Mimic mafiaby BabycordChaptersTime for a showRobberyBoxed inTime for a showVelvet Chime’s hooves pounded against the cobblestone alley, heart racing as she darted from shadow to shadow. The Moonlight Mafia was closing in, and she didn’t have much time. They were after her, but she had to find her father, the leader of the Shadowhoof Syndicate. He had been the only one who could help her, and now she was alone. Just as Velvet turned a corner, a strange sensation hit her—a presence. She skidded to a stop, eyes wide, and nearly collided with two figures standing directly in her path. They had appeared from nowhere, like phantoms. The mare and stallion stood side by side, silent and motionless. The stallion was tall and lean, his dark gray coat contrasting sharply against his pristine white mask. His mane was neatly swept back, slick and silver, and his body language was poised, like a professional dancer in the midst of a performance. His movements were exaggerated and fluid, yet he exuded an unsettling calm. A black ribbon was tied loosely around his neck, fluttering in the wind. Despite his stillness, he radiated an eerie sense of control. The mare, by contrast, was slightly shorter, with a deep midnight blue coat that shimmered faintly under the streetlights. Her white mask was equally blank, yet her eyes behind it sparkled with a glimmer of mischief. Her mane was a wild mess of curls, the color of violet midnight, bouncing with every small movement she made. She wore a simple black vest with silver trim that emphasized her sharp, fluid gestures. Her hooves were elegantly manicured, each one moving with exaggerated grace as if they were performing in a silent ballet. Velvet’s breath hitched as she tried to process what was happening. “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice low. The stallion raised his hoof, palm facing outward, and made an exaggerated “shushing” motion with his hoof. The mare followed suit, tilting her head slightly before both of them synchronized their next move. The mare raised a hoof dramatically and made a mimed pulling gesture, as if she was tugging on an invisible rope, while the stallion gave a grand sweeping motion with his hoof, as if pushing against a massive wall. Velvet’s heart skipped a beat as she heard the footsteps approaching—more Mafia goons. She had no time to stand there and question the strange duo. She needed a way out. Suddenly, the mare snapped her hoof forward, as if she had just launched something invisible. A goon appeared from the shadows, just in time to meet the force of an invisible kick that sent him flying backward. His body hit the wall with a sickening thud, and blood sprayed everywhere. Velvet’s jaw dropped. “What in Equestria...?” Before she could react, the stallion swung his hoof as though he was drawing an invisible sword. With a whoosh, an unseen blade sliced through the air, cleanly decapitating a second goon who had crept up behind her. His head rolled off his shoulders in a perfectly executed strike, the body crumpling to the ground in an absurdly dramatic fashion. The mare gave a wink, her eyes glinting with playful mischief as she mimed adjusting her invisible hat, as if she were proud of her work. The stallion, too, gave a dramatic bow, his head lowering deeply as if waiting for applause, his hoof sweeping across the air with perfect, exaggerated form. Velvet stood frozen for a moment, mouth agape, her mind struggling to make sense of the violent yet absurd spectacle she had just witnessed. Before she could say anything, more goons appeared, weapons raised. There was no time to question what was happening, but the mimes moved without hesitation. The mare raised both hooves and, with an exaggerated stomp, summoned an invisible wall of force that knocked a group of thugs back with the force of a freight train. Their bodies hit the walls with a sickening crunch, each goon colliding in a blur of limbs and bodies. The stallion, not to be outdone, twirled his hooves with the finesse of a professional performer, miming the act of pulling on a rope. Suddenly, an invisible net sprang to life, trapping two goons within it. They struggled, but no matter how they moved, they couldn’t escape. The net constricted, pulling tighter and tighter, causing the thugs to scream in agony as they were pulled into a mangled heap of tangled bodies. The mimes exchanged a glance, as if to say "job well done". The stallion twirled his hoof through the air again, and an invisible baton appeared in his hooves, which he used to flick at the remaining goons, sending them flying in dramatic, comic arcs through the air. Velvet could only stare in disbelief as the mimes continued their assault. The chaos was a violent blend of slapstick absurdity and gruesome efficiency. It was almost too much to process. Blood splattered across the alley, and the thugs’ screams were drowned out by the sound of hooves clacking against cobblestone and the rhythmic, exaggerated movements of the mimes. Finally, after the last of the goons had been dispatched, the stallion held up both hooves in a “ta-da” gesture, as if this whole violent scene had been some sort of performance. The mare, smiling under her mask, walked up to Velvet, holding out her hoof in a friendly gesture, as if offering her help. The stallion joined her, also extending his hoof. Velvet shook her head in disbelief. "What... what just happened?" The mare gave a nonchalant shrug, and the stallion raised his hooves, miming a shrug of his own. Then they pointed at Velvet as if asking her to follow them. "Are you... following me?" Velvet asked, confused. The stallion gave a dramatic nod, and the mare winked. Without a word, they turned and began to walk down the alley, their movements exaggerated and graceful, like they were performing for an invisible audience. Velvet stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before sighing. "Alright, I guess I don’t have much of a choice," she muttered, and followed them down the alley. RobberyVelvet’s hooves gripped the cart’s reins tightly, her heart pounding as she steered through the narrow, winding streets of the city. The cold night air seemed to press in on her, each passing shadow threatening to conceal another one of the mafia’s goons. They were everywhere, watching her every move. But Velvet knew she couldn’t stop. She had no choice. She needed to find her father. Or what was left of him. Is he really dead? The question had been eating at her for weeks now. Her father's mafia—her mafia, if she could somehow take control—was in disarray. After an ambush that had wiped out most of his inner circle, Velvet had been forced to flee. Rumors had spread that he had been killed in the chaos, but no one had been able to confirm it. Some said he was alive, in hiding, preparing to reclaim his position. Others whispered that the leader of another mafia had taken him out, ending his reign once and for all. Velvet didn’t know what to believe. She just knew she had to keep moving forward, no matter what. She wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the two mimes who had appeared out of nowhere. They communicated only through exaggerated hoof gestures and the occasional dramatic movement, but they had come at the perfect moment, offering their help without a word. It wasn’t like Velvet had a choice. She glanced nervously at the mimes beside her. The mare’s long, lanky frame and wide eyes made her look like she belonged in some kind of circus, while the stallion beside her was broad and solid, his eyes serious behind his silent mask. They hadn’t said a word since they’d shown up. Instead, they had communicated everything through exaggerated movements, like characters in a slapstick comedy. Still, there was something oddly comforting about them. Maybe they were just the right amount of chaotic to help her survive. “Okay,” Velvet said, breathing hard as she shot a quick glance at the alley behind her. "I’m being hunted. My father—well, I don’t know if he’s dead or not. But they’re after me. And... I need cash, fast.” The stallion and the mare exchanged a glance, their hooves waving in complex patterns like a dance. The mare tapped her temple, clearly thinking, then mimed opening a vault with a series of elaborate gestures. Velvet furrowed her brow, not entirely following. "Wait, are you suggesting we rob a bank?” she asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and exasperation. The mare nodded, her hooves miming throwing invisible money into the air, while the stallion danced around in exaggerated circles, pretending to catch the flying bills with a dramatic flourish. Velvet blinked, not sure whether to laugh or cry. "Rob a bank? Really? That’s your big idea?” The stallion slapped his hooves together in a quick, enthusiastic motion, clearly agreeing. The mare threw up her hooves as if to say what’s the harm? and then pointed at Velvet, miming the act of driving a cart. Velvet's eyes widened in shock. “You want me to be the getaway driver?” The mare shrugged, making the simplest gesture, as if saying you’re the one with the cart. The stallion added to it with a dramatic nod, his hoof tapping on his chest, as though he was absolutely certain of the plan. Velvet’s heart was pounding, but the desperation was taking over. She couldn’t think of another way to get the cash she needed. She had no idea how long she could keep running. “Fine,” she muttered, pressing her hooves down on the reins. “Fine. But we’re doing this my way.” The bank loomed in front of them, all glass and polished marble. Velvet had parked the cart around the corner and was trying to calm her shaking hooves. This is insane. I’ve never done anything like this before. Inside, the mimes were already at work. Velvet had barely seen what happened—the stallion and the mare moving with such strange, fluid precision that it almost felt like some kind of bizarre, unspoken performance. She could hear muffled voices, frantic shouting, but the mimes stayed calm, completely composed, as if they were putting on a show. A few moments later, the doors to the bank slammed open. The stallion emerged, an invisible sack thrown over his shoulder with a flourish, while the mare followed right behind him, pretending to toss invisible bags of cash into the air as though celebrating a victory. Velvet’s stomach churned. "Are you serious? This is happening?" The mimes jumped into the cart with ease, and Velvet barely had time to react before she was hit with the full realization of what she’d just agreed to. "I’m going to jail," she muttered, stomping on the gas pedal and racing down the alley. Behind her, she could hear the chaos they had left in their wake. The sound of running hooves and shouting goons grew distant as Velvet swerved the cart to avoid a large trash bin in the road. “This is insane. This is so insane.” The mimes didn’t seem to mind. The stallion, in the back of the cart, threw a few imaginary punches into the air at nothing, while the mare waved her hooves, mocking the goons that had been chasing them. The mimes were like a whirlwind of action, constantly moving, even as they sped away from the scene of the crime. Velvet’s heart was still racing, and her mind spun with the absurdity of it all. “What did I just get myself into?” The chase was on. Velvet whipped around corners and down streets, trying to shake the goons off her tail. But no matter what she did, they kept coming. Velvet's hooves clutched the reins so tightly they were starting to cramp. And then... a sudden calmness. Velvet turned her head and saw the mimes gesturing wildly as they pretended to throw objects and knock down invisible enemies in their path. Every goon who tried to grab onto the cart was thrown aside with impossible precision, as if they were being hit by an unseen force. How are they doing this? Velvet’s mind raced. She had no idea how they could move so fast, so effortlessly. They were like... like ghosts. She tried to focus, but the adrenaline was making everything blur together. Her eyes darted between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, watching as the mafia goons were tossed aside like rag dolls. When they finally reached a hidden parking garage, Velvet slammed the cart to a halt, her heart still racing. The mimes jumped out, their silent expressions full of silent celebration. Velvet exhaled deeply, finally allowing herself a moment to breathe. The mare gave Velvet a grin, tapping the glove compartment. Velvet stared at it, confused. "What now?” The mare mimed opening the glove box and tapping it as if to say, Check it. Hesitantly, Velvet opened it, and to her complete shock, a large stack of bills sat neatly inside. She stared at it for a long moment, dumbfounded. “How...?” Velvet blinked, her brain struggling to process what had just happened. The stallion gave her an exaggerated shrug, as if to say magic, duh. Velvet slowly closed the glove box and shook her head. “You... you actually made the money?” The mare nodded with a huge smile, making an exaggerated thumbs up motion. Velvet let out a short laugh, rubbing her temples. “This is insane. Completely insane.” The stallion threw a dramatic punch in the air, and Velvet couldn’t help but smirk. "Fine. Fine. You’re insane, but it’s a start. I’ll take it." The mare tapped her hooves together, as if to say you did great. Velvet nodded, her resolve growing. "But we’re doing things my way next time. I need to find out what happened to my father, and I don’t care what I have to do to get answers." The mimes exchanged a silent glance before nodding in agreement. Boxed inVelvet’s hooves trembled as she stuffed the last few bills into her coat pocket, still reeling from the surreal heist. The mimes, ever silent, had already begun packing up the cart, their movements so fluid and synchronized that it almost seemed like part of a performance. Velvet had no idea how they did it—how they pulled off the heist or fended off the mafia goons—but she wasn’t about to question it. Not yet. "Alright," Velvet muttered, rubbing her eyes, "We did it. But I still don't know what's going on. I need answers, and fast." The stallion gave a determined nod, his silent expression unwavering. The mare gestured to Velvet’s map, her fingers tracing the faded ink. Velvet sighed. The streets of the city twisted in front of her, more confusing than ever. Nothing made sense. "My father’s disappearance doesn’t add up. Why would anyone want him dead? Who gains from this? And what does the mafia have to do with it?" The mare pointed toward a narrow alley at the edge of the city, miming the shape of a figure cloaked in shadow. Velvet raised an eyebrow. It could mean something, or it could be nothing. Still, she had no better leads. "Fine," Velvet sighed. "Let's check it out." The mimes slipped into the alley ahead of her, as silent as ever. Velvet followed, heart pounding in her chest, the dark streets growing more suffocating with each step. She’d been down these streets a hundred times before, but tonight, they felt foreign—closing in on her like a maze. What was waiting for her at the end? "Please don't be a trap," she muttered to herself, though she wasn’t entirely sure who she was warning. The alley ended at a rundown building, its windows boarded up, the door covered in faded graffiti. Velvet hesitated for a moment, but the mimes were already in position—silent, prepared. She reached out to knock, but before her hoof even made contact, the door creaked open by itself, revealing a dimly lit interior. Inside stood a tall figure cloaked in shadow, their face hidden under a wide-brimmed hat. Velvet froze. Something about the figure's presence was... unsettling. "I’ve been expecting you," the voice rasped, sending a shiver down her spine. Velvet swallowed hard. "Who are you?" The figure smiled—a thin, unsettling grin. "I know more than that, Velvet. I know about your father... and what’s really happening in this city." Velvet’s pulse quickened. "What do you mean?" The figure raised their hand, motioning to a table nearby, stacked high with papers. Velvet's hooves shook as she approached. The pages were filled with names, addresses, and cryptic notes she couldn’t decipher. "You’re not the only one searching for answers," the figure continued. "But you’ll need more than just money and mimes to survive what’s coming." "Survive what?" Velvet demanded, her heart pounding in her chest. The figure's smile widened, revealing a strange mix of amusement and pity. "Your father’s death wasn’t an accident. It was part of something much bigger, something you’re already caught up in." Velvet stared at the papers in confusion. "Why are you telling me this?" The figure chuckled, low and dry. "Because you’re the only one who can stop it. Your father was just the beginning. You’ll be the one to end it." Before Velvet could respond, the figure reached into their cloak and handed her a small blood-red pendant. "Take this. It’s a key. It will lead you to the truth." Velvet hesitated, then snatched the pendant from their hand. The moment she touched it, a surge of energy coursed through her, leaving her breathless. "Good luck," the figure whispered, stepping back into the shadows. Velvet turned to leave, but before she could make it to the door, she noticed the mimes weren’t following. They stood perfectly still, eyes fixed on the figure in the corner. Velvet frowned. What now? "Let’s go," Velvet said, but the mimes didn’t budge. Instead, they silently made a gesture, the slightest of motions. Something like a silent question. The stallion raised a hoof to his lips, miming silence. The mare gestured toward the pendant in Velvet’s hoof. You have it. Now you lead us. Velvet nodded, her mind racing. "Alright," she muttered. "Let’s find out what’s really going on." Outside, in the alley, things were about to get deadly. A lone figure strode down the narrow street, his presence commanding attention. A griffin, towering and muscular, his feathers dark as midnight. Gore—known across the underworld as the deadliest hitman to ever exist. He’d built a reputation as the unkillable beast, the one who always got his target, no matter the odds. His very name struck fear into the hearts of criminals, and he had just been hired to deal with the mimes. Except, something was off tonight. The mimes stood in his path, unmoving. They didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. The silence between them was palpable, suffocating. Gore’s beak twitched in irritation. "I don’t have time for games." He lunged forward, his claws outstretched, aiming to strike the stallion mime first. But the mime swayed, dodging with fluid, exaggerated movements, as if the air itself was his ally. With a quick motion, the mime “trapped” Gore’s claw in an invisible box, his talons scraping against empty air as if locked in place. Gore roared in frustration, yanking his claws, but the mime’s grip was unwavering. The stallion mime then began to mime out a box around the griffin—slowly at first, mocking him with exaggerated movements—locking the imaginary walls in place. The more Gore struggled, the tighter the invisible walls seemed to press in on him. His breath grew ragged, his wings flapping in futile attempts to escape, but the walls of the invisible box grew smaller with each breath. Gore slammed his head against the barrier, only to be greeted with a loud "clang!" as though he’d collided with steel. The mare mime stepped forward, her hooves miming a rope being pulled tight. She made exaggerated gestures as though slowly strangling an invisible figure, and Gore’s eyes widened in realization. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape. The more he fought, the more it felt like the rope was constricting around his throat. His claws clutched at his neck, his gasps growing frantic as he stumbled backward. But the mimes were relentless. The stallion mime, with an unsettling calm, mimed slashing through the ropes in front of him with a violent gesture, and suddenly Gore’s vision blurred as his body was thrown against an invisible wall—hard enough to snap his spine. With every motion, Gore felt like a puppet being controlled by invisible strings. The mimes had stripped him of his power, making him the unwilling participant in their unspoken play. With one final flick of the mare’s hooves, she mimed a final, forceful push, sending Gore crashing into the ground. But the mimes didn’t stop. The stallion mime moved with terrifying precision, miming an invisible blade cutting through the air. Gore’s body twisted in agony as the mime made a swift, silent gesture across his chest. Blood erupted from the wound, but it was clean, neat—like a silent, terrible choreography that had been performed a thousand times before. Gore’s eyes flickered as he fell, but his limbs couldn’t move, his body stiffening under the mimes’ brutal and unyielding choreography. The stallion mime finished the scene with a silent, exaggerated bow. Gore lay motionless on the ground, his body mangled and contorted in ways that defied nature. The mimes stood over him, their faces emotionless, their movements perfectly synchronized. Velvet, watching from the shadows, felt her heart race in her chest. The mimes had not only killed him—they had done it in a way that left no room for mercy, no room for escape. Their performance was final, and it had been carried out with a cold precision she had never witnessed before. As she turned to leave, she couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing in this city—nothing at all—was going to be the same again.
Time for a showVelvet Chime’s hooves pounded against the cobblestone alley, heart racing as she darted from shadow to shadow. The Moonlight Mafia was closing in, and she didn’t have much time. They were after her, but she had to find her father, the leader of the Shadowhoof Syndicate. He had been the only one who could help her, and now she was alone. Just as Velvet turned a corner, a strange sensation hit her—a presence. She skidded to a stop, eyes wide, and nearly collided with two figures standing directly in her path. They had appeared from nowhere, like phantoms. The mare and stallion stood side by side, silent and motionless. The stallion was tall and lean, his dark gray coat contrasting sharply against his pristine white mask. His mane was neatly swept back, slick and silver, and his body language was poised, like a professional dancer in the midst of a performance. His movements were exaggerated and fluid, yet he exuded an unsettling calm. A black ribbon was tied loosely around his neck, fluttering in the wind. Despite his stillness, he radiated an eerie sense of control. The mare, by contrast, was slightly shorter, with a deep midnight blue coat that shimmered faintly under the streetlights. Her white mask was equally blank, yet her eyes behind it sparkled with a glimmer of mischief. Her mane was a wild mess of curls, the color of violet midnight, bouncing with every small movement she made. She wore a simple black vest with silver trim that emphasized her sharp, fluid gestures. Her hooves were elegantly manicured, each one moving with exaggerated grace as if they were performing in a silent ballet. Velvet’s breath hitched as she tried to process what was happening. “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice low. The stallion raised his hoof, palm facing outward, and made an exaggerated “shushing” motion with his hoof. The mare followed suit, tilting her head slightly before both of them synchronized their next move. The mare raised a hoof dramatically and made a mimed pulling gesture, as if she was tugging on an invisible rope, while the stallion gave a grand sweeping motion with his hoof, as if pushing against a massive wall. Velvet’s heart skipped a beat as she heard the footsteps approaching—more Mafia goons. She had no time to stand there and question the strange duo. She needed a way out. Suddenly, the mare snapped her hoof forward, as if she had just launched something invisible. A goon appeared from the shadows, just in time to meet the force of an invisible kick that sent him flying backward. His body hit the wall with a sickening thud, and blood sprayed everywhere. Velvet’s jaw dropped. “What in Equestria...?” Before she could react, the stallion swung his hoof as though he was drawing an invisible sword. With a whoosh, an unseen blade sliced through the air, cleanly decapitating a second goon who had crept up behind her. His head rolled off his shoulders in a perfectly executed strike, the body crumpling to the ground in an absurdly dramatic fashion. The mare gave a wink, her eyes glinting with playful mischief as she mimed adjusting her invisible hat, as if she were proud of her work. The stallion, too, gave a dramatic bow, his head lowering deeply as if waiting for applause, his hoof sweeping across the air with perfect, exaggerated form. Velvet stood frozen for a moment, mouth agape, her mind struggling to make sense of the violent yet absurd spectacle she had just witnessed. Before she could say anything, more goons appeared, weapons raised. There was no time to question what was happening, but the mimes moved without hesitation. The mare raised both hooves and, with an exaggerated stomp, summoned an invisible wall of force that knocked a group of thugs back with the force of a freight train. Their bodies hit the walls with a sickening crunch, each goon colliding in a blur of limbs and bodies. The stallion, not to be outdone, twirled his hooves with the finesse of a professional performer, miming the act of pulling on a rope. Suddenly, an invisible net sprang to life, trapping two goons within it. They struggled, but no matter how they moved, they couldn’t escape. The net constricted, pulling tighter and tighter, causing the thugs to scream in agony as they were pulled into a mangled heap of tangled bodies. The mimes exchanged a glance, as if to say "job well done". The stallion twirled his hoof through the air again, and an invisible baton appeared in his hooves, which he used to flick at the remaining goons, sending them flying in dramatic, comic arcs through the air. Velvet could only stare in disbelief as the mimes continued their assault. The chaos was a violent blend of slapstick absurdity and gruesome efficiency. It was almost too much to process. Blood splattered across the alley, and the thugs’ screams were drowned out by the sound of hooves clacking against cobblestone and the rhythmic, exaggerated movements of the mimes. Finally, after the last of the goons had been dispatched, the stallion held up both hooves in a “ta-da” gesture, as if this whole violent scene had been some sort of performance. The mare, smiling under her mask, walked up to Velvet, holding out her hoof in a friendly gesture, as if offering her help. The stallion joined her, also extending his hoof. Velvet shook her head in disbelief. "What... what just happened?" The mare gave a nonchalant shrug, and the stallion raised his hooves, miming a shrug of his own. Then they pointed at Velvet as if asking her to follow them. "Are you... following me?" Velvet asked, confused. The stallion gave a dramatic nod, and the mare winked. Without a word, they turned and began to walk down the alley, their movements exaggerated and graceful, like they were performing for an invisible audience. Velvet stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before sighing. "Alright, I guess I don’t have much of a choice," she muttered, and followed them down the alley.
RobberyVelvet’s hooves gripped the cart’s reins tightly, her heart pounding as she steered through the narrow, winding streets of the city. The cold night air seemed to press in on her, each passing shadow threatening to conceal another one of the mafia’s goons. They were everywhere, watching her every move. But Velvet knew she couldn’t stop. She had no choice. She needed to find her father. Or what was left of him. Is he really dead? The question had been eating at her for weeks now. Her father's mafia—her mafia, if she could somehow take control—was in disarray. After an ambush that had wiped out most of his inner circle, Velvet had been forced to flee. Rumors had spread that he had been killed in the chaos, but no one had been able to confirm it. Some said he was alive, in hiding, preparing to reclaim his position. Others whispered that the leader of another mafia had taken him out, ending his reign once and for all. Velvet didn’t know what to believe. She just knew she had to keep moving forward, no matter what. She wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the two mimes who had appeared out of nowhere. They communicated only through exaggerated hoof gestures and the occasional dramatic movement, but they had come at the perfect moment, offering their help without a word. It wasn’t like Velvet had a choice. She glanced nervously at the mimes beside her. The mare’s long, lanky frame and wide eyes made her look like she belonged in some kind of circus, while the stallion beside her was broad and solid, his eyes serious behind his silent mask. They hadn’t said a word since they’d shown up. Instead, they had communicated everything through exaggerated movements, like characters in a slapstick comedy. Still, there was something oddly comforting about them. Maybe they were just the right amount of chaotic to help her survive. “Okay,” Velvet said, breathing hard as she shot a quick glance at the alley behind her. "I’m being hunted. My father—well, I don’t know if he’s dead or not. But they’re after me. And... I need cash, fast.” The stallion and the mare exchanged a glance, their hooves waving in complex patterns like a dance. The mare tapped her temple, clearly thinking, then mimed opening a vault with a series of elaborate gestures. Velvet furrowed her brow, not entirely following. "Wait, are you suggesting we rob a bank?” she asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and exasperation. The mare nodded, her hooves miming throwing invisible money into the air, while the stallion danced around in exaggerated circles, pretending to catch the flying bills with a dramatic flourish. Velvet blinked, not sure whether to laugh or cry. "Rob a bank? Really? That’s your big idea?” The stallion slapped his hooves together in a quick, enthusiastic motion, clearly agreeing. The mare threw up her hooves as if to say what’s the harm? and then pointed at Velvet, miming the act of driving a cart. Velvet's eyes widened in shock. “You want me to be the getaway driver?” The mare shrugged, making the simplest gesture, as if saying you’re the one with the cart. The stallion added to it with a dramatic nod, his hoof tapping on his chest, as though he was absolutely certain of the plan. Velvet’s heart was pounding, but the desperation was taking over. She couldn’t think of another way to get the cash she needed. She had no idea how long she could keep running. “Fine,” she muttered, pressing her hooves down on the reins. “Fine. But we’re doing this my way.” The bank loomed in front of them, all glass and polished marble. Velvet had parked the cart around the corner and was trying to calm her shaking hooves. This is insane. I’ve never done anything like this before. Inside, the mimes were already at work. Velvet had barely seen what happened—the stallion and the mare moving with such strange, fluid precision that it almost felt like some kind of bizarre, unspoken performance. She could hear muffled voices, frantic shouting, but the mimes stayed calm, completely composed, as if they were putting on a show. A few moments later, the doors to the bank slammed open. The stallion emerged, an invisible sack thrown over his shoulder with a flourish, while the mare followed right behind him, pretending to toss invisible bags of cash into the air as though celebrating a victory. Velvet’s stomach churned. "Are you serious? This is happening?" The mimes jumped into the cart with ease, and Velvet barely had time to react before she was hit with the full realization of what she’d just agreed to. "I’m going to jail," she muttered, stomping on the gas pedal and racing down the alley. Behind her, she could hear the chaos they had left in their wake. The sound of running hooves and shouting goons grew distant as Velvet swerved the cart to avoid a large trash bin in the road. “This is insane. This is so insane.” The mimes didn’t seem to mind. The stallion, in the back of the cart, threw a few imaginary punches into the air at nothing, while the mare waved her hooves, mocking the goons that had been chasing them. The mimes were like a whirlwind of action, constantly moving, even as they sped away from the scene of the crime. Velvet’s heart was still racing, and her mind spun with the absurdity of it all. “What did I just get myself into?” The chase was on. Velvet whipped around corners and down streets, trying to shake the goons off her tail. But no matter what she did, they kept coming. Velvet's hooves clutched the reins so tightly they were starting to cramp. And then... a sudden calmness. Velvet turned her head and saw the mimes gesturing wildly as they pretended to throw objects and knock down invisible enemies in their path. Every goon who tried to grab onto the cart was thrown aside with impossible precision, as if they were being hit by an unseen force. How are they doing this? Velvet’s mind raced. She had no idea how they could move so fast, so effortlessly. They were like... like ghosts. She tried to focus, but the adrenaline was making everything blur together. Her eyes darted between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, watching as the mafia goons were tossed aside like rag dolls. When they finally reached a hidden parking garage, Velvet slammed the cart to a halt, her heart still racing. The mimes jumped out, their silent expressions full of silent celebration. Velvet exhaled deeply, finally allowing herself a moment to breathe. The mare gave Velvet a grin, tapping the glove compartment. Velvet stared at it, confused. "What now?” The mare mimed opening the glove box and tapping it as if to say, Check it. Hesitantly, Velvet opened it, and to her complete shock, a large stack of bills sat neatly inside. She stared at it for a long moment, dumbfounded. “How...?” Velvet blinked, her brain struggling to process what had just happened. The stallion gave her an exaggerated shrug, as if to say magic, duh. Velvet slowly closed the glove box and shook her head. “You... you actually made the money?” The mare nodded with a huge smile, making an exaggerated thumbs up motion. Velvet let out a short laugh, rubbing her temples. “This is insane. Completely insane.” The stallion threw a dramatic punch in the air, and Velvet couldn’t help but smirk. "Fine. Fine. You’re insane, but it’s a start. I’ll take it." The mare tapped her hooves together, as if to say you did great. Velvet nodded, her resolve growing. "But we’re doing things my way next time. I need to find out what happened to my father, and I don’t care what I have to do to get answers." The mimes exchanged a silent glance before nodding in agreement.
Boxed inVelvet’s hooves trembled as she stuffed the last few bills into her coat pocket, still reeling from the surreal heist. The mimes, ever silent, had already begun packing up the cart, their movements so fluid and synchronized that it almost seemed like part of a performance. Velvet had no idea how they did it—how they pulled off the heist or fended off the mafia goons—but she wasn’t about to question it. Not yet. "Alright," Velvet muttered, rubbing her eyes, "We did it. But I still don't know what's going on. I need answers, and fast." The stallion gave a determined nod, his silent expression unwavering. The mare gestured to Velvet’s map, her fingers tracing the faded ink. Velvet sighed. The streets of the city twisted in front of her, more confusing than ever. Nothing made sense. "My father’s disappearance doesn’t add up. Why would anyone want him dead? Who gains from this? And what does the mafia have to do with it?" The mare pointed toward a narrow alley at the edge of the city, miming the shape of a figure cloaked in shadow. Velvet raised an eyebrow. It could mean something, or it could be nothing. Still, she had no better leads. "Fine," Velvet sighed. "Let's check it out." The mimes slipped into the alley ahead of her, as silent as ever. Velvet followed, heart pounding in her chest, the dark streets growing more suffocating with each step. She’d been down these streets a hundred times before, but tonight, they felt foreign—closing in on her like a maze. What was waiting for her at the end? "Please don't be a trap," she muttered to herself, though she wasn’t entirely sure who she was warning. The alley ended at a rundown building, its windows boarded up, the door covered in faded graffiti. Velvet hesitated for a moment, but the mimes were already in position—silent, prepared. She reached out to knock, but before her hoof even made contact, the door creaked open by itself, revealing a dimly lit interior. Inside stood a tall figure cloaked in shadow, their face hidden under a wide-brimmed hat. Velvet froze. Something about the figure's presence was... unsettling. "I’ve been expecting you," the voice rasped, sending a shiver down her spine. Velvet swallowed hard. "Who are you?" The figure smiled—a thin, unsettling grin. "I know more than that, Velvet. I know about your father... and what’s really happening in this city." Velvet’s pulse quickened. "What do you mean?" The figure raised their hand, motioning to a table nearby, stacked high with papers. Velvet's hooves shook as she approached. The pages were filled with names, addresses, and cryptic notes she couldn’t decipher. "You’re not the only one searching for answers," the figure continued. "But you’ll need more than just money and mimes to survive what’s coming." "Survive what?" Velvet demanded, her heart pounding in her chest. The figure's smile widened, revealing a strange mix of amusement and pity. "Your father’s death wasn’t an accident. It was part of something much bigger, something you’re already caught up in." Velvet stared at the papers in confusion. "Why are you telling me this?" The figure chuckled, low and dry. "Because you’re the only one who can stop it. Your father was just the beginning. You’ll be the one to end it." Before Velvet could respond, the figure reached into their cloak and handed her a small blood-red pendant. "Take this. It’s a key. It will lead you to the truth." Velvet hesitated, then snatched the pendant from their hand. The moment she touched it, a surge of energy coursed through her, leaving her breathless. "Good luck," the figure whispered, stepping back into the shadows. Velvet turned to leave, but before she could make it to the door, she noticed the mimes weren’t following. They stood perfectly still, eyes fixed on the figure in the corner. Velvet frowned. What now? "Let’s go," Velvet said, but the mimes didn’t budge. Instead, they silently made a gesture, the slightest of motions. Something like a silent question. The stallion raised a hoof to his lips, miming silence. The mare gestured toward the pendant in Velvet’s hoof. You have it. Now you lead us. Velvet nodded, her mind racing. "Alright," she muttered. "Let’s find out what’s really going on." Outside, in the alley, things were about to get deadly. A lone figure strode down the narrow street, his presence commanding attention. A griffin, towering and muscular, his feathers dark as midnight. Gore—known across the underworld as the deadliest hitman to ever exist. He’d built a reputation as the unkillable beast, the one who always got his target, no matter the odds. His very name struck fear into the hearts of criminals, and he had just been hired to deal with the mimes. Except, something was off tonight. The mimes stood in his path, unmoving. They didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. The silence between them was palpable, suffocating. Gore’s beak twitched in irritation. "I don’t have time for games." He lunged forward, his claws outstretched, aiming to strike the stallion mime first. But the mime swayed, dodging with fluid, exaggerated movements, as if the air itself was his ally. With a quick motion, the mime “trapped” Gore’s claw in an invisible box, his talons scraping against empty air as if locked in place. Gore roared in frustration, yanking his claws, but the mime’s grip was unwavering. The stallion mime then began to mime out a box around the griffin—slowly at first, mocking him with exaggerated movements—locking the imaginary walls in place. The more Gore struggled, the tighter the invisible walls seemed to press in on him. His breath grew ragged, his wings flapping in futile attempts to escape, but the walls of the invisible box grew smaller with each breath. Gore slammed his head against the barrier, only to be greeted with a loud "clang!" as though he’d collided with steel. The mare mime stepped forward, her hooves miming a rope being pulled tight. She made exaggerated gestures as though slowly strangling an invisible figure, and Gore’s eyes widened in realization. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape. The more he fought, the more it felt like the rope was constricting around his throat. His claws clutched at his neck, his gasps growing frantic as he stumbled backward. But the mimes were relentless. The stallion mime, with an unsettling calm, mimed slashing through the ropes in front of him with a violent gesture, and suddenly Gore’s vision blurred as his body was thrown against an invisible wall—hard enough to snap his spine. With every motion, Gore felt like a puppet being controlled by invisible strings. The mimes had stripped him of his power, making him the unwilling participant in their unspoken play. With one final flick of the mare’s hooves, she mimed a final, forceful push, sending Gore crashing into the ground. But the mimes didn’t stop. The stallion mime moved with terrifying precision, miming an invisible blade cutting through the air. Gore’s body twisted in agony as the mime made a swift, silent gesture across his chest. Blood erupted from the wound, but it was clean, neat—like a silent, terrible choreography that had been performed a thousand times before. Gore’s eyes flickered as he fell, but his limbs couldn’t move, his body stiffening under the mimes’ brutal and unyielding choreography. The stallion mime finished the scene with a silent, exaggerated bow. Gore lay motionless on the ground, his body mangled and contorted in ways that defied nature. The mimes stood over him, their faces emotionless, their movements perfectly synchronized. Velvet, watching from the shadows, felt her heart race in her chest. The mimes had not only killed him—they had done it in a way that left no room for mercy, no room for escape. Their performance was final, and it had been carried out with a cold precision she had never witnessed before. As she turned to leave, she couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing in this city—nothing at all—was going to be the same again.
