hue enveloped the batpony’s tail, arresting his ascension immediately. Then the telekinetic grasp pulled down. Hard.

Flashover was, by most metrics, not a ‘powerful’ unicorn. He didn’t know many actual spells and casting the few that he did know took a great deal of concentration. They also weren’t particularly powerful. Those criteria tended to be the more objective measures by which a unicorn’s ‘power’ was typically determined: how easily they could cast a lot of powerful magicks. Rarely was a unicorn’s aptitude with their telekinesis taken into consideration.

After all, every unicorn could perform telekinesis. Much like every pegasus could fly.

Which wasn’t to say that there weren’t degrees of aptitude with telekinetic manipulation; just as there was for flying. Some pegasi could fly much faster than others. Some could fly for much longer, covering greater distances before they felt fatigued. Similarly, some unicorns could cast much wider fields which were capable of holding aloft much heavier, or a substantially greater, number of objects. Some were better with finer, more precise, manipulations.

Some had powerful grips.

And, like spells, or flying, or running, or just about anything else that could be done: while natural aptitude played a role to a significant degree, it was always possible to improve one’s abilities with practice and exercise. If only to a point.

The Cavalry had given Flashover ample opportunity to improve the strength of the grip of his telekinesis; and he’d been quite motivated to do so. After all, letting your spear get knocked or otherwise wrenched from your magical grip by an opponent in a fight could be a matter of life or death for a unicorn.

So it was that Flashover had developed a rather powerful telekinetic field. Which presently had hold of the batpony by his tail, and was in the process of cracking his body against the ground like a whip.

For a bat, he bounced pretty good, the unicorn thought to himself with a smirk as he once more charged his now groaning opponent.

The batpony pushed himself back up onto his hooves and glared balefully at the orange stallion. “You fucking sunshiner! I’ll cut that horn off your head and make you choke on it!” Then the stallion lunged again.

But not towards Flashover. Or Autumn Brisk.

The Calvary private had been drilled on how to combat a decent number of races and monsters during his time in the Frontier Corps. Because each had widely differing physical—and often magical—characteristics, there simply didn’t exist any kind of ‘one size fits all’ tactic when fighting opponents. It could even differ on what kind of pony you were. Are you a unicorn? Don’t get within hoof reach of an earth pony. Pegasus? If you gave a unicorn enough time to light their horn, you’re fucked. Earth pony? Don’t let a pegasus grab you. They are powerful enough to carry you up to whatever altitude will let you hit the ground at terminal velocity when they let go again.

There were similar rules for monsters and other races.

Flashover believed that, in the Eqeustria that existed before the fall and banishment of Princess Luna, when batponies had been among the general pony population, members of the Cavalry would have been taught how to combat them effectively, and what 'rules' always needed to be kept in mind when doing so. With enough time, following those rules could have become almost second nature. Because, even though Flashover intellectually knew what the batpony he was fighting was capable of, he didn’t have the muscle memory or instincts to actively incorporate that knowledge into his fighting.

In the unicorn’s defense, he’d only learned of those abilities about twenty-four hours ago.

Unfortunately, that purely academic defense wasn’t going to do much to physically protect him in this fight. A fight which, because his opponent had wings, Flashover was still treating like one with a pegasus. As such, he was mostly just concerned with not letting the batpony get his hooves wrapped around him to carry him up into the air.

He wasn’t thinking about where his shadow was falling—because, honestly, when would that ever have been a factor to consider in a melee?!—or the nature of the light source that was casting it.

The freshly-raised moon was still low in the sky…and it was presently located directly behind Flashover…causing him to cast a lengthy shadow that reached the batpony long before the unicorn did.

“—Mother bucker!” Flashover cried out in exasperated fury; as much at himself as the batpony. He skittered to a half on the pavement and started circling around even as he edged closer to the equally alert envoy.

“W-where’s Rein?” Autumn Brisk asked through a worried stutter.

“She’s fine,” was the stallion’s distracted response. His ears turned fervently in every direction as he listened for any sounds that might betray an incoming attack. The beating of leathering wings in the air. The scrape of steel hoof claws on stone…

“Watch the shadows,” he told her even as he was doing the same. It was easier said than done. The night was a cloudless one. The moon was still relatively low in the sky, but it was above the rooftops of the city and shining brightly.

There were a lot of shadows being cast by moonlight. Especially with all of the streetlights out—which the unicorn suspected had been by design. It meant that every shadow was being created by the moon. Even their own. Flashover had personally witnessed the batpony mare crawl up First Sergeant Shillelagh’s side, out of the shadow cast by the crystal mare’s body. He’d seen Nightjar do it to the stallion.

Which meant that he could almost certainly do it to them.

How do you defend against something like that?! Flashover’s eyes briefly darted to Autumn Brisk and the hoof-length dress that she was still wearing, wondering with no small amount of horror if that batpony could materialize out from underneath it.

Does the shadow need to be a certain size? The unicorn pondered. I mean, there’s no way he could pop out from under a napkin or something, right?

However ‘shifting’ worked, it looked like the two of them had been granted a brief respite. The batpony was probably trying to shake off the worst of that last hit that Flashover had given him. If that was the case, the unicorn was going to put the time they’d been given to good use. His eyes locked onto the tables outside the café and the large umbrellas that provided the diner’s with shade in the daylight. It wasn’t a spear, but their central pole would still make a serviceable staff and that was nearly as good.

He lit his horn and grasped the umbrella with his cyan glow, illuminating nearly the whole front of the café in the night, bathing everything in soft blue light.

Flashover noticed the shadows shift.

The unicorn hesitated for a brief moment before floating the umbrella the rest of the way towards him, his telekinetic field rending the fabric from its top so that it was just the polished pole. He tucked the ‘staff’ into the crook of his fetlock and allowed his horn to dim once more. While he didn’t actually look in Autumn Brisk’s direction, it was clear that his softly spoken words were meant for her.

“When I tell you, light your horn. Bright as you can.”

“W-what?”

“Bright as you can, for as long as you can,” the unicorn continued to whisper as he scanned their surroundings, his eyes jumping from one shadow to the next in quick succession. “But only when I say.”

Much more loudly, and in a much cockier tone, he said, “Looks like I ran that little bitch off. Knew he was a fucking gelding. Come on, Brisky; let’s get to the castle.”

The teal mare balked. “I—what? What are y—?”

Flashover heard the enraged snarl before he saw the pony making it. He spun around quickly on three legs, the wooden pole tucked securely against his barrel by the fourth. The wood caught the hoof claws coming for his face, but didn’t offer nearly the resistance that the unicorn would have liked as three feet of the pole was sheared off by the batpony’s swing.

Apparently the cafe’s umbrellas had simply looked like they were ‘high quality’...

It didn’t really matter though. The batpony was back in the open. And he was within Flashover’s reach. “Light ‘em up! Now!” His own horn burst to life with undirected magical energy, encasing it in a brilliant corona that bathed his surroundings in cyan light. Though it took her a little longer to react, as she hadn’t grasped the purpose behind Flashover’s order, Autumn Brisk contributed her own silvery aura to the city avenue.

While he hadn’t been counting on the batpony stallion to reflexively wince at the sudden appearance of the two new bright sources of light, the unicorn nonetheless took full advantage of the brief distraction and lunged for the other stallion. He executed one final swing with the remains of his staff to further disorient the batpony before the two of them fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. While the nocturnal equine was caught off guard and slow to react to the attack, Flashover wasted no time in descending into the full on brawl that he’d initiated.

He jabbed ribs with hooves. Kicked at the batpony’s exposed belly with his hind legs. Snapped at ears and muzzle with his teeth. Anything and everything he could think of to hurt the batpony was invoked with reckless abandon. Every ‘dirty’ trick and move that his instructors had told him about during training—nothing was ‘off limits’ in a fight for survival, after all—every move that First Sergeant Shillelagh had taught them that she'd learned during her tenure in the resistance to King Sombra’s rule—was brought to bear against the batpony now.

It was immediately apparent that Flashover’s opponent didn’t know how to respond to the assault. He flailed at the unicorn with his bladed hooves, but hoof claws weren’t actually particularly useful when a pony had you pinned. It just wasn’t possible to get the angle and leverage that was needed to make the best use of the blades. Which wasn’t to say that the unicorn would emerge unscathed from this fight. The blades weren’t cutting him deep, but they were cutting him. His withers and flanks burned as the flailing batpony inflicted additional lacerations upon his body. But he didn’t relent.

To pull back was to give his opponent a better angle to use the hoof claws more effectively. While to be in close was to give him access to the batpony’s face, eyes, and throat. Flashover’s hooves might not be strapped with blades, but that didn’t mean that the sharp keratin edges wasn’t still capable of cutting flesh.

All the while, he kept his horn glowing brightly, denying the batpony access to any shadows cast by moonlight that he could use to get away. The winged stallion appeared to be aware of this, and he also seemed to have recognized that he was losing ground in the brawl. His motions were becoming more frantic as he tried to escape from the unicorn. His strikes were less coordinated.

But the batpony was still landing strikes.

Out of the corner of Flashover’s eye, he caught sight of a glint of steel in the cyan light of his horn. The batpony had managed to get a forehoof at an angle where he could strike at the unicorn stallion’s face. There wasn’t enough time for Flashover to react and block the blow. He was going to end up taking it…and it was going to hurt. A lot. The blades descended—

“Flashover!”

—and then they stopped. Suddenly. Arrested by a silver glow.

The unicorn didn’t hesitate. The batpony had lost the use of one of his limbs and was exposed. There was no way to know for how long though, as he didn’t know how strong Autumn Brisk was with her field. It didn’t matter though. Flashover only needed seconds to end this fight.

He reared up over his opponent, cocked the hoof back which no longer had to worry about parrying the batpony’s claws, and delivered one blow after another into the face of the stallion he had pinned beneath him. He didn’t pull his punches the way he did during matches in the unit. This wasn’t a training bout. This was a fight; and he needed to end it. Now.

Jackhammered blows landed on the batpony without hesitation or mercy. It didn’t take many before the winged stallion was no longer trying to strike at the unicorn atop him, instead focusing on getting his bladed hooves between his head and the punches that threatened to render him unconscious. This was fine with Flashover, as it meant that he was simply being given the opportunity to fracture or even break the batpony’s limbs and cripple his opponent for good.

“F-flashover; stop!” He was vaguely aware of a mare yelling at him, her voice sounding desperate.

The unicorn ignored her. This pony had tried to kill him—and her. He was responsible—at least in part—for the deaths of his comrades—his friends—in Gallopoli. There was going to be no ‘stopping’. Not for him. This stallion didn’t deserve to walk away from this. Not when so many good ponies weren’t around any more because of him—!

Somepony grabbed him from behind. Several someponies. They weren’t gentle about it either. Flashover felt himself ripped from atop the batpony he’d been beating. A heartbeat later he was being slammed to the ground as ponies piled onto his back and pinned him beneath the weight of their armored bodies.

A dull gray hoof capped by the same sort of gleaming steel claws that Flashover had seen their attacker wearing appeared menacingly in front of his face. Then a mare’s voice he didn’t recognize sounded in his ear. “Douse the horn. Don’t move.”

Flashover’s gaze traced their way up the hoof, along the leg clad in purple armor, until he met a pair of scarlet eyes with slit pupils glaring at him from behind a purple lacquered metal visor.

Night Guard.

He darkened his horn and let his body go as limp as it could. There was a lot of adrenaline coursing through his veins at the moment though. And the armored bodies pressing down on the dozens of fresh wounds he’d incurred during the fight weren’t helping matters either. Still, Flashover knew that the fight was over. A careful glance to the side confirmed that Autumn Brisk had also been taken into custody, though far more gently than he had been.

A pair of armored Night Guards were also at the sides of the severely beaten batpony that they’d pulled Flashover off of, helping him to his hooves. “About time I got some backup,” he spat, if only to clear some of the blood from his mouth that was flowing into it from a split lip and several missing fangs. “Get them shackled! Then take them to a safehouse the EIS has set up on the south side of the city—I’ll give your directions.

“You’ll speak of it’s location to nopony—”

“Really? Because I’d like to hear about its location, Senior Operative Nocturne.” A gravelly voice that sounded only slightly feminine said.

For the first time that evening, Flashover saw the batpony stallion look genuinely surprised. More than that, he looked scared. The unicorn followed his slack-jawed gaze until he found himself looking at another batpony. An older mare not dressed in armor, but instead wearing an otherwise unremarkable business suit. At least as well tailored as his own ‘butler attire’ had been, but plain in cut and style. Even in the dim moonlight, it was clear that her coat was faded with age. Her white mane was pulled back into a tight professional bun. In contrast, her pale green eyes shone brightly, revealing a keen intellect which had not been dulled even an iota by her advanced years.

Those eyes were focused intently on the beaten and bloodied batpony stallion. “Is there a reason why these two shouldn’t be brought to the EIS's usual interrogation location, senior operative?”

Nocturne swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. “...I—Director Em-Dash, I just wanted them held temporarily at an alternate site until I could make arrangements to have these traitors delivered to—”

“Shut up.” The mare said, raising her hoof sharply. His mouth closed immediately with an audible ‘click’. Her eyes darted to the Night Guards that were still flanking him. She issued them a nod. A heartbeat later the two armored ponies were subduing and restraining the startled stallion just as they’d done with the two unicorns.

“Director, what—?!” His protest was cut off as one of the armored batponies swept his forelegs and slammed him to the cobblestones.

“I have recently heard some very…concerning allegations regarding your conduct, senior operative. Among other things.” The EIS Director’s lips pulled back into a sneer as she regarded him. Movement behind her drew Flashover's attention, and the orange unicorn caught sight of a familiar batpony mare. Like Autumn Brisk, she also seemed to be in the more 'gentle' custody of a purple-armored Night Guard. “Allegations that will be investigated thoroughly in the coming weeks. During that time, you will be confined in one of the EIS’s legitimate interrogation centers.

“Though I will still want to see where it was that you were about to have these two sent ‘temporarily’,” she added. Her gaze went back to the Night Guards. “Remove him.” The groaning stallion was hauled away with little apparent compassion for his injured state.

Then the older mare’s attention went to the unicorns. Her eyes fell on Flashover. “The EIS has heard rather concerning things about the two of you as well.” The orange unicorn swallowed now too. He knew what Equestria thought he’d been a part of. He also knew it was the next best thing to impossible to prove he hadn’t done something that highly-positioned ponies in the government were framing him for. “You’ll be held until the matter can be cleared up.”

The Director of the Equestrian Intelligence Service scrutinized the orange stallion’s injuries for a few additional seconds. “...After you’ve been cleared by a physician.” She looked once more to the Night Guards. “See to it that their wounds are treated. Then get them something to eat. I’ll be by later to interview them personally.

“It seems that the reports I receive from some of my own staff aren’t quite as reliable as I would have hoped.” The mare’s smile was a bitter one. “I’ll have to pay closer attention to that in the future.

“Thank you for your assistance in this matter, Guardians.”

She turned and started to walked away. She gestured with her wing and Nightjar and her armored escort fell into step behind her, though their batpony companion did mouth, 'it's okay' at Flashover before she did so. Before the unicorn could think too long on the matter of where Rein—or Saccharin, or Nightjar, or whatever her actual name was—he felt an armored hoof set itself lightly on his withers.

The mare beside Flashover with the red eyes was looking down at him. Her words were noticeably less aggressive when she spoke this time. “Can you stand?” The orange unicorn hesitated before carefully—and slowly—moving his limbs under him to try and bear his own weight. A little pressure confirmed that, while there was pain, it wasn’t so intense that he could get back up. He nodded at the mare. “Take it easy. If you need help, just ask.”

Despite his assurance, a leathery wing still aided the stallion as he rose back up onto his hooves. Which was good, because they weren’t quite as steady as Flashover had predicted once they were bearing his full weight again. As his body finished dumping adrenaline, the pain of his wounds was becoming more pronounced and intense. “Thank you.”

“Least a mare can do for the pony who finally gave that prick the thrashing he’s had coming,” the crimson-eyed mare murmured out of the corner of her mouth. The comment earned a surprised look from the unicorn. She responded to his shocked expression with a wink before she and her partner gently urged him forward.

The pace was mercifully slow. Autumn Brisk was ushered to his side as the armored batponies took up positions surrounding the pair of unicorns to keep an eye on their nominal captives. From their demeanor though, Flashover felt like they were being taken into actual ‘protective custody'.

He looked at the envoy. “Are you okay?”

“M-me?!” The teal mare sputtered, her eyes darting over the unicorn’s bloodied body. “What about you?! You could have been killed!” She hissed in what was almost an admonishing tone.

“By that loser? Pfft,” the unicorn gave his tail a dismissive lash. “He was barely a threat. EIS spooks are just a bunch of voyeurs.” This comment earned the stallion an amused snort from one of the armored batponies. He couldn’t be sure with all the armor, but he suspected it was a crimson-eyed mare again.

“Meanwhile, I took second place in the regiment’s ‘Golden Hoof’ tournament last year,” Flashover went on. “I was going to be attending the Cavalry’s combatives school in a few months. They were going to make me an instructor for hoof-to-hoof fighting.” His expression darkened briefly as he found himself wondering if that was still going to be in his future. If anything was going to be in his future besides a cell. Their part of the plan seemed to have worked, but that didn’t mean all of it had—or would.

He chased the thought away and forced a smile back onto his muzzle. “There was a reason they made me your bodyguard, Lady Brisk.” His smile broadened into a full grin now as he gave the teal mare a wink. “I’m not just another pretty face!”

The envoy’s eyeroll and sigh was purely reflexive. The smile that touched her lips a few seconds later was offered with a measure of what the stallion interpreted as a resigned reluctance to concede the point as factual. The ‘thank you, Flash’ she offered next was accompanied by a peck on the cheek. The stallion suddenly wasn’t feeling any pain.

The batpony mare’s ‘meh’ and noncommittal wave of her wing was wholly uncalled for, in Flashover’s opinion.

Nocturne wasn't wholly concerned as he was lead away by the Night Guards. The director could conduct whatever sort of 'investigation' she wished. At the end of the night, it would come down to little more than a simple 'she said; he said' between him and Nightjar.

...And whichever other mares she managed to convince to come forward.

Still, he could whether some 'harassment' allegations. A few promises to 'do better', enrolling in a 'sensitivity class' or two. His career might suffer a little bit, but nothing catastrophic, in his estimation. Certainly not when compared to the allegations of attempted murder that Nightjar was sure to try and level against him. She'd have no evidence to offer, and would ultimately have to admit that it was a mercenary griffon who'd actually tried to kill her. Nocturne could reasonably claim that he'd been nowhere around her at the time it had happened.

He'd worked out an alibi for that night already anyway.

No, he wasn't concerned. Director Em-Dash would hold him for a while, but he'd be let go in due time. Especially when he called in the favors he was owed by both Earl Bitter Creek and Brigadier General Maniple. Both stallions owed him quite the debt for—mostly—solving their problem. True, none of the Gallopoli survivors were dead, but they were in custody; and whatever they might claim, they also had no evidence to support their protests of innocence.

The envoy's survival might prove a hindrance, since her reports about Captain Corsair overstepping her authority had been intended to serve as evidence that the pegasus had gone off the deep end. With the envoy alive and—presumably—willing to testify that Corsair hadn't done anything wrong despite her reports characterizing the officer as unnecessarily aggressive...

Maybe that problem could still be 'solved' if he could get word—and bits—to the right ponies. There would be at least a day or two before the envoy was officially debriefed. If she 'took her own life' before anything could make it onto the record...

It wasn't a perfect outcome, Nocturne reluctantly conceded, but at least all five of the survivors had been accounted for and stopped. Corsair and Shillelagh had been all but cornered by the guard and were sure to be in custody soon, if they hadn't already somehow been captured by that incompetent 'Captain'. The stallion admitted that their efforts to serve as a distraction had been well-conceived. It had certainly outmaneuvered 'Canterlot's Finest', he mentally snorted.

He'd seen through it almost immediately, of course; because he wasn't an idiot. Those two had been purposefully drawing attention away from the actual attempt to sneak into the city. Which—and again he offered grudging kudos to the crystal mare's planning acumen—had almost fooled him too. A well-dressed 'noble' in Canterlot was hardly an unusual sight. Especially on the city's main avenue. Under most circumstances, Nocturne wouldn't have paid the three of them any heed either.

But not tonight's circumstances.

That was where the three of them had screwed up: tonight, they'd stood out like a donkey in a griffon aerie. No noble worth their breeding was going to be out on the street after hearing the news about wanted fugitives running around the city; except for those who were on their way to the castle to take part in tonight's deliberations. Maybe if the trio had acted like they were in a hurry to reach the palace, Nocturne wouldn't have paid them much attention, but with them just strolling leisurely down the street, stopping at every storefront they passed?

A 'noble' dressed that fancy, with an entourage, ambling down a deserted street, couldn't have done anything other the draw attention.

Except from the Guard, obviously. But they were all foals too busy playing grab-flank with the all-too-obvious 'bait'. He was a skilled EIS operative who knew to be on the lookout for otherwise 'out of place' ponies and recognize them for the possible threats that they could represent.

That was what 'Shell-Game' Shillelagh got for placing her plan in the hooves of an amateur like the envoy, the batpony stallion supposed. No doubt it had been her who'd insisted on window shopping when they should have been more focused on reaching the palace. It was a little surprising that Nightjar hadn't done more to spur the unicorn on. Especially when she had to know that the distraction being provided by Corsair and Shillelagh couldn't last forever—

Nocturne almost stumbled in his hobbles as his brain hung itself up on a discrepancy that he'd somehow managed to overlook:

There was a pony missing.

They'd known from Hawkwood's report that five ponies from Bronco Company had survived the purge. Corsair, Shillelagh, Envoy Autumn Brisk, and two other soldiers. The batpony didn't recall their names, because they hadn't been important enough concerns to learn their names.

The city's guards had reported positively identifying the pegasus and her crystal counterpart. Nocturne had found the unicorn envoy. That orange stallion was obviously one of the other soldiers—he was reasonably certain he recognized him from the picture in the personnel file he'd been looking at earlier that day.

Nightjar made five, yes, but she wasn't part of the five. He hadn't even known for certain that the pegasus had been the EIS operative until he'd gotten closer. He might have recognized her earlier—even in her disguised form—had he not been 'certain' they she'd been killed a week ago. Nocturne had assumed the gray 'pegasus' must have been the fifth Bronco Company member.

But she wasn't. Which meant that there was still a pony out there who was unaccounted for.

...Had that been by design?

A 'noble' dressed that fancy, with an entourage, moving down a deserted street, couldn't have done anything other the draw attention...

Nocturne felt a chill run down his spine.

There'd been a second layer to the deception, the batpony realized with something akin to growing horror. The envoy had also been intended to draw attention, just like Corsair. Keeping the focus of any watchful eyes away from the true attempt to get their testimony to receptive ears.

That should have been far easier said than done. Not right now. Not tonight. Day Court was closed to petitioners by now, and had been for hours. The Night Court wouldn't be open to the publics for several more hours yet. The session being held by the Noble Stable was only open to benched members of the Peerage. This was arguably the worst possible time to try and get a pony into the palace to speak with anypony important—let alone anypony who could actually do anything—about the matter on Gallopoli.

Except...with all the effort and planning that had obviously been put into this plan of theirs, they should have known that ahead of time. Right? It was obvious that Shillelagh and the rest had done some preparation for this, if the clothing the envoy had been wearing was any indication. So surely they'd done at least a cursory amount of reconnaissance as well. And even a passing question or two in Ponyville would have alerted them to the meeting in the Noble Stable. They'd have known that, even if they managed to get into the city, they weren't going to be able to get anypony into the palace.

They knew about the meeting at the Noble Stable. They had to. There was a pony not accounted for. There was a plan to get that pony into the palace...somehow.

How?

Nocturne tried to recall the records of the other two 'noponies' whose files he'd gotten from Maniple. The unicorn's background had been expectedly unimpressive—though the file had clearly been light on details regarding his hoof-to-hoof training. As for the other pony...

He hadn't gotten that far, the batpony realized with a grimace. He'd gotten side-tracked by Shillelagh and never made it to the fifth file. The pony was an unknown quantity, and that left Nocturne feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Especially since, whoever that pony was, Shillelagh—a mare who'd gone up against Sombra in her youth—had apparently put together a plan that revolved entirely around getting them to the palace. The crystal mare wasn't a fool and time had clearly not dulled her ability to infiltrate a major city—even one that was 'ready' for her, Nocturne added with a mental growl.

She knew what she was doing.

Nocturne's throat tightened—though he'd never admit it was from fear—at the thought that, perhaps, the earl would end up being less than impressed with his efforts to thwart the Bronco Company survivors after all. Especially if this pony could do what Shillelagh trusted them to be able to do.

Who are you...?

"—Welcome to Canterlot Castle, Your Lordship," the gold-clad unicorn mare said as she floated the identification papers back to the well-dressed earth pony standing at the pedestrian gate. "Would you like an escort to the Stable?"

The stallion took his returned papers and passed them along to his attendant, who nervously slipped them back inside the satchel slung over his side. The dappled earth pony shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I know the way.

"It's not my first time here..."

Author's Note

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