Romancing the Clouds

Chapters

Episode 1-3 :: Omelette
Episode 2-1 :: Poached
Episode 2-2 :: Poached
Episode 2-3 :: Poached
Episode 3-1 :: Rancheros
Episode 3-2 :: Rancheros
Episode 3-3 :: Rancheros
Episode 4-1 :: Scrambled
Episode 4-2 :: Scrambled
Author Notes and other Goodies [2 Feb 14]
Episode 1-1 :: Omelette
Episode 1-2 :: Omelette
Episode 4-3 :: Scrambled

Episode 1-3 :: Omelette

Paint peeled. The roof leaked. Perhaps there had once been pigeons – or what the Pegasi called winged rats – at one time. It was hard to tell because they probably ran away from the smell. The entrance was left wide open; its previous owner didn’t seem to have a reason to keep the place shut.

It occurred to Survey that leaving the door open was a better detriment to thievery than having it shut.

The dilapidated warehouse stood on a small narrow stretch of road that held similar buildings down on either side in a long, blurry line, with puddles filling potholes and broken street lamps lining the golden way.

“Bit of a fixer-upper, eh?” the blue stallion muttered, looking up at the building.

It had taken them a bit of time to get there. Walking was something not commonly done in Cloudsdale across separate clouds, and bridges from cloud to cloud were something like the handicap ramps on buildings down ground-side. Even though it had been two days after Survey was released from hospital, the doctor warned him to stay out of the sky for another week or two.

Naturally, he wouldn’t be able to get up to the 7th floor of the Stackford Building, but Mr. Stackford had kindly arranged for him to be flown up on his own personal valet cloud, just so that he needn’t miss another day of work.

Such a caring individual, that Stackford.

Egg wasn’t so kind. There was no way in Tartarus, he said, he was going to push Survey around on a small rent-a-cloud as if he were a little baby, at which Survey had thrown a tantrum.

They ended up walking the one hour from the hospital to the Cirrus Shores.

It was lucky clouds made for rather soft pavements.

“Right, so the actual building is inside this one, yes?” Survey asked with an incredulous look on his face, gaping up at the square blob that stood at the end of the long line of industrial buildings. The base itself used to be some sort of warehouse or something-or-other, long since abandoned due to ‘safety regulations’ or whatever, but really, in the end, it was cheap, and that seemed to override all the other incredibly obvious reasons not to buy it.

Like all the other buildings in Cloudsdale built in the past thirty or so years, this one was smooth and flat. New advances in cloud-shaping meant that they could finally compact clouds into what was essentially light, polished bricks, and they acted in a way that was somewhat similar to actual bricks, except one-fiftieth the weight.

This was the stuff that they made foundation cloud out of, the sort that was used to prop up earth materials, but in a pinch, the less dense ones were used for building themselves. This is how the great columns of the coliseum were made, and all their other decorations, and if ever any unicorn or earth pony would stare up at Cloudsdale and wonder at its structural marvels, this would be the little nugget of information that would answer the first question that came to their minds.

But even by those standards, this was still a hole. The building was literally a square. Plain, flat walls all-round, and no windows to speak of. Unlike its neighbouring clones, this one didn’t have a large, flat warehouse opening. Due to some... incident that the previous owner wasn’t rather keen on sharing, they had to brick it up, and they weren’t able to find a buyer ever since.

This was probably also why it was missing the windows.

All it had was a small dingy opening in the corner to serve as its entrance and exit, plugged with a rebarred cloud door that didn’t really fit nor open all the way.

“Mmm. Well. Perhaps a touch of paint,” Egg said, prodding the wall, which sank in slightly at his touch. “It didn’t seem this bad in the pictures.”

“That’s because you’re blind, Egg. Blind and stupid and blind,” Survey said, pulling his hoof out of a cold puddle. "Anyway, what pictures? Haven't you been here before?"

"No."

"Wh- but! You bought a building without inspecting it first?" Survey sputtered. "That's just bad business sense!"

“But I did get it for next to nothing.”

“Wait. Wait. Back up there, cowpony.” Survey tilted his head, adjusting his wings inside his casts. His bruised eye narrowed. “You said you sold your house to buy this... this thing.”

“Post hoc ergo propter hoc.”

“I told you I don’t speak Zebra, Eggy.”

Egg sighed.

“I said I sold my house.” Egg pushed against the door. It creaked slightly. “And I bought this place. I never said that the two actions were dependent on each other.”

“What... so why did you sell your house then? That’s as barmy as a bag of ferrets!”

“Not much point in owning two houses, really.”

"What about all your stuff, Egg? Your possessions?"

"Brought it with me," Egg said to the side, looking down and patting the small sling-bag he had around his neck.

"Y- what?"

"Everything else went with the house. I sold them as fittings, just to get a little bit more money."

“And what, pray tell, did you do with all the money if it didn't go towards buying this place?”

“I sent it to my folks.” Egg struggled to get the door fully open. It wouldn't. But there was enough space for him to squeeze through, and the two stallions found themselves deposited on the inside of Egg's acquisition.

The inside of the building was no better than the outside. It felt like they had just plucked it off the cloud, turned the whole thing inside out and put it back. The only light was the small rectangular shaft that poured in from the entryway. Despite this, it had a rather generous floor space, and it took a good twenty or so medium paces to walk from wall to wall.

“You sent it all ground-side?” Survey continued, looking around the darkness. He squinted, trying to spot anything within the gloom that would suggest that this place was in any way remotely habitable.

To the left were other smaller doors that led to what appeared to be small offices. In the far corner were pallet racks, made out of aluminum and wood. There was a dark spot in the floor behind the shelves, but from Survey’s position, he couldn’t be clear if it was a staircase to the basement, or just a regular old deadly hole.

“Yeah...” Egg muttered distractedly, stepping very carefully over the stained, tarnished floor. Red was never a good colour for a stain, but now wasn’t the time to start thinking of possibilities. “They’re retired, after all. Could do with the extra bits. My father sure loves his garden. Needs the money to keep it going, right?”

“Egg, I’ve seen that ‘garden’. It’s just a small patch of dirt and four flowers. Four.”

“Isn’t that what a garden is?” Egg turned around to look at Survey.

“No, it really isn’t.”

“We’re not from earth like you are, Survey. My dad’d never seen a plant up close or held one in his hooves until he moved. Let him be happy, why don’t you?”

“Ah, well, I didn’t mean it like that. But y’know. Garden ain’t a garden unless it’s a garden proper.”

“Lots of gardens in Trottingham, then?” Egg peeked through one of the doorways on the left. It was a tiny little room with a desk on the side and a couple of cabinets behind it. Immediately Egg felt a bit more comfortable.

“Well... not really, to be frank. I mean, we have a couple of parks, but that’s about it, really. Like, green parks. Not the slimy white stuff you get up here.”

“And what do you call them down there?”

“... what do we call them? We call them ‘parks’, Egg. What are you on about?”

“Oh, you know. you Trottinghamers always have some odd words for things. ‘Fleversham’ or something, I’d expect.”

Having given the office a thorough examination, Egg moved along the same wall to the only other door that was set into it.

“Shut up, Egg. Shut your gob.”

“That’s what I mean. Just say ‘mouth’ like a normal pegas-”

The sudden pause wasn't lost on Survey, who rushed over to his friend’s side to peer through the same doorway that Egg was staring into.

“What, what is it then?”

“I don’t know. It looks weird. Tables and things down the center. Workbenches. I can’t really see, though. I’m going to have to get windows put in, or get some sort of lighting.”

The lights went on, above, flickering behind plastic cages. Survey slowly took his hoof off the switch.

“Yeah, alright,” Egg muttered, still looking straight into the room.

The room had been oddly reinforced to a degree. It was the only part of the whole building that had wooden beams set into the walls and corners, and the clouds under-hoof definitely felt thicker and denser than the ones outside.

And there was a reason – there were an awful lot of metal fixtures scattered throughout the space; long, shiny workbenches and odd looking apparatuses taking up residence along the walls. There were heaters and Bunsen burners and bowls of all sorts. A dirty, stained pair of industrial sized sinks and a huge metal cabinet finished the look.

"Is this... is this a lab, Egg?" Survey asked. If he could look any more concerned his eyes would have been shut. "Why was this place going cheap, again?"

"Didn't press."

"Maybe you should've, Egg. Just a thought. Just one of those little nibbly bits that's sort of eatin' away at the back of my head right about now. Maybe you should have asked. Due diligence. It's important for a reason, Egg."

"Oh, like you've never made an impulse buy!"

"This is not an impulse buy! This is… this is property! Hailstones, this is getting worse by the second!"

Ignoring his ranting friend, Egg stepped back out, turning off the lights behind him, and made his way to that dark spot in the corner. Light, or the lack of it thereof, prevented Egg from being able to penetrate the murky depths of what was now confirmed to be some sort of cellar.

Egg gently prodded the accompanying trapdoor with a hoof, a small slat of wood that was left leaning up against the wall. It wasn't even connected to the hole with hinges or anything of the sort. Typical of buildings in Cloudsdale, the entrance to the basement had neither stairs nor a ladder.

"Holy thunderations," Survey cried. "Did somepony just punch a hole in the floor or something?"

Egg's eyes flashed upward to Survey's face for just one small unnoticed second before returning to the hole.

"I'm going down there," Egg told Survey, choosing his words carefully.

"What? Why? What for?"

"Well, to see what's down there, of course."

"But it's all dark and… and everything."

"I thought you liked the dark," Egg rebutted.

"Well, yes, but… but not like this! I like a safe dark. The kind of dark where you can lie back and not have to care about things. This is the kind of dark where you have to care extra about things."

Egg placed a hoof over the edge of the gaping maw.

"I-I can't follow you, you know!" Survey twitched in his encased wings.

"Just be here when I get back." Egg stepped toward the blackness.

"W- wait," Survey muttered. "Might be… might be snakes down there."

"Snakes aren't native to Cloudsdale. I've never seen a snake before. Have you?"

"Y- yeah, sure I have. Thousands of them. Roaming the streets of Trottingham like bunnies in a field. They're scary, they are. One bite and your head explodes."

"I… highly doubt that."

"Pkkkssshh," Survey uttered, moving his front hooves away from his skull. "Like that. In two seconds."

"Survey."

"Egg, don't go down there, alright?" the blue stallion shouted.

"Why?"

"Because I don't like this! I don't like this building, and I don't like what you're doing, and you're just… acting weird! And you're going to get into deep manure and who's gonna be there to get you out? Who?"

"I thought you would, really."

"M- me!" Survey exclaimed, stumbling backward in to a rack, which rattled on loose bolts. "Me!"

"Yeah, you've moving in with me, aren't you?"

"No! No, Egg, no! Absolutely not! N- no! Are you insane? No! In here? With you? I don't want to… I mean, I have a job, Egg. I moved here for that job. I can't just… and for something like this? Are you… have you completely gone off your rocker?"

"Some ponies would say so, yes." Egg gave Survey a look.

"No! I told you I can't help you with this, and I think that definition extends to, you know, moving in with you into a small box of twaddle and fighting crime."

"So, that's a 'no', then?" Egg asked.

"Y- fo- Egg!"

Egg tilted his head, looking thoughtfully at the dark space in the floor. "Probably storage, isn't it?"

"I need to go now, mate."

"Is it time already?"

"I have a half hour to get back to Stackford before he busts my chops, and I can't exactly make it there in ten minutes."

"Are you coming back?" Egg kept watch on his friend as Survey tottered past him toward the door, pressing toward the bright light of day.

"No. I'm… I'm not. Swing by the office if you need me, alright? But I don't think I should come back here."

"I'm still going down there, you know." Egg turned back to the cellar.

"I… I don't care!" Survey yelled, slipping past the broken door and into the broken streets outside.

"Who's going to get me out of the manure then?" Egg called after, his shrill voice echoing off the walls.

The only reply was the echo.

Egg smiled.

Three. Two. Annnnnnd-

"Listen, you!" Survey burst back in, tripping over the door as he limped back into the room on bruised legs. "This… this isn't help, you understand? Just so we're perfectly clear. I'm not helping you."

Egg wiped the smile off his face and straightened his back, pushing his glasses back up his face.

"Perish the thought, Survey," he said, indifferently.

"There's… there's a guy near here. The boardwalk down the shores. I keep hearing of a character there who fancies himself some sort of hero to the downtrodden, alright? Story keeps popping up from the lads who do… ah… market research in the area."

"'Market research'?"

"Yeah, you know! Testing… testing the waters for a new product. Asking opinions."

"With a clipboard and plenty of questions about personal habits and preferences?"

"Y-yes. What of it?"

"Like… a survey."

"Oh shut up, Egg. Like your name is any better."

"So, what about this stallion?" Egg asked.

Survey sighed and recomposed himself. "Right. So. My guy was down on the boardwalk, right? And he sees this young hotshot or sutin', I don't know, one of the street performers. He does this little quick start and quick stop trick, quite impressive, apparently, but then there's a snatching, right? Some old mare's purse."

Egg nodded. Normally he would have sighed at the news, but now he was finally in a position where news such as this brought about a new tingling excitement.

"And without a second's hesitation, he goes after the snatch thief. Barrels into him at a hundred kilometres an hour. Totally decimates the poor fool and returns the purse. Gets his bows and his applause and tips and continues on like nothing's happened."

"And you think-"

"My guy asked around, of course. Curiosity is something I try to instil into my juniors." Survey sniffed, wiping his nose. "Always tell them, ask questions about things that fascinate you, because if it'll fascinate you, it's bound to fascinate others as well. And we can use that, you know? In the applicable science of marketing, all you have to do, really, and this is what I always tell Stackford, bu-"

"Tangent."

"Oh, right. Right. So apparently this kid's a fixture, right? He's always there. They say he lives right under the boardwalk itself. Apparently he's some sort of dosser, but he refuses to scrump, so he catches thieves and busks to get enough dosh to last him a day."

"I only understood half of that, Survey."

"Shut up, Egg."

"Think I should look for him?"

"Reckon… reckon that he sounds like the kind of chap you want on your side, not that I'm encouraging any of this, mind you. But… somepony's gotta pull you out of the manure, right?"

"Thank you, Survey. Best be on your way now. I'll visit soon."

"Just watch yourself, Egg. It's never too late to pull out, alright?" Survey said, as he squeezed past the door to head back to the office.

"Hey, Survey!" Egg called after him, the final time he'd do so for today.

"Yeah?"

"What's his name?"

"I dunno, Egg, I can't remember!" Survey called from the entrance. "My guy just mentioned it once! The story was more interesting than the details, I can tell you that much!"

"Then how will I know it's him when I see him?"

Survey gave a deliberate, slow nod, thinking back to something his junior had said. "You'll know, Egg! Trust me, you'll know!"

Egg trotted up and down the length of the boardwalk at a rather brisk pace in comparison to the ponies who were usually found there imbibing in some sort of baked treat or enjoying the breeze.

It was a beautiful place, really, attracting tourists from all over, from far-away sky cities like Los Pegasus and even drawing up the underclouds from the towns below. Those were, of course, the pegasi who were born and/or lived with the clouds above their heads rather than underhoof like they should.

But Egg wasn't one to judge what a pegasus should or shouldn't do, and never attached any particular meaning to the term other than what it was meant to carry.

The hustle and bustle was plentiful on the boardwalk. And they certainly didn't skimp on the 'hustle' at all.

Places with high traffic of tourists always attracted the bad seeds. Crime naturally went up in places of high density and high trade, and it had started here, innocently enough, with the buskers who looked to fool a poor innocent elderly couple out of the bits that they spent a lifetime saving just to enjoy themselves in their prime.

Recently, as the news would suggest, it expanded into something rather sinister and deep, as it wormed its way into the cracks of society, which is precisely why Egg decided to locate his base right here.

But that wasn't what Egg was here for.

Egg was looking to get conned.

Emberkite stopped.

That was his thing. That was what he did. He stopped to the erupting roars of the crowd and landed deftly on his hooves. It would not have been impressive had he not been travelling at sheering speeds just a fraction of a second before, and the billowing cloud that was kicked up in his wake gave him that rock-star exit that came every time he performed his little trick.

This time, he had finished his performance a little bit early – not that the public knew or cared – due to a certain something he had spotted while darting around high above the boardwalk.

Another one of those innocent ponies getting tricked. Again. Every day. Did they ever learn? Did they ever listen? No. Emberkite scoffed to himself as he nodded thanks to the crowd who threw him a few bits here and there in appreciation.

In the end, they just kept coming, and Ember had to kick them to the curb and show them what for. If he didn't, who would?

This time around there was a sort of pallid, sickly-green stallion with a rather old-pony manestyle being tricked by some right bugger using one of the oldest tricks in the book. It was taking place in the small alley between Captain Filigree's Seaweed Shack and The Beached Narwhal, which was some sort of outfitter's shop or something, Ember didn't know.

Perhaps they sold beached narwhals.

But Ember had no time to consider the possible trades of stores that he would never set hoof in. No. There were damsels to rescue, and… well. Others sometimes needed rescuing too, didn't they? It wasn't all the long-maned maidens with the golden locks all tied in a braid. Sometimes it was the old fogey with the disgusting glasses and the-

"Hey!" Ember yelled, landing on the clouds in front of the other two ponies.

The one with the old mane just sort of stood there, looking blankly at Ember. This guy was as heedless as they came!

The other one was the guy Ember was after. That horrible, scared-looking dirt bag with the three walnut shells. That one wearing the funny cape thing around his neck. The one who, at the sight of Cirrus Shore's grand protector, flipped over the cardboard box and was making a run for it.

Walnut shells were easy to find. Tiny red balls were simple to get. It was the only thing that was of any value – Egg's bitbag – that the hustler was getting away with, and Emberkite wasn't having any of that. Not on his watch.

"Don't worry, mister, I'm gonna get your bits back!" he declared with gusto.

Wings, check.

Awesome take-off stance. Check.

Strange old stallion calling your name. Ch-

What?

"Emberkite?" Egg asked again, stepping up behind him and putting a hoof on his shoulder.

"Hey!" Ember swung around, swatting Egg's hoof off the strap of his bag. "Don't tou- wait. How'd you know my name? Who are you?"

"Hm," Egg intoned, walking past the gaping pegasus and picking up a walnut shell with his teeth, setting it down upon the upturned box. "Curious."

"Are… are you crazy, old stallion? That guy's getting away with-"

"Bag of rocks," Egg said, shifting his gaze to Ember, who was still clutching his bag strap protectively. "You're Emberkite, right?"

"W- what's it to you?"

"Well, ah… one by one, then." Egg found the red ball lying somewhere on the floor and returned it to the 'table' along with the three shells. "Firstly, 'how did you know my name', I believe you asked. I've been… asking around. Guy like you parades himself, I see. All the stand owners here know who you are and what you do. And they're very thankful for it, by the by."

"Well, I… I mean… yeah, they gotta know whose turf this is, right?"

"Yes, very much so." Egg put the red ball underneath one of the shells. "Second question. Who am I? I'm someone coming to you with a proposition, mister Emberkite. Just like you, I've found myself in the position where…"

Egg stopped his own dialogue short as he slid the shell around on the surface of the box.

"So, how do they do this, anyway? It's not magic. We're all pegasi here. How do they get the ball out?"

"Uh…"

Egg rapped his hoof on the pavement.

"When they slide the shell with the ball around, at one point they slide it over the edge of the box," Ember suddenly explained, as if the rap had refocused his thoughts. He was still very wary and even a bit nervous, and it showed in his voice, but he was explaining. And there was something comforting about explaining things. "It's real quick, but… it falls out and they just act like it's still in there. They never show you the other two shells when you choose wrong. Because none of 'em have the ball in it."

"Simple. Effective. I quite like it." Egg shrugged, giving a bemused look. "Your last question was what are you to me, I believe you said. And that's what this is all about, mister Emberkite. My name is Egg."

"Egg."

"Yes. Egg. You may laugh, if you must," Egg offered with a genuine smile.

The mere mentioning of it erased the encroaching smile from Ember's face. Suddenly it felt like it would have been an extremely bad idea to follow through.

"As I was saying, we're both in a mutually beneficial circumstance, one in which our interests cross."

Ember shook his head, craning his neck at Egg. "What does that even mean? C'mon, man, speak right!"

"I am putting together a team to fight crime."

"W-"

Emberkite frowned, turning around in place, looking over his shoulder for any reason his mind would give him, and then everywhere, everywhere except at Egg. He drew in a breath, which, after a second, blew back out of his lungs in a wheezing sort of laugh.

"Y- you're putting together a team to fight crime," Ember scoffed. "Are you for real, old stallion?"

"Absolutely."

"You insane?" Ember tapped his skull with a hoof.

"You do it too, why can't I?"

"Bu… but you're an old stallion! You gotta be like, what, 80? Your mane's all white!"

"That… is not due to age."

"Listen… this has been fun," Ember lilted. "Congrats on tracking me down, not that it was hard, but, yeah. You have a good life, aight?"

"Why not?" Egg asked, stepping up to Ember, tilting his head.

"Because, man, because… Because! Look at you! What could you do?"

"I could… catch that guy who just tried to scam me." Egg shrugged, jerking a hoof over to the side.

"You gotta be kidding me."

"I'll do it before you do, even." Egg sniffed, a sly smile appearing on his mouth.

A small heat started burning down in the pit of Ember's stomach as something… something about how Egg had said that rubbed him the wrong way. It was an indignation, or an insult, or… what was it? Something he hated. Something he absolutely despised.

It was a challenge.

"If I manage to, will you join me?" Egg asked, plainly.

"Whoa, man, whoa. Wait up. Stop right there," Ember spouted out, stepping up to Egg's face, ramming his forehead against the other pony's. "You catch him first, then we'll talk."

"Uncomfortable," Egg observed, but not moving back.

"Whatever, old stallion. You think you got what it takes? Fine, but I ain't givin' ya a head start!" Ember peeled back, turning parallel to the alley.

With an incredible burst that left a dent in the clouds he'd been standing on, Ember took off along the walls and rocketed into the skies opposite the boardwalk.

Ember was by no means the fastest flier, but he did turn back briefly to look at his competition still milling about in the alley, on the ground, not even taking to the skies.

"Stupid," Ember spat, refocusing his attention to the streets. He was going to win for sure.

This wasn't really what it was about. The competition, this whole race, it was the result of a gut reaction, but Ember wasn't about to let this old stallion win regardless. But as Egg stood over the form of the hustler in the middle of the boardwalk, as a thick red liquid flowed off his barely-conscious body in rivulets, Ember's chest tightened as he struggled to find the words to say to the one who had bested him.

"What the hail, man!" Ember whispered angrily, pushing through the buzz of the gathering crowd and stamping up to Egg, who was looking casually aside, as if he were feeling self conscious about it all.

At the sight of Ember, most of the crowd started to disperse. It was alright, they figured. They were just worried some other crazy nutso had started to beat ponies up along the boardwalk.

"Ah, Emberkite!" Egg remarked, happily, at the angry pony storming up to him. "I… ah… there you go. This is the fellow, isn't it?"

The hustler lay there, clearly recognizable by that odd cape thing that he wore around his neck, except that now it was a different colour altogether.

"What did you do? How did you do it?" Ember yelled. "You didn't even take off, man! I was watching you! This some kind of scam of your own, is that it? Is this guy your accomplice? What are you after?"

"Do you think I'm trying to scam you?" Egg asked, turning serious on a dime.

"N- no," Ember stammered, truthfully. It was just a tiny little something that struck him about Egg, but in that he knew the answer was 'no'. "How the hail did you do it then? It's buckin' impossible!"

The waning crowd finally dispersed completely, be it due to self-preservation or some of the stall owners tempting customers away with the sweet smell of roasted corn. Eventually a bubble formed around Ember and Egg which all pedestrians naturally avoided. One tends to do that when there's a couple of ponies standing over a very wet, very bloody corpse-like figure.

"It's not blood, if you were wondering," Egg said, out of nowhere, prodding the limp hustler, who let out a very thick-sounding cough.

"What the heck did you do to him, old stallion?"

Egg leaned down, looking along the side of the hustler's body. There was that bitbag that he had allowed him to take. Right now, though, it seemed to have been torn in half, and it was leaking a great amount of that red liquid.

Ember leaned forward too, to get a good look at the item.

"Something I… borrowed from my old place of work," Egg explained, the sun shining down onto the backs of their heads as they leaned over the hustler. "You know how I said it contained rocks?"

"That's not rocks, is it?"

"Security device. If a robber were to… break into a vault, they'd probably grab one of these by accident. Banks and other places with a lot of bits sort of mix these decoy bags in with the actual bags. They're infused with magic, you see. Once you pass by a magical field set up around a building…"

"Boom?"

"Yeah." Egg nodded, rearing back up. "We get them imported in from Canterlot. They're filled with a mix of red dye and… ah… choking gas, I think. Puts you out a bit."

"What did you say your job was, again?" Ember asked, incredulously, a little bit of excitement creeping into his tone.

"Accountant."

"What?"

"You know Stackford and Sons?"

"What, that building?" Ember pointed toward a pyramid the loomed in the far horizon. Despite it being quite a distance away, it was still prominently in the skyline of the city.

"You know your city. Good."

"Yeah I know my coltdamn city! I grew up in it, didn't I?" Ember declared, proudly.

"Alright, good. So, these bags. There's other ways to trigger them off. We also get these little pebbles, right? They emit the same magical field as the bags." Egg took one out of a green-silk baggie. "Kept in these special purses that block the fields. So while you were flying up there, all I had to do was…"

"Well… how'd you know where he was gonna be?"

"Simple enough. He thought you were going after him. You have a bit of a reputation around here. Wouldn't be surprising if he had prepared for the eventuality."

The hustler stirred. Moaning; wheezing.

"Ah… yes." Egg looked down. "So he'd be keeping off the main streets. You'd be able to spot him easily from up there. No doubt you'd also be able to see a bolting pegasus or somepony flying off. So the skies are out, and the only other place to go is…"

"Back to the alleys!" Ember deduced, throwing his hooves up.

"Back to the alleys. I just spent a couple of minutes throwing pebbles down the alleyways, and at one point, a dumpster exploded. Guess who was inside?"

"That…" Ember muttered, shaking his head.

"I win, I believe."

"That… was… amazing, old stallion!" Ember suddenly shouted, dancing on his hooves in a circle, grabbing at his head in disbelief. He was strangely impressed by the whole show. "Okay, like, I totally don't say this often, but that was genius, you know? I mean like, what the hail did you do before this? You some kind of spy or something?"

"I believe I already told you I was an acco-"

"Naw, man, naw. None a'that! You some kind of like, spymaster or something! Canterlot Royal Guard elite, homie!"

"No, I'm really not. This was the first time I've done this."

"Wait, what now? First time? Quit pullin' my leg, old stallion." Ember smiled, laughing about the great joke.

"No, first time. That's why I need you. Are you on board?"

The smile vanished from Ember's lips. His eyes darted away again, as the rush of the excitement started to drain.

"Look, man," he said. There was a tinge of regret in his voice, something sad behind his words. "I… I know I said I'd listen if you did this, and yeah, way to go, alright? You did it. But I can't. I really can't."

"Why not?"

"Because, man! Because, alright?"

Egg sighed. That was disappointing. It was a wasted afternoon if he couldn't get this young, directionless pegasus to come with him. At another slight stirring of the downed hustler, Egg shifted his hoof slightly.

"Come on, talk to me. At least tell me why."

"It ain't yo' business, aight?" Ember shot back. "Ain't none of yo' business. Why do you care, anyway?"

"Because I see what you're doing and I see that you enjoy it. And I wonder why someone like you would turn down an offer to do things right. To do things better."

"And just how would you do things better, old stallion?"

"All you do right now is target the small street criminals. You make your little tiny world up here on the boardwalks safe. But what about the rest of Cloudsdale? What about where the problems truly lie? We can make a difference, Ember. I'm working towards a goal. And I'm going to make sure we're prepared every step of the way."

"Preparation never did nothin' for nopony!" Ember shouted, a hoof subconsciously darting up to prod his bag. "Alright? Nothin'! Action's what it takes!"

Egg blinked.

It all happened in a rather short time, but to Ember, it stretched out rather long indeed. The pony – that coughing, wheezing vagrant on the floor – jolted up, swinging a leg out in attack. Neither Ember nor Egg knew if he had just been biding his time, or if he had just awoken and furiously decided to take it out on the closest pony within reach. But it didn't matter. In that moment, he beat his wings and leapt up, hoof sent on a course toward Ember's distracted face.

And then down he went, his attack stopping short, and as Ember's eyes grew and his head flew back, the vagrant went sprawling to the floor, chin smashing roughly against the pavement. If it hadn't been a softer cloud, he most certainly would have come out of that with a fractured jaw.

But it was still enough to knock him back out, since he was halfway there already.

Egg removed his hoof from the hustler's cape.

"I… beg to disagree," Egg said.

Shock turned to anger on Ember's face as Egg continued speaking.

"I don't know what's going on with you. My guess is that it's got something to do with whatever's in that bag of yours. Maybe you have some unresolved issues, I don't know. But let me make it perfectly clear – I know that I'm not making it easy for you right now."

That frown came back to Ember, a whole miasma of emotions swirling in the depths of his brain. It sparked in his soul and heart, but the strongest one, anger, burned brightest. But yet, he held his tongue. He would never take it out on somepony who didn't really deserve it.

But it took all of his self-control not to react.

"But the hard decisions never are," Egg continued. "Either way, whether you join me or not, I'm not going to stop what I'm doing. I'll just find others who are interested. But I would much rather you be on my side than otherwise. Even if we've got the same goal, seems wrong to be on different teams.

"So, I don't know what your problem is, as I said, but I don't think it's anything we can't work out. I'll leave it to you, Emberkite," Egg concluded, lingering on Ember's name, drilling it in. He turned, walking off, leaving the unconscious hustler on the floor. Already, sirens in the distance betrayed the medical personnel that somepony else had alerted.

Ember huffed, frustrated, shaking his head to himself as his mind raced through a multitude of memories. Colours and shapes and disappointment floated through as he forced his eyes back open to watch the departing figure of Egg.

"W- wait!" he yelled.

Egg stopped.

"Where are you going?" Ember asked, the first thing to come to his head.

"Well, you know how you found me being scammed by that gentlepony down there?"

"Yeah?"

"Wasn't the first one. I had to do it three times before you noticed me. There's a couple of other ponies running around with an ink bag. Don't suppose you wanna help, do you?"

The oddly-confident stallion didn't even wait before turning around to continue on his way. This left Ember with no choice but to stand and huff, gritting his teeth and fighting the wave of frustration that overtook his senses. There were so many things to consider. So many strange feelings to overcome. But there it was, his chance at being something bigger than himself, something more, walking away…

"Hey! Old stallion!" Ember cried, rushing up behind Egg, who didn't stop for a second. "I… Okay, let's… let's give this a go, right? You said you had a plan, right?"

Egg nodded, peering down the alleyway between Big Wing's SkySurf Rentals and The Happy Clam, which sold floral shirts and accessories. He peeled a small stone from that green bag and chucked it down the length of the way.

"Yeah, I do…" Egg mumbled, peering at the empty passage. Nothing happened, and he continued on. "First we find these two ponies and teach them that scamming is bad. And then…"

"And then?" Emberkite asked, looking around.

"Then we go get some pie."

THREE-CARD MONTE OR THREE-CAD HUNT DAY?
THREE NOTORIOUS HUSTLERS SENT TO HOSPITAL!

by Gale A. Mezzo

"Seriously, who writes these things?" Ember asked, tossing the evening edition across the table to Egg.

It was 7:14, according to the clock behind the counter, and Mocha was busy serving up dinner to a plethora of hungry patrons. The line outside the diner was growing by the minute, and Mocha had her hooves full.

Still, between seatings and ringing up cheques and throwing the odd cup of coffee here and there, she found time to stop by Egg's table, the same table, and drop a word in edgeways.

"Gale's been covering all the crime in the city," Mocha explained, ruffling Ember's hair. "Who's the new guy, Eggy?"

"I don't know yet," Egg said, looking seriously at Emberkite. "Who are you?"

"Is he always like this?" Ember shot a hoof at the bespectacled, emotionless robot. "What's his deal, anyway?"

"He's always like that!" Mocha sang, turning to the side. "Coming! Ah, be one moment, boys."

Ember huffed, burying his face in his legs on the tabletop. "'Boys', she says. How old are you, anyway, old stallion?"

"How old do you think I am?" Egg frowned.

"Eighty."

"Yes, I'm eighty," Egg replied, picking up the newspaper. This Gale pony, whoever she was, sure was quick at covering that story. He gave it a scan, but there wasn't anything in it that he didn't already know. The report, however, was surprisingly detailed and very accurate.

"Could'a mentioned us at least," Emberkite grumbled. "Not even a single name drop or nothin'."

"It's better that way," Egg said. "You don't want them knowing who we are."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Ember said, shuffling his head up to look out the window. "So, why are we here, again?"

"Because the pie is excellent, and you ought to get some food. I know for a fact that eating street food for all three meals isn't particularly heatlhy."

"So, pie, then."

"Yes, pie. It's good for you. Eat your pie, Emberkite."

"And coffee," Mocha added, breezing past.

"And coffee." Egg nodded along. "You see? Coffee and pie."

"Do you… live here or something?"

"No."

"Oh. Oh, I got it. I got it!" Ember straightened up, staring at Egg down the length of his nose. "You… you and her!"

"Miss Leche?"

"Yeah! Whatever! You and her! You like her coffee and pie!"

"Yes, I do. It's very tasty."

"It's… you and her, dude! You and her!"

"Y…es? We're friends."

Egg looked confused. That look spread to Ember, who found himself doubting his conclusion based on the single fact that no one stallion in a relationship could possibly hide it that well. At least, not in Ember's experience.

"Aw, nothin'," Ember grumbled, slumping back again. He grabbed the slice of cinnamon apple pie off the plate and shoved it into his mouth.

Mmm. Not bad.

"I'm curious," Egg said, after a fork-full of his own pastry. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh, what, this?" Ember patted his sling. "It's… well. It's something from a long time ago."

"Can I see?"

"Yeah, I s'pose so," Ember muttered, dragging the comic out of the bag and placing it on the table.

It certainly looked like he hadn't been taking care of it, but only because it was frayed and fading in so many places. It was old – really old – and Egg knew the fading quality of the comic wasn't entirely due to Ember's neglect. In fact, without Ember's care, the rag might have disintegrated a long time ago.

Ember took a long look at the figure on the cover before spinning it around to face Egg.

'Action Sky', it read, in big bold letters across the top. It was one of those books from Egg's childhood. In fact, quite a number of years before then, even. It was one of those old propaganda-type comics that embellished the exploits of some real-world figures of some kind, and the subtitle read, clearly, 'Who can beat the Mob!?'.

Below that was a figure clad in a uniform that was somehow familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. There were flared boots and thick yellow collars, a blue suit and a single yellow thunderbolt drawn down the chest of the red-maned figure standing proud and defiant in the face of all danger.

"Don't you recognize it, old stallion?" Ember grinned, proud of his knowledge. "It's the Wonderbolts!"

"The Wonderbolts?" Egg took a closer look, trying to peer past the cracks in the colour and the speckly lines.

It sort of looked like a Wonderbolt, Egg supposed. The colours were the same, but the design and the whole feeling of it was something a bit different.

"Yeah," Ember explained, drawing the comic back and sliding it back where it belonged. "They used to be different, man. They used to do good things. They… they used to be cool."

"Hm." Egg thought.

"Nowadays, they're just a bunch of useless stunt fliers, man. You know? Can't do anything worth manure. That's why I keep that comic. Reminds me of what they used to be." Ember sniffed, mind wandering. "Can't believe I tried…"

Egg looked at Ember.

"Oh, I don't know if they're that bad," Mocha cut in again, swinging around, somehow keeping up despite having been present for all of three seconds. "They played quite an important role in keeping the changelings out of Cloudsdale during that horrible invasion."

"Yeah but… it was a lot of ponies. A group effort, you know? In the end it wasn't like a huge force came up here anyway, so it's not like they really did anything either."

"Hm," Egg interjected again.

"Well, maybe they'll change your mind one day," Mocha said, rushing off yet again.

"What did she mean by that?" Ember asked Egg.

"Haven't the faintest," Egg replied, thoughtful hoof on his chin. "She's always been quite… mysterious, that one."

A piece of ice flew through the air and bounced off Egg's head.

"Good hearing, too."

"Yeah, well," Ember eyed Mocha as she refilled a hay shake for a customer, "she seems nice."

"Anyway, we best be off," Egg said, leaving 12 bits on the table. "Tell me, Emberkite. Where were you living before this?"

"Just… under the docks. I don't got no home."

"Perfect."

"What's up, old stallion?"

"You're going to love your new house."

Survey shuffled uncomfortably in his bed, in the middle of a darkened room with only a tiny blue nightlight to keep him company. The nightlight, a small blue canary that stuck out of a plug near the main light switch, helped complete the mood he required for the 'comfortable' sort of darkness that he liked. It didn't matter what it was to him, as long as there was some glowing piece of electronics in the room with him.

He had to lie on his chest since his wings were healing, but that wasn't the reason why he couldn't get to sleep.

In front of him was the scrap of cloth that he pulled off the mugger. The same scrap of cloth that he brought with him to the hospital, and the same scrap of cloth that he brought home.

The logical side of him was telling him to throw it away. There was really no reason to keep it, was there? Where was the sense in all of it?

I mean, who was he going to tell, anyway? The police? What police? The Wonderbolts wouldn't be able to do anything, not at the rate they were going, and…

No. Don't ever, ever tell Egg.

Survey looked down at the fabric. There was three quarters of a little inscription of a feather on it which hadn't been torn off, but what made it particularly frightening was the thick red line drawn across it.

Don't ever tell Egg.

Not if you want him to survive.

Romancing the Clouds

EPISODE 1 :: End

Author's Note

Phew! Thanks for sticking with us, whoever finished. =D

This is only the beginning, though, and trust me, things will get rather interesting very soon. So join us next time for another great adventure in Cloudsdale!

So many thanks to the following people for their time, effort and help in the creation and inspirations of this story.
In alphabetical order:

Crack Javelin, for being the best story editor and ideas mongrel; Cynewulf, for farting edits all over my fic; HerpyDerpy, for being an eagle-eye editor.

And everyone else who helped along the way, both in support and throwing around the ball of ideas. You guys are the best. Shoutout to Coyote Mustang, Pinkie Primus, Amethyst Hope and zealousNihilist for all the weird fun and feedback and having to suffer me throwing this fic at you so often. =) And thanks to Twifight Sparkill for early-day idea bouncing.

Episode 2-1 :: Poached

"O- oh dear," she clamoured, turning her hat into a wrung-out towel. She clutched things a bit hard. Sometimes too hard. But that came naturally when one was a gryphon. You tended to squeeze things a bit more than the regular pony might, and poke holes in things with your claws. This was especially so of things made out of the famously soft and gentle cloud. It wasn't any surprise that most everything found in the gryphon-lands were made out of either metal or rock. Even so, they never lasted very long.

She'd been very careful with her one prized possession up until now, but it seemed that in the face of what was occurring, squeezing a silly little hat wasn't really a priority in the 'things I should be concerned about' category.

Her bakery was on fire.

The possibility of a burning building was something that most gryphons and pegasi weren't concerned with. It just never happened. Rocks don't burn. Metal doesn't burn. And clouds were pretty much the antithesis of burning.

But yet, as the timber cracked and splintered, and the walls and pillars ran into a thick, marshmallow-style goop, what was happening to her home and workplace could only be described as being slightly alight.

Perhaps melting would have been a better word.

The blazing heat glowed sickly on the walls, which bubbled and boiled like a viscous, creamy chowder, sending pieces sloughing off onto the ground. All the expensive, hard-to-manufacture building-grade cloud, all the imported earth-borne materials, all the hand-crafted decorations she had comissioned to reflect the shop as something 'elegant but playful', all of it was turning into something black, sticky, runny and altogether un-shop-like.

The gryphon sat there, unsure of what to do next, unsure of how to even go about handling such a situation. Any concept of a fire brigade was lost to the pegasi, and in the absolute fear that gripped the lady, the idea of getting a cloud herself to put the fire out never even passed her mind.

But not that it would have mattered – from start to end, it took less than three minutes for the entire building to turn into a pearly white slag. It was just plain luck that she was out of the shop at that very time.

Everyone else too, all the other ponies who were in the area, had bolted at the sight. They were just minding their own business. They didn't need their world views challenged! It was Saturday! That was no way to spend the weekend.

There was a large fracturing sound, like an anvil colliding into another anvil, as a large mass of metallic items suddenly broke through the weakened ground and fell, plummeting to earth like a rather sorry meteor.

The gryphon seriously hoped nopony was underneath.

A moment later, she paid respects to her equipment, which by now was nothing more than broken pieces of scrap on the earth below.

Small sparks of red-hot shrapnel were sent flying in her way as another wooden beam exploded from the heat, a small, smouldering splinter landing on her hat, which promptly decided to catch fire as well.

It burned in her clutch.

She looked at her home, watching as her entire life and livelihood faded away in the reds and whites, a stark impossibility.

She looked at her hat in her claws, a small ring of fire spreading out over its papery surface.

Between the two, there was only one thing she could accomplish that would make any sense whatsoever.

She put out the hat.

She dropped the bag – the one with the sandwich and the small bottled drink in it. The sandwich was cactus on rye, a challenging but tasty flavour. The drink was orange juice; she bought it because it was the first thing she came across in the mart.

She swore, she swore she left it right there.

She locked it up and everything.

The bottle cracked as it hit the hard Fillydelphia pavement, juice spilling out into the streets and draining into the cracks between the cobblestones.

She scratched her head.

No, this was certainly the right place. She had only left the shop for fifteen minutes to pop 'round to the deli to get some lunch. She hadn't been working there for long, but…

The pony with the azure coat and jade mane nodded to herself. No, there was no reason to panic. She'd worked in plenty of jewellery stores before. Theft was rather common, really. Happened more often than one might think. This wasn't something she hadn't encountered a number of times already, and all she had to do was follow proper protocol.

The narrow alley which she stood in was out of the way of public traffic for good reason. Gems and jewels were a specialist item to the ponies of Fillydelphia; it didn't help business significantly to advertise oneself in a main thoroughfare. Everyone who needed such items already knew where to get them, and you'd save a bit not having to buy prime location.

Of course, that also meant that this sort of thing was more likely to happen.

Oh, but why did it have to happen on her shift?

The earth pony rolled her amethyst eyes like gems in a polisher. She huffed, scratching the moist, orangey ground, and tried to recall what her boss had told her.

In the event of a burglary…

She knew something like this was going to happen. Something like this. They'd just brought back a huge rock slab the day before. It was a chunk of bedrock the size of a small wall, a huge vein of pure iridescent rainbow bismuth running through. It was her job to work on getting the stuff out so that they could sell it and make a bit of money.

Inform the local authorities…

Yeah, she wasn't seeing it, really. Not really appropriate. How could you just go up to the Filly Rangers and tell them, oh yes, something like that got stolen? They'd just look at you and think you're barmy. Absolutely mad. They wouldn't even come down to take a report. They'd just laugh, and say, certainly not. Something of that size couldn't possibly have been taken. Someone'd stop them. It'd be too obvious.

And stay put in the shop until I return…

Stay put in the shop? No. No. That was impossible. That was just silly advice, Mister boss. In cases like this, you had to sort of think a bit more parallel. Besides, when she said 'impossible', she meant 'impossible'. She didn't use words lightly.

She wished it was just the large rock that they'd nipped off with, but as she stood over the edge of the cracked concrete that opened up onto a huge gaping mess of soil and stone, she sort of had the feeling that maybe a more active approach would be frugal.

She swept a hoof through the empty space where the shop had once been.

The walls of the houses beside it were beyond scratched and scuffed, and the footprint of the building left a large, dirty hole.

It really appeared to her that someone had plucked it right out of the ground and taken it to…

The sky.

There it was. Floating away. There was a white fluffy base underneath it, but it was clearly her shop. It was a mere spot in the sky, having travelled quite some distance already, but that was certainly no bird nor pegasus nor hot-air balloon. That was a little square-shaped brick, making its merry way across the heavens and toward another far-off blur.

She could barely take her eyes off it as she galloped into the main streets, pushing past a bunch of other native Fillydelphians and sticking out her leg.

Instantly, a taxi-cart skidded to a halt, the pegasus driver nodding at her.

"Where to?" he asked, gruffly.

"Follow that store," she said, pointing upward.

Emberkite scratched his forehead. Bandages weren't the most comfortable of things, and since neither of them was qualified in the dressing of injuries, it had been sloppily applied and was giving Ember the most annoying itch.

Both Egg and Emberkite reckoned that perhaps a bandage wasn't the best thing for a bruise, but it made Ember look so absolutely rugged, and the looks and whispers given by the passersby made it absolutely worth it.

He danced around Egg like a puppy around the legs of his master, brimming with energy and full of excitement. It was just after second sunrise, and the huge bright ball of fire was peeling its way up over the horizon and blinding those casting their eyes eastward.

"Calm down," Egg told Ember, as he crossed his path for the eighth time. "We're just going for a bagel."

"I know, I know, old stallion, but…" He pulled in close, slinging an arm around Egg's neck, much to his discomfort. Egg, too, had suffered a number of injuries himself in that tussle they had yesterday, and not to mention the day before, and all through the five days since he had met Emberkite for the first time.

"… what d'ya think we're going to end up doing today? Huh? More chases? More fighting? Colt, that's fun."

"I worry, sometimes," Egg muttered, dragging Ember down the streets of midtown, Coliseum Cluster. Contrary to popular belief, pegasi didn't necessarily fly everywhere. They could, but over the recent years they found that there was quite a lot more to see at cloud level, especially with new advancements in decoration and architecture.

Nowadays, flying was used as a tool to help facilitate activities which required elevation, and besides, flying was a lot more strenuous than one might assume. It was always an assumption of the unicorns and earth ponies that it was effortless, since the gifts gone unburdened are the gifts least understood.

This led to Egg and Emberkite taking a jaunt down the streets on this lovely day, joining hundreds of their brethren as they milled around and took in the grand city.

"Naw, old stallion. It's all good. We got out of everything alright, didn't we?"

"I worry about you," Egg elaborated.

"C'mon, Egg! Quit playin'!" Ember laughed. Rushing ahead and back again, restless on his hooves. "So what's the deal? Why're ya so… serious business and all today?"

"I've been thinking," Egg replied, halting his gait for a moment. "I think we have to… adjust."

"Adjust what? Everything's goin' okay, right? We've got like, what, twelve, fourteen perps now? More than the Wonderbolts have ever done in a month!"

"It's not about the numbers," Egg explained, looking off into the distance, as a multitude of other pegasi walked past. They stopped in the shadow of a tall department store, the windows like individual rooms of a larger complex. "What happens with all these ponies once we've… done what we do?"

"After the hospital picks 'em up? I dunno. Let 'em go?"

"Exactly. Back to the streets. Angry, annoyed. And then what? What's keeping them from continuing on with exactly what they've been doing before we knock them around?"

"Well… they get knocked around, right? Isn't that the point?"

"No, Ember." Egg looked at his parner's dulling face. The conversation wasn't going where he wanted, and it showed. "We need to stop using violence against violence. It isn't the right way to do things. It just… makes ponies angrier. And they do more stupid things, and we have to use more violence, and when does it end?"

"Well… what do you want then?" Ember shrugged, impatience falling onto his tone. "What else can you do?"

"I've never asked you before," Egg said, resuming his walk, "but you do have a family, right?"

"Y- yeah. Of course."

"Just like me, I'm sure in your youth you were punished for things you did wrong, correct?"

Ember was slightly relieved that Egg had actually gone on a whole different line of questioning. For some reason, the older stallion had never pried into Ember's past, almost as if he were just waiting for it to come out by itself.

"Well, yeah, old stallion. What's your point?"

"Some ponies think that spanking or physical punishment is a good incentive to not do wrong. But I don't agree with that. And I don't think we can really spank adults. Other times if the kid's doing something wrong with some sort of object or something, we take it away. But we can't just take things away from criminals. They'll just steal it again. That's the point of thievery. But there was always one other punishment that we give to children, because it takes away the most important thing to any pony ever."

"What, like… juice boxes?"

"Time."

"What? It's like ten-thirty or something."

"No, Ember!" Egg breathed in a bit heavier than normal. "Time! You take away time. It's the one thing you can't ever replace, you can't ever get back. Grounding. You know? You put a kid in a room, tell them they can't come out for a couple hours, and they remember it, they feel it."

"What, you wanna put criminals in a room and tell them they can't come out?" Ember fell into step beside Egg, his energy now going towards processing this odd idea.

"Yes. I was just thinking. What if there was a facility where-"

Egg stopped. Once again, in the middle of the busy street. He stopped because Ember had placed a leg rather firmly across his chest, the young pony staring intently into the crowd.

A pony glanced off his flank, but continued on, wordless. It was the way of the city where ponies just walked around the place and didn't care much about others, because it was the only way to get from point A to point B without getting annoyed.

So it was rather noticeable, if only to Ember, when someone was giving you undue attention. When someone in a crowd was looking at you, following you, and trying to blend in, it stands out a lot more than a regular pony. All of the days Ember spent on the streets made him aware of this.

"Wait, old stallion," he said, under hushed tones. "You see that?"

"No," Egg replied, looking left and right out of the corners of his eyes. His face, as usual, never betrayed the heightened anxiety of the situation, and he took to this as calmly as he did everything else.

"I think somepony's following us," Ember said, swivelling around.

"Aren't you going to give yourself away like that?" Egg asked, standing perfectly still.

"Naw, old stallion. See, this is what I mean by action is better than prep. If he don't know we know, we can't control the sitch'. So now it's a show, right? I'm acting this way so he'll know that we know, and all I'm doin' is trying to look for the pony who's actin' suspicious."

"Curious," Egg said.

"Also, he'll be less likely to pull something funny, 'cause he's thinkin' we're on to him, right? So if we do anything weird, like go down a narrow, empty alley, he'll be thinking that we're trying to trick him. So it's all just a game, man. It's all just a game."

"That's certainly a… rather 'street' way to look at things." Egg joined in, actively turning around to stare into the crowd.

It was just a buffet of wings and legs and bodies, running around and ducking in and out of shops that lined the streets. There was no way in Equestria he could have spotted someone attempting to not engage with him, so he just did as suggested an made a show out of it.

"Nevermind," Ember said finally. "Maybe I was wrong. I just had a feelin', y'know?"

"Hm. That's fine," Egg replied, continuing the search regardless. "Maybe you did see somepony."

"Excuse me."

"I mean, he might have just ducked into one of these stores, you know?"

"I say, just a moment, sir, if you would?"

"Yeah, I guess, old stallion, but I can't shake this. You know how like, sometimes, you just feel things, like, you know?"

"Just a moment of your time, if I may…"

"What?" Ember yelled, turning his head toward the voice.

"Yes?" Egg said, at the exact same time, also turning to the pony behind him.

The pegasus in front of them deftly plucked two cards from the band of a thin, black necktie and blew them towards Egg and Ember. They span, tiny little flying saucers, landing exactly in their hooves, which instinctively reached out to grab them.

"Thaaank you," Gale said, in a punctuated drawl. The first thing Ember and Egg noticed, looking up from the cards that identified her as Ms. Aubergine Mezzo, reporter for the Cloudsdale Gazette, was her particular way of stretching out her words in rather strange locations. She also had this odd way of speaking as if every word was its own sentence, something that seemed to be a trait of professional reporters and spokesponies.

"Gale A. Mezzo. And I believe you are Mister Eggbeater, are you… not?"

It was Egg's turn to put a leg across Ember's chest. His gaze tightened, and his mind started rumbling. Suddenly, everything seemed to drop in colour, and the situation become one shade more terse than usual.

Her mane was straight as straight could be, not one single strand of her jet black hair out of place. It was dark enough to rival the light whites in Egg's own quiff, and even as it poured around her face in that old-style bowl cut, it was still far more fashionable than the one whom she was talking to.

She had sharp features; and her yellow eyes poured out from behind the deep wine-like reds of her face like a cat; the kind of eyes that hid a far more delirious cunning.

Egg blinked his own, softer yellow eyes right back.

"Eggbeater?" Ember mouthed, brow furrowing intensely.

"Why have you been following us?" Egg asked, directly, ignoring Gale's question.

"Following… you? I don't think I know what you're talking… about." Gale smiled, every tooth shining like the daggers they were.

"I'm not the pony you're looking for," Egg said, turning to sweep away, head ducking down.

A leg blocked his path, stuck out on the pavement in front of him.

"Mister Eggbeater, I've spent… five days tracking you down. All for just a few… questions. I believe you're intimately… familiar with the incident at the Boardwalk last week?"

"I don't know a thing." Egg smiled weakly. "Now if you don't mind, my colleague and I were on our way to get an early lunch. We would appreciate not being held up."

Two wings shot out in a flurry of deep crimsons; one held a notepad tightly within dexterous primaries, and the other pointed out toward it. A single feather stuck out, rather oddly shaven down, clipped, and pointy.

Toward a small attachment to the notebook it flew – a small, covered capsule – that the narrow feather flicked open and plunged itself into.

It then removed itself, covered with ink, flowing instantly to the pages of the notebook to scribble something furiously.

All the while, those burning yellow eyes never left Egg's.

"So, you consider… Mister Emberkite here a colleague?" Gale asked.

"Uh…" Ember droned, suddenly put on the spot, his eyes open and looking around for a prompt that never came. "I uh… I'm not that guy, or nothin'. Y'all got the wrong ponies, and stuff."

"Are you certain? That looks… rather nasty." Gale nodded at Emberkite's wrapped head. "Your colleague is… injured, is he not?"

Egg swiftly pulled the bandage off Ember's head and stuffed it away into his bag.

"Not anymore," Egg said.

"So, who are you then?" Gale asked, eyes narrowing, but still smiling.

"I don't believe that is any of your business, Miss Gale," Egg replied.

"Uh… yeah! Coltdamnit!" Ember shouted suddenly.

"Yes," agreed Egg.

The notebook, clearly there just to make a statement, retreated slowly.

"Well then, it's a shame that you two aren't them," Gale slithered breezily. "I had some information for them that they might find rather interesting. Should they… show up, I might be inclined to share."

"It occurs to me that it is them who has the information for you, Miss Gale, otherwise you wouldn't be so hard-pressed to find them, yes?"

Gale paused. Her tactics were struggling against the stallion. It was the way he stood there, calmly, not missing any beats whatsoever, that unsettled her. For the first time in a long time, she was the one who had to think about what to say next.

"I am… not lying about the information, sir, if one would be inclined to think that I were," she finally offered a plea.

"I'm sure this Eggbeater would be very happy to know that, Miss Gale, but I'm not sure how we can help you."

"What would it take?" Gale asked, her smile finally gone.

"What does Gale want with Eggbeater?"

"Just an interview. I cover all the crime in Cloudsdale. Perhaps you've read my column."

"Perhaps Eggbeater has as well."

"I am… very interested, sir, with these two characters. Let's say I have a personal… stake in their exploits, and I just believe that it would make for a rather good story."

Egg tilted his head, looking down and inhaling slowly.

"Promotion on the line?" He flicked his head back up towards Gale.

Gale didn't answer.

"So. The hot topic of the week, or perhaps the month, is this whole crime fighting nonsense. Your boss offers you a deal. Get the exclusive, and get a nice big bonus. Am I right so far?"

Again, Egg was met with no response but the tightening of her mouth.

"So now you're trying to track this… Eggbeater pony down, get that exclusive, and ah… move up in the world. Rather selfless thing to do. I'm guessing you have the exclusivity contract with you right now in that bag, yes?"

Gale didn't twitch save to blink, covering her eyes with a shield for just that one crucial second.

"I am afraid we cannot help you, Miss Gale," Eggbeater said, with finality, inflating his chest and leaning towards her.

"What the crapping crap…" whispered Ember, to himself. So, this was how these upper-class fogeys fought? He'd been in some tiffs in his time, but this was… something else entirely. This had an intensity to it that couldn't be found by throwing a punch. This was waiting for one of them to say the wrong word, or make the wrong move, to think faster than the other and to understand what the other was saying when they weren't even saying it. This was…

This was…

This was weirding him the buck out.

"I'm sorry to have wasted your time," Gale said, that Cheshire grin coming back as intense as ever. But the steam rising from her haunches made it clear that one of them had won this little argument. "But Mister Eggbeater should… know. I don't give up easily. The story… must be told, sir, whoever you are, and… you might find I will go to great lengths to get it."

"Then, I wish you the best of luck." Egg smiled, as she withdrew her leg to let him pass. "Best look elsewhere for this Eggbeater character."

With the two most amicable nods you could find, the duo left the shaking reporter as they blended back into the crowd and moved on, leaving Gale to be swallowed up by the ponies left behind, just another pebble in a stream.

"What in the hail, what in the freakin' hail, Egg?" Ember wanted to scream, but settled for an infuriated complaint.

"What?" Egg asked.

"What was that? What just happened?"

"Disagreement," Egg said, stepping quickly.

"Disa- what th- but… there was… what did you do?"

"Remember how you mentioned about bringing it all out to have a show of force to warn ponies away through action?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, that was the business version of it," Egg said, sweeping around a corner.

The two of them turned into a side street, a shortcut, something that led them away from the flow of traffic towards another flow of traffic. It was shady here, the tall buildings that bordered them blotting out the sun.

"But… what did she want, anyway?"

"I said as much. She was looking for a promotion and a raise. She wants money. And she's willing to use others to do it."

"How did you know that, anyway?"

"You've read her articles. She isn't above a little exploitation to get what she wants. She's rather smart, though. I think she might be some trouble in the future."

"Well… why doesn't she just lie, then? Just make up a story?"

Egg flashed the business card she left, returning it to his leathery soft sling bag.

"Because now we know where she works. Don't think it'd bode well if the real Egg would show up one day telling her boss that everything she printed was a lie."

Emberkite snorted, smirking at the fact. "She… she made a mistake! She totally made a mistake!"

"Something like that." Egg dismissed the claim. He would have told Ember it would have been just as easy to go up to the publisher's and find out from there, since her name wasn't really hidden by any means, but he decided to let Ember have this little victory. He felt good when he figured things out, and Egg encouraged the exercise of the mind.

"Man, what a busy day!" Ember laughed, his pet-like dance regained. "Although, I gotta say, man. Don't wanna harsh up this mornin', but uh… that feeling I'm gettin'? Still around, old stallion."

"Still?"

"Yeah, I still can't shake it. Like, when we came into this street, there was this character standing at the edge, staring in after us. He disappeared like, instantly after."

"Are you absolutely certain?" Egg quickened his pace.

"I think so, man. I mean, I definitely saw something."

"Was it Gale?"

"Naw. He was like… I dunno. A lighter shade or something. I didn't really get a close look. Just like a flash. Shapes and shadows, man, shapes and shadows."

"Disconcerting," Egg said, as they reached the end of the path and rejoined the rest of the crowd.

"I ain't bothered, though. If he was gonna try anything, he'd have done it by now. Trust me on this one!" Ember trilled happily, not the least bit concerned about something that was actually rather creepy, if one thought about it.

"Well, anyway, we're here," Egg said, turning the corner onto another main street, but one that held a row of boutique-like stores and shops, individual house-sized buildings all lined up in a row. It looked the perfect gallery, a row that lead on to the sunrise dotted with magnificently built structures in very personable décor. Each shop reflected its owner and contents, and all in all, it felt like a road from wonderland.

"I love this street," Egg said. "It's always such a pleasure."

"Man, this place is so… what's the word? Prouffy?"

"I don't think that's a real word, Ember, but I sort of understand what you mean. Don't worry; nothing here is expensive or elite, as they say. It's just rather artistic. Now, there was this new bakery that opened recently – The Aquileos – and I've always been meaning to try it. They say the owner is a gryphon."

"A… gryphon baker? What?"

"Exactly. Quite curious indeed. I thought we might swing by and have a look and a taste. I believe gryphon cuisine is quite…"

The two of them slowed to a bit of a crawl, looking left and right as busy ponies, heads ducked down out of attention, passed them by in a hurry. They all seemed to be fleeing from a certain spot down the road, one which was thick with a foreboding atmosphere.

There were a handful of ponies running away from it, but there was also a crowd gathering around a column of smoke that punctuated the clear, blue skies.

"Busy this morning ain't it?" Ember worded, trying to peer past the crowd. There were two really opposing reactions to the same event. Something terrifying enough to run away from, but also something captivating enough to make ponies stand and watch. What could it possibly have been? Mimes?

But the sea of stunned, scared ponies split for just a moment, and through the parting crowd did Ember get a glance of what was causing the smoke, and the pale light that shone forth from within the wall of ponies matched the paleness that came to his face.

"Egg," Ember said, his voice cracking. "The clouds…"

"I see it," Egg said, taking off without a moment's hesitation. He barrelled down, followed closely by a rather nervous Ember, until the both of them decided to glide along on a small sheet of wind.

They untucked their legs and cantered to a stop, right in front of the building, pushing their way past muttering voices and held breaths.

It was fire.

This was what happened when you let it go. This was what happened when you let it loose. It rose off the ground, hot and demonic, dancing with the whims of the wind, or perhaps, forcing the wind to dance with it.

A pearly white slag.

That's what the building was reduced to.

The fires clung to the walls, eating away at the remaining bits of wood. Holes in the foundation cloud suggested things had fallen through the liquid blobs that the fire turned the floor into, and ultimately, it was a sight that not one single pony there that day had ever seen before.

"The clouds… the clouds are on fire!" Ember yelled. "What the hail is this crap?"

Ember paced in front of the wreckage, refusing to acknowledge or look at it directly. He threw his hooves up to his head, shaking it back and forth. He squeezed his eyes shut, and opened it again, and looked for the one he hoped would have some kind of answer for this madness.

Through the murmuring crowd he saw Egg, standing over a large figure. It was an impressive hulk of a character, covered in fur, feathers, and sporting an impressive beak. Even more so were her talons, which were currently wringing a white piece of whatever to all hell.

He rushed over to join them, still dancing on glass.

"…I see," Egg was heard saying, just as Ember caught up to him. "Please, let us try to understand what's going on here, alright? Do not worry, we'll take care of things."

"T- take care of what?" Ember stuttered, looking down at the gryphon. Her eyes were turned away, her face buried low. Tears had matted the feathers on her face, and her leg was shaking uncontrollably.

"What is even going on here?" Ember asked.

"Emberkite, this is Eternia," Egg said, stepping aside. "Eternia, my colleague, Emberkite."

"Pleasure to meet you," the gryphon said, speaking to the floor. She had a remarkably soft voice for a gryphon. Not that Ember had met many before, but she didn't sound anything like he would have thought.

"Ember, there's been some sort of accident, as it seems. Her shop and her home, that's this building here… has burnt down."

"Clouds don't burn!" Ember shouted, again.

"… yes. We all know that. But this one has."

It was true that a laypony observing Ember might be inclined to call him a bit of an over-reactor. But this was simply a case of perspective. One might mention to an earth pony that a cloud caught fire, and besides a tilt of the head and a look of perplexity, perhaps not much more consideration would be given. But tell the same information to a pegasus, and you might watch a series of chills sweep through the body gradually until feathers stuck up on edge all over like some sort of malformed pincushion, if he were even inclined to believe you in the first place.

This was the reaction given by the majority of the crowd at this very moment.

"I just…" muttered Ember, staring at the shop. The fire, for some reason, wasn't spreading, and when it had done its job of melting expensive carvings and industrial cloud to a squishy mass, it faded and disappeared.

"Miss Eternia?" Egg asked, standing beside Ember.

"Yes?" breathed the gryphon.

"We represent a group who… would like to offer our help to you. We… sort of… do this kind of thing."

"A- are you from the Wonderbolts?" she asked.

"No. We're… a private institution," Egg said, looking at Ember. "We're quite newly formed, but our purpose is to help those who require it. Surely you seem to be a victim of some kind of…"

Egg paused on the word.

"… well… perhaps that's something we'll have to figure out."

"Egg. Egg!" Ember hissed, stamping around. "Can I ask you somethin' real quick?"

"Of course."

"Over there?" Ember shot a hoof out to the distance.

Egg took a quick glance at the gryphon, who was still looking dazed and traumatized. Her entire life. Gone. In a few moments. Poor girl. She certainly wasn't in a good enough frame of mind to be paying attention to the discussions going on around her, and thusly did not react to Ember's rather off-putting comment.

"Fine," Egg sighed, stepping away with Ember.

They pushed through the crowd again – they didn't even mind, being too swept up in the madness of what was happening – until they reached a point where bodies and whispers prevented them from being overheard by the gryphon.

"Look, do we really want to do this?" Ember blurted. "I mean, this isn't what I signed up for, man! Robbers; thieves – that's crime, right? What is this? Is this anything? What are we even gonna do, man? I mean, we really should let the proper ponies work this one out, right?"

"Listen, Ember," Egg said back, impatience on his timbre, "what do you do all of this for? Just answer the question."

"To… to help ponies?"

"So that's what we're doing, right? You hate that ponies get victimized. She's been victimized. By what, we don't know yet. But clearly you can see this isn't natural. So it's our responsibility, as part of what we've both agreed to do, to handle things like this. To find out what's happened, and solve it."

"What are we, detectives or something?"

"If we have to be, yes! It's not all about just ramming into the crimes happening in front of you! Sometimes it's about figuring out where the bigger picture lies! You stop it at the source, and the source is always hidden! You can clip the leaves off a potato for eternity, and they'll always grow back until you dig the potato out!"

"W…"

"What?" Egg asked, annoyed.

"What's a potato?"

"J… just some earth-borne thing, okay? Look, nevermind. Listen, it's just part and parcel of the deal. You get to fly around and stop criminals actively, but we have to do all the other things, too, alright?"

Emberkite sighed, resigned. This was going to be a lot of work and a lot of effort. He knew it. But what else could he do? Alright. Sacrifices had to be made. Nothing is ever easy. Just remember that, Emberkite, and stop being so damn selfi-

"Fine, fine," Ember grumbled. "Whatever, old stallion."

Egg straightened back up, turned and pushed back to Eternia. A quick glance showed that the fire had almost completely extinguished, and nothing more could be done there.

"Alright. Can you fly?" Egg asked of her.

She nodded. Perhaps a bit unsteadily. But they'd be there to guide her.

"Then let's get you sorted out. Come with us back to our base. It's not far."

They landed, roughly, in front of the base. Nothing much had been done in terms of visual improvements since Egg bought it five days ago, and if the gryphon hadn't been a shell of her former self, she might have very well felt there was something quite odd about the whole affair.

But dazed and confused as she was, she followed the duo past the broken door and inside, where they sat her down in the office to rest a spell.

"Hey, Egg," Ember said, standing at the doorway to the room. "You take care of things here, alright? I have something I gotta do."

"What is it?" Egg asked, as Ember quickly departed.

"I'm sick and tired of something!" he yelled back, the front door slamming behind him.

Outside, the warm afternoon air filled his lungs with a brisk energy, and he stood, relieving himself of his brash, youthful annoyance for a while. This morning had been incredibly hectic. Things happened, stuff was going on, it was almost as if the whole thing was planned by some omniscient being to make his life hard. But, whatever.

Out of the three mysteries that happened today, he could solve one of them. Screw the fire. Who cares about this stupid reporter? No. He needed to get that sense of accomplishment back once again. He needed to do something worthy of himself.

And he'd noticed. Oh, he had noticed.

It started as a feeling, then evolved into a glance, but now, he knew. He had been paying attention. He was good for that.

He trotted, fiercely, to the dumpsters across from their base, across the empty street.

The lid flew open.

He dove in with his forelegs, struggling, grasping, a strange mix of limbs and actions flying every which way as he yanked out a small figure, wings beating hard against the restraint.

But he didn't let go. Using his own wings to counter, he slowly forced the pony to the ground, slamming the flailing character up against the dumpster itself, pinning shoulders to aluminium.

The figure stopped struggling after a while.

Fear dripped from eyes, lips trembled.

Ember's lip was quivering too, but for entirely different reasons.

"Why," he growled, flecks of spit hitting the other pony in the face, "have you been following us?"

She had spent three days tracking them down. It wasn't easy, but with the right resources, it wasn't that hard either. And she had resources.

All her life she'd been waiting for this, or at least, that's what she convinced herself, and it all boiled down to what had to be her final test.

What had the book said? Before approaching, understand the situation. Get to know the players, and be comfortable with them before initiating action. To be honest, the Canterlotian book was on negotiation tactics for standoff situations, but she figured the advice was tried and true, and could really apply in a more general sense.

Finding them was the trickiest part. All she knew was what was printed in the newspapers, and you could never trust a newspaper. That was advice passed down from Father, and Father knew everything. She learnt how to pick out the facts from the obscured, and knew which bits were definite and which weren't. So in the end, using simple triangulation based on newspaper reports and a large map of the cluster, she predicted the approximate area where the duo operated.

Criminals tended to operate inside comfort zones. Patterns emerge. When serial crimes of similar nature happen, they spread out from a single point, further and further away each time. She'd placed pins in the map at the Boardwalk, the Grand Coliseum Mall, the Windy Way Foodcourt, the exotic pet shop down Froth Avenue and The Silver Scroll, a rare tomes and collections shop.

She meticulously placed threads between them, taking all the convergence points and using them to plot a circle, within which was the likely operating area of the two.

She had nodded, packing away all her graphs and charts into her Happy Miss Playthings Wonder Chest, a gift from Father, for her birthday ten years ago, that she treasured dearly. It was where she kept all of her secret and precious things.

It was now full of books on crime, criminals, and the behavioural sciences.

There was also a small plush Teddy Ursa with a missing eye. That was a gift from mom.

She'd gone to the area marked on the map – those weird storage-type, warehouse-deal buildings near the Cirrus Shores, and had perched on the very top of a street lamp until they had come out.

She remembered shuddering, her breath flowing over up-turned lips, as she first caught sight of the two of them – unassuming, casual… simply amazing. Well, one of them more so than the other, but, still.

For a moment she questioned if she had the right ponies, but she remembered a few details written in the papers. One of the duo was quite clearly described, and had in fact been in the papers before, but only in a couple of smaller, side columns. It was the recent spate of vigilante justice that made him more pronounced, and the one detail that stuck was that yellow streak in his mane. The other had managed to be so unassuming as to avoid remembrance altogether. Clearly, these were the ones.

And she had followed them all the way to this point, where she was now, hiding amongst the ponies of the main streets of Cloudsdale, watching them as they went along. Observing. Getting information. She'd gather as much data as possible with her one ultimate goal of emulating what she had always wanted to become. She'd learn how to do things.

She nibbled on a hoof, smiling at the overflowing excitement. They were walking and talking and just acting like nothing was going on. But oh, there was fun to be had, surely. They were about to head off to some magnificent, great adventure; saving the world and cleaning up Cloudsdale one tuft at a time.

Maybe now would be a good time to get a bit cl-

The young mare pulled back, jumping into a shop that sold lemon jellies.

They'd stopped. Oh no, they'd stopped.

One had stopped the other, and they were now looking around. Looking for her. Oh no oh no oh no oh no-

Alright, stop. Stop. Don't panic. Don't worry. Don't attract more attention. There are ponies staring at you as you quiver as much as the jellies themselves. You are not a jelly. You are not a jelly.

"I'm not a jelly," she said, squeaking her mantra, attracting even more weird looks. "I'm not a jelly!"

"Are… you alright, miss…?" came the voice of a concerned shopkeeper, whose face she pushed away as she ran back out the door.

No, no, no! They were getting away! Crowds are such terrible places to lose two ponies! You'd never find them again. She recalled that one time when she lost a marble, a precious shiny thing, in a large vat of gemstones, and it took her three hours to get it back. Father was incredibly upset that she spread out all the gemstones all over the dining room floor, and had given her a terrible verbal lashing for it. But, she was young, and she remembered the lesson of not losing things in other things.

She also learnt never to mess with Daddy's gemstones, but that lesson didn't really apply here.

Oh, where were they now? Had they stopped looking for her? Had they seen her? Had they… were they looking for her? Oh no. That's bad.

Wait, why was that bad? They're the good guys, right? So why… but… they wouldn't really be happy about her tailing them, would they? They were pretty rough, weren't they? After all, they sent so many ponies to the hospital to pay for their crimes. That wasn't really nice, she reckoned, but they weren't afraid to get their hooves dirty and that means if they saw her as somepony trying to sneak up on them they might think she's a crim-

The pony clutched her chest, wheezing, eyes bulging out.

Out flung her hoof, which grabbed onto the nearest thing she could find for support, which just happened to be the shoulder of another fine stallion walking by.

"Ack!" he yelped, pulling back and rushing off.

"Oh, oh no… oh…" the young mare fell, leaning up against the wall of a shop. Perhaps this had been a silly idea after all. She'd never done anything like this. She'd rarely even left her house. All these ponies around her, jostling her and bumping her without a single care; suddenly she felt very conscious about the fact that she was outside. Suddenly she felt even more trapped than she felt back at home.

Her breath started to become ragged and rapid as her brain started to pull herself in two directions.

Yes, she could go back home. But she'd made a choice to run away and find her way in the world. She had written a two-weeks' notarized letter to Father, even, explaining her choices and making sure it was stamped and everything. She did it proper. She couldn't turn back on it now.

Or she could stay, following up on what she had declared one day in the shower to be her dream. And she wasn't going to go back on that either.

She hadn't realised how absolutely out of her depth she was.

She coughed, taking in one final breath, and raising her hoof up to straighten the silk straps of the nightgown that wasn't there.

Oh yes, she'd left it behind, hadn't she? Along with all her other worldly possessions. All she took with her was her mind and soul – her wealth of book-knowledge and a slightly tingling passion.

She looked up, her leg slowly falling from her absent neckline.

They were talking to somepony else now. Some odd mare with a very business mane. She recognized it as a business mane immediately – it was short, sharp, extremely neat, and it had a point to it. The point was to say, 'I'm wearing a business mane'.

She hung back, zipping across the road into another shop where she pretended to look at the latest records while keeping an eye on the action.

Curious.

It was how they moved. How they leaned around; how they acted and said things. It was one of the things that she hadn't read in a book or learnt from a tutor, but somehow, those tiny little tics and expressions made so much sense to her. It might have run in her blood, or she might have picked it up from the ponies around her in her daily life, but it was this strange natural ability that she had, being able to put everything into alignment and see the inside of an oyster just by looking at its shell.

And how this character with the business mane was acting was incredibly hostile indeed. It was the way she stood rigidly. It was the way she only turned with her neck rather than her whole body. She was not only angry about something, but also very defensive. She was lying, wasn't she? Not that the young mare knew what about, but that seemed to be the case.

The older of the duo she'd been following suddenly leaned in himself, making the most subtle of challenges.

To the young mare, it lit up like a beacon, and nothing less than the roaring of a manticore was that one small movement, at which the other mare retreated in an instant. Not that she did it outwardly, mind you, but it was the small things. It was the blinking and the way she fluttered. It was that slight turning outward of her front left hoof. It was the discomfort shown by a hundred involuntary movements.

But what was that all about? The young mare hadn't a clue. But it didn't matter. The two of them were moving onwards once more, and this small distraction had made her forget her initial anxiety enough to pursue without thinking.

They were heading down a side street. Quickly now, after them!

Oh god, they saw her again. She knew it. She felt it. She could read it in the ears of the blue one. Even though he was dancing around like at the annual Ciderfest, he knew. Did they see her poking her head around the corner to get a better look?

It was time to take to the skies. That's right. That'd be fine. They were looking for somepony on the ground, right? The skies would be a logical, brilliant place to hide.

Wasn't it?

She flittered her wings, small, unsure, and took off, hovering at a low position, using the buildings to hide herself.

And then she saw it.

And that's when she stopped.

She almost didn't want to believe it. She was actively trying to convince herself that it wasn't happening, but it appeared that a building down there was burning down.

The fireplace in her house never had a gate or shield around it. In fact, it didn't even have bricks for a base or a chimney like the ones down earth-side did. Clouds didn't burn. This was an absolute fact.

But there this one was, melting in front of her.

Already, the two stallions she had been following were racing toward the building, struggling through fleeing ponies and the panicked shrieks of the ones silly enough to stick around.

She remained where she was.

She saw them talking; she saw them arguing; she saw tempers rise as much as the flames were. And she was dying to get in closer for a better look, but it was the whole mix of everything that made her stop and stare and do nothing else.

This was perhaps not what she had expected when she figured that they'd head off to some excitement. This was perhaps something a bit more.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, distractedly, haphazardly, something done out of habit. Everything they were doing was everything she'd expect out of somepony in that situation. All the yelling, and the frantic pacing, and the depressed defeated shoulders that slumped down… they made her feel safe. Secure. Happy in the fact that she wasn't the only one feeling extremely uncomfortable about the whole thing.

But… wait. What was that?

Now, that's odd.

But there wasn't any time to think on it. No. Nearly immediately after, they'd begun to fly, with gryphon in tow.

And she'd follow. Try to find out where they worked, maybe. See what they were doing. Try to figure out how to act in cases like this.

Over skies, over clouds, over buildings, she trailed, too weak to think about hiding and mind too numb to consider that the one in blue looked over his shoulder perhaps one too many times.

She landed behind the building opposite, waiting for them to enter before climbing wearily into the dumpster across the street.

And there, in the darkness, she shut her eyes, the stress of it all swallowing her up.

The next thing she felt were two strong hooves scooping her out, to which she suddenly awoke, lost in panic.

Continued in Part 2

Episode 2-2 :: Poached

"N-n-n- no! Please! Please!" she gasped, screaming at Emberkite. He had his hoof raised, ready to dish out justice.

"Who are you?" he hissed again, shoving the mare, only slightly younger than he was, against the dumpster once again.

A cough escaped from a wincing face, a jolt of pain coursing through her left wing. The sound of it echoed down the empty streets, not a single pony around to bear witness.

"I'm sorry! I'm s- sorry!" she begged, holding her hooves up in front of her face. "Don't hit me! I was just curious! I was just-"

"About what? About us? Who are you working for?"

"Nopony! I'm working for nopony!"

She peeked out from between her legs, and suddenly the hook jerked forward, coursing towards her face. She grimaced, shutting her eyes tightly, but the impact never came. Rather, she squeaked and jumped as a heavy hoof rammed into the dumpster, just next to her ear. It had left a dent. She just knew it.

"You lying? I don't like liars!" Ember yelled in her face.

"Pleaassseee!" she sobbed, sliding down the metal wall, her legs giving up.

Emberkite let her fall. She landed in a heap, shaking, eyes staring at Ember's hooves.

"What's your name?" Ember asked, sternly, but no longer shouting.

"Ch- Champagne," she stammered. "Champagne Satellite."

Ember peered around the side to get a close look at her cutie mark. Three red balls and an orange star were placed firmly on a light pink flank, joined by a hoop of yellow. It didn't mean anything to him.

Her silvery-blue braid told him that he was dealing with some sort of kid with wealth. He'd always noticed that fancy manes meant generous hand-outs back at the boardwalk. She looked very much unlike a pony who would normally be found hanging around in a dumpster, and after his delayed cursory examination, he softened his guard.

"Why were you following us?" Ember asked, stepping back and spreading his wings for show.

Champagne tightened hers.

"I've… I've seen you in the papers," she said, with a rather uppity accent. "I was… just… I thought to learn from your ways."

"Wha?"

"I… I thought to emulate your actions…?" Champagne looked up, slowly and carefully.

"Uhh… you… wanted to be like us?"

Champagne's head bobbled a tiny bit. "Yes… yes I do."

"Right. Kid." Ember rolled his eyes and folded his wings. "Go home, and stop breaking into daddy's liquor cabinet, alright?"

"I.. I have never-!" gasped Champagne.

Ember had to stop himself raising a hoof to his face. "Kid! Just go home! I don't know what you're trying to prove, or who dared you to do this, or who convinced you this was smart, but go home, alright? I had enough of strange idiots dropping in on me today."

"But… oh… but you think… you think this is in pretence!" Champagne uttered, picking herself up off the floor as Ember walked slowly back across the street. "No! No, kind… kind sir, I assure you…"

"Kid, are you some kind of princess or something?" Ember swivelled in place. Now he was just getting annoyed. "'Kind sir'? You wanna spy on us and you don't even know my name?"

"I… I only know what the newspaper has told me, sir," Champagne looked down, guiltily.

Ember paused, rocking his head back and forth as he thought. "So how'd you find us, then? You working with that… uh… Gale mare?"

"G- Gale? Th- the reporter? No, I'm af- afraid I'm not…"

"Then?" Ember stepped closer.

"I…"

The firey mane shook back and forth, exasperated. He made back to the building, pace even faster than before.

"No, wait!" came the voice from behind him. "Please! I mean, I found you from the papers! I just had to plot a graph! A graph!"

"What, like… math?"

"No, not math! Just… maps! Simple triangulation! Anypony could have figured it out, really!" Champagne stepped towards Ember, rushing halfway across the street before skidding to a halt.

Ember was facing her again.

"Not… really my department." He rubbed his temple. "Look, I guess… I guess you're legit, but really. This isn't a game, alright? This isn't some sort of stupid play-house let's pretend bullcrap. You could've gotten hurt. You were about to get hurt! You ain't exactly good at staying unnoticed! And why, in all of Equestria, were you sleeping in a dumpster?"

"I… I was sleepy…" she whined.

Ember threw his leg up, shaking his head furiously. "No. Nope. Not going there. Go away, kid."

With every word her mane drooped a little bit more, until the very tip of it was brushing the floor, kicking up little cloud-clouds.

"I… I can help."

Ember looked up to the heavens, hoping somepony would come down and shut her up.

"How. How can you help. How could you possibly, possibly help? How?" Ember rushed up to the little filly and started rubbing his forehead into hers. "How?"

Her head dipped into her shoulders.

"The fire… I saw who did it," she said.

And then, Ember did the only thing he could to respond to that.

He blinked.

She sat on the cold, hard floor, the thickness of it only compressing slightly under her girth. Gryphons normally had to tread lightly in Cloudsdale, and it was quite a nice feeling to be able to not have to worry about it there in the room.

It was nice enough that it overrode the other disasters that the room bore, like the flickering light and the wonky furniture and the grime all over the walls.

It had been cleaned up somewhat by Egg (mostly) and Ember (sat back and had a drink), during their free time over the past week, but it was still, all in all, an abandoned room in an old, dingy warehouse.

The gryphon felt a bit comfortable, ironically.

"I'm sorry, if you could repeat that for me?" Egg asked, politely.

"Cook-yeh," she said, again, slower this time. "But it's spelt, ah… k-o-e-k-j-e."

She tapped her claws together with every letter, beating them out, returning her talons to a clasp on top of the table immediately after. She seemed to be doing much better than before, lightening up within a half hour of arrival.

"Eternia van der Koekje," Egg said, rolling the full thing around in his mouth. "Very much a gryphon name."

"I am, of course, a gryphon." She smiled, looking down at a flake of varnish on the scratched tabletop. "But, my parents… they could never get their mouths around it. They used to call me 'cookie', which is what I found out my… family name means in gryphon tongue."

She had a rather curiously fun way of pronouncing the word 'cookie', as if it were two sharp sounds separate from each other than a complete word. It was a pleasure to hear it being said with that slight accent. In fact, most of the things she said sounded slightly sharper than normal, as if she was speaking through a mouth kept tightly together, and she said things very slowly and deliberately, much like she were singing a song with each word.

"Ah… your… parents? Didn't know? And didn't explain…?" Egg asked, confused at what Eternia had just said.

"Oh, pardon me! I grew up in Cloudsdale, actually," Cookie said with a slight nod, "to pegasus parents. I was adopted!"

"I see," Egg said, nodding, not giving the subject any more reaction than usual. "But you still have the accent…"

"Oh! That is… just limitations of…" Cookie chuckled, tapping the side of her beak. "I was left here before I was even talking, and… I actually don't speak gryphon. Or, at least, Western gryphon, as my name would suggest."

"They left you a name and left you here?"

"They left me with this." Cookie smiled, holding up a small locket on a chain that hung around her neck. She had to burrow into her feathers to get it out; it was invisible otherwise, underneath her thick plumage. But back into the pit it went, before Egg could get a close look at it. "It had my name, or at least, what was then taken to be my name, on the back."

"Well, Miss Eternia, very nice to meet you."

"Oh, it is my pleasure, Mister Egg. Thank you for the hospitality."

The room fell silent for a while, with Egg standing there, absolutely expressionless, like a statue gone wrong.

"Mister…Egg?" Cookie asked, tilting her head to the side. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," he said, snapping his eyes forward. "Pardon me. I was just thinking."

"About what?" She smiled, a gentle, innocent, harmless smile, that loitered behind a razor-sharp yellow beak.

"Your name is 'Cookie'. You have a rather interesting pattern on your… tuft there." Egg motioned toward Cookie's chest. Upon its otherwise white feathery fan were three odd brown markings that looked exactly like chocolate chips. If gryphons had anything close to a cutie mark, that might be it.

"Yes!" she chittered in delight, clapping her hands together. "Just like a… cookie, no?"

"And you're a baker."

"Oh, yes, yes, very much so. I make quite the biscuit, I have been told!"

Egg thought about Eggbeaters. He didn't have to think much more about it.

"Hm," Egg hummed.

"Although, I suppose… I am one no longer," Cookie said, with a soft sigh. It was a very optimistic sigh, though, the kind that a coach gives after his peewee team loses the baseball game because none of them could hold the bat at the right end.

'Oh well,' he'd say, with a sigh, and perhaps a small shrug, 'maybe next time!'

"You don't seem to be affected by what happened very much," Egg observed.

"Oh, I was in a terrible state!" Cookie declared. "I was quite… quite miserable. I still am rather in a sad way, but… these things happen, yes?"

"No." Egg shook his head. "I'm not sure they do."

"Well."

They stared at each other for a while.

"Who do you represent, Mister Egg?" Cookie asked, innocently, looking up at the room.

"We don't really have a name yet, I suppose," Egg explained. "We're quite new to this business."

"Just the two of you?"

"Yes. For now."

"And your business is…"

"Yes," Egg went on to answer, not waiting for the question. "We will find out who committed this crime against you and your shop, and bring him or her to justice."

"Ah!" Cookie held up a talon. "Just like the… ah… police! Of Canterlot, yes?"

"Yes. Something like that. But please, have no worry. We will do our best to catch whoever did it."

"That is of some comfort, Mister Egg, yes." Cookie nodded, with a rejuvenated smile. "I must admit that I am quite curious, too, as to why this has happened. But what makes you so sure that this was not an accident?"

"Clouds don't burn." Egg shrugged. "It might have been an accident, but that is also our responsibility to figure out. So, one way or the other, you'll have your answer."

"Thank you, Mister Egg! But I am afraid…I… ah…" Her face fell, the first real time during the conversation that she looked genuinely sad. "… I am unable to compensate you for this service."

Egg stood silent for a while, more wheels turning. He hadn't even considered this subject. He hadn't expected someone else to approach it before he had.

"Payment's not necessary."

"Oh, am I to take it that this service… is a kindness?" Cookie's eyes lit up.

"Yes."

"Oh, I am… so much in gratitude!" Cookie cried, standing up on her large rear legs and clasping her hands in front of her as if in prayer.

"Al…right." Egg nodded, eyebrows raising at the sight. "Also, will you have a place to stay?"

"Yes, of course. I can move back in with my parents. It is no trouble. They were quite distraught when I told them I was moving out. They will be happy that I am moving back in."

"Alright. Now. Let's get started. I'd like to ask you a few questions about th-"

A sharp bang on the door caused both of their heads to turn in its direction.

"Hey, old stallion," Ember said, pushing his head around the side of the frame. "I… got a sitch' here. Kinda… weird. I don't really… um… hey there."

Ember blinked at Cookie, who was smiling right at him. Celestia, those gryphons! Freaky-ass beaks and… and…

"Hello," Cookie said. "I am Eternia van der Koekje, but you may call me Cookie."

"Uh…. Egg? Egg!" Ember called out, locking eyes with his team-mate. "Need you out here, man!"

"Alright. I won't be a moment," he told the gryphon, following his partner out of the room.

The door closed behind him, and he came face to face with a pony that looked to be around Ember's age, but… perhaps younger. She was standing there, quite wide-eyed in what could only have been amazement. Her eyes went everywhere in the room, pure concentration on her pursed lips, as if she were studying the warehouse.

"And… who is this?" Egg asked.

"This… right, this is that pony who'd been following us. I was right, old stallion. I told you. I was right!"

"I see." Egg looked past his spectacles at the newcomer. "And why has she been following us?"

"Right, no, wait, listen," Ember said, bumping up against Champagne, who suddenly snapped back to attention, refocusing her gaze on Egg. "I got the skinny, right? This girl's name is Champagne. Champagne something… light, or something."

"Satt'lite," she mumbled.

"Yeah, whatever! Right, so she's been following us because she said she sort of likes what we do, kind of got a bit of a weird thing for it, I guess?"

"I've studied all the books!" Champagne cut in suddenly, lurching forward, desperate to make that impression. "I had them brought up from all the other cities! Fillydelphia! Canterlot! Los Pegasus!"

"Books?"

"On… on crime! I want to be a policepony!" She suddenly made the declaration, much to Egg's muted surprise.

"We… aren't policeponies," Egg said, plainly.

"No, but you are, sir! You are!" Champagne stamped her little hooves, the tempo creating a soft mushy rhythm on the ground. "It does not matter what you call yourselves, but you certainly are!"

Her rapid-fire hoofbeats drew to a slow stop as she cast her face toward the floor. "And I want… I wanted to do it too. So I thought I'd follow you and watch and learn a bit, and then… I don't know."

It took a moment of consideration before Egg turned ruefully towards his partner. "Ember, could you find this young filly's parents, and-"

"No!" she shrieked, causing the other two to wince in pain. "Father said it was acceptable under the terms and conditions I had laid out!"

"Pardon me?"

"And I am not a filly! I'm… I'm a young adult!"

"I… see," Egg said, wiping a fleck of spittle out of his eye. "Ember? What do you think?"

"I dunno, old stallion. She's kinda cute." He grinned from ear to ear. "Full of energy too."

"I am cute and full of energy!"

"Right," Egg replied, sizing up the little creature. "Let's see."

He leaned down, coming face to face with Champagne, staring her right in the eye. He gave the slightest ever tilt of the mouth upward into something that vaguely resembled a smirk, but even that was controlled and precisely to the amount that he needed.

It was the kind of look that a condescending adult gave to a young kid when trying to placate them. But his intention was not one of looking down upon her, no; he had brought himself down to her level in order to ask her a very simple question.

"Why are you here?" Egg asked.

"I… I told you, kind sir," Champagne said, worry crossing her brow. She began to feel a tad uncomfortable at this. There was something about this stallion. "I was following y-you to learn about the trade… the trade…"

"No. I'll ask again. Why are you here?"

He didn't even blink once. All of a sudden it felt like there was more to this simple question. It felt like a test. But it also felt like he was trying to find out something. The other one, the one he had called Ember, was remaining very silent, so this must be something only she could answer, right? Was this… was she supposed to say… what was it that she was supposed to say?

A million answers raced through her mind, but she could only focus on the one single fact that her future would depend greatly on what she said next.

She stared back into Egg's eyes, searching. Searching for a single clue, a single twitch, something that would help. But body language wouldn't help her here, no. This was a simple test of the mind.

It was something that he needed to know. It was something that would also explain her situation. Why was she here? Where was she? In their base. Which meant that this Ember pony had let her in. Which means there was a reason why.

And that reason was both what he needed to know and the reason why she was, currently, allowed to stand inside their base!

"Because I know who started the fire!" she blurted out.

Egg withdrew his head, all too slowly, and nodded to himself.

"Not what I was expecting," he said, finally.

"Yeah, I know, right? Came as a surprise to me, too," Ember chipped in.

"Did… did I pass your test?" Champagne asked, hopefully.

"Test?" Egg repeated. "What test?"

"Wasn't that… a test?" Champagne smiled. "And… I must have passed, right?"

Egg looked at Ember, who gave a small shrug, which was enough for Egg to turn back to Champagne and give her a line that all but wiped the smile off her face.

"Don't think so much," Egg commanded.

Champagne burned red, the light salmon pink of her cheeks racing with blooms of colour.

"Hey, listen," Egg said, placing a hoof on her shoulder.

She turned to stare at it, almost as if it were a tiger that decided to lay a paw on her flank.

"Don't think so much. That's all I'm saying, and now you're thinking too much about that too. Just don't think so much."

Egg removed his hoof.

"But now," he continued, "we have an interesting new development. Champagne here, it was 'Champagne', right? Yes. Champagne here has said that she knows who set the building on fire. I hope you weren't lying. Were you?"

"I…"

"Of course not. And so, Ember, the course of action is clear. I will be taking Miss Champagne here out for a talk, and you will stay here and hold the fort with our dear gryphon guest."

"Aww, man! Do I have to?" Ember grumbled.

"Champagne?" Egg gestured for her to leave the warehouse. "After you."

"W- wait!" Champagne protested, walking towards the door anyway. "W- why are we going out right now? With you? L- like this?"

"Because, Miss Champagne, you wanted a test? Well. My name is Egg. And your test," he said, sweeping her out the entrance, "starts now."

Ember swallowed, trying to drive away the dryness in his throat. His tongue scraped against the roof of his mouth, and wouldn't stay still.

He stared, restlessly, running a hoof against the side of his cheek.

"Hello, my name is Eternia v-" she said, again, smashing the ice with a brick.

"Yeah!" Ember yelled, calming himself down instantly after. He didn't want to come across as rude. "I mean… I know. Cookayeh, right?"

Her head bobbled. "Close enough. Please, though, call me 'Cookie'."

"No, I really… I mean, al- alright, um… Cookie," Emberkite forced it out, just about having given up arguing for today.

I mean, what was this? A gryphon named Cookie? That was just… I mean, no. If you had a Diamond Dog barrelling down upon you, what would you call it? Fluffy Butter McSquashyson? No.

Something was terribly wrong about a gryphon named Cookie.

"Are you… alright?" Cookie asked, watching Ember rub his face roughly with a hoof.

"Yeah! Yeah!" He held his other hoof out, shaking it towards Cookie, as he slumped down in the corner and continued massaging his eyes. "I'm just tired. A lot of weird things happenin' today, alright?"

"Oh yes, I know." Cookie nodded, patiently. "My home was burnt down today, you know."

Ember felt a lead ball slide into the pit of his stomach.

"Look," he said, turning back to the gryphon. "Let's… let's start again, alright?"

"Of course," Cookie said, slightly surprised. "My name is Eterni-"

"No! Noo!" Ember shot up, legs flailing. "No! Look, I'm… I need to get some fresh air. I gotta get out of here for a while. Just… just make yourself at home, ok, lady? Just don't…"

Don't what? Break anything? Hurt yourself? Fight with the other ponies in the building?

Ember let himself trail off, leaving the room and leaving the door open behind him.

He quickly squeezed past the broken door back outside, cradling his bag while muttering about stupid babysitting jobs and dumb gryphons giving him a hard time.

Well, he didn't really want to do the investigation stuff, anyway. It was as boring as all hell. But he sure didn't want to be stuck with taking care of the peanut gallery. This weird-ass gryphon with her calmness and her happiness and her feathers and her sharp, evil claws… it got to Ember. It grated on him, for some reason, and he couldn't really tell why.

Why couldn't he just go on patrol, or something? That's what he did best. That's what they'd been doing for the past five days, and it got them into the papers each and every time! That's what it was about!

Why was he even listening to Egg anyway? He should have said something. He should have voiced his opposition from the start, and-

And…

The dark shadow flew overhead, blocking the sun for a moment or two. Huge clouds billowed out from underneath constantly, like a fog machine gone wrong. On top of the constant clouds was a building. But it wasn't a normal building. No. It was bricks. Glass. Steel. Iron. Earth-borne things. And there it was, floating across the sky on wave after wave of clouds generated from two machines that were attached to the bottom of the whole shebang.

Ember watched the whole thing go until it disappeared out of sight behind the warehouse, his mouth hanging open throughout. He was too tired to close it.

"Hey!" came a voice from above.

Ember turned his head.

"Um…" said the Earth Pony, smiling from the back of a Chariot P-37 type Taxi-cart, "little… little help?"

"So, tell me who did it," Egg requested, as they walked back down the street. They'd flown a little way, but landed back in the same quiet side street that Egg had passed through earlier that day. It was there they stopped, and where Egg decided to have a talk with the enigmatic Champagne Satellite.

"I… um… I guess I don't know, really. Not exactly." She turned her face down, rubbing her hooves together.

She was waiting for the backlash. What she didn't expect was a calm and logical follow-up question to her admission of guilt.

"But you know something. Otherwise you wouldn't try to bargain with the information."

"Oh… um… yes. But it's rather long of an explanation…"

Egg looked on.

"Oh! Of course." Champagne caught up, filling it in herself. "I… um… I can tell what ponies are thinking."

"You… read…. minds?"

"No, no, of course not. I simply meant that… ah… I don't know how to explain it, really. But when I look at a pony, I can… I can sort of tell what they're… um… thinking. So that… that didn't really explain anything, did it?"

Egg shook his head.

"Ah… I don't…" She was thinking too much again.

"Did you learn this from one of your books?" Egg asked, rolling a hoof around in the air.

"No. It was something I was just always able to do. I overhead Father saying to others that I have a skill called… called… um… hyper-kine..si… something, but I don't know what it means. He mentioned it when I was very little."

Whatever Champagne was trying to say didn't ring any bells for Egg, but it seemed official enough.

"How does it work?" Egg asked.

"I dunno."

"Then… how do you do it?"

"I dunno."

"Not helping."

"I really don't- ah! I… Father once said, when I asked him about what my cutie mark meant. He told me… we may observe all the stars in the sky, and each of them moves around in the universe individually. But once we start to see them together, then are the constellations born." Champagne nodded, proud to have remembered at least that much. "Does… does that help?"

"Not really, no." Egg shook his head. "Could you… show me?"

"Yes! Of course!" Champagne bubbled, skipping to the edge of the street that Cookie's bakery used to be on. The two of them looked out upon the crowd, and the rows of shops that lined it. "Um… well… I…"

Her eyes fell upon one of the shops, a 'open store' concept that had a multitude of lifestyle goods laid out on tables in front of the shop itself. It mainly sold artistic bric-a-brac, the kind that served more aesthetics than function. These were the goods that attracted the middle income; they weren't cheap items, but they were still very much 'affordable art'.

A stallion customer picked up a small clock in the shape of a stick of butter and stared at it quizzically. It had a wrapper and everything.

"Th- those three. There." Champagne pointed at the customer and his two shopping compatriots. "That one, with the, uh… butter-clock? He's gonna put it down and leave soon."

"The mare on the far right is going to buy something on the other side of the table," Champagne continued, "and… um… I dunno about the third one. I can't see his wings from here."

"You have to see their wings?"

"Not always, but it helps," Champagne said as she watched the stallion in question shift slightly. "Oh! Ah… yeah, oh. He's with the mare."

They were incredibly bold statements for just having had observed them for a minute or so. In fact, she was oddly specific, too. Egg held his tongue, not willing to ask the burning question until it was either proven or otherwise.

Within a few minutes, the first pony, who had been picking up the butter clock over and over again, had left it on the table and had swept away with the crowd. The second pony, the mare, had travelled back to the other side of the table, and had indeed picked up what looked like a set of rubber pot holders in the shape of wings. As soon as she had entered the shop, the remaining stallion dropped whatever he was looking at immediately and joined her by her side, getting his wallet out to pay.

"Hm," Egg intoned. "How?"

Champagne's eyes had caught it in the minutes that passed. The first stallion had been picking up and putting down the clock over and over, but had never looked upon it for more than a few seconds at a time. It was also always the same item, and never something else. Clearly, he hadn't been shopping or browsing for clocks. And clearly, he was not just interested in that one single clock, because ponies who are trying to make a decision tend to stare a bit more.

If he wasn't looking at the clock itself, then there was only one other reason that he would keep looking at a clock for. He was looking at the time. And if he was looking at the time that much, he was either waiting for somepony or something. And either way, it probably meant he was going to leave.

The mare had positioned her body just so, and just right, and had turned to face things a certain way. No matter where she went to around the large table full of goods, she kept her body slightly tilted in one precise location, at the corner where the pot holders were. She also kept stealing glances up at it in between browsing the other goods. This all told her that the mare was interested in something in that corner, and it wasn't too far of a leap to guess that it was about an object she was excited about purchasing.

The third pony had just been bored, showing classic signs of restlessness, like the shivering of the third secondary coverts in either wing, or the rhythmic shifting of the tail. What had finally tipped Champagne off was a combination of the slight loosening of his jaw, and this rather unobtrusive lean toward the mare, as if he had wanted to say something but withdrew at the very last moment. Champagne would also have been able to tell that he was entirely whipped, if she had known the term.

All this, like the stars, swirled into Champagne's eyes, and caught her attention. But at the moment it all started to make sense, the only things left she could see were the constellations laid out bare in front of her, and no longer did the individual lights exist.

"I really don't know," Champagne said, truthfully. "It just comes to me. I'm sorry."

"Hm," Egg muttered again. "Curious ability."

"Thank you! Father does think so, as well." Champagne grinned happily.

"Who is 'father', by the way?" Egg asked, offhandedly.

"No one," Champagne said, suddenly much quieter and much more lacking in enthusiasm.

"Right. I actually don't really care too much. I just want to know one thing. You said he'd allowed you to do this. Correct?"

"Yes. He did. I wrote a letter, and it was accepted."

"The… oddness of your methodologies aside, you aren't lying to me, are you?" Egg kept watch on the shop. The couple had now left the store with their new purchase. The mare looked rather happy, and the stallion looked the opposite.

"No," Champagne said, solidly, without hesitation. "I am not, sir."

"Right, then!" Egg belted out suddenly, placing a leg on Champagne's shoulder and swinging her out into the street. "We still haven't discussed why you know who burnt down the bakery, and you're going to tell me on the way there."

"Um… Brilliant Cut!" she said, holding out a hoof, and leaning out the side of the cart. The whole thing tipped unsteadily as she did, much to the annoyance of the taxi driver.

"And… what's going on?" Ember asked, not taking her hoof.

"Um… don't know, really! Long story…"

"Hey, meter's runnin', lady!" the driver yelled, gruffly.

"Shhhh! Alright? Shhhhhhhhhh!" Cut withdrew her hoof and held it to her lips. "You'll get paid! I'll give you more, alright? That shop is full of gems! I'll give you one or something! Sheesh! Alright. Where was I?"

She leaned back over the edge of the painted wooden box and draped her front legs over the side.

"Right. So, if you could maybe help me out a bit, I'd be really, really appreciative. You're, like, the first pegasus who's even bothered to stop to talk, you know? Everyone else just runs away."

"Did you say gems?" Ember asked, still a bit dazed.

"Yeah, I did. That's my store, getting away." She pointed. "Well, alright, not my store, it's my boss' store, technically. And I kind of wanna get it back by six, because I don't wanna work overtime."

"Over…time?"

"Yeah, it's just a hassle to fill in the paperwork, and… yeah, I know. I tried just catching it, but there's a bunch of pegasi in there, or something, and they have like, a gun, so…"

"What's a… gun?" Ember asked, scratching his head.

"Oh!" Cut slapped herself in the forehead. "Earth Pony thing. Guess you guys don't really need them up here. It's like… it's a thing you wear on your back, right, and it's like two sticks coming up around the side, and you like, tie a sort of like hammock to some elastic and tie that to the sticks and use it to whip rocks all over the place?"

Brilliant Cut's legs flew everywhere as she tried to describe the thing.

"So…a really large slingshot?" Ember clarified.

"Yeah! A gun! That's what I said!" Cut rolled her eyes.

"Why do they have that, even? You just said they're pegasi, right? We don't…"

"Oh, it's… um… it's mine. It's the store's. We keep one in the back just in case. Oh… oh Celestia, they had better not have been using my stock for ammo. I am going to…"

"Lady!" Ember shouted, snapping her out of it.

"Yeah?"

"A bunch of pegasi with one of these gun things stole your shop?"

"Yeah."

"From?"

"Fillydelphia."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I know, right? It's unbelievable. I almo-"

"No, I meant, 'wow, that's the most normal thing I've heard all day'."

"I can pay you!"

Ember dove back into the base, heart racing, blood soaring through his veins. Now this was more like it! If he couldn't go to the crime, then… maybe the crime just had to fly right over his head. And the allure of some delicious money kicked him into action. But… oh, Celestia. What to do with…

"Mister Emberkite, I did not know that you had-" Cookie said, coming out of the lab on the far end of the building. She'd been exploring.

"No time!" Ember screamed. "No time! No time! Uh… crap! Manure! All of that! Listen, Cookie!"

"Yes, mister Emberkite?" She padded over, watching curiously as the young stallion gyrated on the floor.

"I can't leave you here because then Egg will kill me!"

"And…?"

"Well… what I'm saying is…" Ember huffed.

"What is it?"

"How would you like to help me stop a crime?"

"You saw him?"

"Yes. While I was… um… watching you from afar. I was hovering up there." Champagne motioned to the sky some ways away from the bakery. "I was unable to see his face or his cutie mark clearly. He had a brown coat, though, and I can't remember the mane. I was… a bit distracted by…"

"Yes, I understand."

Champagne had actually stopped them before they had reached the bakery itself, which was now something of a sideshow. Ponies were halting and staring for a while, chatting and contemplating what had happened, before going on their merry way. The little salmon filly was rather insistent on not going too near, for which Egg accommodated by letting them loiter outside a quaint little café.

"Um… I only just caught a glimpse of it, but there was one stallion in the crowd who was acting differently from the others."

"Different how?"

"He wanted to be there."

"But there were plenty of ponies…"

"But they didn't want to be there. They can't help but stop. It's a horrific thing that happened, sir. I still can't understand how it occurred. This brown stallion was… happy to be there. As if he needed to. I also got the impression that he was trying to find something, or look for something, and when he found it he left instantly."

"When was that?"

"When the three of you left for your base, sir."

"He must have panicked when he saw us escorting Miss Eternia away," Egg mused, rubbing his chin with a hoof. His brow furrowed and his mind started ticking again.

"What does that mean, sir?"

"It means that his target might have been Miss Eternia. It's a reasonable response, given the circumstances. Logically, if you were to hang around to watch the store go down, and then bolt suddenly, it means you saw something that shocked you, right? So why would he have been shocked at the sight of the gryphon?"

"Because he didn't expect to see her?"

"That's right. She was supposed to be in her shop. The place was set on fire after opening time. I know this because I was going there to get a bagel. So…"

"Sir, I don't like this very much," Champagne mumbled, sounding a bit more miserable than the seconds before.

"No. It's just a hypothesis. Nothing can be confirmed until we find this pony, which brings me to ask why we're not going near the bakery."

"Um… because criminals return to the scene of the crime, sir."

"What makes you say that?"

"It's… I read about it in one of the books, sir. They said that a criminal who takes pride in his deed always goes back to watch other people. They like the reactions."

"So, which one is it?" Egg lifted his head to look into the crowd, already one step ahead.

"The one on the left, sir. There are three brown ponies in the area right now. Only one of them is actually looking at the crowd and not the building. In fact, he's the only one, brown or otherwise."

"Right. Best we go have a talk with him then, hmm?"

"J- just like that?" Champagne sputtered.

"No, of course not. We're going to bring him back to the base, aren't we?"

"And h- how will we do that?" Champagne asked unconfidently.

"I… have a plan," Egg said, putting his hoof into his bag and taking out a small, familiar bandage.

Three pairs of wings stretched out fully against the late afternoon sun. Eternia was having no trouble at all keeping up with Ember and the taxi. In fact, it was almost lazy in the way she took those broad, wide strokes, swimming through the sky with the lack of rapid wing beats that the pegasi required.

They were heavier, larger, and far more powerful, but yet, the flight of a gryphon was very propelled in the way that it did not take them much effort to keep going in one single direction once they were already moving. They weren't as good with the sharp turns or the sudden stops as pegasi, as a result, and it was just the difference between finesse and raw strength. It was the difference between a jet plane and a helicopter.

The wind kicked up their feathers and blew through their manes, each feather vibrating on the air. Brilliant Cut was having a bit of trouble holding her stomach every time she accidentally looked down. It was lucky she left her sandwich on the sidewalk back in Filly.

How did they even talk like this? The wind was so strong, so powerful that it invaded every one of her senses – from the low rushing hum in her ears to the shallow breaths that she had to make to even catch the air going by. If she had a hat, she wouldn't have had it for long, and her eyes dried out seconds after each forced blink.

She squinted at Ember as he pulled alongside, pointing ahead and mouthing something.

"What?" she yelled, at the top of her lungs, pointing to her ears. "I can't hear you!"

Ember rolled his eyes and spun towards Cookie, who was flying with her arms folded in front of her chest.

"She can't hear a word I'm saying," Ember said.

"Ah yes, it is the fault of the ones not of the sky, yes?" Cookie nodded. "The earth ponies and the unicorns, they aren't able to hear well in wind. It is a curiosity!"

"Yeah, whatever it is. How are we going to talk to her now?"

"Perhaps we could stop, if we needed to converse."

"And her building'll keep going! We can't do starty-stoppy like this! We… you know what we gotta do? We gotta stop the building!"

"We?" Cookie asked.

"Yeah! C'mon! You're a gryphon, right? You're pretty… strong, right? I could use a bit of help!"

"Ah, I am just a humble baker…"

"Yeah but you like, tear stuff up with your hooves, right?"

"They are called… talons. And no, I don't tear-"

"C'mon!" Ember yelled, grabbing onto Cookie's arm and pulling her along. Boy. She was heavy.

The duo zoomed toward the building. They'd been keeping their distance because of this 'gun' thing that Brilliant Cut had spoken of, but if they never approached it, there wasn't going to be any progress. Now was as good a time as any.

A face appeared at the door. It was a pegasus. It looked around for perhaps three seconds, before its eyes suddenly bulged out at the sight of a gryphon charging at them.

It was replaced a moment later by a full body, a pair of sticks poking out of a contraption on his back. This must have been that gun thing, and it looked just as Ember had thought. It was really a large, curved pair of horns that were attached to a saddle that was then tied down onto the back of one of the pegasi. On the other side was a cup, or something, tied onto the horns with cord.

It looked uncomfortable, to be honest, since saddles really didn't go with ponies with wings. But regardless, they were already loading it with some kind of rock, and pulling it back to fire.

The clouds peeling off the bottom of the shop as it trundled along the skies didn't help with visibility, but Ember spotted it just in time to shove Cookie to the side.

"Canopy roll!" he yelled the command, twisting in mid flight and veering out of the way just as a thick, golf-ball sized rock flew past his head.

He turned, and muttered a curse. Cookie had wobbled uncontrollably out of path. Gryphons weren't meant to perform such manoeuvres. But she straightened herself up again, and a little wave told him that she was ok.

A loud, piercing shriek came from a rather angry Brilliant Cut, who was now screeching high murder at the robbers for lobbing precious rocks out the door. She waved her hooves at them threateningly, and Ember pulled back a little to take stock.

"Cookie," he said, swinging in again, but keeping at a range which didn't seem to trigger the thieves into firing that thing of theirs. "Sorry about earlier. Um… but we gotta find a way in there."

"It was no trouble. I was just not expecting it." Cookie smiled. "Yes, perhaps… I have been thinking."

"What?" Ember asked, as the two of them zoomed left and right, trying to prevent the robbers from taking clear aim.

"Cooking equipment… is heavy. So am I too, quite heavy. As a gryphon, I mean. I am not… heavy. Not in that way where-"

"Yeah, you're thin and beautiful, okay? Get on with it!"

"Oh yes. Ah, I had to get the clouds under my… old store reinforced. To make sure that I, and my equipment, would not fall through. I fear they have now, due to the strange fire, and I hope they haven't hurt anyone on the way do-"

"Yes, yes, get to the point! Urgency here, Cookie!"

"Oh! Of course, of course. When the workponies came to reinforce the clouds, they used a device very much like those," she pointed with a clawed finger, to the two machines chugging away at the bottom of the building. "It seems to me that this is what is keeping the building afloat, yes?"

Metal cabinets and stoves and all that sort of thing – even a gryphon – was quite light in comparison to a complete, full earth-borne building. It wouldn't be unreasonable for them to need to use two running continuously. The house was probably slipping down as they spoke, but the generators, working overtime, were just continuously building up new clouds underneath, which meant that all the building was doing was falling through a cloud into another cloud in perpetuity.

"What… what things?" Ember muttered, turning and twisting his head. Right there, at the bottom, were two machines obscured by the fog. They were incredibly hard to see, and only if one were looking rather closely, and for a long time, would they be able to spot them. But it seemed the gryphon didn't have any trouble. "When did you see those? I can barely see them myself!"

"I suppose you could say that I have…eagle eyes?" Cookie laughed, pointing at her face.

"No. Don't go there!"

"I am… sorry. I enjoy… ah… language play very much. It is amusing."

"But we can't just turn them off, the building's just gonna fall and get wrecked and wreck crap!"

"Yes, but perhaps it is also the… method of propulsion?" Cookie pointed again. The exhaust vents of the two machines, each about the size of a wood chipper, were blowing hot, stinky air out the side. Ember could see it clearly – the clouds that sloughed off the base flew away from an invisible whirlwind, and both vents were pointed away from the direction the house was moving.

"Yeah… yeah! That's right. That's gotta be it! Say, you're a pretty… uh…"

"Smart cookie?" Cookie giggled.

"No. No. Stop that, I said!" Ember looked at Cookie with a frown.

This time it was Cookie who pushed Ember out of the way. Or, to be precise, it was a pull – she had gripped him by the back of the neck and yanked him up against her body, as she panned effortlessly away, the extra weight not affecting her at all.

Another rock narrowly missed him by inches.

"Ack! Get… what?" Ember sputtered, face full of down.

Like a paper airplane, Cookie threw Ember out of her grasp, the boost allowing him to slip back into a glide as easy as that.

Brilliant Cut screamed again.

"I do not think she enjoys losing those stones," Cookie observed.

"Yeah, no kidding. Hey, next time warn a guy when you're about to do that, alright?"

"I am sorry, there was no time to do so."

"Whatever! Anyway. That's what we're gonna do. They obviously don't wanna come out and play, so they're not gonna be able to steer. So we're gonna get down there and push those two to face each other, and maybe we can get that building to stand still, yeah?"

"I might propose…"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know of gryphon country? It is a beautiful place, where I am from originally, of course, and it is quite different from these lands of clouds-"

"Will you stop telling stories and just get to the point?"

"Oh, of course! Ah, we have magnificent mountains. Floating mountains. Our sky cities are made of stone and metal. Magic keeps it afloat."

"Really?" Ember asked, finally distracted.

"Yes. It is rather bleak, from the pictures I have seen. But we are a species made for rocks. Everything is rock. We handle it, we use it."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that I have never attempted it before, but I do not believe the pebbles they are firing at us will hurt me. I would offer to provide distraction while you re-orient the generators, yes? And at the same time I am going to attempt to catch the rocks they are firing at us, because the screaming is making my ears hurt."

Ember smacked his lips. He couldn't find any fault in that. Normally, he wouldn't really suggest anypony throw themselves into harm's way just for the sake of it, but… this was a gryphon, wasn't it? That had to stand for something.

"Okay," Ember agreed, recklessly. "Just don't get hurt, alright? If you do, just yell, I'll back off."

"Agreed," Cookie said, calmly, swooping in.

It had taken a bit of preparation, and a bit of finagling, but everything was ready. Slight adjustments were required to overcome two foreseeable issues.

One was that he wasn't completely sure that that brown pony was the true culprit. There was no evidence outside of what was an educated guess at most, and some confirmation was required before he went around knocking ponies out.

The second problem was the crowd.

Egg placed the bitbag in Champagne's hoof.

"You know what to do?" Egg asked again.

"Yes. I've had drama lessons. I should be able to act… accordingly." Champagne nodded. She slung the bitbag around her neck, and grabbed the ice cream cone that Egg had also been holding for her.

Finally, he tucked the cloth bandage behind the strap of the bitbag, and all was ready.

"And… thanks for helping." Egg nodded in appreciation.

"My pleasure, sir." Champagne smiled back, genuinely. This was true blue police work, after all! It was rather exciting, indeed.

She carried the cone, carefully, dancing on three legs between a large crowd, until she reached the pony in brown. Up close, she noticed he wasn't that much of a stallion after all. He was quite young, in fact, maybe around Ember's age, if she had to guess. What a young citizen like him was doing with actions like this… she almost felt sick.

So, it was no trouble at all for her to trip and spill the ice cream right onto his back.

"What the b-" he started, spinning around and raising his leg.

Shaggy mane. Unwashed face. Didn't look like he got much sleep, either. He looked like a pony who didn't care much for outward appearances. He looked rather rough, indeed.

"I'm sorry!" cried Champagne, pulling the cloth out from her strap. She made to move in with it, holding it toward the young punk's back. "Please, if you would just let me…"

"Piss off," the punk growled, snatching the cloth right out of her hooves. He wiped himself up, not really interested in having other ponies touch him.

"Listen, I am… I am ever so sorry," Champagne begged, now offering the bag of bits. "Please, take this as compensation…"

The punk looked at the bag, the cloth hanging from his hooves as he forgot all about it.

"Y' for real?" he asked, smirking suddenly.

"Yes, of course. It is only right," Champagne bowed in forgiveness as well.

The teen snorted. "Can't believe you rich folk. Pay for everythin' with bits. As if that just solved…"

He trailed off, walking away, but the deed was done, and he had taken the bag anyway, despite his complaints. Champagne straightened up again, looking around. Well, since she was already here, and her role was over… perhaps she could give the wreckage just a quick look.

But the punk continued to mutter, as he got away from that crazy rich kid as fast as possible, shaking the bag around with the cloth under it. It jingled heartily. Nice. He looked back up. It was time for him to go, anyway. Maybe he'd come back tomorrow, just to check out the scene a bit more. Maybe he'd-

"Unf," he uttered, running right into a pony who had definitely stepped into his path on purpose. What the heck was going on today?

"Excuse me," Egg said, smiling down at him, casting a shadow on his face.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I know what you did." Egg jerked his head toward the wreck of the building.

His actions told him everything else he needed to know. The kid bolted in an instant. He ran, kicking up tufts and dust as he went. Egg stood there quite calmly amongst the ponies who were gasping and watching the other one run off as if his tail were being chewed on by crabs.

Egg pulled a pebble out from an old green sack. Reeling back, he gave it a generous toss. It sailed through the air and struck the young punk on the back of the head.

"Pardon me," he whispered a soft apology to the ones standing around him.

Ink filled the air in a huge cloud of powder as the bag exploded. Everyone around him jumped back in shock and sudden fright, and a few had flecks of red marring them, but there was nothing that wouldn't wash out.

The punk was caught in the middle of a storm of colour, coughing as it got into his nose and eyes and mouth. His hoof flew up to his face, covering it with the little innocent piece of bandage that Champagne had left for him.

It smelt funny.

"Wh…" he said, his eyelids forcing themselves shut. He stumbled on his weakening legs, and in a magnificent pirouette, he spun around twice before crashing to the floor like a marionette with severed strings.

And there was absolutely no emotion whatsoever on Egg's face as he walked up slowly, and prodded the punk in the face with his hoof.

From behind, Champagne drew up, cantering from the remains of the bakery.

"Thir!" she cried, holding something shiny in her teeth.

"No time. We have to get out of here." Egg rushed her along. "Tell me back at the base. We have to fly this fellow back there before he stirs. Think you can help me carry?"

Champagne nodded, heart fluttering. This was exactly what she had dreamed it would be like. She wondered if the Canterlot Police, the Royal Equestrian Guard, the Fillydelphia Rangers… if they all felt the way she did right now.

It was all rather exciting, indeed.

It was all rather touch and go for a moment there, but he'd finally pushed the two generators into place, watching the shop come to a halt. The clouds being produced were still being produced, so the building wasn't currently plummeting to many random ponies' certain dooms.

All the while he hadn't heard a single chirp from Cookie. One of the only two sounds was the twang of the gun being fired, increasing in frequency as time went on. The other one was the constant cheers of Brilliant Cut as Cookie caught yet another precious bullet.

It hadn't hurt her at all. Gryphon claws were built by the marvel of evolution to be able to stand up to the toughness of metal, let alone pathetic rock, and the leathery pads on her hands weren't even scratched as she yanked stone after stone from the sky.

She dumped them all into the back of the cart.

The taxi driver had long since given up trying to understand what was going on and was only sticking around with the promise of getting gems as payment for this whole tedious mess.

The robbers had since retreated, pulling back into the safety of the shop.

"Oh, these are just waste minerals!" Brilliant Cut lamented, pushing the bunch of rocks left and right across the floor of the cart. "They must have got it out of the bins!"

"Why… why are you so unhappy then?" Ember yelled back. "Isn't it good they weren't throwing your stock all over?"

"Oh… yeah!" Cut lightened up in an instant. "Ha ha."

Ember looked concerned.

"Ah, now that the shop has stopped… what should we do now?" Cookie asked.

The four of them – driver included – were about a hundred meters away from the shop. Both were standing still in air, which allowed for better communication with the shopkeeper.

The generators still chugged away, and the four of them bobbed up and down as they flapped their wings, or sat in a cart, whichever applied.

"Okay, okay!" Ember clapped his hooves together. "Step one is done. Step two is… I dunno. We go in and bust heads, right?"

"Why are you looking at me?" Cookie shrugged, at a loss. "You are the one who is part of this group who helps others, yes?"

"Yeah… yeah!" Ember yelled, getting pumped. "I'm in charge, that's right!"

"Yeah!" agreed Cut, pumping her leg in the air. "Now go get my store back!"

"O…kay." Ember nodded. This Cut pony was odd. "Um… so, we go in, kick their asses and then… return the stolen goods. Right? Right?"

"I do not know, Mister Emberkite. Surely this is your job, yes?" Cookie smiled. "Are you not the only one going… in?"

That hadn't really occurred to the young stallion. For some reason everything that had happened so far had just seemed right. Just for a moment there, he had forgotten that Cookie was another 'client', so to speak.

"Yeah. Yeah," Ember said, once again, but this time with a little bit less enthusiasm. "Right… I guess I'm gonna go in then."

A great noise, a scraping of rock against wood, came from the shop. A large, dark, looming beast appeared at the door as the three pegasi pushed the large mineral vein to bar entry.

It blocked the only way in.

"Oh Celestia, the floors!" Cut screeched. "They… they…"

"What… is that?" Ember pointed to the behemoth. "Why do you have a mountain in your shop?"

"It's not a mountain! There's some nice shiny bismuth in there, alright? Oh Celestia, some nice shiny rainbow bismuth." Her breath shuddered. "And I was supposed to break apart the rock and get all the nice shiny rainbow bismuth out. Just… now they've gone and used it to block the entrance!"

"Why doesn't your store have any windows?" Cookie asked.

"It's… It's Fillydelphian architecture. We squeeze our buildings in a row, alright? Also, we don't want windows so that thieves won't break in!"

"Right. I'm going home," Ember said.

"No! No! Please! More gems. I'll give you more gems. More gems for all! Just please. Please help me."

Ember sighed, looking at the fortress. No windows, the door's blocked…

"Could we break down a wall or go through the floor or som-"

"Noooo! My boss would kill me! I'd never pay off the damages! Just… get through the door!"

"Okay, okay, sheesh! Celestia and Luna, we'll just push the stone ba-"

"Noooooo! The floors!"

"Lady, I'm going to hit you."

"Please," Cookie cut in, laying a hand on Ember's raised leg. "No violence."

Ember looked down at the mass of claws resting on his limb. Then he looked back up.

"Cookie. How hard did you say your claws were again?"

"Well, our talons were made to claw into stone, so I have read, so… I suppose… but this would be the first time I've attempted to break a rock at all, yes?" Cookie replied, flexing her hand muscles.

Ember turned to Brilliant Cut. "You said you were supposed to break that thing down. Blind pony could see you ain't as strong as a gryphon. How do you do it?"

"Hammer and chisel, normally. Hammers are these things Earth ponies use, you see. They're like-"

Ember pushed his hoof into Cut's face. He didn't need this distraction now. His brain was working overtime. He was… thinking of things. He was… planning things. Dear Celestia, was this what it felt like?

"Lady, how would you break that thing down in one blow?" Ember pointed at the rock.

"One blow? No. That's stupid. You're stupid." Brilliant Cut folded her legs. "There's no way. You can't break that entire thing up unless you had…"

She held up her hoof, eyebrows raising in turn. "No, wait. Yes. There's a way. Right. There's a way. But you'd need heat. An incredible amount of heat. Like… a few thousand degrees. and then you'd have to hit it in the exact spot, and if it's weak enough, the whole vein of bismuth inside should essentially shatter."

And then she folded her legs again. "But that's stupid. You're stupid. How are you going to get a torch up here? And you think we have like hours to spend sitting around heating that thing up while those robbers just wait patiently inside? And it's nearly five! Overtimmmeeee!"

"Don’t worry," Ember said, haughtily, staring upward. "I have a plan."

Continued in Part 3

Episode 2-3 :: Poached

Oh, for Luna's sake, what the double hell is he doing? He's just standing there. They're both just standing there. Why are they standing there? He looks… what… what does he look like? I can't bloody tell! Is he sad or confused or what? I… I can't tell! Why won't he say anything? Why won't he respond? Oh crap oh crap oh crap…

The young punk shook his hind legs uncontrollably. He had been pushed into a chair inside this dirty, worn-down room with the bad lighting. He was still a bit groggy, and he had no idea how he got there nor where he was, but he awoke with his face on a table and his ass in a seat. When he came to, the first thing he noticed was those two ponies staring at him.

It was that guy who knew what he did. How the hell did he know? And it was that young filly who gave him…

Oh Luna, it was a trap. Wasn't it? It was a trap. They're some rival gang or something, and now they're going to kill me or pull my legs off or something. Oh, Luna. Why won't they say anything?

His hoof came down hard on the table, but he still couldn't stop shaking through his show of force. "Wh-what do you want with me!"

The stallion licked his lips, looking away, rubbing his chin. He deliberately – it was definitely deliberate! – opened his mouth and took in an incredibly slow breath before saying one single word.

"Name?"

The punk shut his eyes. He wouldn't answer that.

"Alright then. What were you doing at the site of the fire?"

"Nothing!"

"Surely you couldn't be doing nothing, could you?" the drab olive pony asked, blending into the shadows of the room. Why was it so dark in there, anyway?

"I was just looking at the wreck, man! Pony has a right to look at crap, right?"

"He's lying," whispered the girl at the back, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I'm not lying, I was just in the bloody neighbourhood minding my own-"

"He's lying," she repeated. Still whispering.

"I said I'm not-"

"He's lying."

The punk smashed his leg onto the table again, wincing. Whatever they'd used to drug him, it had some odd effects. Everything felt more. His muscles ached and his body tingled with sensitivity. His mind was trying to push through custard. Everything echoed as he thought out loud.

"I… I ain't… damnit, who the hell are you guys?"

"You don't need to know that," Egg said, keeping still. "What you need to know is this. We know what you did. We want to know why."

"I ain't gotta tell you crap, you ass."

Egg looked toward Champagne. She gave a sort of half-shrug, as if to say, yeah, he thinks he's telling the truth.

"He's scared, sir," Champagne added.

"I ain't scared. I ain't scared!" The punk flew into defense.

Egg turned back to the kid across the table.

"So, you're scared."

"I said I ain't-"

The stallion in drab rapped his hoof hard on the floor. The punk jumped. Even Champagne blinked as a bit of a reaction.

"It's okay to be scared. In fact, it's smart to know when to be scared when we need to be. Do you know what causes fear in the first place?"

Egg stepped towards the table.

"It's a defence mechanism. It's your mind telling you that you can't handle what's in front of you. It's your mind telling you to be careful because doing something wrong could cause you to get hurt, or even lose your life. Now, I know that you're scared of me."

The punk swallowed.

"Now ask me if I'm scared of you."

It was a show. It was all a show. It was just a show. Egg picked up this little tip from his friend back at the alley. It was a game. But it was the kind of game that everyone joined in and the point of it was to convince the other players that they weren't playing anything. And only then would you win.

"Don't hurt me, okay? Just… don't hurt me!" The punk pushed himself back from the table, leaping to his hooves and wobbling back up against the wall. "C'mon, man!"

Egg stretched his neck. "Wasn't going to."

"Then what do you want from me, man?" The pony cried.

"I want you to sit down."

The youth stared at the chair as if it were ready to bite him. It was lying flat on the ground; he had knocked it over when he jumped back.

"Pick up the chair and sit down," Egg repeated, stepping closer yet again.

He glared at Egg. This stallion… this old stallion who was just too calm about what was going on. Keeping his eyes trained on him, mind set between hate and fear, he scrabbled with the chair and set it back upright before sliding onto it. He placed both his forelegs on the tabletop, slouching down, sighing inwardly.

But even before he could open his mouth, that girl in the corner read his mind and with a resounding reflection of his upcoming action, she spoke.

"He's ready to talk, sir."

The punk would have been a little bit more upset if he wasn't so utterly defeated.

"Thank you," Egg said, turning around to face Champagne directly. "Could you do me a favour?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Could you please wait outside for the others to return? If they do before I'm done here, let them know what the situation is, and please make sure we're not disturbed before I come out."

Champagne nodded, swiftly moving to the door and leaving the pair in peace.

The punk winced as the door shut, the click of the handle making his head hurt.

"Alright," Egg said, casually strolling up to the table and standing across the young pony. "Go ahead."

"Look, I don't… you're gonna let me go if I tell you, right?"

"Depends on how happy I am with the information."

The punk sighed. It was worth a shot. "Alright, man. Listen. It… it was a test, okay? Just a test."

"A test?"

"Yeah, for initiation, alright? F' Cloudsdale Unity."

"I figured as much," Egg said. He'd never heard of Cloudsdale Unity before. The next few questions would have to be worded very carefully.

"So why this target? Why not any of the others?"

"Hail if I know, man." The punk sniffed, shrugging. He seemed affected by the randomness of it, and Egg didn't need Champagne to see that much. "I just followed instructions, you know? But there ain't too many gryphons up here."

"And these instructions… are they the same as usual?"

"I don't know, man! This was my first time, okay? They don't really talk about these kinds of things, do they?"

"Maybe not to you, it seems."

"I…"

The key was to keep throwing questions to cause him to lose focus. It wouldn't be hard with this one. He was young, inexperienced with basic business negotiation tactics, and, well, he'd been drugged. And although this wasn't exactly a job interview to test his resolve and his concentration, it sure worked well in adaptation.

"You're wasting my time."

"Listen, man, I don't-"

Egg rapped the table. "Come on!"

"I don't know! I don't know, okay?" The punk yelled back, scrunching up his face through gritted teeth. "They just told me to get the stuff from the address and throw it at the bakery! Look!"

He swept into a band on his leg and withdrew a small, torn scrap of paper. The ink had been smudged from the sweat dripping from his body, but certain letters were clear. Egg slid it over to himself. The only thing left upon it that wasn't a smear of blue were the words 'essor Polyc'. Egg's face shot back up.

"It's my contact, okay? He was the one who gave me the stuff, man."

"That's it?" Egg held it up like a wet noodle. "That's all you have? Couldn't even take care of a piece of paper?"

"I don't know man! Please! Just… please!" The kid buried his face in his hooves, gasping for air. "I'm telling you all I know, okay? Please!"

"Who gave you this contact?"

"I don't know! They wore masks!"

"Where did you meet them?"

"I don't know! I was blindfolded when I was brought to the meeting place, man!"

"And this pony? Who was he?" Egg waved the paper around.

"I never saw him either! They don't trust outsiders, man! That's what the… the initiation is for!"

Don't stop. Keep going with the momentum. He's panicking now. Just like in an interview – once unsettled, you start to ask questions that make them admit the things they don't want to say, and hopefully you catch something that you could chase. It's about how to ask the questions that make them fill in the blanks themselves.

"And your initiation, then. How do you think you've done? Huh? You think Unity's happy with your results?"

"I couldn't do it, man!" Small drops of water started to fall from behind his hooves, hitting the table. "I couldn't do it, okay? I know I failed! Crap! They're gonna… they're gonna kill me, aren't they? They're gonna kill me, man!"

Couldn't do it?

Writing flew up into the walls of Egg's mind. He felt himself surrounded by the facts, and he had to work this one out quick. He clearly burnt the bakery down, so he was successful in that. And he kept coming back, right? Champagne had said he was different because he wanted to be there. But why? And why did he leave the second he saw the three of them fly off? Was he scared of seeing Cookie? Or was he there for…

Wait. He postulated earlier that it was a stroke of luck that Cookie escaped. But what if…

"Why couldn't you kill her?" Egg asked.

"Because I couldn't! I don't… I didn't wanna go that far! A building's just a building, man! But I can't… I ain't got nothin' against gryphons! I'm not like them, okay?"

"You waited for her to leave before you burnt the place down."

"Yeah… yeah, man." The kid wiped his face, his eyes burning red.

"And you went back to check that she was okay."

"Yeah. And I saw her being flown away by…"

The punk's head shot up suddenly, staring through blurry eyes at Egg.

"Yeah." Egg nodded. "It was."

"W- who are you, man?"

"Kid, what are you doing with your life?" Egg asked. "Why are you doing things you don't want to do? Look where you are right now. Why don't you just go home?"

"I don't got no home, man!" The youth burst into tears again. "You think it's so colt damn easy? I don't got any choices! I don't got no chances! I don't got no home!"

"And now thanks to you, an innocent gryphon baker doesn't have one either."

There was no response to that. As much as the kid would have liked to rant and rave and scream, there was just no response. He wasn't so far gone to have pulled the excuse of self-preservation out, and all that was left was a skin rapidly losing a soul.

Egg placed a hoof over his mouth while he thought.

"Just kill me now," the child croaked out.

"No," Egg declared. "We're not done yet."

"I've told you everything, man. Everything."

"Not yet you haven't. There's one other thing I need to know."

"What?"

"Tell me about your skills and talents," Egg asked.

"This is your plan? Really?" Brilliant Cut yelled downward. "Really? Really really?"

"Yes! Really! Jeez!" Ember yelled back, cradling his black, grouchy trump card."This is gonna work! Trust me!"

The head-strong young stallion lined the tiny stormcloud up with the rock. It was already at maximum thunder capacity, and all it would take was just a little nudge to get it bolting.

Cookie hovered by the side, playing with her hands nervously.

"I would have to hit the area quite soon after the lightning strikes, yes?" Cookie reconfirmed with Cut.

"Yeah, like… seconds. So… um… yeah. Sounds dangerous. Dangerous, dangerous plan. Why are you doing this again?"

"I just think it is nice to help others out." Cookie shrugged. "I don't think I will be hurt. Timing is rather important in my line of work, yes? And, ah… I have natural resistance to… hot things, yes?"

"Not this hot," Cut mumbled.

"Just about… there! Got it!" Ember yelled up to the pair. He had set the cloud up just next to the entrance. With the criminals barring themselves in, there was no longer any way for them to take pot shots without moving that big stone out of the way, and it didn't seem like they were going to do that anytime soon.

It was a bit disconcerting that their current actions were unknown, though, being hidden behind brick and rock.

But it was all rather quiet. Who knows how they were reacting right now, knowing that there was a gryphon after them? Well, not like she was, really, but still. It was all a matter of perspective.

"Alright," Cookie said, pumping her arm softly, in a mild show of force. "That is my cue, as they say. I shall go for it, yes?"

A hoof lay itself on her arm.

"Really, though," Cut said, looking down at the setup worriedly. "This actually isn't safe. We should think of another way."

"No, it is fine. I am glad to help."

"But… why?" Cut shook her head, not at all understanding the logic.

Perhaps the logic was never meant to be understood.

"They are helping me, with my own problems. You have lost a shop, and I too have lost a shop today. Yours was stolen, and mine had been boiled in some sticky wet goop. Perhaps we could say that… both our stores were… poached?" Cookie giggled inanely.

"What?"

"Well, poaching is both… the act of stealing, and also boiling so-"

"No, no. I mean… why are you so casual about it? You… you really lost your store today?"

Cookie nodded. "Well, actually it melted, but… it was a good joke, yes?"

"Why are you so happy?"

Cookie looked upward, facing the skies above. Most of the clouds were around their altitude, and so all that was left was the undisturbed blues of the rest of the universe. It was past first sunset by now, and the orange rays of Celestia's brilliance crawled through space from below.

She took in a bracing, life-affirming breath, shutting her eyes and steeling herself for what was about to come.

"Because there is no room to be sad," Cookie said, lowering altitude and flying to her ready position a few hundred meters away.

Both Ember and Cut watched her fly, an odd look on Cut's face.

"What were you guys talking about up there?" Ember yelled.

"Nothing! She's ready!" Cut yelled back. "You better get this right, you hear? Don't hurt her!"

"I'm not gonna hurt her! Trust me!" Ember laughed with confidence. Alright. Here we go.

The points had been arranged, and the actions had been discussed. With Brilliant Cut's help, the precise area to strike the rock had been determined, the plan was devised, prepared for, and now all that was left was timing.

Timing. Ember was good at that.

His heart skipped a beat.

Eternia the gryphon was already racing toward the shop at her full speed. She would pass a certain point, and then Ember would start counting down from three. As he reached one, he would raise a hoof, shaky, unstable in his denied fear, and strike the cloud just there. And if all went well, then…

There wasn't even enough time for Ember to replay the scenario one last time in his head.

A bolt ripped the sky apart, something that should never be experienced so close, and a roaring crack of thunder tore through everyone's ears a fraction of a fraction of a second later. That gap in time was also the difference between Cookie surviving and instantly turning to dust.

The light and sound blinded the group, a crucial flaw in the plan that Ember hadn't considered. That wasn't good. He couldn't see, couldn't feel anything except for the cloud spinning under his hooves, and all he heard was a deep buzzing whine in his ears.

While the world turned over and over, the only thought flooding his head was a single word that summed everything up in this situation. A single word that reflected what might have happened, what had happened, and all his hopes and wishes and desperation that Cookie wasn't harmed. It was a word that represented his guilt in not thinking this through.

Crap, he thought. Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap-

Maybe it was his chanting that helped, but the buzzing died down, only to be replaced by the sounds of tinkling. It was a bit like rain, but a bit more metallic.

Ember rubbed his eyes. The world came back.

The large rock had a chasm running down its middle now, pieces of this shimmering, rainbow-like substance cracking off and crumbling to the floor of the shop. A few pieces fell off here and there, but it seemed most of them were sent inwards.

There was no time to appreciate the beauty of the sight of rainbow bismuth – oddly sharp and angular pieces with a iridescent shine – being cast about the place much like the sprinkling of salt as thrown by a god.

Burn marks around the crack showed that the bolt of lightning struck true, and with that alone, Ember's heart slowed by half. But where was Cookie?

Shaking his head, he looked up. The taxi driver was still disoriented and all that was left of Brilliant Cut was an arm hanging loosely over the edge. The rest of her must have been on the floor of the cart itself.

So where was Cookie?

The shop rocked unsteadily, the impact tilting it off-center. It was now sinking much too fast at one of the corners, and it threatened to fall through the clouds.

"Oh crap," Ember wheezed, pushing himself off the cloud and darting for the shop. He felt like a beetle that accidentally flew into a tree; he certainly was flying like one right now. Wobbling left and right, moving far slower than he was used to, the spinning in his head making it hard for him to even stay upright – his only consolation was that the pegasi inside the building may be just as out of it as he was.

He reached the door and peered in, into the darkness, into the gloom, through the curtain of rock and crumbling frame. It was extremely poorly lit; all electricity halting the moment the shop lifted off the ground. There was, however, only one smudge against the otherwise perfect painting of the interior of the shop.

At the rear, just across from the door, something had crashed through the counter, breaking it in half entirely, glass and metal and shreds of wood scattered all around the point of impact. But what had caused the damage was gone.

"Stop there." Came a gruff voice, from Ember's right.

He turned.

And there they were.

The three thieves, donning cloth kerchiefs over their faces, had the gryphon on the floor, where she lay, on her side, propped up on bleeding arms. There was a small patch on her chest that was remarkably darker than the rest of her feathers, but in the darkness, it was hard to make out what it was.

"Stay there, in the light," the first thief said. He was standing in front of Cookie. She wasn't making any attempt to move either.

The other two kept watch as well, one standing off to the side, the gun on his back loaded and ready. The other had pulled it back, and the tension off the elastic bands vibrated, silvery strings of a plucked violin, reflecting what little sun was in the room.

And that was why Cookie wasn't moving.

"Alright, enough is enough," said the thief. "I don't know who you guys are, eh? But we're going to give you one chance to turn around and piss off."

And that was exactly what Ember needed to hear.

He kept rubbing the furious daze out of his head, but his mood was improving at a faster rate than his senses were.

He'd been through all this before, talking with punks on the boardwalk. They all had the same kinds of reactions, and he had them all boiled down to three general types of pony.

The first was the guy who ran instantly. Didn't bother with words. Just ran. He knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was to get away.

The second kind was the sort of fella who gave up instantly. You needn't have to worry much about those kinds either, because they knew when they were beat. Of course, the second sort of fella usually eventually turned into the first sort of fella, so there was that.

But the third kind were the guys who bargained. And that was always a bad decision for them. To Ember, the first two were far more respectable, because you picked a side and you stuck with it. This kind of pony, the ones who hemmed and hawed and delayed, they were the ones who weren't sure.

If they had wanted to shoot him or Cookie, they'd have done it already. If they had wanted to get away badly enough, they wouldn't have had any problems whatsoever making sure that they did. But they didn't. They bargained. They pleaded. They knew that the option of running away was entirely lost to them, and they were trying a different sort of method to leave.

It meant that Ember could have his fun.

Ember strengthened his buckling knees and put on the cockiest smile he could. He laughed, once, stepping forward over the rubble.

"Yeah, okay. One chance." He swaggered towards the head thief, who took a step back, his eyes widening. "I don't really like the deal though."

"Are… are you insane?" the thief yelled, reaching back and pushing his friend, the one with the gun. "Don't you see this? Do you know what I'm going to do?"

"Um…" Ember ducked his head, peering forward. "I don't know. I can't really… see very well. It's kinda dark in here."

"Are you playing with us, man?" the thief shrieked, shuddering in his horseshoes.

He wasn't. He was staring at Cookie. Right at her face. He hoped she understood. He hoped this mockery of the situation was enough for the thieves to let him do this for just a few more moments.

All he saw was that Cookie had the calmest, most serene smile on her face, ever.

Ember leaned over to pick nothing off the ground.

"Stop! Hey!" The thief jumped. "What are you doing?"

The screaming was upsetting his friends. The pony with the gun turned, as well, to face Ember instead of Cookie. The gunner almost didn't catch up, and had only himself started to move a moment after the gun had begun to swivel.

Ember stopped in his tracks, peered up through his mane, and stood back up to full height.

"Nothing. Wasn't doing nothing."

"Get out of here!" The thief yelled. "Don't make me come over there and make you!"

"Oh, or what? Huh? What?" Ember threw his front leg up, waving it rudely at the thief. "You gonna shoot me? With that thing?"

"Yeah, I will! Don't push it, kid, I'm in a good mood today, and I don't wanna-"

Ember cut him off with another bold, brazen move, swinging along the wall and walking slowly across the floor to the thief's left.

He kept his distance, but now, he was a little bit further in, and the robbers had turned enough to place Cookie directly behind them.

"Yeah, well, I ain't! You know how you guys were taking pot-shots at me earlier? Wasn't very nice!" Ember pointed a hoof straight at the thieves. "You could have hurt me! Then what?"

"They were warning shots, kid! Alright? But you're really testing my patience now! I didn't wanna hurt you before, but-"

Ember burst out with a laugh. "Wh… is this your first time or something? This is your first time, isn't it?"

"What…"

Ember kept walking. "Why would you even tell me that? Now I know that you aren't being serious! I actually thought you were trying to kill us back then, you know that? Why would you tell me that you weren't?"

And now, this was it. Even Emberkite hadn't noticed until he took a sneaky glance at her, but Cookie had already propped herself up on her arms and had risen to the classic gryphon 'perch' stance. Maybe it was the fact that she was half eagle and half lion, but by Celestia was she ever a silent mover.

And all that was left was to wait for it. Already, he could see the thief's eyes rotating wildly in his skull. Another mistake of a rookie – he wasn't covering his eyes up. Ember could see exactly where they were and what they were doing, and as they darted back and forth, he could see the uncertainty behind them, and it was just about waiting for that one second… that one second when he turned his head to check with his friends what he should do next…

Ember leapt. He burst from zero to a hundred within the space of the store, and didn't stop when he connected with the other pony's neck, as they both were flung out of the way and into the walls behind.

The gunner started yelling. Something… something with claws and talons and sharp bits was holding him by the rear legs.

Pandemonium and panic struck as the third, the gun himself, started running, headed for the door. All that screaming behind him wasn't helping his mental state any bit.

In the dark and dust, the first thief flew overhead as he, too, attempted to get away, but a bolt from the shadows caught him and slammed him against the ceiling.

The gun realised he wasn't getting anywhere. The elastic was still being pulled taut. The gunner was still holding on for dear life, having released the bullet but hooking onto the rubber with his legs.

The gryphon sat there, a firm grasp on the rear ankles of the pony, his back popping as he too was being stretched out.

The first thief wiped the blood off his lip and staggered to the entrance. All the wind had left his lungs, and he was simply crawling to the light out of instinct. He'd managed to get an elbow in during the last attack, and had shaken off his assailant, if only momentarily.

The gun struggled, feeling himself being dragged back.

"Let… go!" he yelled, back, over his shoulder.

"Okay!" Cookie replied.

The gunner barrelled into the back of the first thief, the two spilling out of the door accompanied by the sound of an awfully crunchy thud.

Now free, the gun ran for the exit as well, diving through. He struggled, the horns of the gun catching on the sides of the rock; the entryway now too narrow for it to pass through. The more he pulled, the more the gun got lodged, until he leaned over and released himself from his constraints and flew off into the distance.

"No!" Ember yelled, scrabbling over the floor and rushing to the doorway. "They're getting away!"

He threw his body against the contraption blocking his path, but it wouldn't give. Again and again he rammed into it, and only until he felt Cookie brush up beside him did he stand aside.

She reached over and pulled, the gun popping out with little resistance.

Ember threw himself out, scanning the city.

They were already gone.

"Thank you… thank you so much, mister Egg. I will… I'll never forget this," the punk said, breathing deeply, face awash with tears.

"Just remember, his name is Survey. Head to the offices, ask to see him, just mention me and he'll take care of the rest. Off you go." Egg nodded at the child, as he smiled and took off down the street.

Egg and Champagne, both standing outside the base, watched him go.

"Was he…?" Egg asked.

"Yes, sir. He wasn't lying. At least, not right now," Champagne asserted. "What did you say to him?"

"Not everypony's going to be as easy to get through to as he was," Egg responded, off topic. "A… facility. Where ponies can be kept…"

"Mister Egg, sir?" Champagne asked.

"Pardon me. Just thinking." Egg cleared his throat. "So, have they returned yet?"

"They're just… coming in now, sir," Champagne said, pointing up at a floating building that was being lowered to the base.

"Ah. We saw that on the way back, didn't we?"

"Yes, sir."

"I thought it was them, you know. I just didn't think it was actually what I thought I saw…turns out I was right about that too, hmm?"

"Yes sir," Champagne echoed, weakly.

"You've been watching them all this while, have you?"

"Yes sir."

"And you didn't go up to join them?"

Champagne responded this time with a very slow shake of her head, eyes a bit wider than normal.

"Fair enough."

The shop was finally lowered to reasonable levels, with the help of Ember and Cookie who assisted with its descent. Despite all the ruckus and the fighting, it, luckily, hadn't fallen through, and was now puffing away in front of Egg's face upon the two generators. It had been tied, rather crudely, to the back of the taxi cart. Due to the fact that the clouds kept it reasonably weightless, it wasn't that hard to move around even for just one pony, although it did take a while to get it started.

"Ember."

"Hey, old stallion." Ember grinned. He was all smiles.

"I thought I told you to take care of our guest, not… whatever this is."

"I was! I did! I mean, but… um… long story. I'll fill you in later, alright? But it was amazing. They got away though, but we managed to get the shop back, at least."

"It was…"

"… stolen. Yeah. That's Brilliant Cut. In the cart. She's the owner."

Ember landed, stretching his back, Cookie touching down beside him.

"Miss Eternia," Egg asked, raising his eyebrows at the blood, "are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, very, very fine, yes?" Cookie hastened to put Egg's worries to rest. "It is just a very small scratch. Feathers… they soak up the blood, yes? It looks much worse than it really is, I assure you. I am in no discomfort, but I would probably need to have a shower."

"Ember, would you show Miss Eternia to the bathroom?" Egg asked. "I trust what she's saying is the truth?"

"Yeah, old stallion," Ember said, dropping a bit of his swagger. "It was… long story. Really. Promise I'll tell you later, alright? But let me go take care of this for her. Everything worked out just fine, old stallion, and you know why? Because I planned crap!"

Egg gave a quizzical look. "Of course. I'll see you later."

The two of them disappeared into the building as Egg turned his attention to the taxi and its passenger.

"So, you're the big boss, huh?" Brilliant Cut waved, a tired smile on her face.

"Yes. Oh, and you are…" He turned to the taxi driver.

"Friend," the taxi driver said, gruffly, in monotone, "I realised a long time ago I ain't a part of all this business right here. I'm just getting' paid to park, alright? Leave me out of it."

"Um… yeah," Brilliant Cut cut back in. "So that's my store. Sort of. I mean, I just work there. But you know. Happened on my shift, so."

"It looks Earth-borne."

"It looks what?"

"Sorry, it looks like it's from ground-side. From earth, that is."

"Oh yeah! Yeah. It's from Filly. Um… some guys found a way to pluck it right outta the ground and get it up here. I hop in a cab and give chase, and I just happened to be passing by here and…"

Champagne stepped closer to the shop while Brilliant Cut filled in the details with Egg. She was listening, sort of, but something else had caught her eye and had drawn her to the middle of the store.

It was nearly obscured by the clouds, but she lifted off and hovered in for an inspection of the edges of the pavement that had been torn in two. There was a rather odd red substance that was left on the underside of the cracks, a strange discolouration that she had seen before.

She prodded it. It didn't feel like anything. It didn't even feel like it was there at all. Even paint left something behind. This didn't.

"And then your friends saved me, I guess," Brilliant Cut concluded.

The store lurched, sending a light sprinkle of assorted stones out the main door.

"Um… keep that. Payment," Cut continued. "You guys really helped me out. So… thanks, or, you know. Stuff."

"Will you be able to make it back yourself?"

"Yeah, I think so. Taxi driver says he's done worse before. And I promised him even more pay, so…"

"Alright. Take care then. If you ever find your shop being stolen again, we'll always be glad to help."

"No problem!"

"Wait!" a voice yelled.

Egg remained silent, stepping aside to let the frantic Champagne fly through.

"Sorry… I'm ever so sorry, but… ma'am, you are a jeweller, correct?" Champagne asked.

"Yeah, I guess I am. What about it?" replied Cut.

"Could you tell me what this is, please?"

Champagne pulled a red gem out of her leg-pouch, showing it to Brilliant Cut. It was a small, processed piece, a sphere with equal cuts etched into its face. It was about the size of a precious, little marble, and it was painted with a strange light, as if the colour was surrounding it rather than being part of the crystal itself.

"I… I don't know," Cut muttered, snatching it up and staring at it quite furiously. "I have never seen something like this before. That glow isn't natural, I can tell you that much. This kind of colour doesn't exist in nature. Not in my years of research and mining and processing have I ever come across this before. Where did you get it?"

"I… um… picked it up somewhere. May I have it back now, please?"

"Can I keep this? I'll pay you for it," Cut offered.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid it's quite important to me," Champagne replied, still holding her hoof out.

Reluctantly, and staring at it curiously for the last time, Brilliant Cut returned the gem back to the little salmon pegasus. "Well, if you ever want to part with it…"

"I promise I'll think of you first, ma'am." Champagne bowed.

"So polite. She's so polite. Isn't she?" Cut smiled, rubbing her head suddenly.

Champagne squeaked, backing off.

"Anyway, I better get going. It's nearly six. So, thanks again, uh… what do you guys call yourselves?"

"I… don't know yet," Egg replied.

"O…kay. Well, thank you, strange group of ponies and one gryphon. Maybe we'll see each other again in the future!"

Goodbyes were said, some more repeatedly than others, but eventually the shop lifted into the sky once again and floated towards the sunset.

It was a sight, indeed, the shop coursing away, against the dark backdrop of the early night. Ember and Cookie had rejoined them by that point, having cleaned as much of Cookie's chest tuft as they could.

It was still seeping slightly, but nowhere as bad as it was before. Cookie was not even giving it any attention, preferring much more to watch the building fly away like some sort of mystical trader out of a fairy tale.

"It's been a long day," Egg said, blinking into the stars, as they winked back at the four of them standing there in the street. "What say we go get some pie?"

The time, according to the clock, was 9:42.

They'd taken their time to rest and talk before heading over, and besides, Egg didn't want to fight with the crowd. Quite conveniently, the last customer for the evening had just left before they arrived.

Egg had insisted that they didn't discuss the details of anything until they had got there to the diner, but didn't give the reasons why.

A TALE OF TWO SHOPS:
THE IMPOSSIBLE MADE POSSIBLE

by Gale A. Mezzo

Emberkite threw the newspaper aside, rolling his eyes. "How is she getting this information so damn quickly?"

"It's a mystery," Egg said. "Or perhaps she's really as invested in this as we are."

"Um… I hear the Cloudsdale Gazette is very efficient," Champagne added.

"In any case, Champagne, if you would?" Egg invited her to begin.

Plates and cups littered the table in front of them, each of them sporting a different dessert. Banoffee Pie for Egg, Cinnamon Apple for Ember, half a Madeline for Champagne, and a lemon tart for Cookie, who pronounced it 'limon tert' in that accent of hers.

They'd made introductions and gone through their stories, explained things in order, and everything fit together in the puzzle that was this one very long day. But having heard it all, Egg had a few final things to cover.

Champagne slid the jewel to the center of the table.

"Pretty," Mocha said, refilling their cups and leaning in from outside of the booth.

"What happened today wasn't a coincidence," Egg said, to the surprised looks of all of them save for himself and Mocha. "Both crimes are tied together."

"What." Ember intoned.

"The only coincidence is that they both happened on the same day. Champagne and I pulled a young… sorry to use the term, but a young punk from the scene of the bakery. He revealed to me a name. Cloudsdale Unity. Anyone ever heard of that?"

Silence met him.

Mocha took a sip from the jug of coffee.

"While we were at the bakery, Champagne found this item." Egg motioned to the jewel, which was still glowing strangely. "And she also noticed, rather spectacularly, a set of red streaks that led away from the item."

"I found it on the floor of the bakery," Champagne said, taking over for a while. "It was… um… like as if somepony had painted streaks of red paint away from it, and the ground was softer where the red was. But it wasn't paint. It was… it was as if the clouds themselves turned red. But only parts of it."

"Thank you, Champagne," Egg said. "Very good work."

Champagne smiled, a small flush upon her cheeks.

"Now, she had also noticed the same sort of thing on the base of the shop from Fillydelphia, where the cracks in the pavement were," Egg continued.

"It was a gem store," Ember pointed out. "Ya thinkin' there's a connection?"

"If it were money they were after, they could have just stolen bits," Egg postulated. "Bits would be a lot easier to carry around than a store-full of gems. So what if they needed the gems for a different purpose?"

"Like what?" Ember asked.

Mocha pointed to the gem on the table, and everyone else looked at him.

"Oh. Yeah. Right." Ember scratched his neck.

"Brilliant Cut said that this colouring wasn't natural. Could it be possible that someone's putting something into these gems and using them to… do something? From the evidence it seems that whatever made the clouds catch fire started from this gem. That same something was strong enough to cut an earth-borne house from its foundation. It's something quite terrible. And quite ferocious."

"Oh!" Ember smacked his hoof against the other. "Oh! I got it!"

"Yes, Ember?"

"I was wondering, right? Why those crooks – the ones that got away? Why didn't they just like, cut a hole in the wall and escape? I mean, it was pretty obvious that they managed to cut the whole house out pretty easily, right? Why couldn't they also just use the same thing to make a break for it?"

"And what conclusion have you come up with, Ember?" Mocha asked, sweetly.

"Because they was scared, yo!" Ember smacked the table, his fork flying off the side and clattering on the floor.

"I'll… get you a new one," Mocha added, swinging away for a moment.

"Scared?"

"Yeah, this thing? If this is the same thing? Made her shop, like that." Ember pointed to Cookie. "If they used this thing in that other shop? What if it made that shop, also like that?"

"Very… eloquent," Egg agreed.

"Look, I'm just sayin', they was scared to use it, alright? There's a reason for that."

"Maybe because the effects of the jewel cannot be contained in a small enclosed space, and they ran the risk of hurting themselves if they had set it off?" Mocha offered, placing a fork in front of Ember.

"Wh- I just said that, lady!"

"Yes, but I said it better." Mocha smiled.

"What it comes down to," Egg said, looking down for a while, "is that there is an organized group, somewhere in Cloudsdale, called Unity, who is, for some unknown intent, making... bombs."

"You say that very calmly, Egg," Mocha said, a tone of seriousness creeping into her voice.

"I am anything but calm," Egg assured her. "Something is happening in Cloudsdale. Something a lot bigger than I thought."

"Which brings me to this rather sordid point." Egg motioned to his companions, who sported rather serious looks themselves.

"Miss Eternia. Something has come to my attention. Where were you going to go after this?"

"I was going to return back home, to my parents."

"Miss Eternia, with all due respect, but you will not."

The gryphon didn't frown. She rarely did. But she settled on a very plain, serious look, which already made her look more intense than most others who carried that same expression.

"May I ask why?"

"The youth I interviewed had also mentioned that this… Cloudsdale Unity is specifically targeting gryphons. I apologize for not mentioning this before, but… I believe now is the best time to approach this subject."

Champagne opened her mouth. She was about to comment on the sudden subtle change in Cookie's attitude. But there came a huge sweeping wave of aura from the gryphon's direction that, when it hit her, was enough to stun her into silence. Suddenly she felt very scared, and she didn't know why.

"I see," Cookie said, softly.

"They already know you. And know where you work and live. If you returned home…"

Cookie blinked, extremely deliberately.

"I am offering you a place to stay, Miss Eternia. With us, until we can get this sorted out and we can assure you and your parent's sa-"

The red patch on her chest spread again, crawling across her feathers like an expanding shadow over the ridges of a chasm.

"Oh my goodness, Miss Eternia!" Mocha yelped.

"O- oh," Cookie muttered, suddenly snapping out of whatever it was she was in. She reached down, prodding the area with a talon. "Oh dear, that… how most unfortunate. I am so, so sorry for the trouble, Miss Leche… how terribly bad mannered…"

"Don't be silly! Let's get you cleaned up!" Mocha said, pulling the gryphon out of her seat and toward the counter.

"What." Ember said again.

"Hm," Egg muttered.

Champagne just kept her mouth agape.

"Well… she's staying with us. No problems, Ember?"

"Naw, man. She's cool. She's got the business. Besides, she's like, super freaking strong. I think she could help us."

"Ember, she's staying as a guest. Please try to remember that. You've already asked her for too much today."

"But she offered!"

"And until she offers to join, we are to treat her as a guest. Understood?"

Ember sighed, shoving his hoof into his cheek as he slumped down. "Yeah, fine. Fine."

"Um…" Champagne muttered. "Maybe I should go. This does not seem like something I am…"

"Champagne, are you interested in this line of work or not?"

"I… am… but…"

"Ember, any objections?"

"Well… I mean, I trust you, old stallion, but still. She appears out of nowhere, suddenly, and comes down and we're just acceptin' her? What about where she's from? Who're your parents?" Ember turned to the child, peering at her through narrow eyelids. "What are you hiding?"

"Ember, perhaps you would like to tell us a bit about your parents?" Egg smiled.

"Yeah, she's cool. No objections." Ember looked away, suddenly.

"I… I passed the test?" Champagne said, too stunned to show excitement.

"What test?" Egg asked, taking a sip of coffee.

"Egg!" Mocha called, from across the diner. "Could use a hoof here!"

"Please excuse me," Egg said, shuffling past and away.

Champagne scratched her head.

It was the rush of the day, the whole journey from start to end, but she sat there, and she had achieved what she had wanted. She was now part of a small, unknown group that found criminals and brought them to justice. But still, sitting around and eating pie and discussing about how the world was going to hell over coffee wasn't really what she had envisioned. But then again, she had no idea what she was supposed to envision otherwise.

She'd have hoped that maybe there was some kind of initiation ceremony or something.

"Not what you expected?" Ember asked, grinning wildly.

"Not really, no," Champagne admitted.

"Yeah, but you got that cool skill, don't you? Like, reading ponies? So tell me, tell me, what am I thinking… right now?" Ember bounced around in his seat.

Champagne looked at him for all of two seconds. "You're thinking that I'm never going to guess what you're thinking."

"Th- wha… tha… impossible!"

Champagne sniffed. It was a good guess.

"Hey, try it on him. C'mon. I've been dying to know," Ember continued, leaning in closer to Champagne and pointing stealthily at Egg. "Him and Mocha. There's something there, right? Right?"

"I… I can't," Champagne said, turning away.

"Aww, c'mon, Champy! Do it for me, aight? New member… sort of deal?"

"I can't," Champagne repeated, looking down at her hooves.

"Why not? Just 'cause he's the boss?"

"Because I can't," Champagne said, looking up and staring Ember right in the eye. "From the first moment I saw him… I haven't been able to tell a single thing outside of what he wants us to know. The things that he deliberately shows us."

"You…"

"Mister Egg…" The two of them turned to watch him as he helped Mocha to hold the soft cotton in place over Cookie's wound, as Champagne whispered, half in reverence and half in fear, "… is unreadable."

Egg blinked.

Cookie blinked back.

"There we go." Mocha pulled back, tapping the floor with a hoof. "That's a proper bandage job, that is. Not the things you keep slapping on Emberkite."

Egg shrugged. "It's suited us well so far."

"Thank you, both of you, for the help, yes," Cookie said, grasping Mocha's hoof gently with her hands and giving it a shake.

"No problem. You know, Egg…"

"No, Mocha. I told you. You stay here and you do what you do. We don't… need a medic."

"I just thought I'd ask. Again."

"I appreciate it, Mocha, but I couldn't. You might get h-"

"So could you," Mocha cut in.

Cookie looked back and forth between the two. Clearly, she was missing something here.

"Miss Eternia, please don't strain yourself for a day or two, alright? And that includes thinking of bad things," Mocha told her.

"I will. It was a simple lapse in judgement. I assure you, it will not happen again, yes?"

"Better go back to your table, Egg. I'll just finish up here and be right over. The children are… staring."

"Yes, I know." Egg nodded, trotting back. "Well then, see you in a bit."

"Miss Leche?" Cookie asked, looking at her bandage. "Could I maybe, ask you for a favour, yes?"

"Of course, Miss Eternia." Mocha lifted her to her feet. "What can I do for you?"

"I have… lost my business. I am a baker, of course, as you know. And I see that you are… alone, here? Would you be, perhaps… hiring?"

Mocha smiled. Her eyes travelled to the clock on the wall. 10:18.

"I would, Miss Eternia," Mocha said, "but Egg needs you more than I do."

"Egg, it's like, one in the morning! What do you want?" Survey yelled.

"Were you… asleep?"

"No?" Survey said, as if that were the stupidest question in the world.

Egg tapped his hoof against the floor. "Right. So."

"Come in." his friend sighed, leaving the door open. "Want a biscuit or a… thing or whatever or something?"

"No, Survey. Thank you though," Egg said, as he strolled into Survey's dark, cold house. It was a tad hard to see, but it was just as Egg always knew it from the multiple times he'd been there. Family photos on the walls, weird odd pieces of furniture lying around… It was as if Survey were some kind of burrowing animal that collected things and left them in piles.

"So, what can I help you with?"

"'Essor polyc'," Egg said. "What do you know?"

"What? Is that… is that Saddle Arabian or something?"

The piece of paper came out. Survey read it, eyes adapted to looking at things in the dark.

"That… this…" Survey said, staring at the paper.

"Found it on a kid who burnt down a bakery today."

"Wait… I just read about that in the papers," Survey said. "You caught the guy who did it?"

"Yes."

"What did you do with him?"

"Ah… he might be contacting you tomorrow," Egg said.

"Wait, y- you… did… what now?"

"I sent him to you. Told him you'd give him a job. Guess he hasn't worked up the nerve to approach you yet. But it should be soon."

"You… you sent… an arsonist to me, to give him a job?"

"Yeah. He's a nice guy."

"Egg…"

"What can you tell me about the paper?"

"I don't know, Egg. Nothing rings a bell. But tell me, this kid, right…"

"Okay. I'll leave this with you. Let me know if you find anything." Egg turned to leave.

"Wait, Egg… this kid. This kid, right?"

"Thanks, Survey. I'll see you soon." Egg closed the door.

Survey stood there, making funny faces at the darkness.

"Egg!" he screamed. "What about the kid?"

Well.

Better have a look at the paper then.

'essor Polyc', it said, the only thing that was readable. The rest had been wiped away, smudged by moisture. There seemed to be quite a fair bit more, too, more than just these two words. In fact, these two words headlined the top of the slip, suggesting that it was some sort of title, or…

Why were these two words so familiar?

Something was nudging Survey at the back of his head. Something a bit itchy.

He wished he had the means to scratch.

But he flapped the paper around in his hoof, thinking, thinking… when his eyes fell upon the other side.

There, etched into the other face of the paper, was something far worse, far more frightening. It was even inscribed in indelible ink, and hadn't rubbed off with the rest of the message.

It was a little drawing of a feather.

Through which someone had drawn a thick red line.

"Ah, crap," Survey said.

Romancing the Clouds

EPISODE 2 :: End

Author's Note

Character Notes:

This is probably just me, but when I wrote Cookie, I always imagined her as being from what would be the equivalent of our northern Europe. So to me, Cookie has that sort of Icelandic/Swedish/Norwegian sort of sound to her voice. To get a picture of what I intended, listen to 'Everything at Once' by Lenka or any interview with Bjork to see what I picture in my mind when I write their dialogue.

But of course, she can sound like whatever you want!

Credits:

Thanks to Martian for the loaner, and for being my creative consultant in the proper use of minerals and rocks. Hope this didn't stray TOO far from the truth!

Episode 3-1 :: Rancheros

There was a field of white, set apart from the rest – a perfect square in both length, width and depth. The huge cube of mist sat, bordered by wood and reinforced cloud, along a path that winded around its glass walls.

The purpose of the mist was so that, while it could manoeuvre within the boundaries of the cube quite freely, it would never gain enough momentum to jump out of the top. Though most of these reasons were not of interest to the average earth pony or unicorn, the differences between cloud and mist were the very key in keeping it in. The wood and reinforced cloud were there to make sure it could never punch through the sides or floor. The glass was so that its viewers could have a great under-cloud perspective as it went around its natural habitat.

The whole thing had been a task to build, indeed, and ran the place quite a lot of money to plan and construct. But they paid up every bit and didn't cut corners, all for one very specific purpose.

It must never escape.

Even with all the warnings placed along the walls of the enclosure, there would always be one or two rather silly pegasi who wouldn't stick to the path and fly up to the edge, only to find that its reach was far longer than they previously assumed. The management had the forethought of not filling the cube up all the way, of course, and there were a few meters of space between you and a poke in the eye.

This was also for the benefit of the keepers, whose daily feeding shows were of much delight. They bought the discarded meat products from the very few gryphon kitchens in town; it was cheap and would have otherwise gone to waste. The creature wasn't picky at all. It ate anything: bones; fur; innards and feathers.

So on that morning, when Keeper Paddock made his way to the enclosure before opening time to throw in the bucket of tasty treats – its delicious pre-breakfast snack – he couldn't help but notice that the treats all settled to the bottom of the tank with no more activity than them settling to the bottom of the tank.

He turned his head to look. And it didn't matter how it happened, or why it happened, but he dropped his bucket and scrabbled for his blowgun – the one loaded with tranquilizer darts that would not be of any use whatsoever in this situation.

He peered down at the walkway, lowering the bamboo shoot, and swung around behind the tank to look at the most horrible sight he had seen in his life.

Leading away from the cube was a tear – as if someone had ripped through the pavement with a ridiculously oversized knife – that lead out of the park, through the back fence, and into the wilderness of Cloudsdale.

Now, the keeper reckoned, would be a good time to retire.

As it was, at 10:39 in the morning, the Banana Blintz Café buzzed with the excitement and anticipation of a great breakfast. Service was casual but very friendly, and despite there being only one member of staff who did everything from cooking to serving to ringing up the bill, everyone's food got there on time and it was always piping hot and freshly cooked.

Coffee poured like rain there, with a free-flow morning special, and the pancakes were absolutely to die for. Since the diner itself was so small, Mocha Leche, owner and proprietor, never had any problems keeping up with the demand, and her clients never minded having to wait that extra few minutes for the best breakfast around.

It was always a mystery where Mocha got her energy and vigour from, and rumours had it that she dipped into the sugar donuts behind the counter, but nothing was ever proven.

She'd been approached, as well, by a number of ponies who all appreciated her odd mane style and her spunky yet ironic attitude, but they were all turned down very politely. This gave way to even more talk, and she'd heard it all. But none of it bothered her, because she knew exactly where she stood.

But of all the hearsay and whispers, there was none more prominent than the mystery of the third booth from the left, which was always empty, and which Mocha would never give to a customer. It was always reserved, and Mocha had always given a very strict face when explaining this, almost as if to say if you ask me again I shall burn you with a hot spoon.

The rumour went on to say that there was one rather catty pegasus who had asked, and she was never heard from again.

But it was one of those things that ponies liked to talk about and never really paid attention to, because clearly, on this morning, the third booth from the left was filled, and two stallions were sitting in it like good little boys, drinking their coffee and eating their pie.

One was banoffee.

The other was rhubarb.

The chatter of the crowds made it easier for the two to speak, ironically, since voices tended to drown out other voices, and all that was left was a universal conglomeration of indistinguishable hubbub.

"It's a sin," the one sitting on the left of the table said, "that these pies have no gravy."

"Gravy? In a rhubarb pie?" the other responded. "I know your tastes are particular, but-"

"Oh, don't start with that. None of your 'Trottinghammers eat weird food' rubbish. We'll not be having that today! You know exactly what I mean."

"Well, perhaps you should speak with management to see if they can't do you a proper savoury vegetable pie, then."

"Won't do it!" Mocha said, swinging past, holding four plates of breakfast special on her outstretched wings. "That is decidedly un-cloudsdale-ian."

"Why is everypony against me?" Survey yelled, throwing his legs up in the air.

"Nopony is against you," Egg explained, taking a sip of coffee. "We're just against your pie."

Mocha swung back, wings empty and clear of burden. "Could do you a fried green tomato, if you'd like."

"I suppose," Survey grumbled. "Ooh, and hash brown and a bit of Canterlot toast, please. That smells right fantastic. And some beans. And some soy strips."

"Cookie gave me her recipe for the toast just three days ago." Mocha smiled at Egg. "She's such a dear. Taught me the secret of how to lock in the dryness of the bread so it doesn't just turn into one large soggy mess. She's very talented."

"Indeed so," Egg said. "Ever since she moved in, she's cooked for us every day, as means of payment. Thanks for lending her your spare equipment, by the way. I'll pay you back for the supplies."

"Don't be silly, Egg. Anything for a fellow chef. And for you, of course."

"Uh… am I missing something?" Survey cut in. "Whereabouts is she cooking for you?"

"You remember that laboratory we found in the warehouse?" Egg turned back to Survey.

"Yeah?"

"It's a kitchen." Egg sipped his coffee.

"A what?"

"It turns out this is something that some restaurants do," Egg elaborated, putting the mug down. "They actually get ingredients mass produced in warehouses like that, in bulk, where it gets packed up and shipped out. Saves preparation time for the kitchen. Cookie never agreed with the idea, she bakes everything fresh. At least, that's what she used to do."

"I still do it," Mocha boasted, nodding enthusiastically. "Everything fresh off the grill!"

"So she's just hanging around in the warehouse, cooking for you?"

"Mostly sweet things and sandwiches and bread, yes. It's all rather good. You should come and try some one day."

"Oh no. No way. No, Egg. You aren't getting me to step one hoof in that building again. If I do you'll never let me off. It'll be 'Survey, why don't you stay? Survey, why don't you quit your job? Survey, why don't you join us?' I'm not even going to start! You know what that is, Egg?"

"Do tell."

"Kidnapping, Egg. You'd be kidnapping me. And that's a crime."

"I'll… just go put in your order, dear," Mocha said, giving a strange piteous look to Survey, before she drew back to her side of the diner.

"So what have you been up to these past few days?" Survey continued, changing the subject himself. "Ever since that whole business with the burning bakery, it's all anypony's been talking about. Of course, I can't say anything about it, because then they'll ask me questions, and then I'll have to talk about you. You're denying me the right to gossip, Egg. This isn't right."

"We've been up to nothing much, honestly. We think these guys we're chasing have gone into hiding. We're not sure what they're planning, but… never did get the chance to tell you what we found, did I?"

"I've been busy, Egg, if you don't remember, thanks to your little stunt with that punk you sent my way."

"Oh, the punk! How is he?"

"He's... not bad, actually." Survey shrugged. "Hard worker. Came to me crying and blubbering, you know that? What did you do to him?"

"Gave him a second chance." Egg busied himself with the pie.

"Well. Anyway. He's only been with the team for a week and already he's showing signs of great initiative. It's almost as if he were meant to be in marketing. He might have a future, you know, if he doesn't set us all on fire."

"Oh, let it go, Survey."

"Let it go? He's still... he still did what he did, you know!"

Egg was silent. From behind him, Mocha watched, carrying her pot of coffee on her wing. He didn't have to turn around. He knew she was there.

"You agree with Survey, don't you?" Egg asked, towards the table.

"I do," Mocha whispered softly, stepping up from behind. "I'm sorry, Egg."

"Nothing to be sorry about. What of it?"

"Second chances are good," Mocha continued, "but what has he done to pay for what he did? He nearly killed an innocent gryphon. He destroyed a shop and a livelihood. And you give him a job as way of thanks?"

"Not thanks," Egg stated.

"Then what?"

Egg thought about it, staring deep into his cup of coffee, as if the answer were swimming amongst the steam and inky darkness.

"Atonement," he said, finally.

Mocha stepped forward, coming into view. Egg still gave his coffee more regard than his companions.

"He could pay for it in many number of ways. But what better way than by giving back to the public? By working for a life, and by doing what all ponies should?" Egg explained. "He's productive now. He'll... help. He'll not forget, and he'll make Cloudsdale better."

"You sound sure of that," Mocha said, sadly. "What gives you the right to judge him better than other offenders?"

Egg blew a wisp of steam off the top of his mug. "What gives me the right to condemn someone's future?"

Throughout the exchange, Survey had been trying very hard to squeeze himself into the corner of the booth, out of the slowly expanding bubble of awkward tension that had grown between Egg and Mocha. The pie, delicious as it was, didn't help. He grunted uncomfortably.

"What is this all about?" Egg asked, rushing the conversation, as his eyes flicked to his cowering friend.

"I'm just scared, Egg," Mocha snapped, shaking her head. "Can't you understand that? What if this punk decides to do it again? You'd have condemned a whole lot more than just one single punk kid."

"He won't. I'm sure of it."

"And if you're wrong?"

"I haven't made a mistake."

Mocha sighed. Was it stubbornness or just... the fact that Egg was never wrong? Either way, it troubled her in a place deep down in her thoughts, a place she couldn't reach by herself. But she needed to trust him. She had to. There was no one else she could rely on to quell her hate for Egg but Egg.

"Alright, Eggy," Mocha said, smiling again, her eyelids opening a little wider. The dark reds under her eyes looked a little more weary than usual, regardless.

"Mmm," Survey cried out suddenly, "This pie is excellent! More, please!"

"Right," Egg said, turning back.

"I'll have your full Trottingham over in a moment," Mocha told him, swinging away.

"What, it worked, didn't it?" Survey exclaimed, shrugging at Egg's look of derision. "Anyway, I don't have that much time left and I needed to talk to you about the note you gave me the other day."

Egg perked up, leaning forward, even going so far as to push the coffee to the side. "Yes, what do you have for me?"

"I... couldn't find out anything."

Egg slid the coffee back.

"No! Wait! I mean, listen. 'essor' is definitely a title, right? But it could be anything. Processor. Oppressor. Supressor. Successor. Aggressor. I was thinking of all the words that could have gone with some sort of gang activity, but I couldn't come up with anything. And then this 'polyc' thing? What is a polyc? Aren't those the things that live in the ocean and sti-"

"Polyps."

"Right, so not those then. I have no idea what a polyc is. Don't you have anything else for me?"

"Unfortunately I don't, Survey."

"Hah."

"What?"

"Hah."

"What's... 'hah'?"

"I got you. I finally got you. Egg, the great and mighty." Survey pointed a hoof at his friend, a wide cocky grin on his face. "You're always one step ahead, aren't you? Well, this time, I'm one step ahead! Of you!"

Egg quirked an eyebrow.

"I couldn't find out anything about the name, and of course I asked the punk about it. But Punky didn't remember anything either. Said he couldn't be bothered with the front because all that mattered was what was on the back. And of course, at that point, I was all 'well, what's on the back, then?' and he was like, 'oh, it's an address, Mister Survey, but I forgot it' and so I went back and looked at the paper again."

"I don't remember seeing anything written on the back myself," Egg said, thinking about it.

"Well, that's right. It was rubbed off too. But from the legband, not the punk's sweaty leg. So I managed to restore it with a little something I like to call lemon juice."

"Something you call lemon juice? What is it actually?"

"Just... just lemon juice."

"So why is it that you call it 'lemon juice'? Isn't lemon juice always called 'lemon juice' by everypony?"

"Shut up, Egg. Lemon juice sometimes reacts with faded ink, right? Sometimes. On the off chance it worked, I just tried it anyway, and it did. I got an address for you."

Survey slid a piece of paper across the table, the way spies do in movies.

"Before you ask, yes, I tried it on the name. It was too smudged. Sort of made things worse, really. Now there's a big lemon-scented blob on the paper. But it's alright. I still remember 'essor polyc'."

"Good work, Survey." Egg picked up the address, looked at it, and tucked it away.

"Yes, it was! And for once, I gave you a lead!" Survey flung both his hooves at Egg. "So, hah!"

"That's why I need you, Survey. Are you sure you won't reconsider joining?"

"Stop it!"

"So, this would be the address where the punk picked up the bombs, right? Could you ask him for more information?"

"I'd love to Egg, but..."

"But?"

"Well, honestly. When I was asking him about the note just yesterday he was... rather troubled by it. You could tell he was affected by the whole experience. He's trying to leave it behind. Couldn't we... just let him be?"

"Aw, Survey, you have a heart," Egg intoned.

"No! Shut your dirty face! He's my employee now, eh? That's your doing. And I have to take care of my employees. D'ya understand? I'm not letting you or anypony else bully my team!"

"Perish the thought," Egg said, sliding twenty-one bits across the table toward Survey.

"What... what's this for?" Survey asked.

"Breakfast. It's on me. Tell Mocha I had to go, alright? I'll be back later. Enjoy your meal, Survey, and rest assured, I'll get back to you when I have more information."

If there was something any group, corporation or society needed, no matter what you called it, it was finance. Money moved in, money moved out – sometimes, in the form of goods and equity – and the ones in charge needed to know how much of what they had at any time.

There always comes a point when the heads of these groups get so much money that they can't be bothered to keep track of it all, and that's when they hired other ponies to track it for them.

Ponies like Egg.

On the way over to the small apartment in the squalid side of town, where all the old, crusty, abandoned flats were, it had crossed Egg's mind that he had no idea what would be in store once he had actually got there. But it was fine. He had the entire flight there to come up with something.

And there was always that one phrase of advice that always cropped up in situations like these.

'Go with what you know'.

And what Egg knew was finance.

He briefly considered taking off his glasses and mussing up his hair, but in the end, he had to go all the way or not at all. And that was the safest way to play the game.

He arrived at the block of flats that lay in an area that had been decommissioned by the Cloudsdale government; all the tenants were moved to much better housing further up-town. The area was slated to be decomposed for recycling of clouds, but no one had really gotten around to it yet – the mark of every good governmental body.

It was now the home of squatters, vagrants, and shady deals.

The flat was unobtrusive. There was a simple door set into a plain landing on the second floor, and just like all Cloudsdale flats, Egg had to fly to get up there. The clouds that made up the graffiti-lined walls of the building were wispy and coming apart at the tuft, and the place had certainly seen better days.

The door was open.

Egg stopped just outside, taking a breath. Any other pony would have steeled themselves and put on a stern, confident face before entering. But this was Egg, so he made do with the face he already had on.

He stepped in.

The gloom wrapped around his head and blinded him for a moment as his eyes got used to the murk. The conditions within were typical of buildings that had fallen to a state of disrepair – the materials that constituted its construction pulled apart into fog which filled the room as a form of haze, dampening the light and making it hard to breathe.

All he could hear was the sound of running water, somewhere in the back, across the floor from where he stood.

But as his eyes adjusted, he was finally able to take stock of the room around him.

Curtains were drawn across the windows, making it even more unnecessarily nebulous. Save for stains on the floor, there was nothing in the room but an incredibly dirty couch tipped over against the wall and a small breadbox-sized wooden crate laying innocently on top of the 4-bit carpet, which was in dire need of a wash.

The water was coming through a doorway that kept its contents a secret, locked behind a lid of shadows.

But it was probably the bathroom.

The water stopped.

Egg froze.

And from within the other room, somepony emerged.

"Hey," the pony in the jacket said as he exited the bathroom, right wing clenched around something obscured by the feathers. With dark eyes hiding under a bandanna, and carefully styled facial hair, the young pegasus looked comically suited to his environment. His cutie mark was slightly obscured by his apparel, but Egg could make out what looked like wagon wheels on fire.

"I think you got the wrong apartment," the pegasus continued, in his raspy voice that had that sort of edge to it that made everything he said sound like a threat. "This one's taken."

"No, I'm sure I have the right one," Egg responded casually, standing his ground.

"Wh... you from Unity?" the gangster shot, unfurling a bit of his wing to reveal the small knife that he had clutched within his primaries.

"Are you?" Egg retorted, turning the harshness of his voice up. "Is it a habit of yours to tell everyone who walks through the door which organization you're affiliated with?

And once again, it was back to business. This stallion in front of him was merely an employee, assigned to do a task that he probably had no investment or interest in. And be it a gang or a large investment firm, it was all the same thing with a different hat on.

And the newbies would always make the same mistakes, no matter who they were. Laying all your cards on the table was one fine example of such, whether in a meeting room or... whatever this was, and Egg pegged the character instantly as a fresh recruit.

That would be the angle of attack.

"Who the hail are you, man?" The gangster flicked his head up at Egg.

Egg made a 'tsk' noise, shaking his head slightly in derision. It was something that was not encouraged in the office space, but he felt that that level of contempt was necessary to communicate toward a rougher cut of pony.

"Listen, I'm very busy. What's the progress report?"

"I asked you a question, man, who a-"

"Put that knife away before you hurt yourself," Egg cut in. There was a kind of voice that was somewhere between a growl and a stern admonishment, where each word was said with a fierce clarity that made it sound like you were being yelled at by a whisper. "I have no time to play games with you right now, and the only reason why you're not already digging your own grave is that I happen to be a little bit more patient with the new recruits than some of my colleagues. But I will tell you this. Keep saying things that make me upset and I'll be glad to hand you a shovel."

There was a moment of stunned silence that radiated off the gangster in waves as he churned the storm of his mind for an appropriate next move. He looked away – a clear sign of being beat – and stashed his knife away in a belt wrapped around his leg.

"Lissen man," he drawled, voice wavering into high caution. "I'm just makin' sure, okay? I only been here a couple months. I don't recognize, you, man."

"For future reference, I am the accountant."

"What?"

"I take care of the money." Egg sniffed, purposefully looking around the room in a mock inspection. "As well as... other assets."

"Well, whatcha doin' here, man?"

Egg took a deep, deliberate breath, as if his time was being wasted. He scratched his brow, walking over to the crate to peer in.

Crystals. Gems. There were about a dozen of them. But these lacked the glow of the one picked up from the bakery. It was, however, a clear indication of something.

"You remember what happened last week, don't you? With the gem shop?"

"Yeah, 'course. Some bunch of clowns thinkin' they're all heroes or somethin' stops the shipment. Guys said they had a gryphon with them, can you believe that manure?"

"Yes. And understandably, the boss isn't too happy about it. I'm here to make sure that... we don't lose more than we should."

"Hey, I ain't stealin' from the boss, alright? I ain't stupid."

"Nice to know you aren't," Egg muttered, moving his head away from the crate.

Clearly, the place had been abandoned recently. It was probably a temporary base of operations for that polyc character – this idiot in front of Egg definitely wasn't him. He was simply assigned to clean up, and he was gathering the remainders of the gems, most likely, from whatever it was they had going on in here.

There was no reason to pursue the small fry. It was better to let them go in order to go after the big catch. The best thing that Egg could do with this stallion was to get as much information as possible and leave with his silence.

"Now, let's make this really simple, alright? I don't want trouble, you don't want trouble. Do you want trouble?"

The gangster shook his head, weary from the presence of his 'superior'.

"Good. So I'm just going to ask a few questions, nothing big, and once we're all done I'm going to leave you alone to finish up. You go back to base, and tell them you did everything just fine, and there were no complications. Sound good?"

"Sounds great, man," the gangster said, unenthusiastically. If anything, he just wanted this to be over, which was good news for Egg – it meant he was less likely to remember the details of the incident. If he ever talked about this later with the other members of Unity, he probably wouldn't be able to give a clear description of what Egg looked like. He was still trying to avoid looking directly at Egg, which was just an added benefit.

"Just to make sure that we're on the same page, tell me." Egg gave the crate a little pat. "Where is this heading off to?"

"Well, the prof's back at the base. So, back to base, right?"

"Right," Egg said. It would be just a little too obvious if he asked where the base was, really, and far too suspicious to hang around and follow the guy back. Walking into a drop point was one thing; waltzing into enemy territory was far from smart. "And the rest of the equipment?"

"Already did that, man. It went out with the professor last night."

"And what about the other gems? You know the ones I'm talking about."

"Nope, there weren't no extra. I searched the equipment and everything, alright? I was careful. She only made what was given out."

Egg raised his head and gave himself a little thought. Curious.

"Is that it, man? Can I get back to work now?" the gangster pleaded.

"Of course you may," Egg told him.

"Cloud-7?" Champagne said, nervously.

"Miss. Freakin' miss!" Ember chortled gleefully, pumping his hoof into the air.

"This isn't fair!" Champagne whined.

"Yeah well, guess what, I'm finally winning. This is what it's like to play an honest game, you little snit."

"Now, now," Cookie said, watching from the side. "Let us not resort to name-calling."

The little row of tokens placed to the side of Champagne's end of the board showed how many pieces she'd lost, compared to the single bird off Ember's.

"Yeah, well, I'm still winning. Who's the king of Battleclouds? I am!" Ember boasted.

"Yes, very much so," Cookie responded, amusedly. "Having to handicap a young girl in order to achieve victory. Surely, this is the pinnacle of your gaming career."

"Hey, it isn't handicapping, alright? It's evening out the playing field."

"This isn't fair!" Champagne yelled again, swinging wildly at the board.

"Mm," Cookie muttered, sniffing the air. "Must not burn the toast. I shall be back."

The gryphon ducked back into the kitchen, busying herself with whatever she had to do in there in preparation for the day's activities.

"By the time you get back, I'll have won this!" Ember shouted.

"No! No you won't!" Champagne retaliated, beating her hooves on the ground.

The front door creaked, opening halfway as Egg pushed himself through the crack. It was the one thing that they still hadn't bothered to fix, despite the warehouse looking more and more like a home than ever before.

It was thanks to Cookie's incredibly headstrong focus in doing anything, and Champagne's burning hatred for anything 'unsightly' that caused the base to finally get clean and organized. They treated it as a project, and over the course of a few hours during which Egg and Ember had gone out on patrol, they were able to shift the base's official status from 'hole' to 'decorated hole'.

The pallet racks had been pushed up against a wall and were given a nice buff and shine. Although they still were the pale green skeletons that they had always been, they were, at least, lacking the dust and cobwebs of before. All of them now were repurposed, and were the primary source of furniture in the base.

The rack near the kitchen was now a storage shelf, holding rows of cooking supplies all stacked up in a row.

There was now a 'locker' next to the entrance, a place where the team could place their personal effects – the middle shelf held a variety of board games that Champagne had brought in, and the darkest corner of the lowest shelf was where Ember's bag made its home.

Standing prominently in the very middle of the main room was their trophy case. All good justice teams had one, Ember insisted. The comics said so. In fact, the Wonderbolts had an entire museum dedicated to it up on the Agora Cluster, next to their headquarters. So why not them?

Of course, the only thing that was on it at the time was an exploded bitbag: it was the very same one they had used to catch the shyster at the boardwalk, and it represented the memory of their first joint victory. It was an amusement at best, but Ember felt oddly proud of it, and Egg decided to humour him. Egg never asked why Ember had it, but he felt some questions were best left unanswered.

There was one final shelf that was left empty and had been placed in a way that blocked the hole in the corner. No one had gone down there because it was dark, and Champagne was scared of the dark, and Cookie had a faint aversion to pigeons.

They were certain there was a nest of pigeons somewhere in there. They could hear them scratching away, evil teeth tearing into the cloudwork and wings beating against their foul nests.

The only place a pigeon belonged, Cookie had said, was on a plate at a gryphon diner, and so they minded their own business and kept the cover to the trapdoor firmly shut.

Even Egg's office had been given a thorough clean, and as he stepped past the two ponies on the floor, he gave Ember a slightly funny look before asking the burning question while on the way back to his desk.

"Why is she blindfolded?" Egg sighed, stopping momentarily to try to understand the deal.

"To give me a chance, old stallion." Ember smirked, wobbling a piece on his side of the board. "Champy keeps cheatin', you know?"

"I do not cheat!" Champagne declared, tearing off her blindfold in a huff and throwing it into Ember's face.

He dodged, deftly.

"Oh yeah? Go on then, show him!" Ember yelled back, sticking out a hoof. "Show him what you do!"

Egg turned his body, shifting from the office to the pair. This was curious enough to get his attention.

Champagne was looking up at him from below, an almost-guilty look on her face, before it scrunched up in mild annoyance and she flipped her hair back at her opponent. "Fine, then!"

She shut her eyes and drew in a breath.

Egg watched. Ember himself was in rapt attention, holding his face extremely still, trying very hard not to show any emotion whatsoever. He was statue-like in his attempt to keep motionless.

But this was Ember.

'Motionless' was not part of his repertoire.

Champagne stared. Curiously, quizzically. Studying. Observing. She opened her mouth to ask a simple question.

"Is there a piece on row one?"

"No," Ember said, almost immediately.

"Is there a piece on row two?"

"Yes," Ember replied.

"Is there a piece on row three?"

Champagne's eyes were burning holes into Ember now. It wasn't a stare, per se, but she kept a lock onto his face and his every twitching nuance, from wings to tail.

"I don't know," Ember replied, shaking his head.

Champagne tilted hers.

"Is the piece on row three on the shore column?"

Ember tightened his face.

"Is the piece on row three on the cloud column?"

"No," Ember replied.

"Are you lying?" Champagne asked.

It was that question. It was always that question. Ember dreaded it. It always came before a fall. It wasn't enough that she was somehow able to tell exactly where things were simply by asking about them, but it was that one final nail in the coffin that rang the loudest and echoed throughout the crypt. She always was polite enough to ask if he was lying.

"N-"

"Cloud-three," Champagne declared, sticking her hoof out.

For a moment there was nothing but the grating sounds of teeth against teeth, as Ember shot out, snatched up the piece and tossed it into Champagne's waiting grasp.

She turned, and smiled, proudly, like a little puppy who did a good trick, toward Egg.

"Huh," Egg said.

"Cheat," Ember reiterated, folding his front legs across his chest.

"Must take long," Egg commented. "You'd have to go through the entire process for each piece."

"Actually, it is faster," came a voice from behind. Cookie had re-emerged from the kitchen noiselessly, and had spoken up with her observation. Despite a few initial shocks, the gang was quite used to her silent running by now, and it now didn't bother them as much that she would suddenly appear in a room without any indication.

"Oh?" asked Egg, still keeping watch on Champagne, who was now parading the piece in front of Ember's face, making it fly around in the air like a little tiny bird.

"If you play in the normal way, you would guess, yes? It is very little time spent on very many moves. In little Champagne's case, it is a lot of time spent on very few moves, yes? In fact – usually only the same number of moves as there are pieces on the board, allowing extra turns for the very few times she is wrong, of course."

"Hm," Egg mused.

"But of course, it all comes down to if you want to spend a lot of time getting something right, or do something many times with the small chance that you will be successful," Cookie continued to patter on. "But I suppose in the end, both ways get you what you want in a world ungoverned by urgency, yes?"

Egg turned slightly. Shifted. He looked back out of the corner of his eye at Cookie, who shrugged, feathers rustling.

"But what do I know?" she brushed herself off, retreating to the kitchen. "I am just a baker, and I must attend to the bread."

The response to that was two taps on the ground as Egg once again gathered up his thoughts and summarized the entire situation. But whatever determinations he came to, he kept to himself, as he finally retreated back to his office for reasons not divulged.

Ember looked at Champagne, a sly, cheeky grin spreading across. By now he'd forgotten about the game; already he was pushing it aside and upsetting the pieces, much to Champagne's chagrin.

"So," he said, cautiously, corners of his mouth turned up.

"What?" Champagne narrowed her eyes, busying herself with chucking all the game pieces into the box.

"You know what I'm about to ask, don't you?"

"Maybe. But I'd prefer to hear it anyway. Mister Egg's been teaching me not to jump to conclusions too much. That's how I accidentally accused the shopkeeper two days ago in that theft case." Champagne sniffed. "I have to use what I can do as a guide and not a law."

"What, that old stallion?" Ember threw a piece into the box. "What does he know?"

"A lot more than you!" Champagne replied, indignant.

"Well, yeah. Maybe." Ember's eyes trailed, ever the cool kid.

Champagne puffed out her cheeks, frowning as she stuffed the board over the pieces and shoved the cover on.

"Anyway, look. I just wanted to know. You come here all the time. You're always doing stuff with us. You're 'training' under the old stallion, or whatever you wanna call it. Why don't you just stay here?"

Champagne turned her back, walking to the shelves that held the games. Her games. She tossed it up, where it landed slightly askew, next to the Cloudopoly set.

"I just... daddy would have problems," she replied, facing the shelves.

"No, he won't. Come on. Lie to me a bit better, won't you? It's always daddy this and daddy that with ya, ain't it?"

"It... it's valid..." Champagne muttered.

"You already said you struck a deal with him, right? In your own crazy little world of yours. So, no. It's not 'daddy would have problems'. It's you. You have problems. What do you have problems with?"

Champagne fidgeted. She turned, swallowing heavily, her eye darting to the grinning Emberkite for just a fraction of a second. She sniffed.

"Oh," Emberkite intoned, flicking his head backwards. As much as Champagne had an incredible ability to read others, she had the incredible weakness of being able to be read just as easily. She wore her emotions on her spats, something which Egg had noticed and pointed out to her many days ago. Even Ember, with his lack of emotional quotient, could tell who Champagne's discomfort was directed towards.

"Look, maybe we got off on the wron-"

The door shut. Maybe it was a good thing, maybe it was a bad thing, but all that was definite was that Ember was cut short thanks to Egg re-emerging into the main floor.

"Champagne?"

"Sir!" She snapped to attention.

"Emberkite?"

"Yeah?"

"Miss Eternia?"

"Yes," Cookie said, from behind them, having positioned herself silently at the entrance to the kitchen an indeterminate time ago.

"We have work to do. Something a little different this time. Something a bit more... general."

"Alright, it's about time," Ember cheered. "Been a bit quiet lately."

"The radio just gave a report of an escaped animal from the zoo."

"Aw, what?"

Champagne glared. Ember quietened.

Egg sighed, and continued. "According to the report, which didn't divulge the nature of the animal, all ponies are asked to stay at home and off the clouds, and not panic. The zoo is 'on it', to coin a phrase, and they hope for the cooperation of the citizens to make sure there are no issues. Thoughts?"

"Do we have to do this every time, old stallion?" Ember complained. He hated this 'analysis' thing Egg kept making them do. It required thinking, and thinking hurt.

"Yes."

"It's just an escaped animal, old stallion, why are you interested in this?" came the first objection.

A small, soft sigh escaped the lips of the little girl behind Ember.

"Champagne?" Egg turned to her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, clearing her throat. "Um... that is, if it wasn't important, they wouldn't have broadcast it. They don't want to... um... make everyone scared so... they don't want to tell everyone what it is?"

"What else? Ember?"

"I guess it's gotta be dangerous, or something. Did you say they said to stay off the clouds?"

"Yes, I had."

"That means it's got something to do with clouds, right? Some kinda... some kinda animal that uses clouds or something? I ain't too good with animals. I couldn't tell you what it was."

"Well spotted, Ember. Champagne, been to the zoo recently?"

"I haven't been there for a while," she admitted. "I don't think I could guess..."

"Alright. Is that it? Then-" Egg started, but was cut off by a rather odd low rumbling coming from his left.

It came from the baker.

It was a cat-like noise, a soft combination of a low purr and a growl. It wasn't one of frustration; there was no evil intent behind it, but it clearly indicated that there was something on the gryphon's mind.

Cookie stopped as all three heads turned to her direction.

She looked as she always did – a slight air of confidence layered over a quiet disposition. She normally kept to herself, and always had during discussions about 'group matters', but today she seemed rather vocal about things.

"If you don't mind, that is," the gryphon whispered with a turn of a claw in the air.

"What are you thinking of?"

"Why did you leave out information in your briefing?"

"Who said I left anything out?"

Ember raised an eyebrow. Champagne ducked her head. The atmosphere was getting a bit terse again.

"Oh, I did not mean to suggest so, Mister Egg. I apologize for the affront, yes? But... I noticed that you neglected to divulge a particular piece of information."

"And what piece of information would that be?"

"Where the animal went, Mister Egg."

"Oh, what? You were hiding information from us, old st-" Ember yelled, only to be stopped short by a hoof held up.

"Wait," said Egg. "Cookie. Continue?"

"Continue with what?" She shrugged.

The room went into silence for a few seconds as Egg and Cookie watched each other, eyes never moving apart. They seemed to be studying each other, but even Champagne couldn't tell; Egg was hard to read and she didn't really know gryphon body language.

Ultimately, Egg was the one who broke the tension with a nod.

"Very well then," he said, turning back to Champagne and Ember. "The two of you. Head down to the zoo and find out what we're dealing with, and find out all the information you can about it. If it's dangerous, as I suspect, we might need to intervene. I don't think it will be anything too problematic, but they don't make radio bulletins like that unless there was something to be worried about."

"Is this really part of the job description?" Ember asked.

"Oh, come on, Ember," Champagne said, under her voice.

"Yes, it is," Egg said out loud. "After you're done, come meet me at Stormhaven Park. That's where they asked everyone to keep away from. I will be there, checking things out and making preparations as necessary."

Champagne huffed.

"Problem?" Egg asked.

"No sir," Champagne replied, squeezing out the door.

Egg turned to look at Emberkite.

"No problem, man," the kid said, drolly, following suit.

"Now, Miss Eternia," Egg asked, once the other two had left. "I understand you had a sort of picnic lunch going on today."

"Yes, I had."

"No. Still on. We need to speak. And what better place for a picnic than a park?"

Continued in Part 2

Episode 3-2 :: Rancheros

"Oh come on!" Ember yelled, flying behind Champagne. "I just... you could have said something!"

The precious salmon-pink pony, flitting on dainty wings, pushed ahead, eyes narrowed against the barrage of wind and words. Her front hooves were folded across her chest as she bobbled along – it was by far not the most aerodynamic of flight postures, but it was definitely one that reflected her wish to be alone.

"Talk to me, girl!" Ember pleaded, darting in and out, back and forth. It was only a few minutes to the zoo, which was thankfully, on the same cloud cluster, but that didn't stop him taking advantage of their time alone.

"No!" Champagne yelled back.

"Look, it's not... it ain't nothin', alright? Just tell me why you don't like me! I'm asking you straight up! I mean, I thought we were cool! We talk, right? Play games and stuff? Come on, what's up, girl?"

Champagne skidded to a stop.

"Stop that!" she snapped. "Stop calling me 'girl', alright? I have a name, one that you can't even remember. That's one of the things that... that really really bother me!"

"I remember your name! I just... I just call ponies things! You know!" Ember threw his hooves up to the skies.

"Oh yeah? What's my name then?"

"Bubbles?" he shot out.

Champagne made a little growl of anger. But coming from her it was more like the squeak of a frustrated chipmunk. She held her hooves out toward Ember's neck. There wasn't much more she had to say.

"No! I mean... look! I know your name, alright? Champagne Satellite! Hailstones, man."

"Then why do you have to pretend you don't know? That's what I don't get about you!"

"I... I just do, alright? Is this really the reason why you hate me?"

The wind swept across the sun, brushing against their faces as they hovered up there, a half kilometer above cloud. The little girl shut her eyes and shook her head.

"Look, I don't hate you, alright? I just... I don't think you're taking all this very seriously."

"O- of course I do. What are you even talking about? Why would I go through all of... everything if I didn't take it seriously?"

"You know, it's a bit difficult for me to believe you saying that!" Champagne raised her voice in exasperation. "Every time I look at you... you know what I see?"

"Yeah, what's that?" Ember said snidely, sliding into the defensive. He didn't like the accusations.

"Somepony who's just enjoying himself in all this nonsense. You're having fun. You always enjoy yourself playing at foolishness, but then when it gets down to doing work you suddenly change into... into a thing that doesn't want to do work!"

"What, you like doing work?"

"I just wonder if you even care, Emberkite! You don't treat me or Mister Egg with respect. You're always questioning everything he says. You're always arguing. You don't even call him by his name! And you know what, all I've been seeing these past few days is someone who's not here for the right reasons!"

"Oh, what gives you the right to say that, little miss mystery?" Ember yelled. "You know what, back in the base, when you said that Egg knows more than me? What gives you the right to say that about me?"

"Because Mister Egg is smart and... and he knows things, and I don't even know why he let you be part of this! How much did you have to beg when you came to h... what?"

She had stopped because Ember had let out a laugh of derision. It was a scoff at what she had just said, but she had no idea what exactly was so amusing.

"Is that what you think happened?"

"What are you talking ab-"

"He found me, Bubblebutt!"

"W- what?"

"Yeah, didn't know that, did you?" Ember's tone took to a mocking timbre. "I've been doing this for two years now. Egg? He's been doing it for a week and a half. Come on, girl. He came after me. Not the other way around. And he was the one who had to do the begging."

"That... that is not true!"

"Hey, you can tell, can't you? Am I lying?" Ember gave her a grin dipped in bitter acid.

Champagne looked downward, the weight of the truth tearing her away.

"Listen. You wanna know the truth? I know you look up to him. So do I, in a way. But you know what your problem is?"

"What?"

"You see a lot 'a things but that's where you stop. First day, I bet you had me pegged in five minutes. One look and I was already set in your head, wasn't I? Didn't even cross your mind to think that maybe I act this way for a reason, did it?"

Champagne remained silent. Obvious questions needed no answer.

"Yeah, so you know what? Just cause I ain't the most well brought up or whatever of ponies don't mean I ain't a good guy too, alright? Just because I don't always act serious don't mean I don't take things seriously. It's about what's on the inside, girl, not on the outside. And you know what? I read that from a book." Ember boasted.

"Then why... why do you argue so much?" Champagne spat out.

"Because someone has to! I mean look. Obviously, we talk different, right? I just say things like it is, and you... talk like... a brat..."

"Hey!"

"... and Egg... well, frankly, Egg scares the crap out of me any time he says anything. But do you think he just wants a bunch of ponies just sitting around nodding and saying yes to him? C'mon. When he came to me he told me one thing. He values my interwishion."

"It's pronounced 'in-too-ishion', you simpleton."

"Whatever! But look, that's the idea. I say things, you say things, he says things. This is how real things work in the clouds, alright? Not in princessland where you live, apparently. I'm just saying stuff from my... opinion, and that's what he wants! If I say things a little different it's just because I'm... I mean, let's just say I didn't have a home growin' up, alright?"

"You're an orphan?" Champagne asked, surprised.

"No! No! The gryphon's an orphan you... stupid... I know who my parents are, alright? I just decided to live... away from them for a while."

"Oh. I... I didn't know. Where-"

"Look, that's enough out of me, alright? I'm not here to give you my life story, girl. I just want you to know two things. Firstly, I'm in it all the way. I got your back, and I hope you got mine. So, are we cool?"

Champagne sighed. Nothing he said was a lie, and it wasn't only just because she could tell. She was quick to judge. She was a product of a much more sheltered upbringing. But she wasn't the kind not to try to change her point of view if necessary. Even if it was for some uncouth brute like this Emberkite pony.

"Fine. I... I don't hate you. Just... it will take some... adjusting. You are the kind of pony whom my father would not... appreciate me being in the company of. I have learnt to make judgements early to keep myself safe. So, I apologize."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too. I'll stop calling you girl, alright? If it really bothers you."

"I guess... yes. Thank you, Emberkite."

"Just call me Ember," Emberkite said.

"Alright, Ember. What was the second thing you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh, right. That I really shouldn't be the reason why you don't want to stay at the base. You can't keep using your dad as a reason for everything, you know."

"Ah, but... I wasn't lying. I... have a complicated relationship with father."

"Wait... what? But... then... why were you looking at me like that?"

Although guilty, the edges of Champagne's mouth turned up slightly as she smiled.

"I just really, really dislike you," she said, swinging around and flying off toward their destination.

"Wow," Ember said to himself, watching her go, eyes fixed to her tail. "Progress, I think."

The park was on the other side of the cluster from the base, at the edge of the megalomaniacal buildings that lined the business district. It had been constructed to ease some of the tension from the workers, but was most commonly frequented by the ponies coming off the Cirrus Shores and looking for a place to relax amongst some carvings.

Like all parks in Cloudsdale, this one was remarkably white. Everything was made out of shaped and carved cloud – there were specialised artisans who did it – and fittings were installed just like in every other park. In later years, the parks had been modified to mimic the ones Groundside, with carvings of trees that never died and bushes that never wilted.

The detail on some of them was fantastic, but of course, the problem was the colour; something they got around through the use of poles with filters stuck on them. Large beams held up tinted lenses; when the sunlight passed through them, they imparted their colour upon whatever the light hit.

It was a start.

The park, grand in its size, was also home to a spectacular fountain in the middle that burbled and bubbled and cascaded tiny little pebbles instead of water. It created a melodic sound, as rocks tinkled against rocks, stone bells chiming out in the center of the public space.

Statues of famous pegasi lined the borders, and shade was provided by a small gazebo in the far corner. All in all, a nice place indeed.

Of course, it would have been a nicer place had there actually been any ponies present. The news bulletin had worked, the word had spread, and most of the ponies had evacuated. Of the ones that hadn't, Egg made sure they knew about what was going on and made them leave with all due haste.

It was remarkably quiet.

It was still. Even the air refused to shake. The wind refused to blow. Something was very off about the silence.

It was of some benefit to Egg that the pegasus public had a bit of a naturally skittish mentality. When they saw a popular public space entirely empty save for one gryphon and one slightly intense-looking stallion, they tended to stay away through the power of self-preservation alone.

Only the absolutely crazy would dare to step up and join them for whatever reason, and for that, they remained relatively in peace.

They had spent the first few minutes there up high, sectioning off the area, inspecting the surroundings. It seemed that whatever it was that had escaped wasn't there yet. Or perhaps not there at all.

The news bulletin had only assumed at best, and had said that it was last spotted heading off into the vicinity. It was their best bet.

But still, just in case, and from the lack of chaos and screaming anywhere else, it was a reasonable assumption that the thing hadn't reared its head yet.

If it even had a head, of course.

The two of them remained floating above the fountain, looking in all directions. Cookie's sharp eyes helped tremendously with the effort, and as she swung her picnic basket as it dangled beneath her, she was merely waiting for the inevitable.

"I feel like you want to say something, yes?" she mentioned.

The air was stale and dry. It felt like they were sitting in a vacuum.

"You know I'm about to ask something, then?" Egg replied, back toward Cookie's. They faced in opposite directions to make sure they covered the widest area.

"I suppose so. We have only been acquainted for a very short while, Mister Egg, but in that short while I have never known you to drop things that you are interested in that easily." She smiled.

"And what would I be interested in?"

"I do not know, Mister Egg."

"But surprisingly, you know that I don't drop things easily."

"Oh, but I am... full of surprises, yes?"

"You most certainly are, Miss Eternia."

"It was a joke, Mister Egg. I am a simple baker."

"You want to be a simple baker."

"Yes. I do."

The dead breeze ruffled no hair, stroked no feathers. In the far off distance, they could hear the soft murmurs of ponies going about their business down the road, far away from the abandoned park. It seemed that they had no reason to be afraid. It was blind obedience – if it wasn't mentioned on the radio, it must be safe.

"Why do you think I didn't mention the location initially?"

"Am I being asked?"

"That is the purpose of a question, Miss Eternia, yes."

"If you had asked anyone, they would say you were merely testing little Champagne and Mister Emberkite as you usually do."

"But that's not what you think."

Cookie fell silent for a while, breathing off a small tinny cry like that of an eagle in the far-off distance. It seemed to Egg like that was her version of a sigh.

"Why do you say that, Mister Egg?"

"Because otherwise you wouldn't have phrased it the way you did. Do you know what I've been noticing about you, Miss Eternia?"

"What would that be?"

"You choose your words very carefully. You say things very particularly. There's something quite puzzling about you, Miss Eternia, and I have been trying to find out what that is."

"Is this an admission, Mister Egg?"

"Yes. Shall we speak honestly and straightforwardly?"

"I would very much appreciate that, Mister Egg."

Egg turned his head suddenly. Was there something there? His heart beat just a tiny bit harder all of a sudden. Down below, on the surface of the clouds, a small ripple waved out. In the pavement. Construction-grade. Hard stuff. It wasn't supposed to ripple. It was supposed to crack.

Or maybe it was just a trick of the light.

"Did you see something?" Cookie asked, gently.

"Tell me how you knew I had left out the location."

"It was obvious, yes?"

"Do explain. Please. Humour me."

"Well," Cookie trilled. As the conversation went on she seemed to have lost a bit of her spark, a bit of the joy behind her voice. Perhaps she was just getting serious. Perhaps there was something she was just trying to avoid, but was too polite to deny her interrogator. "Maybe it had occurred to me that they would not likely give a warning to avoid things without letting everyone know where to avoid it. It is a simple enough thought, and a simple enough guess, yes?"

"Perhaps."

"Or maybe the walls in the warehouse are thin and I overheard the radio broadcast from inside the kitchen."

"Perhaps."

"Are you happy with my various answers, Mister Egg?"

"What else do you think?"

"About what?"

"About it all. I want to know why you answered."

"Well. I must admit. I was not going to. I was assuming that little Champagne or even Mister Emberkite would have pointed that out. But when they didn't, you were about to move onward, and..."

"And?"

"Oh... I see."

Egg allowed himself a small smile. A grin, that, in his position, no one could see. But it was a slight smile, nothing that would even be considered a smile by the laypony.

"What do you see, Miss Eternia?"

"It was for me, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"You had let it go on purpose to see if I would say anything, and like a foolish pigeon chasing after a piece of cheese, I fell into your trap."

"It was not a trap. It was an invitation."

"What if they had pointed it out, Mister Egg?"

"Then I would have done something else."

"Well... I..."

For once, the gryphon was mildly upset. It was a touch of irritation, but a lot more about the fact that she felt exposed. A sloping look of worry marred her facial feathers, and she started playing with the basket in her hands.

"Please, Miss Eternia. Believe me when I say I harbour no malicious intent. Surely you can see that much?"

"I do not... enjoy being put on the spot, Mister Egg. What are you trying to prove?"

"I just wanted both of us to see something."

"And what is that?"

"That to you, helping others is an itch that you must scratch."

"And what makes you think that?"

"You've lost a shop. Your livelihood. Did not speak a word of complaint. You've come to live in a hole just to keep your parents out of harm's way, and you've even insisted on repaying for the kindness instead of seeing it as a trouble. You've gladly sacrificed a great deal at personal cost for the sake of keeping others safe and helping others. When a casually omitted detail is dropped in front of you, you cannot help but fill in the blanks. Clearly, you've got some drive outside of the realm of baking." Egg tapped the side of his head. "And what I am trying to understand is why you would keep this hidden."

"I am not hiding anything," Cookie said softly.

"You are hiding your brains and your selflessness."

"I just want to be a baker, Mister Egg."

"Does being a baker preclude you from being open about your intelligence?"

"I am not intelligent, Mister Egg. Please, let us both agree on this, yes? Truly, it is not for humility nor narcissism that I say so. You are intelligent. Emberkite is streetwise. Little Champagne is perceptive."

"And what of yourself?"

"I am a baker who realises her limits."

"And what limits are those?"

"That Cloudsdale has no place for a gryphon who wants to help."

They remained there, in silence, Egg trying to think. There was nothing he could discover if Eternia wasn't willing to talk, and he'd been imposing enough already. But she kept a very important part of herself covered up with a blanket. The act held fast in the eyes of Champagne, who couldn't read gryphons and didn't have the experience to dig deep enough.

But Egg had seen something odd in Cookie, something that he, himself, considered a mystery begging to be solved.

The way she acted, and talked, and behaved... it felt to Egg as if all they knew about her so far was only what had floated up to the surface, and what was left remained at the bottom of an inky, dark ocean.

Or maybe she really was just a baker.

The two of them flapped in open air, Egg thinking too hard and Cookie thinking of nothing at all.

But then, he'd gone and done it again, hadn't he? Perps and punks were one thing. But this approach – the only sort of approach he knew – was perhaps a tiny bit too offensive for the ones he ought to be considering his colleagues. The office was a place of competition. But this... this was a place of cooperation. Surely he could stand to treat them a little better, maybe.

The thought had crossed his mind. Cookie; Champagne; Emberkite; Surv- no. Not Survey. But the others, yes. A gentler approach. A bad habit. Whatever lay between.

Egg rubbed his chin with a hoof.

"Miss Eternia?"

"Y-yes?"

"I must apolog-"

"Be quiet, Mister Egg."

Egg dropped to silence. With a stern voice he was told this, and no longer was he allowed to finish his sentence. But something told him that it wasn't out of spite or anger did Cookie silence him.

A clawed hand lay on his shoulder and pulled him around suddenly, and the both of them stared, unmoving, as they were approached head-on by something that Egg did not want to see.

And the tension rocketed as it came to a stop – the horrible beast with the razor grin and the wicked smile – as it opened its mouth to claim a bite.

"Mister... Eggbeater," Gale hissed. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Idiot! Over here, idiot," Champagne called, landing in front of the gates that held back the swathes of angry visitors.

Just outside, the park keepers and other official-looking ponies explained and excused their way out of the sudden decision not to open that day, but most of it was based around the truth – there had been an escape, and while that was normally not grounds enough to close the whole park, this was 'special circumstances'.

This had only exacerbated the entire situation. Ember was hoping for a quick in, quick out, Bob's your uncle, problem solved. Clearly, they were going to have to actually put in some effort in order to get what they needed.

The zoo itself had been of relatively new concept. At the time it was built some years ago, it was planned as the second open-air facility that required proper entry – the first being the coliseum, of course. But without the grand funding of the stadium, the zoo didn't have the resources to post guards around every corner just to prevent pegasi from sneaking in through the top.

More creative measures were employed.

A thin gauze of sorts had been stretched over the entirety of the top of the zoo. It was anchored down at various points, and left free to billow in the wind, making the compound look like the segmented eye of an insect from above. Design notwithstanding, it actually proved to be rather effective, and a special reflective material painted across one direction made it hard for ponies to look in from above.

It also had the secondary benefit of keeping the inside rather cool and fresh, and out of direct sunlight.

But by far, this innovative feature also proved to be the most costly, and maintenance took up a prime portion of the income of the zoo.

The main office to the zoo lay on the border, next to the grand entrance of the compound in a non-descript greyish cloud building that simply bore the title of 'Administration' on an unpolished wooden plaque.

Darting through the yells and angry complaints of the general crowd, Champagne pushed herself toward the building, evading both visitors and zookeepers alike.

Ember followed in tow, looking around and being amused by the crowd.

"Here, this way, dummy." Champagne pointed, storming towards the office. She was still a little bit tilted from her earlier conversation with Ember, and it was leaking slightly into how she was conducting herself.

"Yeah, coming, you butt," Ember replied, equally mature. "How do you know where to go, anyway? I thought you said the last time you came here was like years ago."

"Yes, Ember," Champagne retorted. "Animals change. Buildings don't. I remember the layout, I just don't know what animal escaped. Stupid."

"Dumbass!"

"Ignoramus!"

"Butt...faced... double-butt!"

"Imbecile!"

"That's not even a word!"

"Be quiet," Champagne hissed, glaring at him as she yanked on the door chime. "Let me handle this!"

"Let yo-"

"Yes! You want to leave faster, right? Let me handle this!" Her voice almost went into piercingly high levels of the upper register as she squeaked her threat.

Ember rolled his eyes.

"What's your angle? What are you even going to say?"

"I... I have my own angle, alright? I can do this one! Just let me do it, please!"

"You don't have anything, do you? How are you possibly going to convince th-"

"Let me do it!"

"Fine, whatever! Hurry up, Champy, let's see what you can do. But you choke and I'm taking over, you hear me?"

"I will not choke! I am not going to choke!" She stamped her hoof. She raised her leg. She held it out under Ember's nose, a mouse ferociously challenging a bear.

The young stallion quirked an eyebrow up at the threat, more bemused than anything else.

The door pushed open and instantly, Champagne dropped her frown and engaged with the pony on the other side with due professionalism.

"Good afternoon, sir. My name is Champagne Satellite and I would like to speak with you regarding the closure of the zoo today." She smiled. An honest, genuine smile.

"Oh, now... now aren't you polite?" The elderly pony responded with nothing less than emerging and giving full regards to the cute little button in front of him. He was a tired, but passionate stallion, the few lines of age striking his face being supported by the extra lines of stress thanks to the day's drama. A little raggedy vest of pockets lay draped across his back, out of which many pieces of paper and quills played hide and seek from their hidey-holes.

He struggled with a soft, gentle smile for Champagne, fighting back the pressure of the day. But like an old grandfather, there was nothing more comforting to him than the opportunity to smile at a child.

It was with great sorrow that he had no good news to tell.

"I wish I could help you, young miss, but I'm afraid I am tied up," he explained slowly. "If you would like to proceed to the main entrance, there are many staff members who would be willing to an-"

Champagne raised a hoof, very slowly, very deliberately, while closing her eyes and turning away. It was something she seemed to have seen very many times herself, and she knew of its significance.

Shut up, it said, and listen to me.

"O-oh," stammered the poorly administrator.

"Sir, I am not here today to talk about the closure of the zoo itself. Rather, I am here on behalf of the owners, and I would like to speak about the escaped animal."

"Sky Reserves Cloudsdale Group?" the older pony asked with a chuckle, still with his gentle and patient voice, as ridiculous as this seemed. "Certainly... certainly they would not employ someone as young as you, young miss? I really can't give any information. But I admi-"

Champagne felt a stirring coming from Ember. He was getting impatient, and already his eyes were roaming away from the conversation in search for more interesting things.

Champagne herself cleared her throat.

"No, sir. Of course I don't work for SRC Group," she chuckled along. "I work for their owners."

"Ah..."

Champagne leaned forward, after taking a quick glance at Ember over her shoulder. He was busying himself with staring at the hordes of ponies trying to argue their way in. Now was as good a time as any for Champagne to say a few things without prying ears listening in.

Ember barely caught her as she pulled herself away from a hushed conversation with the administrator, once he was done distracting himself with the crowd.

"I... I see, yes, definitely, Miss... Miss Satellite," the elderly stallion said, his tone even weaker than it was before. "Do come in. Please. And your colleague as well. Would... would you care for some tea, or perhaps..."

"No, thank you," Champagne replied. "We are really short on time and would like to get down to business."

"Of course. This way, please." the administrator pushed back through the door and beckoned for the duo to follow.

Ember hopped the couple of steps to Champagne, who was already half-way through the entrance.

"Hey, what... did you tell him something?" Ember asked, slightly astonished at the result.

"I told him who my father was," Champagne replied, sweeping past.

"Go away, Miss Mezzo," Egg said, scanning the horizon. "We have nothing for you or the newspaper."

Cookie kept silent. This seemed like one of those times where she ought to.

"Why, Mister Eggbeater. How nice to meet you again. And this is... oh my, is this that gryphon you saved from the bakery?"

"No."

"And what is your name, miss gryphon?" Gale asked, hovering in front of Cookie and giving her a full look.

Cookie tilted her head down. The pegasus in front of her was rather sharp and spiky, like a cactus gone wrong. She glared with the intensity of a bothered cat but still had a rather specific clarity shining behind her eyes. Her mane came down straight in partitions, and from behind the rims of horrendously garish purple glasses, she gave Cookie a smile that was nothing more than a sneer disguised as something a tiny bit better.

Clearly, Egg knew this lady, and it would be best to let him handle the situation. Although Cookie would tell you she wasn't quick to judge, that wasn't something that necessarily applied to everyone she met, and she couldn't help but find Gale's aggressiveness to be rather offensive indeed.

Cookie remained silent, doing her best to remain nonchalant.

Gale swept left and right, bobbing on the still air and inspecting Cookie as if she were a statue at an art exhibition.

"Don't believe we have met. Gale Mezzo. Reporter for the Gazette." Gale repeated, slower, more deliberately. "And what is your name, miss gryphon?"

"Go away, Miss Mezzo," Egg repeated as well.

"Why don't you tell me about the group, hmm?" Gale asked of the gryphon, who was frantically trying to keep an eye on the ground rather than on her face, a task she made rather difficult.

"Gale!" Egg shouted. "Fine. Come here. Stop bothering my chef."

"Oh, she's your chef now, is she?" Gale tittered, swinging around, dropping focus on Cookie in an instant. She stopped inches in front of Egg's face, staring into his eyes. Two sets of yellow met.

"What do you want, Gale?"

"I just find it odd," Gale explained, shrugging, ever grinning. "That I would find you here. I believe the radio said to stay away, hmm? And here you... are... in the very place where everypony else is... staying away from."

"We have the right to be here."

"You surely do, as do I, yes? I'm here covering a story. The story of the escaped zoo animal. What are you here for, Mister Eggbeater?"

"That is not my name."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. Now please leave. You're interrupting me and my companion."

"Interrupting you doing what?"

"Having a picnic. Can't you see the basket?"

Cookie tightened her grip on the rattan handles.

"Of course. Up here? In the middle of the sky above a park which just happens to be the focus of a warning broadcast?" Gale asked innocently.

Egg wanted, as much as he could, to rap his hoof on the clouds. Twice, even. But this was an impossibility right now, and he had to make do with tearing his eyes away from the distance to give Gale the most impatient look he could possibly muster.

To be fair, it wasn't any different from his regular look.

Strings of numbers. Percentages. Weights and chances. Potentials. Possibilities. The game. It was about what she wanted. It was about what he wanted. It was about how to get out of this with something you didn't have before. It was about how to get the best deal for both parties, because there was no such thing as one side coming up roses. It was about how to approach a keen, sharp mind that was as bloodthirsty as it was devious.

It was about what she wanted and what he needed.

She wanted a story.

He needed to be left alone.

Egg's eyelids fluttered as it closed for a few seconds, as he gave this the necessary thought.

He knew that the second he did that, Gale would have taken lead in this little race.

But perhaps that was the way to come to a solution.

"You win," Egg said, opening his eyes again.

"I... excuse me?" Gale said, the grin wiped off her face.

"You heard me. You win. My name is Eggbeater, and I grant you an interview."

"Oh, well. I... very good, then! Mister Eggbeater, could you tell me about... ah..."

That was the last piece he needed to know. The stumble. The trip. The one last link which allowed him full entry into her mind.

"Be quiet, Miss Gale," he whispered.

"I beg your pardon!" she exclaimed.

"I said 'be quiet'. I say this because you have nothing for me except the ability to listen to what I am saying right now. I know you want the story more than anypony in Equestria, and right now, your entire livelihood rides on what I have to say and what I might say to you in the future. You can stop pretending, Miss Gale, and just listen."

The mare flustered, digging into her collar with an agitated hoof.

"I... I will publish an article on you! This is very suspicious circumstances here in the park and-"

"No you won't! You won't mention our names. You're not going to... yet, are you, Miss Gale?"

"I..."

"And what's at risk is that if you make me upset, I just won't cooperate. Eventually, somepony else will come, and I'll sell my story to the first reporter who isn't you. A lot of wasted time and effort on your part, I dare say. But make me happy and we all get what we want. I know what you're up to, Gale. I've figured you out."

"I have..."

"Let's stop dancing, shall we? I'm a terrible dancer, anyway. The quicker you hear my proposal the better off we both will be. Are you going to drop this and listen? Ten seconds to decide," Egg declared, calm and steady as a boat in a windless ocean.

Gale shuddered. She shivered. Her grin returned but it was one of utter complete contempt. It was one with knives of hate and anger glinting out of each single tooth. She clutched her leg with a hoof, massaging it slowly.

"Mister Eggbeater. What are your terms?" She forced herself to say, quaking words over fearful lips.

"First of all, you tell the truth to whatever it is I'm about to ask. You lie, everything is off. Of course, you can also ask whatever you want, but don't expect me to answer whatever I don't feel like."

"And what's in this for me, Mister Eggbeater?"

"Exclusivity. I won't talk to another reporter about myself, my exploits and the team, as long as you keep to your side of the deal. And you will get the very first interview. The one that you want."

"That is very generous, Mister Eggbeater. Suspiciously so. What's your angle?"

"I need you out of my mane for a while, and unlike you, I believe in fair trade."

"Who said I don't believe in fair trade?"

"I just did."

Gale hissed in frustration. "Fine. Let's lay our cards out on the table, shall we? What do you want?"

"I want you to leave me alone until the time is right. Obviously, I do not know when that time will be nor do you. But let me state something very clearly. Both you and I know that there is something going on in Cloudsdale. Something to do with a group, and things, and... well. It's your job to know, so I'm not going to give you details, but we both know ought to know what I'm talking about. Speak the name of the group if you understand so far."

"Unity," Gale uttered.

"Very good. I believe the time that you are waiting for is when Unity is uncovered and defeated by myself. Until that time, you are to continue as you have been doing. Total anonymity, complete lack of names, and very few links between incidents. You are to avoid directly indicating our existence until such time, and once Unity has been dealt with, you will get your exclusive interview."

"Sounds fair." Gale nodded. "Is that all?"

"No. Stop harassing me and my team. You are to have no further contact with any of us on the topic of what has been discussed today. You are also forbidden from playing an active role in any of our investigations or work. You will write your articles on us passively only. And if you must talk to us it must not be about our work."

"Now... that's not fa-"

"Exclusivity, Miss Gale. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then so be it. Do we have a deal?"

"Would you sign-"

"I will sign nothing, Miss Gale. You have my word, and that is your guarantee."

Gale leaned in closer, pushing her face near Egg's.

"How can I be sure you're going to keep to your word?" she asked.

"The same way I know you will keep to yours."

"And how do I know you will bring down Unity?"

"Because you will do everything in your power to help us, won't you, Miss Gale?"

Gale flapped there, bobbing up and down in the stream, listening to every single word that Egg had said. From anger she turned to incredulity. From disbelief she turned to amusement. And finally she burst out laughing, a sinister, laugh of triumph, albeit triumph at great cost.

"You know everything, don't you, Mister Eggbeater?"

"Go away, Miss Gale. You have what you want. I have what I need. If you must watch, watch from far away. This place is dangerous. Go find yourself an office block to watch from or something."

"I'll be in touch, Mister Eggbeater."

"Please stop saying my name."

"Goodbye." Gale smiled again, still with that tinge of poison.

She pulled back, upright, still watching the two of them as she circled around like a shark, and with one last longing look she turned and made off for the high-rise office blocks in the distance, leaving the accountant and the baker alone with themselves.

The grounds remained clear throughout, and Cookie had not seen a thing.

But her mind, on the other hand, was buzzing with insects.

"Yes, Miss Eternia. I'll explain."

"Would you? I am ever so lost, yes?" Cookie chortled.

"Nothing spectacular or particular. Gale Aubergine Mezzo is a reporter for the Cloudsdale Gazette, as she said. Rather devious character, I'd say. She's been hounding us for a long time. The first time we ran into her was just before we met you, in fact. Ever since then, Ember's been noticing her following us around and being a nuisance in general. You've not seen her before, obviously, and this was the first time she's been so brazen with her appearance."

"What does she want?"

"Well, that's the thing. Before, she'd always bother us for interviews and things like that – threatening to reveal our identity in the papers. Something that I do not want. I'd always have to bargain with her, or talk her down, but then it became apparent that that was exactly what she wanted me to do."

"What do you mean?"

"She was backing off on purpose, Miss Eternia. She was making me fight to do what she wanted me to do."

"And what made you feel this?"

"When... when a rival headhunted staff from my previous job, they'd follow them around and get them to say 'yes' on the spot. They'd try to steal them immediately. They wouldn't put it off. She was putting off the interviews. She was putting off the information. Suddenly I realised that what she kept asking us for wasn't the real prize. But there was always something she shoved in our face, even from day one – the exclusive interview regarding our... shall we say, public identity. That was something she had always tried to get from us from the start, except that it was hiding amongst the lies."

"But why not just get an interview now? Then she would be the first, yes? And still get what she wants?" Cookie asked.

"That's what I thought. For a while. She's a smart one, Miss Eternia. No doubt. But today I took a risk and confirmed what I thought. I told her I'd give her the interview she keeps threatening us with. Right now. She didn't even take out her notebook. Not once. She wasn't prepared. It took her by surprise. That's all I needed to know."

"I do not understand, Mister Egg. She wants an interview but not this one?"

"Yes. She wants a specific interview. Not one as we are now, but one as we will be later."

"I do not understand."

"She is the only one who's been bothering us. Not a single other reporter from any other magazine, publication or newspaper. Why not?"

"Because no other reporter considers this important enough?"

"Yes. Precisely. This is small news. We are small news. We are no one. There's no point in springing for us. Not now. Writing an exposé about us at this time would be incredibly short-sighted. And she is not. She's fostering us, Miss Eternia. She's following us and taking note, so that when we finally do something big-"

"Like defeat Unity."

"-like defeat Unity, then she'll have something to write about, and she can also trace our exploits from day one. Also, once we are big news, that exclusive would be incredibly beneficial to her career, I'm sure."

"That is... an interesting method of doing things. Almost as if she were... nursing an egg, yes?"

"Y- yes. I suppose."

"I am just pulling on your chains, Mister Egg. But I think I understand. If she mentions us too early, she will risk losing the impact of the final story, yes?"

"Yes. I promised her the exclusive so that she now has something to work towards. Just so happens that it's also what I want. To keep ourselves out of the papers. We can't avoid having what we do written about, surely, but we can do what we need to keep our profile down. Now, Gale has an investment. She'll also work on her side to prevent other reporters finding out who we are, just so that when it comes down to it..."

"... she gets all the glory," Cookie finished the sentence.

A strange screech echoed throughout the park.

"Indeed."

"Very clever, Mister Egg."

"No. Gale is the clever one. I just figured it out."

"And when it comes to that point, you don't mind being... exposed?"

"It will have to happen eventually. But I think I'd like to be the one to pick the time."

As soon as they heard the bestial call, both of them had swung their gazes to a strange black spot in the corner. But they were casual, and professional, and had remained conversing through it, not a single beat broken. But they both knew they were thinking the same thing.

It was a small blob of a dark cloud – a welling of thunder and lightning that rose above the cloudfloor. It crackled and sparked and bellowed, and Egg quirked an eyebrow at the thing.

"Mister Egg?"

"Yes."

"Shall we not wait for the others to return?"

"No, Miss Eternia."

"Would it not be dangerous?"

"It's dangerous for anyone who does it anyway. Besides, I think I know what that is. It should be relatively simple to capture. Hand me the blanket from the picnic basket, Miss Eternia. I shall deal with this one myself."

The door flew open, swinging aside and nearly crashing into the wall. It wouldn't have mattered much if it had – both wall and door were soft – but the strength required to even move such a light object at that force was respectful indeed.

Emberkite, commandeering the door, was the one who flung it aside, and he dashed out of the administrations office as fast as he could go.

"C'mon, hurry!" he yelled angrily behind him.

"I am coming," Champagne said as she too, tore out the door and stumbled on the frame. "Oh dear!"

"No time!" Ember said, hurriedly, grabbing Champagne by the leg and yanking her up. "Come on, we gotta go!"

"Wait, wait!" Champagne pulled away, turning back toward the head administrator, who poked his head around the door. "So, you'll send a cage? And some keepers?"

"Y-yes, of course, Miss Satellite. Please... please send your... your father my regards and..."

"Yes, I'll speak to him regarding funding! Now, let's go!" She yelled, moving into a gallop.

"Hey! Wait!" Ember called, cantering along beside her.

"Oh, now you want to wait, you laggard?" Champagne cried.

"No, listen you dumb butt! I can get us there faster!"

"How?"

"Just... just hold on!"

A rough pair of legs wrapped themselves around a slender waist, lifting the poor young mare right off the cloudfloor.

"H-hey! Don't touch me! Don't-"

Ember shook his head. Stupid girl. With a sudden burst, he shot forward like a cannon, kicking up mist in his wake. It was all but two seconds before they were gone, ejected off the cloud and heading toward the park at Ember's fastest speed.

The administrator – the poor tired zoo manager – fidgeted with the book he nestled in the crook of one leg. It was a big tome, a reference guide to rare and exotic species. It had been opened to the section on animals of the haze tundras, where he had explained everything he knew about the creature to the girl and her rather rude companion.

A mare appeared by his side, another office worker who handled other matters.

"Was that...?" she asked, staring at the streak that was quickly disappearing.

"That's is what she... she had said," replied the administrator.

"Do you think maybe we should call him?"

"What, call him up and ask him if his daughter's really come to lend us a hoof? I don't think so. Nopony in their right mind would make something up like that. They would be in an incredible amount of trouble if they had. Mmmph. Besides, we have pressing matters to take care of. Please call Jaffa and Bundt. Tell them to prepare the cage and bring it over to Stormhaven Park. At this point, I'm willing to take all the help I can get."

"Sir, but... what of the zoo?"

"Well, it's been a while since I've been in my old togs! Perhaps it's time for an old stallion to suit up again," he replied with a weakened smile.

Continued in Part 3

Episode 3-3 :: Rancheros

There was a buzz in Egg's chest, one that he had not ever felt since the last time he balanced the eight top financial investor accounts in one go without stopping for a single coffee.

Not a single bit was unaccounted for.

Now that was professionalism.

It was the thrill of excitement, the joy of a challenge, and something that he had forgotten how to feel for the past four years running.

Yes, such a rush it was! And here he felt it again; a stirring in his chest, a rumbling in his stomach. He even felt the slight tinge of emotions long buried. Or maybe he was hungry. He couldn't tell.

The red-and-white chequered blanket lay unfolded on his back like a tartan cape, and he walked with the utmost of silence toward the small puddle of black clouds.

It looked like a bowl billowing out heavy ash, like someone had dropped a bag of dry ice into a bucket, except that the smoke was thick and black. From within, small miniature flashes of light could be seen clambering through the cracks, and tiny little pops like the sound of inflated paper bags bursting could cleanly be heard.

A ruffling of wings and feathers could be seen, a white silhouette against a black shroud, and Egg actually smirked with the confidence that he knew exactly what this was.

Branta Tonitrus. The thundergoose.

He had remembered it from his days in school. One of the rarer species in Cloudsdale, it flew a year-long migratory pattern that took it from the far reaches of Gryphon country to Cloudsdale and back. It even made stops at the Argust Islands and Canterlot.

Huge flocks of them would carry negative charges in their electricity-retentive downy feathers, and when they came into contact with regular clouds, it would cause tiny localized storms.

In swarms they were a plague on cloud architecture, eroding walls and destroying groundwork.

Alone, they were nothing more than a slight annoyance.

This one was busying itself, washing itself up in the clouds. Well, technically, it was the pavement, but it was part of their plague to be able to eat away into construction-grade things.

Egg crept up.

Gently, ever so gently, he pulled the blanket off his back, swinging it around in front of him, a corner clenched firmly between his teeth.

The jump was sudden. So sudden that even Egg's mind hadn't caught up with the action. But already he was flying through the air, propelled by a few strong bursts from his wings, and he landed, with a plop, on top of the little black puddle, blanket stretched out over it.

He felt the sudden struggle as the kicking of legs and the beating of wings pushed up against his midsection, but he stretched himself out further, attempting to wrap the thing up like a spider does to something that puts up far less resistance than a thundergoose.

The thing was sparking furiously now, and through the blanket he could see the little balls of light that it was casting out. The worst thing that could happen was the blanket catching fire. At this point, the best thing to do would be to get it away from any cloud as quickly as possible.

Grunting, he pushed himself up on his hind legs, dragging the blanket in a circle around the obscured bird. Flashes of red and white feathers appeared from around the edges of the blanket, but as soon as they came he was mindful to pull the blanket in that direction.

High above, in the far distance, Cookie watched, a very concerned look on her face, and very concerned thoughts in her head.

She watched as a pony, splayed out like a pancake, was being battered repeatedly around the chest and face by a very upset animal indeed.

She watched as a pony pulled back repeatedly as he tried to avoid being shocked by tiny little bolts of lightning.

She winced as he fell, scrabbling with a ferocious ball of fluff and grit.

Egg pushed his glasses back up his face. He was on his back now, struggling with the goose on top of him. Somehow he had managed to keep the thing somewhat inside the blanket, and it took far more coordination than he expected to grab the four corners of the blanket and secure it shut in a vice-like bite.

His eyes narrowed with determination and a trickle of sweat beaded down the side of his face. But he had done it. He was successful.

He turned, facing the sun, the glint of the midday fires sparking off his glasses. He swung the bag over his back. It was still struggling wildly, but no longer would he have to fight; no longer would he have to dance with this beast. He had soundly trounced it, and the air was suddenly rejuvenated with a fresh brisk breeze as he stepped forward and held his head up high.

He could see Cookie, far up, giving him an inaudible applause. It was nice of her, to humour him like that.

And a great swell of pride raced into his head, pushing his chest out from the inside and making him positively giddy from his one single achievement.

It's a funny thing, being in the moment.

The moment clouds. The moment reconfigures. The moment is a block on sanity, and a speed bump on logic. When one floats amongst the adrenaline and rush, one forgets to check if one is going too fast.

It was why Egg never allowed himself to feel the joy of being in something for all these long years. He wasn't quite sure what made him surrender to it now.

He was caught up in something new. Something exciting. He was enraptured by doing what it was he set out to do. He was embraced by the wonder of the fresh experience.

And he had succumbed to the moment.

It was still far too silent, and far too hot. The sun began to feel less like a congratulatory hug and more like the branding of a poker into his flank.

His breath stilled.

Cookie stopped clapping.

Something was very wrong and he knew it. He'd always known it. He'd realised from the start.

A thundergoose? really? A bulletin going out on public radio for a thundergoose?

A flock of thundergeese, yes, but even so, that was only due to the regular migratory patterns and came as a tack-on to the regularly scheduled news readouts.

Egg now found himself quietly fighting himself, and the logic that led him to do this in the first place.

He parted dry lips, breathing out silently, as the world faded.

The distant sounds of wind and city blanked out, as did the movements in the cloth bag behind him.

The clouds shook. There was a stirring now, behind him. Somewhere there, underneath the soft, white pavement upon which he stood.

He felt a sharp pain come to his side, a knot, perhaps, or a pulled muscle, or perhaps something even conjured up by his own mind. Perhaps it was everything settling down on the bottom of his stomach, and perhaps it simply could not take the weight.

He moved his eyes upward, and in the vacuum of his mind he saw Cookie, each strong, brash stroke of her wings push her forward, a look of pure focus on her face.

She was flying towards him, wasn't she?

Yes, of course she was. He could see it clearly. Her feathers moved in slow motion, blurry and warped as if behind a pane of glass.

It was logical to assume that she was too far away. He wouldn't have felt like this if she wasn't.

A shadow fell across him, and he watched, as out of the ground came a form, one full of sharp grins and terrible sails.

Egg closed his eyes.

"Damn," he said.

And then he waited.

Waiting, for something to happen. Waiting for a feeling; an emotion, maybe; or a thought. Nothing really much came in terms of that last one – it was amazing how quickly a head can empty when it feels like it has nothing left to think about.

And then the feeling came. It came in a rushing, sweeping, crushing blow to the side of his body, which pulled his breath short and made a blanket of white flash behind his eyelids.

But it was the wind on his face, and the stream of air that blew across his body that made him instinctively reach up and make sure his glasses weren't falling off.

He opened his eyes for a quick peek.

As far as he could tell, he was being rushed by one of his companions. Things in the distance blurred by, but the wind whipping off that familiar red and yellow mane made it clear who was carrying him.

Emberkite took the slightest of looks downward before he returned his focus forward again. There was about him a mix of pure concentration and a little bit of fear, and he was avoiding having to look at Egg for some reason.

Egg didn't have to think very hard to imagine why.

They were uncomfortably close.

He turned over a little, looking back at the area where he was just standing, while being straddled in a comfortable hammock of Ember's front legs.

There was a large cloud that had been kicked up. A cloud of mist. It shrouded the general area like someone had dropped a smoke bomb, but faded away quickly, leaving only a humongous crack in the sidewalk. It looked as though a small quake had occurred, ripping through the pavement like a giant had taken to it with a letter opener.

Egg turned the other way, with an eerie sense of calm about him. He did it casually, almost as if he were just going through the motions of what he had to do. What he saw was what he saw, but nothing was really registering.

Above him, and a little to the left, where Ember was now zooming to, were Cookie and Champagne. Champagne was explaining something to Cookie in a frantic manner. Her little hooves flew every which way. It was so darling.

Egg rubbed his hooves together as he and Ember swung up to the others in an approach, Ember stopping short just as they reached their destination.

"Get off, old stallion!" he yelled, tipping Egg out of his embrace. He was annoyed. He was very, very annoyed.

Egg found his balance, and instinct kicked in as he started to fly again, righting himself up from the tumble and bringing himself into the group.

And there he hovered, surrounded by the three faces that he had grown accustomed to for the past two weeks. Two had the meanings of concern about them, whereas one just looked like he was ready to punch him in the face.

The angry one spoke.

"What the Luna-driven hailstorms were you doing, you idiot?" Ember yelled, throwing his legs up for good measure. "You were... damn, old stallion! What were you doing down there?"

Egg, the one always ready with a thought or something to say, dug for a proper answer in the snowy recesses of his mind.

But he invariably kept going back to the truth. And the truth is what he finally offered.

"I... I caught a thundergoose," he muttered, showing the blanket to his team. He himself would have sworn that he had let the stupid thing go many moments since, but there it was, in his grasp, being offered to Ember like some sort of sacrifice.

Ember stared down at it, the veins on his forehead getting more and more pronounced by the second.

He swung out with a mighty slap, and the bird went flying out of Egg's hooves, coming free from the blanket and making its way across the sky with indignation.

"O-oh," Egg said, watching the goose – his goose – fly away, a treasure lost, as the voices danced around his head, fading in and out of the clouds.

"Come on, get it together, old stallion! What's wrong with you?"

"Ember, please. I think he's in shock."

"Shock? Him? Is that even possible?"

"Ember, let's give him something to d-"

"Oh, great, that's exactly what he needs. Cookie, give it here!"

"No, that's fo-"

"Give it, Cookie!"

"Mister Emberkite, he should dr-"

"Pah!" Egg screamed, choking, as the cold water hit him in the face. He squeezed his eyes shut, blowing out some of the water from between his lips. He rubbed at his mane, and flicked off as much moisture as he could, given the circumstances.

Drops clung to his glasses. But behind the frame, his eyes came back into focus, as he gave one final shake and rejoined the party.

Ember was staring straight at him.

"Alright, he's back," Emberkite declared, pulling away, throwing the empty flask into the basket.

"I... what happened?" Egg asked, frowning.

"You nearly got... speared," Champagne said, weakly. "Emberkite saved you just in time."

"Well... thank you, Ember." Egg nodded appreciatively. "But we'll talk about this later. What did you find out at the zoo?"

"Yes, it seems as though he is back, yes?" Cookie smiled.

Egg winced. There was a horrible pain in his side, as if a truck had smashed into him. He was flying a bit lopsidedly as a result, and he was definitely in some discomfort.

"Ow," he said.

"Yes, that'll be from when I, you know, rescued you," Ember said with an indignant huff.

"Y-yes. Very good, Ember. What are we dealing with?"

"Sir," Champagne said, flying up front. "Please allow me to report. We are dealing with... a windeater."

"A windeater?" Egg repeated, quirking a tired eyebrow. "When did we..."

"It was quite a recent addition, actually. The zoo spent a lot of their budget on creating a suitable enclosure, but... it wasn't enough, and it got loose."

"A windeater?" Egg asked again, a bit of the shock coming back. If this was true, he was even closer to death than he had originally realised.

"Yes, sir," Champagne reassessed.

"What is this... windeater thing?" Cookie asked, calmly, tilting her head, eyes still keeping watch on the ground.

"It's... it's a creature native to the Cirrhara Desert," Champagne explained. "Way out east, away from Gryphon country. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of them before. It's not well known even here. But... well, it's like a huge carnivorous... um... thing..."

"It's got a huge spike on the tip of its face," Ember cut in, also looking down for activity. "And giant sails on its back."

"Yes, and... it's huge and blue, and..."

The park split, as a fin, one that was far larger than Cookie herself, cut its way down the pavement. It looked like twenty or so huge, sharp spines, each of which were joined by thick, leathery flaps of elastic, membranous skin. It resembled like the sail of some sort of skiff, and as it rotated it caught the wind, which must have been how it propelled itself.

The blue spines led down to a shiny, elongated body the shape of a torpedo, two feathery pairs of wings poking out its side. It all ended up with an odd rudder-like tail at the end that bent like a scythe.

But what was perhaps the most noticeable thing about the creature was its long, thin, harpoon-like beak. It stuck out almost half of the length of the entire creature, and ended in a point so thin you could sew with it.

It looked like a fish with wings, and Cookie was inclined to think, with what she could see of it. It even gleamed with a silver-like sheen, and tiny, beady little red eyes poked out from its massive head.

"Yeah, that's it," Champagne whispered, as the monster dived back down.

"How is it... simply swimming through the pavement?" Cookie asked.

"Just like most aerial animals," Champagne explained, "it holds a bit of a magical electric charge that disrupts clouds. It just makes it easier for them to swim through. But the thing about this creature is that it can't fly. That's why it lives in the desert – it requires clouds to stay afloat. The same thing that makes it cut through clouds easier also keeps it aloft. The natural world really is a fa-"

"Champy!" Ember yelled.

"Oh yes. Um... so, it's called the windeater because the way it stores charge is by converting wind energy. The huge sail on its back is used both as a means of propulsion as well as a huge turbine. Wind pushes through small holes in the fin, which then leads to-"

"It also has a huge spear that it uses to poke holes in things," Ember took over, interrupting Champagne. "Don't get too close. Thing can leap out of the clouds and kill things real easy. It can swim up to 50 knots depending on the wind. I think we're just lucky today isn't a very windy day."

"And it's very hungry," Champagne concluded. "It hasn't been fed yet. I think it decided to go after... um..."

"Me," Egg said.

"Yes, sir. Which is... um... if you were to look at it..."

"What she's trying to say is that you sort of helped, old stallion," Ember said. "It's now looking for you in this area, so it's not about to go wandering off to the city, which is where it was originally headed. But I don't think we have much time before it gets bored or something."

"Alright. Thoughts?" Egg asked.

"The zoo is sending a containment unit," Champagne said. "They'll be here as soon as they can."

"Alright, that helps. But clearly-"

"-our priority is to keep the creature here, yes?" Cookie interjected. "We certainly do not want it to be going into the town."

"Yes. So, how do we do this? Champagne, you said that it only can swim in clouds, right?"

Egg took a look downward. The park was just a rectangle, floating on its own narrow bridge of cloudspace. For all intents and purposes it was a small block by itself, and wasn't very thick, as it didn't have to hold up tons of architecture.

"Do you think the government would mind if..."

"You want me to kick out the bridges, boss?" Ember asked, a look of worry on his face.

"No. Of course not. That would be far too dangerous. Besides, that would only be a temporary solution to a bigger problem. What we need to do is find a way to contain it to a very small piece of ground, and capture it before it simply decides to jump over to the other clusters."

"We don't have much time," Champagne reasserted.

"Yes, and we can only catch it if it's confined to a small area, too. Just keeping it on this one entire patch of cloud would be too broad to do anything about it."

"How're we gonna just cut out a chunk of the park with a monster on it, old stallion?" Ember asked.

"We could make it rain," Cookie said.

"What?"

The three of them stared at the gryphon.

"I have brought a bag of salt with me, for the picnic." Cookie tilted her head.

"Yes... of course," Egg said, catching up. "Do you think the park uses low enough of a grade?"

"Yes, seedproofing is expensive, sir. I believe they only have that for banks and other places like that," Champagne replied.

"Alright, get the bag."

Champagne nodded in agreement, while the baker rummaged through the basket for the largest bag of salt that Egg had ever seen.

"Wait, what's going on?" Ember asked.

"That bag is huge, Cookie," Champagne squeaked.

"It is cheaper to buy in bulk, yes?" Cookie explained, "and I did not have a container to put it in. So I just brought it all."

"Hey, what's the deal with the salt?" Ember yelled.

"Alright, so now we have to find the thing," Egg muttered, stroking his chin in thought.

"Champagne!" Ember cried.

"What?" she yelled back, holding the bag of salt like a small child.

"What's with the salt?"

"Ugh, it's basic cloud-physics! Haven't you ever spilt salt before?"

"No, miss rich I-can-afford-salt pony princess! Some of us can't afford luxury, alright?"

"It's... it's not luxury!"

"Ember, salt causes precipitation," Egg cut in, as Champagne fluttered off.

"What?"

"If you throw salt on a cloud, it makes the cloud... rain, Ember. The weather ponies sometimes use things to make clouds burst en masse, like silver iodide or carbon dioxide in solid form, but salt works just as well, as long as you have enough." Egg took another glance at the oversized bag. "And... yes, we have enough."

"Oh...oh!" Ember thwacked his hooves together. "That's why..."

"Hmm?" Egg asked.

"Well, back on the boardwalk, the pretzel stand guy? He always had this sheet laid down under his cart. I always thought it was because he was being special or something, but..."

"Yes, probably a regulation."

"It is also why most kitchen equipment, even up here, are made of metal or wood," Cookie added. "It's cheaper than seedproofing the entire building!"

In the corner of their eyes, in the distance, a small containment unit came, being toted along by two frantic stallions wearing the zoo uniform. The cage was a small clear box filled with mist, something they had to order special to transport the creature.

"Here come the rancheros, just in time," Egg said, looking toward their group. "Alright, this is what we're going to do."

And suddenly, as fast as everything had been moving, everything stopped.

The other three stared at Egg expectantly. About now was the time he suddenly barked out orders, all of which would result in some sort of amazing resolution. They'd gotten used to that. They were ready to follow orders.

The orders were taking a long time to get there.

There didn't seem to be a way out. Not this time.

Each scenario that Egg considered or even thought of wouldn't work. It was not enough that for some reason, he could delve into that strange inner space like he normally could – chalk it up to some frayed nerves – but everything he considered just wouldn't fit.

A strong, yet gentle claw wrapped itself around Egg's leg, and Cookie pulled him toward the side. He found himself not resisting. It was probably a bad idea to resist Cookie in any way, and all Cookie wanted to do in this case was to have a word.

They flew, silently, away from Champagne and Ember, like a mother leading a child away from the other children in the playground, until they were out of earshot.

Cookie fumbled with her basket.

"Mister Egg?"

"Miss Eternia?" Egg replied, a hint of tiredness in his voice.

"I... I think I know what the trouble is. Maybe."

"Yes, Miss Eternia?"

"It... it's about the game, isn't it?"

"What game?"

"Battleclouds."

The two floated there, wings gently beating in the still skies. Egg defaulted into a recap of the situation, unable to proceed past it.

"We have only one shot. We don't have the time to get more salt and what you have here is limited. We need to make a calculated decision. We need to be methodological about it and root the creature out."

"It only works if we have the luxury of time, Mister Egg. And we do not."

"In a world ungoverned by urgency, I think that is what you said."

"Yes, it was."

"And where does that leave us?"

"It leaves us in a place where the smart decision and the dangerous decision are one and the same, yes? And I think this is what you have realised."

Egg just blinked, looking toward the two younger ponies in the distance.

"And you need someone to be the one to give the instructions that you can't," Cookie suggested.

"What happened to me?" Egg asked, shaking his head slightly.

"Now is not the time, Mister Egg. You're just finally realising that the world doesn't play by your rules. As successful as you've been before, it's time to start making mistakes."

"Why?"

"Because it is the only way forward."

Egg shut his eyes. That mental block had started to creep back in again.

"Now is not the time, Mister Egg."

Egg's eyes flapped open.

"Mister Egg? You should direct the keepers from below. Have them position themselves under the creature. Have them be ready to capture them."

"And what of above?"

"Mister Egg. I..." Cookie stopped, swallowing herself. She took a short moment as she drew in a deep, extended breath. "Mister Egg. I would like to officially join the team."

Egg's eyes flicked up to meet Cookie's.

"Are you certain?"

"No. But... you were right. I must help. I have to. I've grown up in a world in which I made many mistakes. And I hope that you will allow me the privilege of doing it under your leadership."

"Even after all you've seen today?"

"Especially so, Mister Egg. Nothing has happened here that has made me convinced that you are anything less than a great leader. And besides, everyone has an off day, yes?"

"And what will you do?"

"I will tell them the things that you cannot, and do the things that you can't ask for."

Egg thought for a moment more. This all seemed like a... it wasn't a bad idea. That would be the wrong word to use. But it felt... different. No longer was he someone standing alone. No longer had he the opportunity to stand as an island.

"I... trust you, Miss Eternia," he finally said.

"And I will tell them that you have instructed me to oversee the operations above while you co-ordinate below. Wish us luck, Mister Egg."

He looked toward the other two. Eager; expectant; young. Ready to do anything he said. But now, they were about to do something he wouldn't have a part of. He'd abandoned the one thing he had left – control – and placed it in the hands of a gryphon he barely knew.

It was, logically, a terrible idea.

"You won't need it," he replied.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Ember chanted to himself, sweat dripping, breath uneven. He stood in the middle of the park, knees wobbling, eyes darting all over the place, ready to jump at the slightest movement.

Ember and Champagne had both taken to Cookie without a single hint of resistance. It was almost as if they were just waiting for it to happen, and they listened to her counsel and instructions almost as if it were from Egg himself. It was a curious thing, Cookie thought at the time, but soon realised that it was probably because it was a simple extension to how Egg treated her.

If Egg trusted Cookie, the others would immediately fall in line. Of course, it was up to her to make use of it and prove to them she was just as capable. Not that she really wanted the role, to be fair, but life really did work in strange ways sometimes.

And now was no time to be reflecting on her journey that brought her to a role which she had fought all her life to avoid.

No, that thought would have to come later.

Emberkite now acted as bait.

It was one of the few commands that Egg could have never made himself. But Cookie, being that odd mix of pacifist and incredible realist, had no qualms in the idea of self-sacrifice as long as they agreed to it.

Ember would never turn down the chance to do something so foolhardy and brave, so it all went as smooth as that.

Champagne, on the other hand, still grasping the bag of salt, circled overhead like a shark, ready to let loose the torrential storms.

Cookie placed herself overhead as well, somewhere directly above Ember, ready for her own role.

"Maybe it's... already gone!" Ember yelled upward. "Maybe!"

"Don't say that," Champagne yelled back. "That's the worst possible thing you could say!"

"Why?"

"Because that's always when something bad happens in movies!" Champagne cried out. "It's always when they talk about not being attacked when they do get attacked!"

"Well, maybe I should talk about it more, then! I kinda want to get this over with!"

"Over there!" the gryphon chirped shrilly, making the two children refocus on the giant sail that had poked out of the floor again.

It wafted towards Ember at a slow speed of 10 or maybe 15 knots – it was hard to tell, but the dry day had helped immensely.

Ember's heart picked up, racing, as he hopped in spot to face where the creature was coming from.

The sail descended and it disappeared out of sight once again.

"H-hey!" Ember called. "C'mon, that ain't fair!"

"Ember!" Champagne yelled again. "Get ready!"

"Get ready for what? It went down again!"

"Ember!" she shrieked. "They attack from below!"

She barely had the time to finish her sentence when a needle poked out from beneath Emberkite, erupting in a huge spear that headed straight for his midsection.

He barely had the time to register what was happening, but instincts took over and he leapt forward, bursting speed, as he soared out of the way of the approaching beak. A moment later and he would have had a lot worse, but he managed to leave with the very tip connecting with the inner part of his leg as he zoomed off.

"Argh!" he yelled, wincing, as he dragged across the sharpened implement.

"Ember!" Champagne yelled, hoof outstretched towards the fleeting figure, a glint of red streaking up his thigh.

"No time!" Cookie hissed, zooming past.

The gryphon, a mighty and powerful creature by its own right, had nothing against some of the more impressive creatures that could be found in the wilderness of the skies. But for this one gryphon in particular, she wouldn't be found unwilling to try.

She descended, in a manner that all gryphons just knew how to do, talons extended and hindquarters ready to perch. It was a natural attack of the half-eagle, half-lion race; one which used their burliness against the enemy. But this time, her claws were not extended, and her talons did not go for to rend flesh from flesh.

Instead, they curled around the beak of the great sky-fish as it left the clouds in its attack run, and her hands wrangled it upward as she landed roughly on its back, struggling to keep it twisted.

It was still property of the zoo, after all. She wouldn't be caught dead vandalizing.

"Miss Champagne!" she called up, at the stunned youngling.

"Oh!" Champagne uttered, suddenly remembering to rip open the bag.

And down came the hail of salt.

Small white crystals landed on top of the clouds, and almost instantly, began to react.

They burned and bubbled, and caused a frothy foam to rise from where they touched the pavement.

A small hiss became quite audible as Champagne completed her circle, the salt eating into the clouds and making a small depression as it did its work.

Below, a ring of rain fell, and three pegasi got into position within it.

When the gap was large enough, Cookie released the creature, and with a great and horrible screech, it returned to the small patch of land that it was caught in, swimming back and forth with a great anger.

The gryphon made a hasty retreat.

And then they waited.

While they were at work cutting the creature off, Ember had been racing around to the very edge, and making a wide loop under the park to help get the cage in place.

It would be more than a few moments before...

"There!" Champagne yelled, pointing toward a small bag that someone had thrown up through the cracks. The bag exploded in a cloud of red, like a flare. Egg never left home without those bags.

Flying in a spiral, to force the windeater to the center of the patch, Champagne emptied the last of the salt over the island.

And it drained.

Shallower and shallower the cloud thinned, the monster thrashing around more and more as his world disappeared.

With one final push, it made to leap for the far edge, across the gap, but it was too late, and there was not enough traction.

And so, as the rain, did it fall, down towards a small cube of mist, into which it plopped, disoriented, but soon righted itself and started circling around and around, as most animals were wont to do. The top of the box was quickly slid into place, trapping the animal once and for all.

Cookie and Champagne appeared through the hole, to join Egg and Ember, as they all watched the predator swim around in an endless loop.

And even though blood dripped from Ember's leg, they all found themselves unable to look away from the thing that caused the damage. It was actually quite a magnificent thing to behold up close, especially in a way that didn't put them in any danger.

"Why isn't it attacking, though?" Champagne asked, bravely pushing her face up against the plastic pane.

"It detects electrical impulses in the air to determine where prey is," one of the zookeepers explained. "The plastic blocks that. Plastic. It's an amazing earthborne material. It's so expensive, though. If we could have lined its enclosure with it... maybe this wouldn't have happened."

Champagne let out a soft murmur, before pulling back.

"Well, let's not hang about," Egg muttered. "I don't want to run into... her again."

"Wait, who?" Ember shot up, suddenly.

"Our friend Gale paid us a visit while you were gone."

"Oh, that b-"

"Ember, we struck a deal. It's fine. She'll be leaving us alone. Helping us, in fact. I hope. But still, I don't think it's good we stick around lest other reporters try to get at us. Besides," Egg said, noting Ember's leg. "You need to get to a clinic."

"Aw, that ain't nothin'." Ember snorted.

"Miss Eternia?" Egg looked up at her.

The gryphon nodded, placing a taloned hand onto Ember's shoulder.

"I- oh, fine," Ember surrendered.

"And you two, will you be alright transporting the creature back?"

"Sir?" Champagne cut in, flying up between them and laying a hoof on the side of the cage.

"Yes, Champagne?"

"If you would permit me, I would like to escort the cage back. There are some things I have to... discuss with the zoo."

"Very well. Then, we'll all meet back at the base later." Egg nodded.

The smell of fried waffles didn't seem so appetizing this night, even though it was always a blessing to the hungry traveller. His mug of coffee cooled, untouched, on the table, as his slice of pie rapidly approached room-temperature.

When you have time to think...

... you think.

And as the phrase would suggest, if you don't have time to think, you don't. It was a rather obvious thing to state, but one that should never be overlooked, especially by a pony who had a lot of time to think.

Back there, in the field, there were other things to worry about. There was the safety of his team; there was the logistics of it all which, to his own surprise, went smoother than expected; and there was the delegation of tasks to others besides himself.

He didn't know which one bothered him more, but he had a sense of guilt about the whole matter. Wasn't he just condemning Emberkite but through someone else? Was this not selfishness by proxy?

If you didn't ask for it yourself, but someone else did, and you needed it to happen anyway...

Was this just how those crime bosses acted? In fact, was this how any pony or gryphon of power acted? Getting others to do the dirty work for you, so that you can pretend that your hooves are clean?

Egg looked at his hoof.

There was plenty of time to think.

Egg winced again, the pain in his side acting up. A large, nay, humongous, bruise had started to show. He had declined going to the hospital himself – nothing was broken, and you couldn't do anything about bruises except wait for them to heal, anyway.

And so he wandered. In the space between the park and the diner, and all the hours in between, he walked. He'd just walked around. Thinking. Musing. Letting the fear catch up to him up to the point where he had to stop for a while and breathe in the cool night air in the hopes that they would extinguish the fires in his lungs.

Letting himself realise what had happened.

Letting the understanding come to him.

All that had been said, and all that had been done.

He entered the diner knowing full well what he was walking into. But he'd made a promise, hadn't he? One of many.

He had been there every night, just as he agreed.

But he kept one promise that night to break another.

He felt she knew that there was something wrong the minute he stepped in. It was the way she lay there on the tabletop, head on leg, facing away and staring silently out the window.

It was the way she just sat across from him, not bothering to say a word, just hiding her face from the light of the diner, the midnight blues of the night sky reflecting off her eyes.

It was the way she waited, waited patiently for Egg to say something. Anything.

A normal pony would have felt awkward as the seconds ticked by.

He had entered the diner at 11:39. it was now 12:11.

During those 32 minutes he was merely... thinking.

For 32 minutes, trying to find the best way to state it, the best way to put it. The best way to say something.

And after 32 minutes, all he came up with were four little words.

"I made a mistake," he told her.

Mocha pushed herself up, eyes vapid, breath shallow, a sense of worn durability playing about her.

She let herself fall back into the seats, placing her hooves neatly on the tabletop, her eyes shut in quiet contemplation.

"Keep going," she demanded, eyes flicking out the window again.

"I got too excited."

"You?" Mocha asked. Not in spite. Not in anger. She just asked.

"Yes. I had an oversight."

"How did that happen?"

"I wasn't in a place where I could think."

A moment passed.

"And?"

"And I made a mistake."

"You promised, didn't you?"

"I did."

"And?"

"And I don't know," Egg sighed.

Mocha shuffled in her seat, her head moving back and forth with the gentlest of movements.

"No. You don't not know. You move on, Egg."

The stallion looked up, but his coffee was so much more interesting and he found himself refocusing on it once again.

"Your problem," Mocha continued, "was that you thought you'd never make a mistake in the first place. Is that not the height of arrogance?"

"No."

"You would say that."

"Well, I mean it."

"And the sad part is that you don't find that statement the height of arrogance either, do you?"

"No."

Mocha rubbed at her forehead.

"Egg, you're going to make mistakes. A lot of them. You probably already have. Many of them. The only thing that's getting you by is your... stubbornness."

"I don't see it th-"

"And, you're going to get hurt. You nearly got seriously hurt today, didn't you?"

Egg fell into silence. He felt like eating his pie. He felt like taking a drink of coffee.

He did neither.

"I... did something else today," Egg finally revealed. He had to work up to that point.

"Do tell."

"I... brought on Miss Eternia."

"Oh?"

"Yes. She'll be... helping me."

"Helping?"

"Yes." Egg stopped to consider the implications of the word. "Helping."

"Not doing stuff for you?"

"No."

"Not listening to instructions and just... following."

"No."

"Actually helping."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I have to be sure," Mocha declared.

"About what?"

"About the fact that you're saying the word 'help' funny, and that you never..."

"... trust anyone?" Egg finished.

Mocha stopped short, mid-reply, mentally erasing what she had intended to say and simply settling for a 'yes'.

"Well, I've decided to... let Miss Eternia... help. I believe she's capable."

"Well."

"I... found that in order to think... I have to be in a place where I'm allowed to think. Being... there. In the middle of it all. It's different. I'm wondering if... Emberkite..."

"If he doesn't have a method to his madness after all?"

"I suppose you could say that. Maybe in order for this to work... I have to do what I do and he has to do what he does."

Mocha leaned over again, her hair brushing the table, her face nestled in the crook of her leg.

"And of Cookie?"

"I suppose you could call her the bridge between the two of us. Maybe."

"It's curious, though. She's just a chef."

"That's what she wants to be. Somehow I feel there's a lot more to her."

"Well..." Mocha trailed off.

"What are you thinking?"

"It's... a step forward, at least. Strange, though."

"What is?"

"You also said, once, that you'd never change."

"I'm not sure I have, Mocha."

"I'm not sure either, Egg."

And just like that, all the nasty business was out of the way. Suddenly things slid back into business, and Egg had no trouble at all discarding what had passed.

"Well, the bruise... was actually from Ember. He rescued me from being impaled by a large, carnivorous beast."

"Just in time?"

"Yes."

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes."

"I have a salve."

"Convenient."

"Should I get it?"

"No."

"You don't have to punish yourself." Mocha folded her legs.

"Yeah, he does," came a voice from behind Mocha. "Stupid git. Look at the time, would you? I have work tomorrow, you know!"

"Hi, Survey." Mocha smiled, sliding out of the booth. "I'll leave you boys to it."

"Thank you, Mocha, I'll talk with you later," Egg said, nodding to his other friend.

"Alright, so what's the big news that I have to meet you at this time?" Survey asked, jumping into the seat across Egg, tossing a newspaper on the countertop.

"Well. For one, it was a time I knew I would be here."

"Ha ha. What do you want, Egg?"

"She's a professor."

"Excuse me?" Survey reached across the table and slid the mug of coffee to himself, taking a sip. "Oough, ugh. Cold. Disgusting."

He pushed the mug back.

"She, is a professor," Egg repeated. "Professor Polyc."

"Ah, course. Wait, she's a bird?"

"No, I don't think she's a gryphon."

"That's ri- no. No!" Survey smacked himself in the face with both his hooves. "No, Egg! not a bird. I mean, a bird! You know! She's a mare!"

"Yes. And she's a professor in the actual sciences. Narrow your search, Survey. Schools. Education systems. Something... university level, I think. I'm guessing, but you should start there. Look for actual professors. I don't think this is just a title. She's the one actually making these little bombs, so that takes some knowhow. Experience. Intelligence."

"Alright. I see what you're getting at. Should be a lot easier, now that I have a sector to look into. Oh, and look at this. Look at this, mister Egg. Look at this."

Survey pushed the newspaper toward him. It was the evening edition, already flipped open to page five – certainly no red letter headline, but still worth a mention.

CLOUDSDALE ZOO GIVES UP THE GOOSE!
Escaped Animal Causes Panic, Fear!

by Gale A. Mezzo

"Anonymous strangers help with the recapture of a ferocious animal that was loose in the city, eh?" Survey paraphrased. "You wouldn't happened to have anything to do with this, would you?"

Egg pointed to his side.

"Holy... hailstones, Egg. That looks awful."

"Ember had it worse. Got a bit cut up."

"Egg, this is getting..."

"No, it's alright, honestly."

"That's ironic. You fight Unity for two weeks and you get injured going against a wild animal. But then again, I guess a bunch of purist bigots aren't any better than wi-"

"Wait." Egg perked up suddenly, looking at Survey oddly. "What did you just say?"

"I... said... something about animals, and then we moved on. Say, how're things going wi-"

"Survey, who told you about Unity?"

"Y-you did. Of course you did," Survey smattered, rolling his hoof around. "Now, listen, this coffee is terri-"

"Survey."

"Leave me alone, Egg!"

"You know who they are, don't you?"

"I..." The word lingered in the air. "I might know something?"

"Survey, when did you know about them?"

Survey groaned, sighed and grumbled all at the same time in a single impressively expressive noise.

"Since the start, Egg."

"Go on?"

"That's... that's why I didn't want you to get involved! Alright? Those guys who mugged me... they were from Unity. Us non-cloudsdalians, we all know about Unity. It's just something we don't talk about."

"What is this group, Survey?"

"They're... purists. Racists, I guess. I don't know. They don't like anyone born outside of Cloudsdale. They believe in Cloudsdale for Cloudsdale. They probably targeted me because I was walking the wrong way up the street or something."

"They attacked you just because you're from Trottingham?"

"I suppose so, yeah."

"And how'd they know that?"

"Well, you're always saying I have a funny accent, aren't you! It's not like it's not obvious I'm from out of town!"

"And what of other races?"

"They get it worse, I'm sure."

"How is this kept so quiet?"

"Because we just don't talk about it, Egg! Don't you understand how things work here? What use is it to talk about it? Who's going to do anything about it? Either you fight back yourself or you... go home! It's been happening for a long while, Egg, but it's just gotten worse recently. Do you remember Hummingbird Basil from pony resources?"

"Of course. Lovely stallion. He had to go back Earthside because... oh."

"Yeah, that's right, Egg. We don't even really tell each other. Us foreign types. And I tell you what, us 'overcast' are a lot more worse off than the ones that come from the other sky cities."

"Don't use that term, Survey."

"But that's what we are, aren't we!" Survey yelled out suddenly, smacking the table. A moment later and he let out a soft sigh, regaining composure.

"Sorry, Mocha," Survey called out.

"It's alright!" she chimed back, from behind the counter. "Built to last, those tables are!"

"Look, Egg," Survey said, leaning forward and sticking a hoof up under his nose. "This is why I didn't want to say anything, alright? Because now you're angry. You don't look like you're angry, but I know you, and you're angry."

"Maybe I am," Egg whispered.

"I didn't want you to get into this in the first place!"

"But I already am, aren't I?"

"Yes. Against my greatest efforts to stop you, you are. So... there's nothing left for me to do, is there?"

"You'll join?" Egg asked, eyebrow raising upward.

"N-no! No, Egg, I am not join- I told you a mi- Stop it, Egg!"

"Then what?"

"I'll just... help you. But, that's all I can do. I have to look out for my team. I have to watch out for the punk."

"Oh, punk," Egg muttered.

"I'll have my team do some digging on this Professor mare tomorrow, alright? Punk and I are being attached to some big project. Stackford got his terrible little mustache on him. I don't know if that's good or bad, but... I'm gonna make sure nothing goes wrong."

"Why, sounds like he's growing on you."

"He's a lot more polite than you are, honestly."

"Well, in any case, it's getting late."

"Yes. It is. Listen, I'll pass on any information I can get. Give me a day, at least. Alright, Egg? It's getting harder to make excuses for why I'm sending my boys off to do weird things anymore."

"I appreciate it, Survey."

"I know you do."

They stood on the roof of the office block, gazing down at the diner, the warm glow of the lights within winking as the ponies inside moved back and forth along their paths.

At first they watched.

They watched as the blue-ish one, nearly invisible against the night, exited and flew off home.

They watched as the one called Egg also left a moment later, followed by the owner of the establishment.

They watched as she faced him to say goodbye, and though out of earshot, they could easily guess what was being said.

They were good for that.

They watched as she suddenly threw herself against his body, in a sort of awkward hug. It seemed to be spurred by fear more than anything. They could tell.

They were good for that.

They watched as he reeled back slightly in shock, but did not reciprocate the physical gesture.

They watched as she stumbled back and faded into the doorway.

They watched as he stood there, wondering what to do with himself.

"That's him?" one of them asked, skeptically.

"Yep, that's him," came the reply.

"Can't hardly believe it."

"Well... that's him, alright. Eggbeater. Been fancying himself something of a hero. Going around and shaking things up."

"Should we get him now, you think?"

"Nah. Let's just watch for a lil' bit. Can't hurt."

"Can't hurt? Are you sure? After all he's done?"

"Well, it's not like I'm going to watch him forever. I just want to see what he does next."

"With the mare, you mean?"

"Yes, once he finds her."

"And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, I'd like to check that diner out, I think."

"Why?"

"Because they serve pie. And I love pie."

Romancing the Clouds

EPISODE 3 :: End

Episode 4-1 :: Scrambled

12:11 AM

"There's something I want to say to us all before we move in," Egg said, in his usual calm demeanour. It was an odd tone to be speaking in compared to the intention of the small speech, but still, it was Egg. Everyone knew that. And that was enough of a reason.

"We've been together for about two weeks. This is a rather dangerous situation that we are heading into – one that we are severely unprepared for, as well as undertrained. All we have is a layout that I hope we all memorized, a target that we need to find, and our wits.”

The night broke his speech with a whisper of the wind. A ruffling of feathers chimed through the air as Eternia huddled up against the cold of a dark sky.

"This is… something that I would not have expected that we would be doing so soon in our efforts as a crime-prevention team, and I would just like to say…" Egg looked from left to right.

There they were. His group. His team.

"… I would just like to say – everything that we have gone through up until this point, and all our time spent together… well. I would just like everyone to know that your performances have been… acceptable."

Cookie gripped her claws tight against the cold wooden sidewalk.

Ember nodded, his face tightened into pinpoint focus, his mind on the mission and what he had to do.

Champagne sniffed, her lower lip quivering.

"Is everything alright, Champagne?" Egg asked, looking over to her.

"Y-yes," she replied, pre-emptively wiping at her damp eyes. "But that was… that was a brilliant speech, sir."

Egg nodded, turning his head toward the building behind him, acknowledging his verbal contribution as a positive one. "Yes."

The four of them huddled, quite out of place, in front of an old, abandoned building that had definitely seen better days. Under the cover of night, they remained partially in stealth, but anyone walking by would have easily picked up on them for acting suspiciously.

"Alright. Miss Eternia and Champagne? Please head to the rear and give us the signal once you are about to enter. Ember, with me." Egg stood up from his crouched position in the bushes, staring down the building like a tamer at a lion. "Everyone, remember the plan and stick to it. No theatrics. That means you, Emberkite. Miss Eternia and Champagne, try to make sure you are not seen. Once we clear the base, we meet outside her lab, and we get in, grab her, and get out."

Two ponies and one gryphon nodded back.

"Good luck, everyone. This will be the first crippling blow to Unity."

Champagne and Cookie took off, flying at low altitude and making their way to the rear of the building as quickly and silently as possible. There was no real danger of being caught; if they were going to be seen, they'd have been by now. They were not exactly the paragons of stealth, and Egg knew where their weaknesses lay.

He had tested the area earlier, walking casually by the front and back a few times in an overly suspicious manner. If anyone were keeping watch, he most certainly would have been stopped.

And that left him and Ember at the front, lurking in the bushes by the main double doors.

"You okay, old stallion?" Ember whispered.

"Acceptable," Egg reasserted.

But his eyes darted to the side for a fraction of a moment as a memory stirred up from the front of his mind. Certain facts had caught up with him, and he found himself lost in the weight of that which had not yet been internalized.

"Actually, no." Egg corrected himself. "I am quite apprehensive. After the other day's events, I have been filled with… strange feelings."

"I think they're called emotions, old stallion."

"Yes. Well, of course. But all things considered…"

"You scared or somethin'?" Ember smirked.

"No, not so. I suppose… I am having similar sensations to the ones I had while I was chasing down that thunder goose. A sort of rush of energy. Quite like the feeling of anticipation, but with, ahhh… more expectancy. Do you know what I mean?"

"Excitement, old stallion. It's called excitement." Ember looked away, peering at the closest window. Old newspapers had been plastered over the panes of glass from the inside.

"Ah yes, of course. I am… excited." Egg nodded, stating the facts.

"About what?"

"Well. I'm just happy that I'm finally about to meet this elusive pony. It's rather fascinating, isn't it – what would drive one to… do all this. It shall be rather interesting, talking to her."

"Yeah, it will, man. I wouldn't mind giving her a talking to myself, if you know what I mean." Ember frowned, stretching out his leg.

"Miss Eternia would not approve of that."

"Well, she can take her approval an-"

A bird chirped in the distance. A rather loud bird. A rather large bird.

Half of one, at least.

"They’re in. Won’t be long before the second signal."

"Yeah, can’t wait," Ember muttered, rushing to the door ahead of his partner.

Egg slowly closed the gap, walking straight at the ominous edifice, head held high and words under his breath.

"Let us meet in the field of battle," he intoned to himself, as he stepped up to the door.

"Professor."

Nine hours earlier

It was 3:28 in the afternoon, a time when most eateries were still open – a time just after the lunch rush, so it was common to find a couple of stragglers left in the reeds of their dwindling plates.

But even then, it didn't much matter to her, for when she said the diner was closed, by the Stars the diner was closed and you'd better finish your plates of whatever and get out within the next five minutes or else.

The customers from around the are were rather used to that by now and paid it as much heed as the rumours that arose from it.

When the diner shut in the afternoon, they said, it meant she was receiving guests. Oft times this was mentioned with a wink and a nudge, and oft times no further proof was necessary for everyone to play along.

There were many rumours about the diner and her owner.

But rumours normally held their origins in a slight sliver of truth, and in this case, the mare in question was, in fact, receiving guests of a certain nature.

In the barren and empty floor of the diner, coated by the gentle lights that bloomed from above, stood a little diner-owner and a rather uncomfortable head of marketing.

The head of marketing scratched his head.

The diner-owner tilted hers.

An uncomfortable silence ensued, broken only by the endless patience of Mocha Leche.

"You… didn't have to close the whole shop, did you…?" Survey asked, scuffing his hooves on the linoleum.

"You said you needed privacy."

"Well, not… not this private! I mean… maybe you had a back room or something…?"

"Do you know what happened to the last stallion to go back there?" Mocha asked, eyeing the space behind the counter.

"Um… no?" Survey squeaked.

"Well, neither did he."

"Right. Point taken. Tell you what, I'm gonna get a meeting room at the office, then. Once Egg swings by, just tell him-"

"I already closed the diner for you two. Least you could do is stay, Survey." Mocha smiled gently.

"R-right. Third from the left, then, eh? Eh?" Survey stumbled both on the words and his own four hooves, making a little dance to the booth before sliding himself onto the fluffy seat.

Mocha stood in the middle of the room, watching him with that bemused smile still plastered on her face.

"R-right then," Survey said again as he finally reached his seat, removing his tools.

The newspaper came first, aligned perfectly with the bottom right corner of the table, about an inch from the edge in both directions. Nice and neat.

Next to it was placed a stack of papers, all held together with various paperclips and coloured sticky notes.

A simple quill and inkpot bordered the top.

The space directly in front of him was kept clear; he had to have working space, after all.

On the left, aligned perfectly to the rest of the items, was a small, folded map. He had made sure to fold it according to regulation folding instructions.

It was a curiosity – Survey was incredibly messy at home, deep in his dark, dank cave where he never turned the lights on. But in public, he was as neat as could be, always making sure the quills were sharpened and everything was perpendicular. He couldn't help it. It was something he had to do.

His compulsion came from his nervousness, and today, that came from being in public and being stared at by creepy little diner owners who didn't have anything better to do because they closed the damn shop.

On a normal day… well, on any day, Survey would never step hoof in the diner alone, and the only reason why he ever came here was because Egg made him. But today, he had arrived here early, and he had to contend with… all this.

He took a deep breath, staring at the back of the couch across from him. His eyes focused on a loose tuft of cloud and attempted to pay no mind to the strange, brown pony who was watching him from the corner.

He flicked his head downward, looking over the papers, flipping through them once again to make sure everything was placed neatly in the order that he would present them in.

His eyes flicked back up again.

"Hwuargh!" he screamed, a hoof flying to his chest as he jumped back in his seat.

"We never talk, you and I," Mocha said, leaning forward over the table, her front hooves cusped together.

"When did… how did you get here?" Survey blubbered.

"When… you weren't looking, I suppose?" Mocha pulled back. She observed Survey with a sense of reckoning, an attempt to figure something out.

She casually reached over to her right, pulling a cord by the window. All at once, narrow blinders made out of thin, airy wood folded shut, throwing the booth into shadow.

"Seems like you might have needed a little more privacy," Mocha said, observing the blinds as if it were the first time she had ever done so, with a childlike curiosity and wonderment. "Egg told me that you preferred it dark and musty."

"He… he told you that, did he?"

"Well, not really. He said you were sort of like a worm. But I understood what he meant from context."

"You… you know what a worm is, then, eh?" Survey kept on muttering.

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Many worms up here in Clouds… ah… Cloudsdale?"

"Not really, no."

"So how do you know… about… about worms?" Survey chuckled, the hole getting bigger as he dug.

"I read." Mocha shrugged, raising her eyebrows at him. "I have an education. Things like that."

"Ri-right! Of course! Well, that's just…" Survey licked his lips, letting the nervous smile drop off his face and his discourse trail into nothingness.

Mocha blinked at him. "Beginning to see why we've never talked before. You seem rather alright with Egg, though."

"I'm just nervous, Miss Leche. I can't help it, alright?"

"Afraid of the ladies?"

"No! I love… ladies. And lady-things. All of the ladies!"

"Smooth."

"Like water off a duck." Survey sighed, tilting his head back and letting his eyes glaze over. Where was Egg? Where was he?

"You work in advertising, don't you?" Mocha asked, turning again to stare at the wooden blinders, propping her head up on a hoof. She didn't need anything more than her imagination to look out of a window.

"Marketing, really. Yes. Stuff like that."

"And how does a stallion like you come to work in this sort of profession?"

"Wh-what do you mean?" Survey asked, adjusting the nothing around his neck.

"Well, clearly, you don't like attention. And marketing is all about… attention, is it not?"

"Ah well. I see. Ah…" Survey nodded, even though Mocha wasn't looking. He was rather thankful for it, if he were frank. The fact that she wasn't trying to maintain eye contact was instrumental in his ability to continue this conversation without devolving into extremely bad comebacks.

He wondered if she were doing it with a rather calculated intention.

"Well, it’s about distractions, really. Ponies like to stare at other ponies. So I figure… I figure if I can make things that are more interesting than I am, then I've done a good job, haven't I? Then they won’t look at me and only at the thing. If that makes sense."

"I'm sure it does somewhere." Mocha smiled.

"W-well. I really don't know. I mean, I haven't really thought about it, have I? There's a lot of other facets of marketing, you know, other than just advertisements. There's market research. Interviews. Understanding target demographics… and yes, I've heard the 'Survey' joke, thank you very much. I have no idea what my folks were thinking of, naming me this, really."

"I rather like it. It's a… curious name. And one that seems to befit your line of work."

"Ah…well then. I-I mean…" Survey rolled his hoof in the air, struggling to find a better comment, his eyes wandering all over the diner.

"Anything you've done that I'd have seen before?"

"Beg your pardon?" Survey asked, his ear flicking toward the sound, his head following shortly.

"Anything you've done that I'd have seen before?" Mocha repeated.

"Well… I guess. I mean. We sub-contracted for L'Aérial once. You know. That cosmetics thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Um… the whole… you know the fruit range of things that they had once. There was a series of ads that went up in all the major departmental stores, yeah?"

"I think I've seen those. The one with the really big close-ups…"

"… And the juice that was the stuff and all that. Yeah."

"Yeah."

"We… we did those."

"Really? Impressive."

Survey nodded again to the uncaptive audience.

"I didn't know that Stackford and Sons took contracts," Mocha continued.

"Oh… oh, he does… everything, really. He does a lot of things, Mister Stackford does."

"You know, I've known Egg for a rather long time now, and… I have no idea what the company does."

"Oh… owns stuff, mainly," Survey said. He was not being sarcastic.

“Oh.”

"Well, nice to see you two getting along." A voice came from behind.

"Hwuargh!" Survey screamed again, flying into the corner of the booth, squashing the blinds up against the window.

"Was it something I said?" Egg asked, sweeping around to the front of the table, nodding to the other inhabitant. "Mocha."

"Egg." Mocha nodded back. "No. He's just… flighty today."

"When… when did you even get in here?" Survey asked, pointing a hoof at his emotionless friend.

"Just… a while ago? Before I walked over to the table."

"He didn't notice," Mocha tittered.

"Well, did you?" Egg asked the mare directly.

"Of course." Mocha nodded.

"What… what is this?" Survey yelled. "Alright, alright. Enough of all this tosh. You're here. Good. We can get on with it."

"Seems like a lot of stuff here." Egg observed.

"Yeah. You won’t believe the stuff I’ve found out. For you. Hope you're grateful," Survey chided, getting his temperament back. "I managed to get something interesting.”

"Interesting?"

"Interesting. But I'm not sure you saw, Egg. Did you get the morning edition?"

"Yes. I did."

"Right, good then. Here's a copy anyway." Survey pointed to the newspaper in the corner. "Happened again last night."

BANKS OF A FEATHER, ROBBED TOGETHER
Strange red markings left at crime scene! Reports of burning clouds!
‘WHERE ARE THE WONDERBOLTS’, ask citizens!

by Gale A. Mezzo

"Yes. It was one of those jewels again, wasn't it? Strange burns… Clouds catching on fire."

"Three branches of the First National Gryphon Bank, Egg. I'm telling you. It's two birds with one stone. If you'll pardon the expression,” Survey said.

"Won't even steal pegasus money," Mocha muttered. "Well, gentlemen, I'll leave you to it."

"No, wait." Egg held a hoof up. "I think… I think I'd like an extra head for this. Please stay, Mocha."

"You're including me, Egg?" Mocha asked.

"You're including her, Egg?" Survey wailed.

"Yes," Egg replied.

Survey rolled his eyes, darting his head to the side. Mocha stayed where she sat, looking straight at Survey.

"Well, come on, then, let's not waste time. I had this whole thing set up for a one-on-one, too! The layout's ruined!" Survey complained, pointing to his carefully positioned items.

"Then… I suppose you should sit down now, Egg." Mocha smiled, staying put.

To his left, his best friend sat, and to his right, Mocha Leche gazed upon him with an unreadable expression.

One seat to take.

Egg looked toward the floor while both of his friends watched curiously, and finally, he slid into place.

Mocha smiled to herself, shuffling aside to give Egg a bit more space.

"Right, Survey." Egg locked gazes with him in the most steely look that Survey had ever seen him give. "What have you got?"

12:21 AM

“Hey!” Ember yelled, breaking the still of the night as his voice pierced through the door that he was banging on. “Whaddaya guys got for me, huh? Come on!”

It was a determination that he made a long time ago, but there was a simple necessity to the matter – in order to truly be effective, one had to let Emberkite be Emberkite.

You couldn’t keep a thundercloud in a jar and still expect it to shock everyone.

No.

You had to let it free, let it go where it wanted, and let it do what it wanted. That didn’t mean that you had to be slave to the cloud; you needed to be like the wind, gently wafting it around and letting it unleash its high-voltage fury upon the fields below, setting fire to the corn and scorching the farmers.

Alright, the metaphor required work.

No matter, though, Egg figured. That was the general idea, and only he had to understand what it meant, anyway.

Already, his partner in crime-fighting and other incidental roles was banging away at the door, hammering upon it with the fury and the temper of a cloud unbridled. It had only been mere moments after the second signal, but already, he wanted in, and he wasn’t about to let a simple door stop him.

Egg calmly walked to the side of the door – a large thing made of compressed cloud and reinforced with thick planks of heavy oak – and stood nonchalantly by the side.

What felt like half a minute of continuous pummelling had gone by, plenty of time for anyone inside to recover from the shock of surprise, ask their compatriots what was going on, and decide on an action, which would, given the length of time in which to work with, be the wrong choice altogether.

The door flew open.

And Ember kept knocking.

His entire body was a hoof. It was the way he straightened his back just so, lowered his head just right; and one single flap of his powerful wings rocketed him forward like a punch. The door itself had barely been opened all the way, and Egg had positioned himself to keep it ajar as Ember crashed head-first into the chest of the goon who had foolishly come out to check on the disturbance.

One expects cries of pain. One thinks they might hear a groan or an interjection of displeasure. In reality, as Ember had told Egg once, ponies produce some very different noises upon having their ribs broken. Don’t believe the movies.

This one had flown across the darkened foyer of the building, skidding on his back and rolling a few times before ending up in the fireplace.

A high-pitched whine passed by his lips, like the sound of a puppy whose tail had been trodden on, intermixed with the breathless gasps of his shuddering lungs as his mind tried to comprehend the pain.

It was rather unnerving.

Ember turned to Egg, a cocky smile on his face, as he quirked his eyebrows twice, as if to say I told you.

Egg raised his own eyebrows in return.

I didn’t really need the demonstration.

Ember jerked his hoof toward the entrance.

Egg nodded as they both intruded upon the property, sweeping their bodies into shadow and blazing forth like a lamp in the night.

It wasn’t a casual decision that led to Egg working with Emberkite that night.

The accountant’s sharp eyes swept across the stallion in the fireplace. The gangster was still wheezing, like a set of bellows that certainly wouldn’t be out of place there, but the noise was overlaid with the soft hisses of a pony trying desperately to not burst out crying like a three-year-old child.

Every once so often his wings would flutter, scraping against the clouds of the chimney, much like a moth does on the floor when swatted – a futile effort, but one which showed the struggle.

Champagne would probably have kept her eyes on the figure for minutes, trying to comprehend what she was looking at.

Miss Eternia would probably have stopped all actions to try to help him, or chide Ember for his more… savage methods.

But Egg, being Egg, was the only one of the three of them who could do what he did next.

He raised an eyebrow and looked away.

The foyer was dark and silent, more than it should have been, given the circumstances. Everything was covered with stray tufts of cloud, from the door they had just passed through to the seats that were pushed up against the far wall.

Empty, discoloured rectangles lined the walls where paintings used to hang, and, besides the couches, there was nothing left in the room that even resembled furniture.

A darkened corridor led away to the depths of the building. A quick assessment told Egg that the room he was standing in must have been a antechamber of some sort when the building was still operational. It was all very formal indeed.

The fireplace had seen its first stirring in many months, and old lamps hung from the ceiling. But unlike other buildings, the whole place was made of wood, from the floors to the walls to the roof, and Egg was reminded of groundside architecture.

It was too cramped to fly in there, something rather unique to Cloudsdalian buildings, and Egg didn’t even need to lift completely off the ground to touch one of the lightbulbs that lay socketed inside a gently swinging shade.

The bulb was still warm.

He lowered his front hooves back to the ground, turning to Ember and giving him a nod.

Ember nodded back.

He then looked to the floor. Dust had been moved in a specific pattern. Trails and lines gave themselves up, and all in a second did Egg understand.

The dust told him of their activities. Guards, and nothing more. here to stand guard, patrol a defined path and leave everything else alone. The lights told him that they had abandoned those posts in a hurry.

Grunts did guardwork, not anyone of importance. The one now struggling to keep himself from falling unconscious was probably a member of the lowest tier, and if there was anything Egg knew about anyone working on the lowest tier is that they never worked alone.

They were either paired up with other grunts or worked directly for a superior. Usually, that superior made them fetch a lot of coffee.

Opening the door head-on was a very stupid thing to do.

This meant that these guys had no one else but each other to report to, and that meant that most of them were probably working in groups that had no clue what they were doing.

It was almost enough for Egg to pity the pony in the fireplace.

“About the um… young gentlecolt…” Egg started, still scanning the room.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. You know I’d never…” Ember waved his leg in the air to elaborate.

“Indeed,” Egg replied. “Where do you think his friend is hiding?”

Ember didn’t miss a beat.

“He’s hiding right there, yo,” he said to the room in general.

The couch in the corner shifted as something bumped into it.

Ember smirked.

Egg nodded stoically.

Ember shifted his weight as he leaned forward, ready to leap.

“Alright,” Egg said, a little louder than necessary for a simple command, halting his partner in his tracks. He raised a hoof and pointed toward the darkened corridor, toward which Ember swivelled with an understanding grin.

“Kill him if he struggles,” Egg declared, loudly. Deliberately.

Egg calmly walked toward the upturned seats in the other corner as two more guards burst out of the hallway with screams of ‘hey!’ and ‘stop!’. They were hopefully just idle comments, just like Egg’s had been, but either way, he had faith that Emberkite was fundamentally suited for resolving these sorts of confrontations. This allowed him to stroll to the chair and look at it, staring at the shadows that engulfed it.

The newspapers that covered the windows were enough to block out half of the moonlight, but it seemed that Ember was quite happy tussling in the dark.

There was a thump as a body hit a wall.

“Come out,” Egg called at the chairs.

The scuffling behind him got louder. Something made of glass – probably one of the light bulbs – broke.

“You know, we know you’re hiding there.”

One of the corridor ponies screamed. Egg resisted the temptation to turn around to look.

“It really isn’t polite to hide while the rest of your team fights, is it?”

The couch shot forward a short distance as it was kicked away. Egg stepped back, the couch skidding to a stop a few hooves away from him. From behind it emerged the final member, who wiped the moisture from his face with a leg and stood up, glaring at the invader.

“Now, listen,” Egg told him. “I just want to meet the professor. If you cooperate, I won’t hurt you. Does that sound like a reasonable compromise?”

There came a series of thumps now, from the gloom in the back, the rhythmic beating of a drum.

The guard said nothing, did nothing. He stood there, eyes narrow, breath heavy. He was nervous. It showed, even without needing to see his face all too clearly. He was as a fish on an unfathomable dry land.

“Well, I assume she’s in the back somewhere,” Egg continued. “I mean, we’re going to find her anyway. You’d just be helping us out. And I like helpful ponies. They make my life easier. And that makes everyone’s life easier.”

The rapid thuds died down, the room returning to a semi-state of silence. The low hum of groans and wheezing floated through the space, but other than that, the only sharp, punctuated noise left was the sound of four hooves stepping toward Egg’s side of the room.

The young pegasus guard pushed himself back up against the wall, his eyes flicking from Egg’s face to the face of the one who appeared beside him like a terrible monster revealing himself from the veil of night.

“Well,” the bespectacled stallion said with finality. “I gave you a chance. Can’t say more than that. But I do admire your tenacity. I apologize for the way in which my associate will treat you now.”

The other one, the one with the blazing red mane and the small trickle of blood that ran from the side of his mouth, smiled at him as he leaned forward, placing his weight on his front hooves. The one with the glasses had turned to go, trotting with an eerie calm toward the dark.

The guard let his eyes wander. Something bad was going to happen. Perhaps he knew it, but didn’t want to see it coming. When one doesn’t face things head-on, one still has the illusion that things might end up differently. One still has hope.

But with a blooming of feathers and an extension of wings did the red streak fly forth, and all sight was taken away from the guard’s eyes against his will.

The whole ordeal had been particularly noisy. But that had been part of the plan.

The stallion in the fireplace had decided to take a nap, much like his friends had as well. They were all still breathing, but they weren’t in any state to get up and do anything. In fact, getting up would have been quite a task by itself.

One of the others laid face-down in a corner. A thin liquidy streak trailed from a much larger smear on the wall to where he lay, and the lack of light was the only thing hiding what the liquid was. It was a good thing Egg didn’t have any sort of active imagination.

His friend lay in the center of the room, one of the ceiling lamps wrapped around his head like a tin-foil helmet. All Egg could see was his gasping mouth, the entire top of his cranium obscured by his new face-wear.

Egg shook his head to himself, walking back to Ember, who was panting heavily, but could not wipe the adrenaline-fueled smirk from his expression.

The four legs of a segment of couch had been driven into the wall. The seat, however, was not flush all the way with the wood because there happened to be a pony sandwiched between the two.

“Is that your blood or theirs?” Egg asked, tilting his head at the splotches of liquid that stained Ember’s cheek.

“Bit of both, I think.” Ember said.

“We… really must talk about your methods,” Egg commented, frowning at the spider squashed by the chair.

“What? Fast? Effective? Efficient?” Ember chuckled, wiping the blood off his face and taking in a few deep breaths to wind down a little. “Haven’t done this for a while, Specs.”

“Yes, but still. Perhaps Miss Eternia has a point. There is no need to use more force than necessary.”

“Are you kiddin’, old stallion? These guys? You do remember what they do, right? Bombing things? Weird cloud fires? Hurtin’ everyone? Theft?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why are you protecting them?”

“I’m not,” Egg said, flicking his eyes toward Ember’s. “I’m protecting you.”

Ember stared back, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “I don’t get it, bub.”

“We’ll talk later,” Egg said. “Let’s make sure there are no other guards in hiding around here, and hopefully any stragglers will press on toward the rear.”

“Alright.” Ember shrugged, huffing. “You always talk in weird, old stallion.”

“Yes. Perhaps I do. And if we stumble upon anyone else, please do me a favour.”

“Be gentle?”

“Be gentle.”

3:44 PM

“Hey, hey, be gentle!” Survey snapped as Egg pulled the maps toward himself. “You’re putting creases on them!”

“Right,” Egg responded, flicking the maps upward with a thrust of his hooves before spreading them over the table roughly. “What am I looking at?”

“The maps, Egg! Don’t… do… ugh.” Survey gave up, rubbing his temple with a hoof. “Right. You’re looking at CDU right there.”

“The entire campus?”

“The entire campus,” repeated Survey. “Now, we have a lot to talk about, and I figure I should start by telling you about this little thing I found down at old Cloudsdale University. Please direct your attention here, if you will.”

The main grounds of the campus were made up of twelve-or-so smaller clouds that circled a larger administration building. The area on the map that Survey was pointing to focused on a small white island that floated by itself in the middle of the sky, far away from the rest of the cloudlets.

The map displayed four rectangular buildings that sat in a cluster in the middle of the cloud, which wasn’t more than half a kilometer in diameter itself.

“What’s this?” Egg asked, flicking his eyes toward the companion section.

Maps in Cloudsdale came divided. Along with the regular top-down view, sometimes a side view was provided as well, just to show relations along a different, yet relevant, axis.

The cloud was not only far away, but also much higher up than the others. It seemed to have been placed in a rather unobtrusive location and was small enough not to warrant any unneeded attention.

“Some old abandoned labs, they are. The university’s old research department used to be set on this cloud,” Survey explained.

“Why’s it so far away?”

“Well, you see, it was built ages ago, when clouds were still more brittle. They decided to construct it far away just in case of accidental spills or explosions or what have you, which occurs a little more often than you would think.”

“I see.” Egg nodded. “But they’re abandoned now?”

“Right. With the relatively recent innovation of dynamic cloudproofing, a little more than two years ago, they decided to move the whole faculty to a new building upwind. That’s this one, right here.”

Survey poked the other side of the map.

“Since then, the old lab cloud has been decommissioned, and it’s been removed from all the newer school maps. This is an older map here. But due to the fact that it’s terribly hardy, the government in all their wisdom has not been arsed to break it down. So it’s left there. Floating. Alone, by itself, with all those tasty buildings.”

“Tasty,” Mocha repeated.

“Yes. Tasty.” Survey glared at the bemused mare.

“Why can’t it be broken down?” Egg asked, still staring at the spot on the map.

“Ah, we’re getting into the interesting things now, Egg,” Survey replied with a smirk. “When the university first commissioned it, they needed something hardier than regular buildings by the standards back then. They noted that the school of magic in Canterlot is always blowing up for one reason or another, but still hasn’t fallen down yet, and they decided to work jointly with Canterlot architects to build the labs.”

“You’re not saying it’s made of stone, are you?” Mocha asked.

“No, nothing that heavy. It’s wood and light metal, mostly. But there are actual trees and bushes on the cloudlet, too, because Unicorns like those kinds of things. Rather insipid, compared to groundside, but… still. Anyway, point is, it’s pretty tough. It’s a secure place, like a small fort. It’s possible to break down, but not worth the government bit, apparently.”

“And what is the significance of this building?” Egg asked, bluntly.

“Right. See, what I figured, right, looking into this whole thing, was that Unity operations need some kind of power. There’s no clandestine scribe-by-moonlight nonsense going on here. There’s a right proper thing what’s being done. Now, you know that Stackford does power polling on the side for the Bolt-farms, right?”

“Yes,” replied Egg.

“Well,” Survey continued. “I… ah… liberated some of the records. According to the guy I… um… borrowed them from, the power company only cares about the ponies who can actually pay, right? So when we give them the polling reports, we’re told to omit data from decommissioned sectors. The Bolt-farms make excess, so this isn’t really their concern.”

“And these buildings have been using power?” Egg filled in the gap.

“For the past five months, yes.”

“And you think that…”

“Unity is using it as a base of operations,” Survey said.

“And I assume you have some further correlation to substantia-”

“I’m getting there, Egg! Cripes! Spoil my reveal, why don’t you!”

Egg closed his mouth, bobbing his head as he let his friend take the stand.

“Anyway,” Survey continued, stroking back his mane with a casual hoof. “Well, I thought, right, this is rather curious! So on a hunch-”

“A hunch?”

“Oh, give him space, Egg,” Mocha chided mockingly, nudging him in the shoulder.

Egg tilted slightly at the bump and moved back into place, returning to his silence under protest.

“Thank you.” Survey held a hoof out to Mocha. “See, Egg? That’s what you call manners.”

“I am full of manners.” Mocha bowed slightly, front hooves outstretched to her sides.

“So get this, right? I was going to send someone to check it out, but you’ll never guess who comes right up to me and says, ‘Mister Survey, I know whut yer doin’. I wants ta’ help’, and he goes right off on his own and checks out the building for me, no questions asked. None needed, really.”

“Punk?” Egg asked.

“Punk.” Survey said.

“That’s… not his name, is it?” Mocha inquired.

“Doesn’t matter!” Survey cried out. “But Punk! I mean, he comes up to me, and he says he knows that I’m working with you, and he wants to help in any way he can! I thought he was havin’ a laugh! But no, turns out he’s had a small niggle in his head ever since you set him straight. Full of guilt. He’s really, genuinely upset about what he did. I think it’s slowly starting to sink in, you know?”

“Are you sure about that?” Mocha asked, eyes tilting down a little.

“Absolutely. He was sincere. And he asked me by himself if he could go. He wanted to do something to get all this bad air off his chest. Offered his services.”

“And that’s not the slightest bit suspect?” Mocha continued.

“Well, you have to give him the benefit of the doubt, don’t you?” Survey said back, a hint of annoyance on his breath.

“In light of what he did?”

“That’s in the past! Forgive and forget! Mo-”

“Ladies,” Egg interrupted, sternly.

Survey and Mocha both stopped having things to say.

“I… believe in him, Mocha,” Egg said slowly. “I wouldn’t have sent him to Survey otherwise. I would not do something that would willfully endanger another.”

“Honestly, I was a bit… worried at the start,” Survey chipped in as well, “but he’s a very hard worker, and he’s actually got a good head on his shoulders. He’s always telling others how thankful he is you bluffed him. I really think he’s turning it around.”

“If you both say so,” Mocha relented. “But Egg. Don’t forget.”

“What?”

“You’ve been wrong once.”

“Yes. Yes I have,” Egg responded and left it there.

A short breath fell across the table as the three of them collected their thoughts.

“What did he find out?” Egg asked, skipping back to the topic at hand.

“Right. Well,” Survey continued, much softer now. “He… um… I told him about it. That the building was suspicious. He didn’t know much about what I was looking into specifically, but he volunteered to go check the place out. We worked a cover story, and we figured we could use his history as part of a cover story. If anyone were to question him or recognize him, at least he can fall back on the whole ‘I-once-tried-to-join-Unity’ thing.”

“Things went well, I assume.”

“Better than I’d hoped. He identified the exact building they were holed up in. Pretended to be a lost student. But he confirmed it. They’re all wearing some sort of Unity feather-band or something. He tells me with high confidence that Unity, is in fact, in this building as we speak.” Survey pointed to a specific rectangle.

“But what are they doing there?” Egg asked, staring at the tiny words written under the building. “Department of Applied Luminescence?”

“Now that. That’s the million-bit question, sir.” Survey grinned, pointing repeatedly at Egg in some sort of playful gesture. “And that’s what’s going to blow your mind. We don’t know what they’re doing there, exactly, but we know why they chose that place. She’s there, you see.”

“Wait. ‘She’?”

“The professor.”

That made Egg react. That made him sit up a tiny bit straighter, crumpling the map with a wayward hoof. That made him raise not one but both eyebrows in a strange burst of expression.

“This… information would have been pertinent at the start of the conversation…” He motioned, giving Survey a look.

“What, and ruin the story progression? Nonsense. There’s an art to the careful and technical revealing of information, Egg. You must learn to appreciate that.”

“Yes, but this isn’t really a story we’re talking about, is it? This changes a lot of things, Survey. Look. You’ve upset me.”

“Good,” Survey said.

“You’re sure she’s in there. Absolutely sure?”

“I can’t be a hundred percent, Egg, you know that. But I’ll tell you later why I think she is.”

“Well then. If you’re so sure,” Egg said, looking toward the ceiling, “it will have to be tonight.”

“Excuse me?” Mocha exclaimed.

“Tonight? What’s tonight?” Survey joined in.

“I’ll have to go over tonight and extract her.”

“Extract? That sounds a bit… rough,” Survey said.

“Wait.” Mocha put a hoof over her tired eyes, shaking her head back and forth. “Are you saying you’re going to go over to this place tonight?”

“Yes. What is the problem?”

“Well… preparation?” Mocha raised her voice slightly.

“I can do that right now. But the longer we wait, the smaller our window gets. There will be no noticeable difference between doing it tomorrow or a few days later, but time is a resource that we cannot reclaim once gone. No. It has to be soon. We must make a move on this base tonight. And knowing Survey, he would have already prepared enough information for me to do so.”

“Well, I have some things,” Survey said, eyeing the giant pile of papers in front of him.

“Floor plans?”

“Right here.”

“Do you know roughly how many ponies are in there and their armaments?”

“Generally.”

“Information on the Professor?”

“Just about to get to that.”

“Hmm,” Egg concluded, the room fading from his view as he returned to a very familiar place of thoughts and plans and lines.

“Egg!”

The yell snapped him out of his stupor. He turned slightly, facing a less-than-pleased mare, a few strands of hair unravelled from her bun.

“L-listen. You know I don’t… I don’t agree with this. I couldn’t possibly.”

“Oh, give her something, Egg,” Survey told him, equally annoyed, albeit for a different reason.

Egg opened his mouth slightly as a soft sigh of reluctance flew out from between troubled lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, readjusting the glasses on his face.

“Mocha?” he said, finally.

“Whut?” she grumbled, front legs wrapping themselves around her chest.

“I’m going to be fine.”

“How?”

“I’ll do things differently.”

“How?”

“I’m not going to be alone.”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Survey said, leaning back in his seat.

Egg hovered on the next thing he was about to say for a while as he gave his overly supportive friend the faintest of regards.

“Yes. Well. I have a team now. Everyone’s going to have a role. We’ll do everything in accordance to our strengths, and none of us will have to take unnecessary risks.”

“So, two of you against a bunch of gangsters. That doesn’t seem to even up the odds,” Mocha complained.

“No. Not just me and Emberkite. We have two more as well.”

“You know, I’ve never really gotten to know them,” Survey pointed out.

“I’ll… introduce you later,” Egg said.

“One’s a young girl of fortunate upbringing who has not much… street sense or physical ability.” Mocha turned to Survey. “And the other is a gryphon.”

“Well, a gryphon could certainl-” Survey raised a hoof.

“She’s a pacifist.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Survey mumbled. “What can they do?”

Egg stared straight ahead, gears clicking.

“They will be prepared.”

Continued in Part 2 ->

Episode 4-2 :: Scrambled

12:15 AM

“Are you prepared?”

“Yes, Miss Cookie,” Champagne whispered, the strains of nervousness edging into the fringes of her voice.

“Do not worry,” The gentle gryphon assured. “It will be fine, yes? We will do as Mister Egg has advised.”

“Y-yes. Of course.” Champagne nodded, fiddling with her bag.

Around her neck was a small slingbag. She had brought it from her home, and it was decorated with little drawings of a popular mascot character that was currently sweeping Cloudsdale’s pop culture scene.

It currently held a variety of objects that Egg had given her to take care of, things that might be useful in a pinch.

Champagne clutched the bag closer to her chest.

“Do you remember what we are to do?” Cookie asked Champagne.

“Yes, Miss Cookie. But why did Mister Egg have to go with Emberkite?” she asked with faint hesitation.

“Because Mister Egg is the only one who can control Ember, little Champagne. They need to make noise. Enough noise. But Ember cannot be allowed to get carried away. They must not pass the doors behind which lie the Professor, yes? So to draw her into our path. Neither I nor you would be able to tether Emberkite as well as Mister Egg can.”

“I guess,” Champagne mumbled. “Do you think it’s gonna work?”

“It is a sound idea. But we must clear our side of the building, and this is where those little knockout bags of Egg’s shall come in handy, yes?” Cookie poked the mascot-ridden satchel.

“Well, we’ll try using them then!” Champagne declared.

“And remember to be flexible. As the scenario changes so must our actions. Draw their attention. They will surely attack me on sight, but you will be able to distract them enough to give me entry, yes? And I insist that we disable without unnecessary harm.”

“Yes, Miss Cookie. But… how are we going to get the bags near their faces?”

“Well,” answered the gryphon, taking one of Egg’s traditional weapons from Champagne. Opening it, she retrieved a small baked treat that she had brought along for a snack and dropped it into the bag.

“There’s one thing I always noticed, as a baker.” Cookie smiled. “Ponies usually can’t resist taking a sniff of something delicious.”

No one was supposed to knock at this time of the night. In fact, according to her information, the next scheduled pickup was tomorrow. But then again, communication wasn’t one of the organization’s strong suits, and perhaps there had been a slight scheduling error.

Despite that, it would be a rather ill-advised thing to not open the door. After all, it could just simply be a wayward student, just like that young fellow from yesterday, but it might be Unity business.

The young mare scratched at the floor. This is why she hated door duty. You had to make choices and decisions and all that. The ones on the inside had the cushy jobs. Well, at least it would be her turn soon.

Just a few hours more, and she’d be able to switch with one of the guys up front at the main entrance, and nothing ever happened there.

Well, better get to it, then.

Her hoof froze a mere moment away from yanking the door open by a shrill call off in the distance. It sounded like a sort of bird, or bird-like creature, or something of the sort. Whatever it was, it drew a chill down her back, although she could not quite place the reason why.

The young lady who stood guard in the hallway behind the door thought back to when she was told, as a young child, that the screech of an eagle during the rising of the full moon was a portent of bad things to come.

Or was it supposed to be an owl?

It sounded like an eagle, though.

Nerves. Just nerves.

She flung the door open and looked down suddenly, the object of her focus a little bit lower than where she had originally cast her attention. There stood an innocuous-looking young mare, blinking wide-open eyes as she clutched a small pouch to her chest.

“What th- What do you want?”

“Good evening,” the little girl muttered, staring straight at the guard. “Is this where I can find Cloudsdale Unity?”

The guard’s heart skipped a beat as her expression changed from one of annoyance to one of confusion.

“Hey, w-what? Who are you?” she sputtered out, looking back over her shoulder into the darkness behind her. She turned down again, facing the little, bubbly girl with the braided mane.

“Can we speak?” she asked, giving a small, curt smile. But past that, there was a look of intent deep within, somewhere past her furrowed brow and nervous eyes.

“Kid, are you insane?” the guard growled, long, black strands of her mane falling past her eyes.

She reached out, grabbing the young girl by the shoulders and pulled her roughly through the door. A quick look outside helped reassure her that no one else was following before she slammed the door shut.

She didn’t notice the young girl taking a few quick looks of her own.

“I don’t know who you are, or what you think you’re doing here, but you just made a bi-”

The guard halted.

There was something wrong with this kid. Something terribly wrong. She was a bit too calm. That wasn’t to say that she was the height of non-perturbability, but the way she was just standing there and staring down the hall was quite unnerving. Even more so was how she started to take slow cautious steps forward.

Better stop her. Best not to let her roam around.

The girl stopped by herself, staring up into the guard’s eyes.

Alright. She’s stopping. I guess I can afford to relax a bit. Better go call for backup. Figure out what to do wi-

“Hey, you don’t need to call anyone else,” the girl said. “I just want to have a talk with you, that’s all.”

“Wh- what the hai…” the guard muttered.

Luna! Hold it together, mare! This is just some young kid who’s probably here on a dare or a challenge or something. But how did she know about Unity? Who could have possibly told h-

“Don’t worry! It doesn’t matter who I am,” the little girl gave her a smile that might have been meant to be reassuring, “or how I know that this is a base. I just want to talk.”

“K-kid,” the guard stammered, “you just caused yourself a lot of trouble. You think we’re gonna let you g-”

“What’s his name?”

“W-what?”

“Your friend. What’s his name?”

“I…” The guard swallowed.

“That’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid. I just want to talk.”

Something snapped.

“Alright, kid, that’s enough!” the guard barked, grabbing her roughly by the mane. “I had enough of your crap! I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but enough is enough!”

The girl yelped, cringing away. That’s right. She can feel pain. She’s just a normal little girl trying to play the fool.

The guard threw the girl deeper down the hallway, placing herself between the child and the door. The girl fell roughly, tumbling on the floorboards, catching her breath.

“Yeah, you wanna be funny? Right. Let’s see you be funny now!” The guard frowned, approaching the girl as menacingly as she could.

But the girl just sat there.

She sat there and regained her composure, slowly getting to her hooves, ignoring her assailant entirely.

There came a soft click from behind the guard.

She turned, eyes pulled open as far as she could. In the murky depths of the darkened hallway, she could see nothing but shades and shadows. But everything there was as she left it. Just an empty corridor and a door shut tightly.

She heard her own breathing rise noisily in her skull as she turned away, slowly, back to the child, back to the girl, nothing but the soft glow of a distant lamp keeping her silhouette from disappearing completely into the black.

“Kid,” the guard growled, using anger to displace that threatening rush of fear. “Who are you?”

“My name is not important,” the child responded as she slowly reached up with a hoof to remove that small pouch from around her neck.

“Hey! Stop! What are you doing?” The guard yelled, rushing forward.

A swift kick to a leg sent the child sprawling back down to the ground, and the small pouch found itself in the guard’s secure grasp.

This time, the young girl stayed down, her head cast to the floor. Her braided mane fell across her face, completely preventing the last remnants of light from reaching it.

“C-crap…” The guard scowled, raising her voice to call down the corridor. “Hey! Harrow! Get over here!”

It took half a minute for him to arrive, each second metering out two beats from her heart.

“What the hail do you want, Summer?” the stallion grumbled, walking cautiously down the hall. His head turned to the figure on the ground as he passed near enough to register. “Who the hail’s that?”

“J-just some girl, man. Was outside asking about Unity and stuff. Said she wanted to ‘talk’.”

“Hey, you doin’ alright? You don’t sound too good,” the stallion remarked, keeping an eye on the girl on the floor.

“Yeah. Just… just shaken, man. Tonight’s been weird. This stupid kid’s been tryin’ ta get in my head or something. She’s up to no good, man. Check this out while I interrogate her, alright?”

“What?”

The small bag flew through the air, caught deftly by the stallion.

“The heck’s this?”

“Girl was tryin’ to take something out of it when I whacked her. Check it out. Might be a weapon or something.”

The guard named Summer turned her attention back to the young girl. She walked forward, lowering a hoof on to the ankle of the little figure on the floor. The young mare winced, hissing to fight the sudden, sharp pain.

“Alright, girl. Enough games.” Summer spat. “Who are you, and what are you here for?”

“Dude,” the stallion said from somewhere to her right.

“Speak!” Summer cried, pushing down.

The pony on the floor squeaked again, yet still replied in a way that wasn’t particularly sensible.

“No,” she sputtered over a cough. “Not yet. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“What are you talking about?” Summer responded, ever more agitated.

“Hey, dude. This is… um…” came the other voice off to the side.

“What, Harrow? What?” Summer flicked her head towards her friend in annoyance.

“There’s a cookie in here.”

“What?”

“Um… yeah,” the stallion reaffirmed, sticking his nose into the bag to give it a deeper sniff. “Definitely a cookie.”

“What is this?” Summer yelled again, turning back to the girl.

The little girl held her head up now. She held it up, smiling through the slight pain, smiling directly up at her with a gloss in her eyes that came from absolutely nowhere.

“Soon,” she whispered.

“Damnit! What is wrong with you? Harrow! We gotta knock her off or something! This is just too much manure for one night!”

Summer breathed, her heartbeat rising to her ears again.

“Harrow?”

She turned.

She stared.

Harrow stood there, all four legs to the ground. The bag lay a few spots away, where he dropped it. He turned, misty-eyed, head in fog, mind in blankets. The air around him stirred as he fell, first dropping to his knees as if he were laying down for a rest but then tipping to the side, head roughly smashing against the wall as the rest of him slid down the side of the corridor.

His eyes remained open, staring at Summer’s face, lost in a wakeless delusion.

The little girl on the floor had started to get up.

Summer hadn’t noticed how far back she had stepped.

“Wh- what did you do to him?

“I’m sorry,” the girl said, suddenly, a chipper tone in her voice. She raised herself unsteadily on an injured leg but stood tall and firm, staring up towards Summer.

“What… what is going on here?” Summer said back, wearily.

“I’m sorry for tricking you,” Champagne explained with a guilty smile, “but… we had to. There were only the two of you, right?”

“What?” the guard cried.

She was a rat. A rat in a corner. Frantic. Scared. Things were happening that she didn’t understand. She backed up to the wall, nervous wings twitching, ready to lash out at anything in defense.

Wordlessly, with a lump caught in her dry, itchy throat, she reached for the baseball bat in the corner, hefting it over her head with a wing.

She shot forward, a mere four or five steps, closing the gap, ready to swing. To destroy. The red in her mind glowed brightly as she focused on the face of the young pony, pulling the bat behind her as she…

… as it stopped.

And did not move.

The bat flew out of her grasp, a tight set of claws cracking the wood as they sank into its worn, chipped body.

A set of wings, a large shadow, flashes of sharp ends and pointed tips descended from the ceiling without a single speck of noise as the thing landed in front of her like a silent meteor gliding through space.

It very calmly reached forth with a set of ten sharp knives, digging into her weapon, and pulling it apart at the splinters, tearing through it as a ravenous child tears through a slice of bread.

The feathered monster placed both ends of the bat down on the ground very gently, very politely, and stood to its full height, head nearly brushing the ceiling.

Summer had never met one before this moment. She was always told about them and warned to stay away from them by particularly set-minded parents. She was always given stories and lines about why they ought to be feared and shunned.

She didn’t really understand why.

And perhaps her being here tonight was merely a case of turning left rather than right at a very important juncture in her life, and perhaps it was all the result of never taking the time to get to know one.

But right at this point, there was nothing further from her mind than getting to know the gryphon that stood in front of her, chest puffed out and angry eyes watching her every move.

And then it spoke.

Two simple words to sum up its view of the situation.

‘No violence’, the gryphon had said.

And then everything went dark.

3:59 PM

“So, I had two leads, actually. But one of them went dark.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She supposedly moved away. Dead end. But I chased the other, and she is definitely the one. It was actually rather easy once you gave me enough to work with. Everyone with a doctorate is registered somewhere or other, and she has a rather peculiar name. It was just about narrowing a thousand lists to only a hoof-ful.”

“You’re absolutely sure this is the same pony?”

“Oh, yes,” Survey said, not a shadow of a doubt in his voice.

“So, that’s her name, is it?” Egg asked, sliding the small dossier closer. The information it held was carefully written down on a fresh, white scroll of paper, and a small photo was attached to the top left corner with a paperclip. It was clearly Survey’s work. “Polychromasia?”

His eyes ran down the short report, picking out small snippets of information. But this was merely formality – Survey would want to relay the information himself, and thusly, Egg made the request.

“Tell me about her.”

“Certainly.” Survey nodded proudly. “What we have here on our hooves, sir and lady, is a classic case of your run-of-the-mill old scientist who got absolutely scrambled in the top two inches.”

“A scientist?”

“Let me tell you a curious story. Once upon a time, there was a professor named Polychromasia. She was working on some rather interesting things, but notably, for a number of years she was researching a very specific subject. Two years to be precise. She managed to get funding from a large corporation, and then about eight months ago, her research stops.”

“Why?” Mocha asked, curiously.

“Because nothing ever came of it. As we all know, corporations of whatever sort don’t rather much like paying for things that produce no results. So, eight months ago, she was released from her position, and she went about her merry way.”

“About a year after you first stepped in here, wasn’t it, Egg?” Mocha commented, leaning closer to take a look at the professor herself.

“Yeah,” Egg said, offhandedly. “So where does Miss Polychromasia go?”

“She goes to look for other sources of funding, of course. She makes a big noise about it. Begs other corporations to bring her on board. Claims to be on the verge of a breakthrough. But no one ever picks her up.”

“What about Stackford? Did she ever go through us?”

“No. Which is the weird thing, really, but I guess she must have thought Stackford a bit out of her range. But get this. Two months after she’s released from the school, she suddenly stops. Goes cold. No one ever hears anything again. I can’t find a single document of her having shown up anywhere else on the entire grid that I have access to, which means she kept away from the larger corporations.”

“So, around six months ago.” Egg muttered, staring down at the photo attached to the page.

The photo showed a pony who was remarkably grey. Everything, from her coat to her mane seemed to be devoid of shade, with the barest of blues giving it the timidest of tinges. Over her eyes were strapped a thick pair of dark glasses that seemed to be oddly specific in form – too plain to be worn for vanity and too nondescript to be worn for profession. That left prescription as the logical answer. They must have been medical.

Her slightly sharp features were only countered by the curls in her mane, which might at one point have been a rather pretty bob, but now lay ruined by the fervour at which she went about her work.

The sleepless, dishevelled look.

Egg recognized it well.

But it was her colour – or lack thereof – that was the most striking in its unstriking nature. Altogether, her colours and name gave birth to a rather sinister character overall.

“Beyond the pale,” Mocha muttered.

“Hmm?” Egg hummed.

“In both action and appearance.” Mocha shrugged, eyes darting to Egg’s.

“Hmm,” Egg responded.

“Her name’s a bit of a twister, isn’t it? Funny, that,” Survey continued, tapping the copy of the report that he made for himself. “I wonder if her parents had some sort of vaguely ironic sense of humour, giving her a name like that.”

“It doesn’t sound like a very… normal name,” Mocha said. “You understand what it means?”

“Well, ‘poly’, as you know, means ‘many’, and I’m sure you know the word ‘chromatic’, don’t you?” Survey asked.

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Mocha nodded in recognition. “But that’s not standard Equestrian, is it? What language is that, actually?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Survey shrugged. “Science?”

“It’s Thebos,” Egg cut in. “She was named ‘Many Colours’ in Thebos.”

“So she’s Skyllan?” Mocha questioned.

“No. I believe not. Arguably, we were all from Skylla once, but I dare say there’s a bit of a problem with the idea of a non-Cloudsdalian fighting for Cloudsdale purity,” Egg debated.

“It’s just a name, eh?” Survey chipped in with a cheeky trill. “Don’t think it’s anything more than that. Sometimes names are just names. Isn’t that right, Eggbeater?”

“Quite so,” Egg responded without responding, cusping his hooves in front of his face. “Anyway. Keep going, please.”

“One month after she disappears, a particular building starts using power. A little building on campus that no one notices because no one goes there.”

“And you think she moved in?”

“No, I know she moved back.” Survey grinned.

“Wait.” Egg placed a hoof flat against the table. “Back?”

“Yes. Guess who her original employer was?”

“The University,” Mocha muttered. “And the lab was…”

“That’s right. It was her old lab. She was moved to the new building a good half year after she joined, and the cloud was condemned shortly after. All her old equipment must still be in there. And that, Egg, is the link between everything.”

“A professor who used to work for the university suddenly gets her funding cut,” Egg repeated everything, sorting it out logically. “She seeks a new source of funding, but disappears before she gets it. Around the same time, gang activity… this Unity group… starts to emerge, and they also move back into the very same labs that the professor used to work at?”

“It sounds like she got tired of begging for money,” Mocha observed. “Maybe she decided to take matters into her own hooves.”

“But why?”

“Desperation, maybe? The need to accomplish something can overtake the mind. Can make you do… things that you would never thought you could or would.” Mocha sighed.

“Sounds familiar,” Survey said, looking straight at Egg.

“So all this is about research? Just… to do research?”

“Well. Here comes the rather confusing part of it all,” Survey said, slowing down a little. “The final piece of information I have for you.”

The stallion expertly swept a document to Mocha and Egg. It was hoof-written, clearly, in penmanship that was not much more than scribbles. It looked like some sort of form. Egg didn’t give it more than a second’s look, but Mocha poured over it, taking in every mangled word.

“I managed to get this from the school. I went myself this time. Felt… too important to send one of the lads for this. It was the only thing they had left – her original application to the school for funding. They wouldn’t let me get the whole thing, but I managed to get a copy of the cover sheet and abstract. It turns out she was researching something called colour prismatism.”

“Colour prismatism?” Mocha interjected suddenly, jerking up in her seat.

“Y- Wait, you know about that?” Survey asked.

“Wait… hold on a minute,” Egg said slowly, holding a hoof up. “What’s this about?”

“Yeah, I… I think so,” Mocha replied to Survey. “I’m sure I’ve heard that term before. I wonder if it’s the same thing.”

“Really.” Survey scratched his head. “Because I had to do a ton of research on it, and even then, I could barely turn anything up. In fact, I reckon this form here is the only instance in the last twenty years where the term is being used in a proper manner. Even the other companies she went to didn’t have much to say.”

“If it’s the same thing I’m thinking of, then it’s absolutely crazy.” Mocha furrowed her brow, rubbing her hair bun. “The whole idea of it is…”

“Would somepony care to explain?” Egg asked, calmly.

Mocha’s hoof moved away from her mane as she spoke.

“Well, this is rather… This is going to sound rather odd, Egg,” Mocha said.

Survey tilted his head. Egg did likewise.

“I get quite a lot of customers here. And I listen. I pay attention. It’s the weird ones who come in at the strangest hours that have funny stories to tell. I have a guy come in once every so often always talking about conspiracies and what have you. Strange experiments. Oddities. I’m sure he’s mentioned this colour prismatism thing to me before.”

“And is it about splitting rainbows?” Survey asked, clarifying. “Although I don’t know anything more than that.”

“Yeah! Yes. Yes it is.”

“Splitting rainbows?” Egg asked. “What’s so mysterious about that? The factories work with that sort of thing, don’t they?”

“No, Egg. Not mixing them together from their separate colours. Splitting them during the arcing phase.”

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me,” Mocha continued. “It’s not.. logical, I know. I really didn’t think it was anything more than just the ramblings of some old crackpot. But what it was, really, was the idea that you could arc individual colours.”

“Wait. That doesn’t make any sense at all. I’m not an expert on rainbows, but isn’t the point of it that you can’t arc a rainbow without a specific balance of all seven colours?”

“That’s what we know, yes,” Mocha continued. “Conventional knowledge would state that the process requires your seven basic colour essences, filtered out of the magic spectrum of colours, right? Then the factories mix them together in the only one single ratio that works, and you have a juice that can then be arced into your garden-variety rainbow.”

“Right,” Egg assured understanding.

“And it has always been that if you attempt to arc colours in an unstable ratio, it simply rejoins the colour spectrum and goes back to wherever colours come from in the first place.”

“Yes.”

“Well, the theory goes, simply, that it is somewhat possible to split an already-arced rainbow into separate colours, maintaining them in arc form.”

Egg nodded. “But what would be the point of trying to arc an individual colour at all? Rainbows are… decorative. Kids love them at parties, and they make for good bridges in a pinch, but they have no practical use outside of that.”

“The point, according to my little conspiracy pony,” Mocha continued, “is in the essence of the nature of rainbows. With all seven colours combined, they are stable. So what happens when you take out a colour from a rainbow? It is the instability that they are interested in.”

“So what are you saying?” Survey asked. “They explode?”

“Well. That’s the question,” Mocha continued. “Mister Conspiracy said that there were two hurdles in this theory of his. The first is the splitting of colour itself, of course. The second is how to contain them. Once you get an individual colour, what then? It’d just run havok. How do you capture something like that? How would you hold it in your hoof?”

And that was enough. All of a sudden, Egg stopped looking like he was interested in anything else they had to say, and both Mocha and Survey knew that was a sign that his brain started to work. They also knew it was pointless to say anything more until he was finished, and they gave him his due space to process what this all inevitably led to.

It took him all of eight seconds.

“Oh,” Egg said, snapping back.

“And he’s thought of something,” Survey said. “Took you long enough, Egg. You’re losing your touch. Go on then.”

“The crystals,” Egg muttered, “and the fire? And the theft of the rainbow juice that was in the news way back when.”

“Those little gems?” Mocha asked.

“Our professor disappears. Goes back into research regarding this topic. A few months later, the impossible happens. Clouds catch on fire. Little gems with strange markings are left behind. Coincidence it may be. As unlikely as the existence of this… colour prismatism is, I can’t help but find it all a bit too convenient.”

“Are we really saying this?” Survey blurted out.

“It seems to fit.” Mocha shrugged. “As crazy as it is.”

“But what’s her angle then? Her motive?” Survey argued. “ I mean, fine. Clearly she didn’t get the funding she needed. She was… what, on the verge of a breakthrough but her benefactor went dry. Clearly she needed the money, which is why she went around asking for more dosh. If this is really what she was researching, I think I understand why the companies didn’t have much in the way of information.”

“Yes. Either she would have been dismissed as a crackpot or she didn’t want to reveal too much of it herself,” Egg asserted. “Either way, I can see her not getting the backing.”

“So then she heads to… what. A more illegitimate means of getting money? But the fact that we’re seeing evidence of it working means that she already got the money, right? Why rob more? The jewels I can understand but why the attacks on the bakery and other things? And what’s with the attacks on gryphons and non-cloudsdalians?”

“I think these are the questions I’m going to have to ask her when I go after her tonight,” Egg declared. “No better source than from her own mouth. Even if she isn’t talkative, at least we’d have brought her down. No. There’s no point asking all these questions. There’s something else I’m more concerned about.”

“What is that?” Survey asked.

“Mocha,” Egg said, turning to her. “You said you had this conspiracy theorist talk about colour prismatism. I noticed that you didn’t mention when. Neither did you mention in what time frame his theories were relevant.”

“Heh,” Mocha chuckled sadly. “Can’t slip anything by you, can I?”

“Clearly, he couldn’t have come up with the theory due to recent events. It was more likely that this current discovery is what made him start to talk about it again, which means this theory is an old one. I also surmise that he has mentioned it to you only recently. Such theories are usually dismissed easily unless they are fresh in the mind. Put them both together and…”

“Fourteen years ago, Egg.”

“Fourteen.”

“Yes. That was when the rumours first started that someone… some group here was working on the very same thing.”

“Fourteen years ago.”

“What’s… going on, Egg? I wasn’t around then. Is something… significant about that time?” Survey interjected.

“No, but that doesn’t make sense. If… no. The connection is too loose. I think this one might just be coincidence,” Egg determined.

“It probably is. Besides, I highly doubt this professor has anything to do with them,” Mocha shrugged.

“Them? Them who?” Survey asked.

“Well, but still. It is a little disconcerting. It might be prudent to investigate,” Egg continued on.

“Would somepony please talk to me?” Survey yelled.

Egg turned slightly to face his friend.

“Fourteen years ago,” Egg said, calmly, “was when the Wonderbolts gave up on Cloudsdale."

12:37 AM

“Mister Egg?” Champagne asked, limping up behind him.

“Yes,” Egg replied, staring at the door. He wasn’t really listening. He was back in his head, and all the writing, the clues, and the details presented themselves upon the flat, brown surface in front of him, and he was observing them very carefully.

“Are you… are you alright, sir? You’ve been quiet for a while, now.”

“Something’s wrong.”

“I’m sorry, sir?”

Egg snapped his head away from the doors, turning to the side, his body parallel to the thin piece of wood that separated him from the Professor.

He blocked the doors. Blocked them from Emberkite, who was more than ready to bust in and show her some justice. Blocked them from Cookie, who was ready to give her a very stern lecture. Blocked them from Champagne, who just wanted to be part of the experience.

Despite her mild injury, she was still very excited, but her enthusiasm dropped a little at Egg’s proclamation.

“Something is wrong,” Egg repeated, looking up and around, as if there were clues nestled in the cracks between the walls and the ceiling.

“Uh… Old stallion? What are we waiting for? Come on!” Ember growled. “We’re here! Let’s get her already!”

“No. Wait.” Egg ordered.

“For what, man?” Ember yelled.

“Calm yourself, Ember,” Eternia trilled from behind him.

“Hey.” Ember swung around. “Why don’t you calm yourself?”

“Emberkite,” Egg said softy, returning the young colt to a quiet rumble. “There’s no need for that. I wish to be sure of something before we proceed.”

“Are we in danger?” Champagne asked. “Is it a trap or…”

“No. Nothing of the sort. In fact, precisely the opposite.” Egg waved his hoof in the air.

“What are you talking about? Come on, let’s get her already before she gets away or something!” Ember yelled again, stamping the floor.

Eternia and Champagne both turned slightly to look at the young stallion. He was unreasonably heated, even by normal standards.

“We won’t have to,” Egg said, seemingly unaffected. “I believe I was mistaken with my original assessment of the situation.”

“What about?” Eternia chimed in.

“There were always little things that didn’t quite fit the story. There are things that I have observed that are making me question the concept. The convenience of the note we found, for instance, with her name. And then there was the fact that her motives never made sense.”

Egg turned to face Champagne.

“You said that when you entered, you only encountered two guards, and one of them wasn’t even in the entryway itself. He was further down the hall, correct?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“And no pony else ran towards you after the commotion we made?”

“No, sir.”

“And you checked all the other rooms? No windows broken? No one escaped?”

“Yes, sir.” Champagne nodded.

“So they were positioned away from the entryways. It took our guard a while to get to our door as well,” Egg said.

Champagne and Eternia tilted their heads in curiousity. Ember rolled his eyes in impatience.

“And they’re all so young,” Egg went on. “Disorganized. Fell for simple tricks. I’d have assumed there’d be a supervisor at least. Somepony who would be more… professional at this sort of thing,” Egg mused on. “They used numbers to replace efficiency. This means that the organization is lacking in numbers on the managerial level, but that… is a different issue. No. In this situation, what it means is that there was no need for them to squander precious resources on this location.”

“Is she not here, then?” Eternia asked.

“No, she probably is. We’ll find out soon enough, yes?”

“So why are we waiting?” Ember cried.

“Because I don’t want you to rush in and start attacking the first pony you see,” Egg told him.

“And just why not?” Ember threw back.

The doors flew open.

Soft, flickering lights – the kind that casted dancing shadows on the walls – poured out from within. They were by no means pulsating flashes, but thanks to the darkness of the rest of the building, they still managed to dazzle the group for a fraction of a moment. The room, being the lone self-contained room in the building, was the only safe place for the number of apparati that were the sources of the light.

Flasks of steaming liquid and strange beakers lined rotting, old wooden tables, and empty barrels of stolen rainbow juice lined the far wall. The equipment filled the air with a bubbling that, in the otherwise silent nature of the room, sounded like acid burning through sheet metal. A small crate of gems lay on the floor, and bench-tools for grinding, sanding, and polishing sat a stone’s throw away.

A large prism – surely the room’s centerpiece – sat on a metallic stand. It was currently not in use, but small wisps of red smoke peeled off its perfectly black frame.

Four sets of eyes, two open mouths, and one open beak took this all in slowly, registering the world in which they had stepped into.

But inevitably, all four fell upon the figure in the corner.

She was shuddering greatly – be it fear or cold, but her breath quaked past her stone-grey face. Her hair stuck together in odd clumps, nothing but dirt, sweat, and viscosity holding it together in its unhallowed shape. A pair of shackles kept her on a chain that was tied to a heavy table that was bolted to the wooden floor.

Her pallid, dead eyes, as blank and white as the midnight snow, stared straight ahead, unable to focus. She gasped, scrabbling up from her position on the floor, shaky and unsure, and spoke with a voice that sounded like silk being dragged across jagged rocks.

“I will… have it ready,” she whispered. “I just need… two more hours.”

“Oh my word,” Cookie whispered back.

Egg raised an eyebrow.

“That’s why,” he stated.

4:38 PM

“It’s just us again. Ending how it all began,” Mocha sang. “How odd.”

“Yes. Well.” Survey muttered distractedly as he swept all his documents up into a single, neat pile once again. Egg had taken what he needed and left to work something out with his team. That left the two of them alone in the empty, dark diner.

“Where are you going after this?”

“I have to get some of these things back to where they belong. I don’t want Stackford finding out I’ve been nose-deep in other business. I’m not sure how he’d take it.”

“You know,” Mocha remarked, leaning over the table. “For someone who keeps insisting he doesn’t want to help, you helped… quite a lot.”

“Yeah, well. I stay out of his business, alright? I just… do stuff. Things. Stuff and things. I’m just as concerned about him as you are, you know. But the difference is, he wants me to help, and I don’t want to, and you want to to help him, and he doesn’t want that. Kind of shows you what he thinks of the two of us.”

“That he respects you more?”

“That he cares about me less,” Survey huffed.

“I… would not say that.”

“Yeah, well, who knows what goes on in his brain? I’ve known him for years, and I still haven’t figured him out yet.”

Survey stopped sorting out his things for a moment just to pause to think.

“It’s almost like he was never who he was, you know? I don’t know what it is about him,” he mused before resuming his activities.

“Well, I’ve not known him as long, that’s certain. Do you think he’ll be alright?”

“Oh yes. Most remarkably so,” Survey said casually, as if there wasn’t the possibility of the otherwise. “He’s a cocky guy, that one, but he’s very… focused. He tends to be able to spot things and notice things without even trying. He learns very fast, too. He’s a bit of a brick sometimes, but I suppose that’s the trade-off for being… whatever he is.”

“And what do you think he is?”

“He’s… Egg. Besides, don’t you think it’s quite curious how fast he slid into this crime-fighting business? It’s like he was born for it, or something. He can only get better. It would be unwise of us to restrict him.”

“Until something terrible happens, of course,” Mocha said with a sigh.

“Well, let’s hope he’ll have a guardian deity somewhere looking out for him, hm?”

“Yes. Perhaps.” Mocha smiled.

“Now… listen. I have to go, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask something.”

“We are open on weekends, Survey.”

“No, not that!” Survey rolled his head. “Come on.”

“Alright, I’m sorry.” Mocha chuckled. “What is it?”

“This… thing about fourteen years ago.”

“Ah, yes. What of it?”

“I don’t know anything about it. Still mucking about Trottingham, back then. And I know that Egg has got something… against the Wonderbolts. He’s never verbal about it, really, but you can kind of tell he has a grudge against them. What’s that about?”

“Well, it’s something we all probably think about. How much do you know about our history?”

“Not much, really. I know the things I know, but… I just know the Wonderbolts for what they are. Some sort of trick flying emergency rescue team thing. I know they work for Princess Celestia or something, but… seeing how Cloudsdale is autonomous, I’m not sure why they’re here. Are they even supposed to be like the Canterlot guards or police or something?”

“It’s a long story.” Mocha smiled.

“Well, if you’re not going to tell me…”

“No, it’s not that. It’s that… nopony really knows. None of the other races, either. Their role in Cloudsdale history has never been too clearly defined. But first of all, you know about the founding of Cloudsdale, right?”

“We’re not talking about that old children’s fable about that Commander Hurricane chap, right?”

Mocha shook her head. “Of course not.”

“Yeah, well. It was just Skylla expanding, right? They moved east. Tried to find new territories. A lot of us ended up in Trottingham and other cities. My grandparents moved there, you know.”

“Pretty much. Not too long after Cloudsdale was founded, Princess Celestia decided she wanted to give assistance to our city, but it was a turbulent time back then. Everything was new, as these things go. Before Cloudsdale achieved independence, we were still under Skyllan governmental rule. This all happened before I was born, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Since our country had little resources, Princess Celestia struck a deal with the Skyllan government to help us with civil defense until such time when we would be able to provide it for ourselves.”

“Which were the Wonderbolts,” Survey said.

“Yes. As they say, the original Wonderbolts were made out of a mix of Cloudsdalians and Princess Celestia’s royal guard. She provided the training, and in return, those Cloudsdalians had to sign a pact saying that they were under authority of the Princess and her laws.”

“Clever little bird, ain’t she?” Survey quirked an eyebrow. “She gets to keep control without being in control. I assume Skylla agreed due to convenience?”

“You would be right. But then a problem occured. We became reliant. It was a dark time back then, and Cloudsdale was the target for a lot of nasty sorts. Smuggling. Trafficking. That kind of thing. We’re talking about huge organizations on a massive scale. Murder. Death. Extortion. Control. But the Wonderbolts cleaned it up. Over the course of many, many years. They cleaned it up and ushered in an era of peace.”

Survey nodded.

“This period, known as the golden age, occurred sometime after I was born. I was just a foal then, but… I do remember things being very calm. A lot of celebrations. But of course, I was young, and I didn’t pay attention to the world like I do now.”

Survey shifted uncomfortably from one set of legs to another.

“And one day, fourteen years ago, when I was, ah… ten, I believe, the Wonderbolts just stopped. They disappeared. Vanished from the skies. Stopped their patrols without a single word. But there were no riots or disquiet. We were accustomed to the peace, and we liked it. Those who would take advantage of Cloudsdale didn’t find us as much of a ripe apple as they did more than eighty years ago.”

Mocha sighed as her mind brought her back to those times.

“The Wonderbolts returned a few weeks after that, but now they were as you know them today. Performances. Public appearances. Trick flying. Showing up during disasters to make a show. Some of us believe they still watch Cloudsdale under Princess Celestia’s eye. Some of us believe something else happened between the Princess and our government. But no one really knows for sure. Despite this, we’ve maintained low crime rates all this time without an active policing force.”

“Until now,” Survey punctuated.

“Until now.”

“And you blame Egg for wanting to do something about it.”

“I don’t. I just wish it were someone else.” Mocha flipped a strand of hair out of her eyes.

“Well, maybe I can uncover something about this,” Survey said with a smug grin.

“I don’t mean to doubt your abilities, Survey, but I don’t think you’d be able to. Princess Celestia likes it when her secrets remain secrets. No one knows what happened fourteen years ago, and that’s probably how it will stay.”

“But it can’t be that bad, can it? They have a Wonderbolts… thingie museum, for Celestia’s sake!”

“Then perhaps you should pay it a visit, Survey, and see for yourself.”

Continued in Part 3 ->

Author Notes and other Goodies [2 Feb 14]

This is just a little place I dump answers to some questions I got about what I do and how I chose to do things or why. There's also a little gallery thing below just for the fun of it. There's also some explanations of terms and canon that I use in the fic if people are confused!

Terminology

First/Second Sunrise/Sunset :
Cloudsdale experiences sunrises and sunsets twice. The first sunrise is when the light breaks EQUESTRIA, but is below Cloudsdale from the perspective of a central cloud somewhere looking towards one edge that they determined a long time ago. Second sunrise is when the sun hits that edge. In reverse, First sunset is when the sun dips below the edge of Cloudsdale on the other side, and Second sunset is when it goes below Equestria.

Our regular sunrise and sunset equates to first sunrise and second sunset of Cloudsdale (and other sky lands) respectively.

Earth-borne / groundside :
Terms to describe characters and things of a 'ground' origin. This is not considered a rude term.

Underclouds :
A term used to describe Pegasi who live and/or were born in groundside cities. This is not considered a rude term.

Overcast :
This is the rude version of 'undercloud'.

Police:
The police in each different city and town are named quite differently. Here is a list of the ones that have been named before:

Canterlot Police
Fillydelphia Rangers
Las Pegasus Galeforce
Trottingham Shrievalty

Pigeons:
These are actually not birds. These are actually rats with wings. Literally. They call them pigeons in Cloudsdale, but are general cloud-rodents that have magic to walk on cloud and have a pair of fluffy wingboners. So if you ever see me describing pigeons weirdly in the fic, this is the joke.

Locations and Geography

Equestria:
While there are a lot of discussions about what Equestria actually IS, for the purposes of this fic it refers to all the lands that Princess Celestia has domain over. It is her continent. Cloudsdale is found within its borders, but because it is a sky city, does not fall under her authority. Cloudsdale is independent.

Skylla:
Don't pay attention to the Hearth's Warming tale. All pegasi originally come from a grand city far, far away to the East named Skylla, out of Princess Celestia's domain. Skylla is on the other side of the world than the Gryphon Lands and is equatable to ancient Greece of earth culture. The original language of the Pegasi is called 'Thebos', but central Equestrian (English) is very widespread and common by this point.

The Cirrhara Desert:
It is a sky tundra that exists to the far East somewhere between Cloudsdale and Skylla. It is technically a 'sky desert', not because of dryness and sand but because of hostile terrain. It is mostly fog, and is inhabited by all number of dangerous sky creatures, like the windeater of episode 3.

Eyrietrea:
The giant floating mountain, and surrounding ground, that makes up the Gryphon headlands. It is essentially a suspended island of earth and soil, carrying a huge craggy mountain, around which houses are built. Based off the idea of a Mediterranean coast-town.

M’polani Plains:
The name of the Zebra lands.

Nchi:
200 years ago, Eyrietrea and the M'polani Plains were once part of a larger continent to the west called Nchi, where Gryphons and Zebra shared the land. A war broke out between the Gryphons and the Zebra with the Zebra as the dominant race, as they had magic and tribal warfare. The Gryphons were taken as workers to conduct mining for the zebras to do trade and toolwork with. In order to ensure their safety, the Gryphons tunneled their mountain, rich in a specific kind of floating magic ore, and it floated up above Nchi, taking a large chunk of the ground with it. Over time, peace returned and relationships became better. Nchi decided to split, recognizing each other's independence.

Q&A

Q: Why do you use 'hands' so much in the fic? Why do you use so many terms that have the word 'hand' as a base word?
A: Hands do exist in my world, but not in the same way as humans. Gryphon and dragon paws are referred to as hands in their universe. It's just simpler. And no, those things aren't 'claws'. They have claws, but you don't call a human hand a human nail. In the same way, you shouldn't refer to the body part as a claw. It is uncommon for ponies to use words with the word 'hand' in it, though, although they know what they are and are familiar with them.

Q: What's up with 'everyone' and 'no one'? It's everypony, damnit!
A: Yes, sort of. But it was a pun for the show, and that's how it sort of began. Let's face it. It's incredibly racist and small-minded for a species to refer to themselves and themselves only when including non-pony species in reference to a group. Gryphons are not ponies. So if you wanted to refer to them, you'd have to have a term that encompasses all sentient races. Everypony is a term used only when ponies are included in the mix. A broader term for that is 'Everyone'. Simple.

There are, however, characters who will use 'Everypony' despite this. And this is purposeful.

Q: Why do you spell it 'Gryphon'? It's spelt 'Griffin' in the show! *RAGE*
A: Yes it is. But I assume that was only because that particular spelling lent itself to the pun found in 'Given/Griffin' in the title of that one ep. Regardless, the original spelling of the term is Gryphon. I am just very much more used to spelling it that way, and they really are the same thing. It's automatic when I write it so I decided it'd be easier. Calm down there, chucko. It's a small deal.

Q: Why does Brilliant Cut in Episode 2 have a cutie mark icon? Is she going to be a cast member?
A: No. She was a loaner from a friend. Sort of a cameo character. I put her cutie mark in because I wasn't really thinking about it at the time, actually. In the future, when I do cameos, they will take the ~ mark instead, or no header icon at all. Brilliant Cut unfortunately is a one-time deal, but MAY show up in the future in sort of just references.

Q: Are you a butt?
A: Yes. I am.

Have a question? Ask me!

Hi there, folks!

I do a bit of art, and some people have been kind enough to actually do fan stuff for this fic.

In this thread I show off a little of both, and maybe write a little bit about the characters. I will keep this page constantly updated with cool things and arts as they come in (so do more, people, I like getting gifts, nyuk nyuk) and, yeah! It's just for fun.

Some people have asked me about how I think up characters and my character thought processes in general, so I decided to write a little bit about them, and maybe give a bit of fun trivia on the side.

And maybe inspire people to do stuff for me because I'm an absolute whore. Rarity style.

Please enjoy.

The Egg Gallery

(Updated 2 Feb 2014)

-- General Gift Art --

Pinkie Primus did this amazing MSpaint version of the cover art. I say amazing not in a patronizing way -- we both know the limits of his artistic prowess, and I actually really, really like this. I love how Mocha looks there, all scared and confused.

== ==

Eggbeater

Egg's cutie mark is a flaming eggbeater. Or at least, that's what he thinks it is. He hasn't ever been able to figure out what it means, yet, but perhaps that will be revealed to him in the future. Maybe it's just an eggbeater on fire. No one knows.

Egg remains the only one who hasn't changed dramatically since I started conceiving this story all the way back.

This was my first ever conceptual drawing of him. Besides a bit of colour change, and the fact that this drawing is pretty terrible, he's pretty the same. But the most accurate design I have for his colours and mane is on the cover art.

-- Gift Art --

Egg Mugshot by Martian

This this AMAZING picture of him. It's lovely. Go check out Martian on his page. He's another excellent writer, and as we can see, an amazing artist who puts me to shame.

== ==

Emberkite

Emberkite's name used to be called Sheerwind. His original conception was an ex-flight instructor who was tired of teaching little fillies and put his skills to good use fighting crime. He was actually originally going to be the opposite of what Ember ended up as - extremely straight edge and the one who 'kept everyone on track'. However, through discussions I felt this was not going to work out in a team that was mainly going to be known more for their faults than successes, so I changed him to a brash, young stallion who has no impulse control.

Sheerwind is not dead, though, per se. He'll probably come back in a MotD episode.

His cutie mark is thunderbolts crossed under a cloud. But of course, the skull-and-crossbones motif is there. It represents his recklessness.

This is a very early sketch of him back when he was still 'Sheerwind'. His mane was designed more like a cliff, because he used to enjoy base jumping. His firey tail was a bit more poofy, but right now I envision it more like a streak of fire, snakelike, rather than so obviously modeled after a flame. He still carries some streaks of yellow around his mane, though.

-- Gift Art --

MSPAINT OomberKoote by q97randomguy

q97randomguy drew me this very... interesting picture of Emberkite. I name him OomberKoote because it fits better. I actually like it a lot. Thank you!

Emberkite Raeeegggg by Martian

Another amazing piece by Martian. Thank you, as always! This really captures his anger very well indeed~

== ==

Mocha Leche

Mocha Leche's name is a weird mix of all the languages. It just means 'Milk Chocolate Coffee', and 'Leche' is pronounced 'Leh-chay', and I'm saying this because I've actually been asked this a number of times.

Mocha's cutie mark is a cup of coffee. As she's an insomniac, she's slightly tilted, as is the cup. Also, the shadow of the moon is reflected in the crema of the coffee, to show her affinity with the night.

Of the entire cast, Mocha was the one I came up with the last. But she was the most necessary.

The red streaks under her eyes is not due to terrible eyeshadow choices. It's because she doesn't sleep. Also, her mane is impossible. But I don't care.

Early sketches of Mocha, which I don't like at all, have her in a darker colour. I'm not very happy with this. Also, the second sketch has some random text, but I drew it to mess with a friend. It's still valid though, right?

Yeah.

More recently, I did a one-layer painting of her just to fiddle with art and stuff. I think I like this one the best, although her mane is still impossible.

People have asked why she's on the cover and Survey isn't. It's a good question.

== ==

Survey

When I write for Survey, I think of Stephen Merchant. I actually don't have any art of him, because... I don't.

His mark is pretty self-explanatory. He's not special, but he doesn't have to be. As a Trottinghammer, he sports a thick British accent, and carries some of the odd word choices of the locals. He's Egg's best friend not by choice, really, but they've sort of established a weird hate-hate rapport.

Survey used to have a larger role before I found it to be more funny if he were diminished, and it makes more sense in the long run, in context, to have him skirting the sides of the cast but always flipping over back and forth.

-- Gift Art --

MSPAINT Survey by HerpyDerpy

Just for fun, a friend dumped this on me when I was bitching about how Survey had no art and I didn't know how he sort of looked like. It might not be the final design, but I sure like what it's got so far! It's a lot better than his original idea, although to be frank I like that one a lot better.

== ==

Eternia van der Koekja

This character was the hardest for me to tie down. I had a lot of trouble writing for her because her story was very similar to a lot of others, but couldn't find a groove. She has now, though. And snapped to it quite nicely. She has always been a pacifist, and someone a bit mysterious with a lot of hidden things. Although I assure you all that she has no evil in her heart.

At least, not of her own creation.

However, her design hasn't changed much from the start. I wanted her headfeathers to sort of resemble a french beret, and the spots on her chest look like chocolate chips.

She used to have a pet baby anteater named Archibalt, but I was threatened into dropping it. (The idea, not the baby anteater.)

Her Cutie Mark is... oh wait.

Nevermind.

In my head, Cookie speaks with an odd icelandish accent. Think of bjork but less annoying and thick.

-- Gift Art --

Eternia Sketch by Martian

Martian did me this sketch of her once. It's not complete, but I liked it so much I put it up here anyway. Thanks very much, Martian! Maybe you can finish it one day! *wink wink nudge nudge*

MSPAINT Oootoonooia by q97randomguy

q97randomguy drew another one. Cookie. Yes. It is what it is. I display this PROUDLY.

== ==

Champagne Satellite

Champy's there, too.

She's a brat. Sort of. I wanted to write a brat, keeping the idea of Silver Spoon and/or Diamond Tiara in mind, but much less annoying or flatly tied to that one single aspect of that character. I wanted to try to turn it and make it 'cute' in a way, something that is good to get over, but something that also fuels a part of her character.

Her cutie mark was explained in one of the episodes, and so was much of everything else. So not much else to say about her.

I imagine her voice is like Breanne from this song.

-- Gift Art --

Champagne Satellite Mugshot by Martian

Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod. *eyes leak sugar* Even more incredibly ~~sexy~~ cute art from Martian. Check him out! You cannot resist the eyes...

== ==

Professor Polychromasia

The professor went through so many iterations that I scrapped her original idea and started fresh. Originally she was going to be the comic relief of the group, but I decided to make her a bit more involved since the group is pretty funny as it is already. At the very start, I really made her up as part of the 'mad scientist' trope, with a mane inspired by 'bride of frankenstein'. She had this whole steampunk thing going on with a monocle. Her cutie mark was obviously inspired by Dark Side of the Moon, but I changed that to something a lot more visually interesting.

Here she is arguing with Eternia back when Eternia still had a pet anteater named Archibalt (scrapped), and here she is being offensive to Champagne. Yes, she was that kind of character. Due to the series taking a much darker tone, and my decision to play it straight rather than 'silly', most of these original ideas were changed, and Poly took the biggest redesign hit. She's still the 'quirky' one but not insanely so.

Currently she looks like this in sketches that I never fleshed out. The most complete mugshot I have of her is this one here, which is her image from episode 5 onward. She has white eyes under the dark glasses. The only thing I kept from the old design is that she still wears two sets of goggles. But one of them is necessary for her ability to function in daylight.

== ==

Gale A. Mezzo

One of our... antagonists, Gale was made to fill a specific role.

Of course, I can't say what that is, but she has a pretty big part later on. She's mysterious, and might be hiding more than what has already been stated. Her cutie mark is just a stylized quill, nothing fancy. But her name is based after a joke that I had with my co-conceptualizer. We both watch and are fans of the series Parks and Recreation, and in that, there is a horrible TV show presenter named Joan Callamezzo. Gale A. Mezzo is a simple reference to her, although their characters are rather different.

The A stands for Aubergine. Another name for an aubergine is an Eggplant.

Make of that what you will.

Here is a quick sketch of her, looking annoyed. She would like to very much piss in your cereal.

Episode 1-1 :: Omelette

The newspaper – The Cloudsdale Gazette – spun through the air three times like a discus before landing squarely in the face of a certain lavender unicorn. She would have caught it with a burst of magic had she not been fast asleep and tucked in under her little plaid blanket.

"Snk– gah!" Twilight yelled, flailing about and knocking the offending rag from her head. It only took one sweep of her powerful wings for Rainbow Dash to make it to the paper before it hit the floor, landing instead in outstretched hooves.

Rainbow turned it upright, holding it in front of her friend’s face. Twilight blinked away the sleep and read the words that slowly came into focus.

CRIMEFIGHTERS OR LIME-LIGHTERS?
CLOUDSDALE VIGILANTE GROUP GETS A NAME; SHUTS DOWN CRIME GANG

by Gale A. Mezzo

"R– Rainbuh!" Twilight gurgled, choking on the morning. "Whut time izzit?"

"Five A.M.," Rainbow declared, excitedly. "I just got back from Cloudsdale to get the morning edition!"

"Wh… what for?" Twilight coughed her throat open, rubbing her face with a hoof. "And what are you doing here so early? And when do you read the news?"

"Look." Rainbow responded, prodding the page. "Look at this!"

Despite the warm glow of the morning sun sneaking through the bottom of the windows, Twilight still had to light the rest of the paper up with a little bit of magic, bathing the entire room in a gentle purple glow.

Just below the tag was a photograph, printed in full colour for once. It showed a warehouse or a factory or some sort of industrial building, where five figures draped in green swathes of cloth stood triumphantly.

Actually, one of them looked a bit embarrassed, really, but maybe they were just caught unawares.

"Who are these ponies, again?" Twilight asked cautiously, peeking over the top of the paper at the most excited face she'd ever seen Rainbow put on in recent memory.

"Wha– have you not been reading, Twilight? You? Not reading?" Dash responded, holding her hooves to her head in pure, unadulterated shock. "Have you not been keeping up with like, the most awesome story ever?"

"I… guess not," Twilight said guiltily, quickly running down the article to see what she had missed. "Although, the library doesn't really carry the Gazette, so…"

"Well, actually… this is the first time they've been in the papers. But that doesn’t matter! You won't believe what they've been doing up there in Cloudsdale!"

"Okay, let me… have a look…" Twilight murmured, grabbing the paper with a blast of magic and propping herself up in bed, reading the first line. "Wait, what kind of name is that?"

"Yeah, look, I know. They aren't like, you know. Special or anything. And I know, his name's pretty stupid, and he looks kinda geeky, but that's what's so cool about it, Twilight! He's just a regular stallion, you know? And one day he just… follows his dreams!"

"Follows… his… wha?" Twilight mouthed, rubbing the kinks out of the back of her neck and taking a good look at the article. "Alright, back up a little, Dash. Who's this guy?"

"Yeah, so, he's like, an accountant, right? Actually. Well, that's what I heard, anyway. You know!" Rainbow nodded enthusiastically.

"An… accountant," Twilight repeated, dryly, her eyes shooting up to stare into Dash's with a look of disdain. "Was it really necessary to wake me up at five in the morning for this?"

The soft snores of Spike coming from the upper landing told Twilight that at least one of them was going to get a proper night's rest.

"Well… I was gonna show you over lunch, but I got so excited, and–" Rainbow flustered.

"How did you even get in?"

"You… you sleep with the upstairs window open, Twilight."

"I…"

There was no argument Twilight could give.

"Fine," she ended up saying with a sigh. "So, this stallion's what… an accountant dream-follower?"

It was the best description she could muster at this time.

"All that, and more! I heard a lot of stories. I mean, they're all the buzz up there in Cloudsdale right now. This is the first time anyone's ever managed to catch the whole team on camera, Twilight. Isn't it awesome?"

"Not really," Twilight said, a hint of cranky impatience seeping into her tone. "How are they different from any other law-enforcement group? How are they different from the Wonderbolts, Dash? You've always wanted to be with them because they do these kinds of things, don't you?"

"It's… different," Rainbow said, suddenly dropping her tone. Suspiciously so.

"And we just had a huge adventure of our own, Dash. You remember the changelings? That was just… you know, two months ago. And you think this is awesome?"

"Well… yeah!"

"Really."

"Y- yeah. Really."

Twilight turned her sleep-deprived gaze to the picture once again. There was that main guy with the funny name. He wasn't standing tall, or brave, and in fact looked like he was trying to diminish himself. He looked… rather dull, really, but yet, all draped in green, there was something… well, she might have considered the word 'heroic' if he weren't just so plain-looking.

Beside him was a younger mare, a teen by the looks of it. Early adult at most. She was looking tired, but proud. Her fully braided mane and uppity demeanour suggested that she should not have been there at all, and was probably more comfortable at a café drinking tea. But she shone with a regal comeuppance that stole the scene.

There was another stallion, about the same age as the mare, with a blazing quiff that poured over his eyes. He stood up proud, confident, sticking his chest and head out for the cameras and looking very pleased at whatever it was he just accomplished. He might have even been flexing. He seemed rather excited to be there, and he appeared to be the only one smiling for the camera.

Then there was the gryphon – a strange sort, sitting hunched up on her hind-quarters with her claws gently cusped in front of her, as if she were waiting for it to all be over. She seemed to be bleeding from her head, as evidenced by a dark red stain on her feathers, but yet, she maintained this calm, eerie smile on her beak. She seemed reserved, but capable. Or maybe it was something else entirely. It was hard to tell, with gryphons.

Finally, there was that odd one in the back, the one with a nervous smile on her face. She was wearing a white lab coat of some sort, and was sporting a piece of thick eyewear. A secondary set of goggles also hung from her neck, because ponies needed two for some reason. Her mane was pulled back, very neatly, but it fell over in layers down the back of her neck. She reminded Twilight of herself during her younger days, when her parents had bought her her very own 'My Little Chemistry' play set.

"You like these guys?" Twilight asked again, no less weary from the attempt to analyze the photograph. There was no way. This was a rag-tag bunch of uncool. They should have brought a sign along with them saying 'we are rather uncool, sirs, thank you very much'. There was no way.

"Yeah, look, I do, okay? Don't ask. They're really cool, the stories are cool, and you know what? I appreciate a pony who know what he wants and does it! I appreciate this guy for trying. And what he's doing is helping everypony up in Cloudsdale. And besides, he gets into so many amazing adventures that–"

"Wait." Twilight held a hoof up, squirreling her mouth to the side. "That's why you like them, isn't it?"

"W– what?"

"Dorky guy; exciting adventures; fun and colourful team… he just reminds you of Daring Do!"

"He… wha–? No! I mean, not really," Dash claimed, stammering. "I mean… a little bit, maybe, but… aww, c'mon, Twilight! It's like… Daring Do's just a book. These guys are the real deal, you know? He's living it out! He's doing amazing things for justice and has all the honour and all the bravery and he's just some dorky accountant! You know what I'm talking about?"

Twilight shook her head slowly, patronizing eyes waving back and forth.

"Dash." Twilight sighed, putting the paper down. "Do you know what romance means?"

"Eew, yeah. I… yuck. Love and stuff."

"No. Not that meaning. There's an older meaning. One that a lot of ponies don't really know. It means 'the spirit of adventure', Dash. All those things in a good Daring Do book that you like? The heroes and quests and great amazing tales of chivalry and exciting plots and all that? That's what the older meaning of 'romance' is."

"What– what are you getting at, Twi?"

"Dash, you're… romancing the clouds. You're making Cloudsdale out to be something that it isn't. You're making this group out to be something it's not. Do you really think a dorky guy like this could have done all those amazing things you heard about? You said this is the first time they've been in the papers right?"

"Well… yeah," mumbled Dash.

"And… did you read this article?"

"Not yet. I mean, I was gonna, but I thought I should show you first, and–"

"You really should. They aren't anything like how you're describing them. I hate to burst your bubble but, look." Twilight tapped the paper. "Look at this bit. Even the stallion himself said that they were just at the right place at the right time. Nothing more. They aren't adventurers, Dash. They're just a bunch of ponies. And a gryphon, it seems. And they were just doing their civic duty.”

"I don't know, Twilight. There's a lot of stories, honestly. About him snatching ponies from out of the sky, about him fighting off hordes of ferocious skybeasts, and even one where he exploded and he was fine! And there was that story where he–"

"Dash… I'm really sorry, but until there's more than just stories, I don't really think…"

Rainbow sighed, looking down at her idol-of-the-month. Maybe Twilight was right. Maybe they were just a bunch of dorks and nothing more. They sure looked like dorks, not like the great heroes that the stories were about. Did they really do all those things she just mentioned?

"… I mean, there might be some truth to those tales, but... tales tend to get exaggerated, you know what I mean?" Twilight appended. Maybe she was being just a bit too harsh thanks to the rude awakening she had received.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I guess you… oh. Oh! Wait!" There was a spark that lit inside Dash's eyes – the one that said that she was getting a 'great idea'.

"Rainbow."

"I'm gonna go find him!" Rainbow shot a hoof up. "Then I can ask him about it and... I don't know! But I can ask him if the stories are true or not!"

"Rainbow, really?" Twilight objected, tired of Dash's bullheadedness.

"Yeah, I mean… why not?"

"Listen, Rainbow," Twilight sighed, pushing the newspaper back into Rainbow's hooves. "Leave the romance where it belongs. In the clouds, alright? These are their stories. Not ours."

With a dismissive wave of a hoof, Twilight lowered herself back onto her pillow, shutting her eyes and beckoning her friend to let her have a few more minutes of rest. But even as she did so, Rainbow couldn't help but glance wishfully one last time at the article and the five faces staring back at her…

"Did you hear me?" Twilight mumbled.

"Wha?"

"I said, these are their stories. Not ours."

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

Eggbeater was a pony of odd qualities – the first of which was a name that nopony could be told without a quirk in their brow or a snigger behind tightly shut lips. His parents had not been the most generous of ponies when it came to naming conventions – they were quite traditional about their ways, and when they had him, decided to bless him after their favourite things in life.

And it was the simple things in life that they grew up with, and therefore, enjoyed. His father loved nothing more than a roaring, crackling fireplace where he could put up his old, rested, retired bones and gently warm himself for a few hours in those cold Cloudsdale nights, and his mother, bless her, used to love that old eggbeater, because nothing was nicer than a freshly made omelette in the morning.

And so, Eggbeater lived in his parent's old cottage in the western Cumulus hills of Cloudsdale, and remained there for most of his young adult life.

At an early age, Egg, as he became known to his friends, and later started introducing himself by, found out that he was nothing special. His Cutie Mark – which closely resembled his moniker – adorned his olive-green flank; a cooking implement dancing amongst a red hot flame.

And this was the other odd quality about him – there wasn't one.

For his Cutie Mark was the most accurate depiction of such a pony that you could possibly get. Like an eggbeater and a swaying flame, he was a mix of rather unremarkable things in a rather unremarkable way, and life chose to recognize his contribution to unremarkability by letting him be just who he was.

But he couldn't say that he wasn't unhappy. True, while life may have thus far been a simple walk in the park for him, it was just that. A simple walk in the park. It had been relatively easy, since he usually kept away from confrontation, and it was scenic, since he always took his time to appreciate whatever he was doing. But without the steep climbs and rough terrain, there really was nothing to push him further than where he had to be, and so life for him remained constant, repetitious, and unimaginative.

His form of escape was a plethora of books, which he indulged in heavily as a child. He also found it necessary to do well in school, and eventually found his calling in mathematics and linguistics, which allowed him to finally arrive at where he was currently in life.

He was an accountant.

He worked for one of the largest companies in Cloudsdale – Stackford and Sons, a huge corporate investment firm with dealings all the way from Canterlot to Las Pegasus. Their corporate motto – "Above All Else" – represented the company both in mentality and physical location.

But the huge, tall-ceilinged offices and clean, friendly working environment were just another few blades of grass in the park of Egg's life. And while he was comfortable with the great environment and great ponies, he only really cared about one thing on this day, the day that everything decided to happen.

Few other things took priority in his mind over the normal things he worried about – like the state of the environment, or Princess Celestia's current policies in regards to the export of national goods made with locally sourced materials. At this very moment, though, he was rather bothered by what had happened to his best friend and cubicle-mate.

For the most part, things in Canterlot were kept fairly safe. There was the royal guard, doing their thing, and certain other law-enforcement agencies working there. Other larger cities like Fillydelphia or Manehattan held their own against the tide of crime. Heck, even the far-off town of Appleloosa had a Sheriff, for crying out loud.

But Cloudsdale... had nothing.

Cloudsdale had... peace.

And usually that was a good thing. The Pegasi were the most law-abiding of ponies, and really, there wasn't any need for this sort of thing in the past. Laws were for Earth ponies, they used to joke. And jails were for Unicorns.

But with the rushing progress of modern civilization, it was hard not to see that things were just getting a little bit darker and a little bit more uneasy in good old Cloudsdale.

And all this, all this was brought up for a very specific reason, the reason which bothered Egg when he clocked in, just like every other day, and walked to his desk in silence, just like every other day, got his coffee and pencils, just like every other day, and said hello to his best and only friend, who, for the first time in history, wasn't there.

And as the words 'good morning' trailed off his lips and faded into the crowded buzz of office noise, Egg found himself unable to proceed.

"Hey," Egg asked, peeking over the top of his wall, the one that separated his personal square-shaped space from everyone else's square-shaped space. "Um… did Survey get in today?"

The shaking of an impatient head only served to reconfirm what he already knew. In three years, Survey had never taken a single day off or missed work for whatever reason. Today he had, and Egg wasn't sure he wanted to know the reasons why.

It was a full ten minutes of tapping his pen on the desk, rolling it around in his mouth while deep in thought and anxiety, before his boss and wage-driver, Mr. Cashius Stackford, peeked out of his office at his drones and sent Egg back into a furiously busy pace.

He wasn't too sure if the boss was looking at his neighbour's empty cubicle or at Egg's own lack of industry, but either way, suddenly looking busy was probably the best way to go.

He shuffled with the papers on his desk absent-mindedly, shifting them from one pile to the other, and it was only due to the looming shadow that fell across his desk did he jerk his head upward, his grey, wavy quaff of a mane bouncing over his face.

Egg pushed it out of his eyes as he swivelled around to meet his boss – and his quivering moustache – face to face.

"Egg," he intoned, nodding a greeting through a bushel of facial hair and incredibly focused eyes for a pony of his age.

"Sir," Egg replied, caressing the small stack of forms in between his hooves. They were getting rather crumpled.

Both Egg and Cashius looked up from the withering bundle.

"Good weather we're having," said Mr. Stackford, not looking out of any of the windows.

"Ah, yes. Of course, sir," Egg replied.

They both stood for a moment, recovering from the small talk.

"And your family, sir? How is your wife and daughter?" Egg attempted to reciprocate.

"Where's your friend?" the boss asked, cutting him short.

"Don't know, sir," the employee replied.

"Don't know?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I… for once, I suppose…" Egg scratched his head. "I haven't a clue where he might be."

Cashius looked to the empty desk for just a moment, blinking, each powerful beat of his eyelids bringing forth a great churn of thought. That was how he was.

"Troubling," he finally said, speaking to the desk.

"Yes, sir," Egg responded.

The great and powerful CEO of the company nodded, and walked away, mumbling a 'let me know' as he retreated to his glass cage of an office.

Egg shook his head as he watched him go, looking down toward the wringed napkins that he turned the forms into.

But as his mind cleared, he took in his surroundings of marbled floors and fancily decorated walls, and mused about where his life had taken him – to the 7th floor.

The building, like most other buildings in Cloudsdale, was made out of, well, clouds. Support beams of heavier material such as wood and plaster were set into the edifice here and there where needed – they rested on extremely dense, compressed blocks of foundation cloud that were thick enough to hold Earth-borne materials up.

Glass was also a nice touch to the skyscraper, and although seven floors didn't seem like much, one had to consider the style of architecture that was found in the land of the clouds. Whereas things were built much smaller land-side, clouds were a building material that was found in vast supply, and as such, buildings up there tended to be far grander and far more spacious.

Each floor in the Stackford and Sons office building was the size and height of a grand hall. And clouds, being relatively weightless, didn't require much to hold them up; hence a mere bit of wood was the only thing necessary to do the job that steel and concrete might have to down groundside.

As the floors went up, they got progressively smaller, and like a pyramid, the floor that Egg found himself working on was the smallest of the lot at roughly the size of half a football field. But still, it held most of the heads of their respective departments, and each cubicle there was the size of a regular office. The only true office on that level took up the length of the entire far wall, and belonged to the pony who owned the company itself.

Egg had literally worked his way up the corporate level, being noticed initially for his organizational and leadership skills, something that he had denied ever having. But truth be told, there was a certain something about him that made others want to listen and follow along.

He couldn't put a hoof on it. He was quiet, not too outspoken, only said what he thought was necessary, but was always there to lend a hoof to anypony who required it, no matter what rank or file.

And that certainly could not have been enough for him to be promoted all the way to head accountant of a huge multinational firm.

But there he was. Amongst the elite of the elite of the company he sat, all within spitting distance from Mr. Stackford's glass walls, and when it came down to it, nothing else really mattered.

His eyes trailed his boss as he walked back into his room, and it was merely by chance that he managed to catch a little glimpse of a something in the reflection of the glass.

It was a pony that Egg had never seen before – something much considered a rarity all the way up here at the top. The visitor zoomed in, through the 7th floor bay entrance, and by the time Egg turned around to get a better look, he was already right there in front of him.

The pony, clad in thin blue scrubs, gave the room one final glance over before touching down in front of Egg, landing softly on the luxuriously fluffy cloud carpet.

Only the 7th floor had it.

"You're Eggbeater, right?" the Pegasus asked, flicking his head toward the confused recipient.

"Just… Just 'Egg'," he replied. "But, yes. I am. Who were you, again?"

"Cloudsdale General, Mister Egg," he pointed to his badge, which clearly displayed a large red cross dangling down from his shirt pocket.

Egg's eyes flicked to the plastic-wrapped card, running over it quickly, but carefully. In his mind were a million things, a million possibilities and a million explanations, but at the mere sight of the card did all but a scant few disappear from his mind, and did the remaining reasons fight for supremacy using assumption as a weapon.

And this was when Egg kicked in.

Suddenly, all thoughts were banished from his mind as it darkened and narrowed. All emotion fled, though not through any will of his own, and within the span of a breath did he find himself able to think rationally and clearly at the cost of being remotely empathic.

"Indeed," Egg said, mouthing the words as he said them. "Is Survey alright? What happened to him?"

"Ah, so… you already know." The hospital runner nodded, his voice softening.

"Not really." Egg shook his head. "Not very many reasons why you'd be here asking specifically for me on the day he doesn't turn up for work, right?"

The pony from the hospital nodded, slowly, insightfully. Normally, ponies had the habit of avoiding the subject for as long as possible, especially when he introduced himself as such. But this guy, this guy jumped right in as soon as he could.

"No, Mister Egg, there aren't. Mister Survey described you at length. He told me… very specifically; you'd be the only one in the whole floor standing there outside of his cubicle, not doing anything. Just looking around."

"Sounds like him," Egg replied, expressionless.

"And he also told me– oh!"

"Sir, Survey's in the hospital, I'll give you the full brief when I find out more information from Mister Red Letter here," Egg said, over his shoulder.

Mr. Stackford, who had, without a doubt, noticed the new arrival and had once again snuck out of his office, regarded Egg's tone with a sense of deep thought before clearing his throat like a rumbling thundercloud.

"I'll vouch for him, sir. He's from the hospital." Egg threw out words before his boss could.

Cashius Stackford raised his hoof and kept his mouth open, waving his leg back and forth a few times, before returning it to the floor. He shrugged, made a little 'harumph' of acknowledgement, his moustache tilting, before retreating to his hole.

Egg returned to the pony from the hospital. "You were saying? He told you…?"

"Well," Red Letter muttered, "it was about that, really. He said that I wasn't supposed to really just fly in like this, but he said go ahead, because once I'd found you, you'd be able to vouch for me."

"Did he say anything else?"

"Only…. only that you'd probably vouch for me before I had a chance to tell you to… vouch… um… what exactly is your relationship with Mister Survey?"

"Colleagues," Egg intoned, looking at the empty desk across from his, every single pen lined up and every single piece of paper stacked perfectly straight. It was just how Survey liked it. Neat. Orderly. So that he could see where everything was and where everything was going. Just like how he could see things happening in life.

It was probably why Survey was hired to be the chief marketing executive of the firm.

"I see," Red Letter said, cautiously. Trying not to let the tone of his voice betray anything else but a casual response.

Egg picked up on it instantly.

But it wasn't anything he did about, or cared to do about. He knew the jokes, he knew all the mutterings, and he knew that there wasn't any truth to that at all, and that was enough for him. He and Survey were both colleagues and best friends and that was all.

Egg also knew that the way he responded to things didn't really help the situation much; with his naturally unobtrusive voice, and his lack of expression, many ponies could only see the two reactions he ever gave to anything – a look of confusion or a look of tiredness.

Not that he actually was tired or confused, mind you. It's just that those were the only two looks he had in his entire repertoire. He didn't even have a proper smile.

Right now he chose to look tired.

Red Letter entirely misunderstood the situation.

Not that it mattered.

"What happened to Survey?" Egg asked, breaking the silence.

"He got into an altercation with a bunch of thugs, I'm afraid."

"He got into a fight?"

"Well… not exactly, Mister Egg. It wasn't really a fight because… well, let's just say he was attacked, Mister Egg. Quite badly. They wanted his bitbag. He wouldn't give it, and they decided to… escalate."

"How bad are the injuries?"

"Ah… broken primary coverts, a few scrapes from where they pushed him around. It was over by the park, so… dense cloud there. Construction-grade pavement. A lot of bruises, but the worst is the fractured wing, Mister Egg. Nothing that won't heal in a few days, but he'll have to keep off the sky for a week at least."

At this point, Egg decided to switch to his only other look – confusion.

"Mister Egg?" the messenger said. "I'm really sorry. If you want to visit, he's in room 379 at Cloudsdale General–"

"I'll go now," Egg stated, looking hazily at the entrance to the floor.

"Ah… well, if you wish, but I have to get going myself. I need to pass on a few more messages to others, so…"

"Yes," Egg's eyes snapped back to Red Letter's. "Thank you for informing me about the situation. I won't keep you. I'm afraid you must excuse me for not escorting you to the exit, but there are some things I have to do."

"Of course, Mister Egg. All the best, alright? I'm honestly sorry. But… well, he's a lucky guy, to have someone… as close as you to care for him. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Thank you," Egg repeated again, making sure that he had pushed off and started for the exit before he turned back to the office.

Sure, he cared. Survey was a friend. Survey was a colleague. Did there really need to be anything more for him to give two bits that someone he knew was robbed in cold daylight?

The world was silly.

It took sixteen wing-aided strides for Egg to make it to Mr. Stackford's office. It took a little bit more time to get his huge door open, in fact, but he finally made it to where he could tell his boss what was going on.

"Survey?" Mr. Stackford asked, not one to mince words.

"Mugged. I'm going to visit him."

"Was it serious?"

"No. I'm visiting him anyway."

"And your work?"

"I'll clear it, sir. I will when I get back. But I need to go. I'm sure you understand."

The moustache tilted its head down, allowing itself to get a few moments of thought in.

"Two hours," Stackford said, nodding.

"Two hours," Egg reconfirmed.

"Hey," the voice said. "I saw that."

"Saw what?" came the snide reply. The pony standing behind the box was already shuffling his day's earnings into a small sack, hastening to leave as soon as possible.

The two of them stood in a small alley squeezed between two shops. A good number of ponies could be seen walking by just outside, but for the most part this exchange was rather private, and no other pony in their right minds would think to make it otherwise.

"Don't matter. Don't gotta see nothin'. Still know you're a cheat," the young adult declared, his grey eyes glaring at the peddler, who stopped for just a second before continuing to fill his bag.

"And your proof, kid?"

"Uh… it's Three-Card Monte? You're cheatin' by default." The brazen youth slammed a blazing blue hoof onto the table, upsetting the cards.

None of them was the ace.

"Whatever, kid, get outta here, alright? Before things get a bit uncomfortable?"

"Bit late for that, friend!"

"Yeah?" The drifter fastened the bag to a belt he wore slung around his lower back, annoyance creeping into his voice, as if he was dealing with a pest and nothing more. "And just exactly wha'cha gonna do 'bout it? Who are you supposed to be, kid? A Wonderbolt?"

Emberkite held his breath, to steel against the sudden wave of anger that washed over him.

His name betrayed the colour of his crisp, red fringe, that stuck out and hung over his face like a knife, and only a yellow bolt that shot through his mane betrayed his lightning fast ability to streak through the fiery skies.

He certainly looked the part.

"Yeah, I'm a Wonderbolt," he replied, frowning at the enemy. "You gonna give the money back now?"

"Kid, listen." The other pony sighed. His worn look and tired eyes spoke worlds of the kind of life he lived, and there was enough dirt piled on top of his coat that it was hard to tell if it was naturally brown or made that way by the elements. "I don't wanna fight with another rat, alright? I get it. This is your turf. I'll move on. Just leave me alone. We all gotta eat somehow, don't we?"

Eat. Bathe once in a while. Sleep. Get some rest. Work out. Keep healthy. Think about things twice a day. Reflect on life once a day. Care for others. Look out for the weak. Be nice to your neighbours. Respect yourself.

There was a lot more to life than just eating, even for a street performer, and most of those things came with the benefit of a healthier personal outset.

Sure, all you were, really, was an an over-glorified beggar, but at least you worked for your handouts and even that had a bit of pride tacked on.

This pony in front of Emberkite had stopped at 'eat'.

Ember sneered.

"This ain't about turf, man. This is about what's right, and what's wrong!"

"Like you're so clean!" the drifter burst out with an incredulous tone.

Ember shot his face up toward the drifter's, stopping short just before their noses touched. The act was enough for the dealer to jerk his head back in response, but even with that little bit of distance, Ember had halted a mere centimeter away from the other guy's face.

"I ain't a thief," Ember told him, "and I don't appreciate those who are."

Like a blade slicing through the air, a bolt of crimson with the golden streak shot forward, and once more did the drifter's face retreat instinctively.

But this time, the streak didn't stop.

Ember's forehead connected with the drifter's face, smashing into it with the full force of his body. From the drifter's head a soft, red mist bloomed, a collage of liquids spraying into the air and sprinkling down on Ember's coat. A sharp, clear crack rang through both their skulls as something, somewhere, snapped in two.

Black and white swirled into each other as the world turned upside down, inside-out and around in a circle all at the same time as the drifter swirled to the ground, landing in a heap at Ember's hooves.

The dust cleared. The ghosts faded, and his vision refocused just enough that the drifter could see somewhat clearly again.

It hurt to keep his eyes open. The stinging, sharp pain in his muzzle and the warmth that trickled down his face made it hard for him to pick himself off the floor. Through a face-full of pavement, all he could see was a figure walking beside him to pluck the bag of bits neatly from his belt.

Hooves dancing around him. That's all he recognized – a dizzying tattoo of limbs floating along as the world tried to right itself.

And he tried to reach out, to stop that thief of thieves, but his legs would not respond. And so then did futility win over, as he lay there blinking in shock and slight fear, his eyes focusing and un-focusing on the cutie mark of the one who had destroyed his senses with one swift blow.

A cloud, or perhaps it was… no, it was definitely a cloud, twinned lightning bolts resting immediately under. It looked menacing, as if it were a skull laughing at him, returning his stare and judging his actions.

And that was the last thought that the drifter could manage, as blackness crept along the edges of his eyes, and his brain started to succumb to a great weight that had been growing steadily since the collision. There was a condemning mark placed upon him, burnt into his mind, as the concussion finally caught up and sent him into a deep slumber.

Emberkite stepped away with a frown on his face as he threw the bag up into the air and caught it neatly in an unfurled wing. The owner of the money couldn't have gone far. He'd track him down and return it, and that would be the end of all this.

The hero looked down upon the broken stallion, whose breathing had started to become shallow and ragged, but he looked ever so peaceful in his bleeding slumber, and only then did the brazen young vigilante hold a hoof up to his forehead to rub at the spot where they had connected.

There was going to be a bruise in the morning. He could feel it.

Continued in Part 2

Episode 1-2 :: Omelette

The faintly-lit figure nearly blended in with the lighting in the hospital ward – cold, dull, and with a faint hint of olive. Egg's whitish, wavy mane didn't do much to help either, and with the small pair of glasses perched on the tip of his face, it made him look like he was one of the doctors who had just forgotten to wear his coat that day.

In fact, he was stopped twice on the way to the room, once by a little old lady who needed her bedpan changed, and once by a little filly who wanted to know what it was like to be a doctor.

She had aspirations.

Egg told her to study hard, stay in school, and pursue her dreams. He knew she'd probably change her mind at least another three or four times by the time she reached high school, but his advice applied to whatever it was she wanted to be. It was good old generic advice which, sometimes, was the best kind.

Of course, the advice he gave to the old lady was a bit more specific.

Ask a nurse, he'd said, and whatever you do, don't tip it over.

That little morsel probably would not have applied to the little girl as much. It really was about saying the right thing at the right time.

But finally, after sneaking his way through the cold chequered corridors of the hospital's main wing, he arrived at the room where Survey was in. Room 79 of the third floor.

The building was built a little bit differently than modern Cloudsdale architecture. For one, it was very similar to the ground-side buildings – all square and blocky and hard. Parquet floors met chiselled walls, and even though most of it was still made out of fluffy white cloud, they had been pressed into very tight, solid shapes.

The wood that existed in abundance here was for the fact that a lot of things needed to be wheeled around. Machines, beds, and sometimes even emergency patients. They needed a hard, smooth floor to do that, and clouds did not make for gentle terrain.

It was also far more closed off than regular Cloudsdale buildings. It was necessary to keep disease in (or sometimes, out) and to prevent errant winds from blowing ponies out of their beds.

But despite all this, it still carried that distinct flavour of the sky cities, and the ceilings were left to fluff as they naturally would.

Everything in Survey's room, though, was shadowed by this strange eerie tinge of olive drab, thanks to the windows having drapes pulled over and all the lights having been turned off.

Egg knew exactly why, and without having the room number, he would have probably headed straight for this one room first anyway. Survey liked the dark. He liked sitting in it with nothing more than the glow of a television or a back-lit scientific calculator to keep him company.

Not that there was anything odd or weird about it, of course. He just liked it that way.

"Hey," he said, announcing himself after having stood there in front of Survey's bed for a good half a minute.

Survey opened an eye just a crack, a pale, smoky blue shining from behind a brighter blue coat. His hair was a darker hue of the same colour, even.

There was something very blue about Survey, and it allowed him to blend nicely into the darkness that he enjoyed sitting in so very much.

"Hey," he replied, wearily. His voice was cracking. He probably hadn't had to use it for a while. "You came."

"Yeah. I did," Egg said, walking beside his friend.

He was in terrible shape. Perhaps the messenger had understated it to save Egg some grief, but Egg wasn't that big a fan of obfuscation.

Eventually, he would have come, and eventually he would have known.

Eventually, he would have seen the bruises and the bleeding, and the torn feathers and the casts.

Eventually, he would have seen the tired eyes, one of which was cut, and the lack of energy that his friend normally had in spades.

Eventually, he would have known that Red Letter was a bit of a fibber.

But still, ponies liked being lied to. Even Survey.

"You look great," Egg said, plainly, without a hint of sarcasm.

"I know," Survey choked some words back. That was probably him trying to laugh. "Nurses… can't keep their hooves off me. Love to keep changing my… uh… that bag thing."

The room plunged into silence as Egg just tilted his head and thought, a small spell coming over him once more. Having considered it and seeing it was an entirely different experience. Being there in front of his injured friend once again forced Egg into a narrow corridor of numbers, facts, figures and statistics that were all pinned to the wall.

And he sat in the center of it all, his eyes darting left and right in rapt attention to the details and the connections and the fear, the fear of his friend and what ha–

"You're doing it again," Survey said.

"Oh. So I am." Egg nodded, intoning at his friend. "I was just thinking of things."

"Always the same, no matter what the situation, eh?" Survey croaked out. "But not this time, Egg, not thi–

"You're not going to tell me?" Egg frowned, furrowing his brow slightly. To others, this would be a mere sign of being slightly perturbed. For Egg, this was a cold, silent anger – the kind of fire that burnt slow, invisible, and extremely hot.

"Nope."

"Not even a little?"

"Not even a little."

"Well," Egg commented, looking off to the side at anything and everything else in the room.

"Stop that." The bed creaked as Survey shifted. With both of his wings in one of those contraptions meant to keep them raised, it was a bit difficult for him to move around.

"Stop what?"

"Stop this… how you're acting! You know how creepy it is! It's like talking to some sort of evil mountain skeleton king or something!"

"Tell me what happened," Egg intoned, stating it as a fact rather than a request. He spoke again before Survey could have his turn. "What's that?"

"Stop it, Egg."

Egg swept to the side of the bed, where a small piece of cloth lay on top of a table, next to a glass of water and a pitcher of even more water. It was a torn, rotten rag, crumpled and dirty. It was clearly torn off from some larger piece of fabric, which had to be just as rotten and crumpled as the fragment was.

"What's this?" Egg repeated, stepping toward the bed stand, eyes locked on the fragment of cloth.

"Fine. I'll tell you. Is that what you want?" Survey burst out suddenly, managing to swing all of three centimetres in the direction of the fabric.

"Pretty much, yes." Egg turned his head to look at his friend, stopping just before he reached the point of his focus. Now he had words, and words were better.

"Right. It isn't that difficult. I got mugged, alright? I was walking by the park last night. It was late. I was out buying bread. I ran out."

"You had to eat bread late at night?" Egg asked, trotting back to the foot of the bed to be able to face his friend head on.

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Bread is typically eaten in the morning," Egg observed.

"I can eat bread when I like! Do you have ponies telling you can't eat certain things or you must eat certain things during certain specific times of the day? Haven't you ever had a bowl of cereal for lunch? Haven't you ever had a pancake for dinner? Get off my back!"

Survey wheezed, eyes boggling in his frantic response. If Egg was conservative with dialogue, Survey was the one of the pair who stole all his words and used them extremely liberally. He tended to rant, but rarely ever meant it. Egg paused for a moment, waiting for the projection of words to slow.

"Go on?" he finally asked, steering the conversation back on track.

"These two stallions. Big, tough guys. They come out of nowhere. They hit me right on the back. Surprise attack."

"Messenger suggested that they asked you for your money and you refused."

"Well… I don't know about that. I might have been babbling a little when they found me. You know. Being beat up by a bunch of grown ponies would do that to you."

"I wouldn't know."

"I know you wouldn't! Anyway, listen. I didn't resist or anything. I mean, you know me. When would I ever resist anything?"

"That did sound unlike you, yes."

"Quiet. So, they go at my wings, right? They… I think they sort of knew where to hit, because they didn’t really do much damage. Just enough damage that I couldn't take off. I mean, it didn't even really hurt after the initial attack. Only that they wouldn't work right, after. I guess they just wanted to ground me."

Egg just blinked and nodded.

"Then they started kicking me in the head and stuff. Or chest. Or legs. I can't really remember. Everything hurts. I think I tried crawling away, but they kept on yelling at me, 'where's the bits? Where's the bits?' and then, I don't know. They kept hitting me until I took out the bag."

"Why didn't you just give it to them from the start?"

"Heck, I don't know! Have you ever been assaulted by two grown ponies before? It's not–"

"No."

"– something that you sort of sit around and think it through and then get beat up with perfect execution! You kind of just do stupid things and not know why until much later, when you realise it's a stupid thing and then you get pissed because your friend is standing there pointing out all the stupid things as if it were so easy to not do at the time!"

"Calm down, Survey." Egg gave a wry look.

Survey huffed, having gotten worked up for the third time in a single conversation.

"Sorry," Survey apologized. "Crazy day."

"What's with the cloth?"

"Pulled it off one of the thugs, I guess. I must have, right? Woke up with it in my hooves. Don't really remember doing it. I think I must have tried to reach out and squeeze his head or something. You know, in desperation. Like 'hey, let me be, or I'm gonna squeeze your head'. I'm real threatening."

"Nice to see your energy returning," Egg observed.

"Yeah, well, you just empower me," Survey responded, sarcastically, with a roll of his eyes. "Anyway, that's the deal, alright?"

"Alright."

Egg looked toward the cloth again. Looked toward Survey. Then at the floor, and the ceiling, as if they had something worth looking at.

I mean, the ceiling had a light, but… you know.

"You're thinking of it again, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am."

"We've been through this. Many times. When was the last time?"

"Yesterday."

"And when did it start?"

"Since forever."

"No, Egg. Not since forever. Stop that 'since forever' thing. It started after that big article last month with the whole Changeling fiasco in Canterlot. Ever since then you've never shut up about the degrading state of the world."

"And I'm right, aren't I? Look where you are now. Look what's happened."

"Did you come here just to tell me you were right?"

"No. I came here to ask you how you were doing."

"Then why haven't you asked it yet?"

The stallion looked around the room yet again. His eyes kept crossing with his friend's, and roaming gazes kept returning to the scrap of cloth on the table.

"Why are you keeping that piece of cloth, anyway?" Egg asked.

"I'm fine, thank you," Survey replied.

"Really, Survey."

His friend sighed, shuddering, as the large exhalation caused a minor bout of physical discomfort.

"I'm not going to convince you otherwise, am I?" Survey gave one last futile chance at persuasion.

"I'm doing it today."

"Because of me?"

"Because of you."

"And what do you do if it doesn't work out? What if you die trying to do it?"

"I'll worry about it when it comes to that."

"You'll worry about death only after you die?"

"Yeah." Egg shrugged. "I suppose."

"You're an idiot, Egg. You know that? I can't… I can't help you with this. You know that, right?"

"I understand."

"You understand but you don't care."

"No." Egg stood firm, narrowing his brow.

"You have to do this." Survey narrowed his right back.

"Yes."

"And you're going to put yourself in danger for the rest of Cloudsdale. You. The great and mighty accountant."

Egg took in a breath before answering.

"Yes."

"Then go on. Leave. I have nothing more to say to you, and you have nothing more to say to me."

"Tell me what they looked like." Egg flicked his head at Survey. A show of force, perhaps.

"No. I told you. We're done here."

Egg turned, slowly, to the side, the tone on Survey's voice slowly etching worry into his heart. But yet, as quickly as he had came, he was leaving.

He stopped, though, after the first step, lowering his head and letting his senses wash over. There was something fundamentally stiff about this exchange. It was something that both Egg and Survey had gone through many times before, and nothing that they were going to hold against each other, but momentum, as it was, could rarely stop in mid-flight.

But still, Egg felt he ought to say something.

He turned towards his friend, out of the corner of his eye.

"You and I… we're still…"

"Of course we're still friends, you idiot. Now get out of here before I change my mind and drag myself out of this bed to stop you."

"And I can count on–"

"Not too often."

Egg resumed his pace.

"Thank you, Survey. Get well soon," he mentioned, exiting the door with a flurry and a rustling of his wings.

And there he left, from the room, from his friend, back to the office, where he was going to do it today. The fury of his misplaced dedication was the only thing carrying him down this path, back to Mr. Stackford's office, where he would tender his resignation and start a new life.

A life he was entirely, to put it lightly, unsuited for.

But he was going to do it anyway.

Just because.

The narrow strip of boardwalk that lay on the edge of the eastern Cirrus Shores was where Emberkite found his home. Unlike most homes, his tended to change from night to night, adrift on the streets as a cloud would in the untamed skies.

The good thing was that Cloudsdale, despite being the sprawling metropolis of advancement and culture, tended to be very forgiving to the un-housed. In fact, it was the less developed areas which didn't have modern materials, and everything there was fluffy and unrefined.

It made for a good bed, because honestly, who would prefer to sleep on a hardened surface? But it came with its own set of risks – the winds blew hard at night, and without the weather pegasi monitoring it closely, the very ground you slept on could catch a stray breeze and take you quite far away, or even worse, decide to deposit you on the ground.

The consolation to this was that the ground was so far away that you'd probably wake up before hitting it.

The sun had fallen under the horizon of Cloudsdale – first sunset, as it was called – and was now making its way behind the earth itself. With the eerie glow of red light illuminating the city from below like a badly-positioned lamp, the shadows it cast fell upward, and the world above shifted in flavour and activity.

Emberkite had spent the last few hours defending his turf – a popular tourist destination off the western edge of the Coliseum Cloud Cluster.

As a floating state, Cloudsdale certainly had no ocean, but in this part of the city, clouds pulled apart into wispy thin strands that, very much like waves, bobbed and billowed in the sky, blanketing the entire off-shore area with rolls and rolls of cotton candy.

Like the seas on land, simming through them deposited a refreshing, cool moisture upon the skin, and flocks of exotic birds made that area their home, adding life and colour to the area.

In a long thin band next to the Cirrus Shores was a large fluffy patch of unprocessed clouds, which, soft and gentle, acted as the beach. Any pegasus treading on its sponge-like surface would find its texture very similar to soft, wet sand, and facing the east, it always caught the full rays of the morning sun as it rose over the skyward resort.

A little further on and you had the boardwalk itself, a towering mega-structure of wood and planks all propped up on beams and a fine lattice-work of polished logs and support struts. This, by far, was one of Cloudsdale's most enterprising constructions yet, and many specialists in the fields of engineering and construction were called in to plan and oversee this ambitious project.

It was Cloudsdale's longest continuous wooden structure, and it was very, very heavy. In the end, it was an ingenious use of cumulonimbus counter-clouds that kept the whole thing aloft, and the result was a fantastic, gorgeous mock seaside, complete with ice cream stands and fried donut shops, a plethora of restaurants serving up various ethnic cuisines, and boutiques galore.

There were souvenirs for the fillies and toys for the colts, design for the mares and sporting equipment for the stallions.

And underneath the busy and bustling night life on top of the wooden edifice was the tangled net of sticks and twigs that kept everything together – under the pier where Emberkite found a place to rest.

During the day, he could be found above, performing aerial tricks for the applauding crowd, including his signature quick-start and quick-stop moves, which never failed to please and cause the children to open their mouths in wonderment and glee.

It took a certain level of expertise to be able to amuse a crowd that was already rather proficient in the skill one was attempting. He likened his craft to, perhaps, competitive eating, or being a strong-pony at the circus. Sure, everypony was capable of flight up in Cloudsdale, but he had that little something extra that took in the audience and regaled the masses.

At night, when the lights went down and performance art wasn't well received, he retreated to this net of timber.

It was humid there. The moisture released from the clouds had nowhere else to go, and remained solidly trapped in the wood. They gathered in small drops of perspiration that fell from the underside of the floor, and it was tricky – though not impossible – to find a dry spot to lay your head.

Most of them would already be taken by vagrants and other travellers, but there was always a spot for Emberkite.

Even though the other faces there, all shrouded by darkness, were just faces to him, they knew his name, they knew his unmistakable ferocity and unique mane just enough to know that he deserved and required a dry spot at night.

For he alone kept the place clean. He alone kept the place safe.

The other performers, even the ones who were better off and had a home to return to, appreciated his actions. He always made sure the buskers kept honest and kept the bits flowing. He always looked out for his fellow drifter, because when a crime occurs against a pony who owns nothing, no one else cares. He always made sure things were kept neat and tidy, and he did all this for nothing more than the showers of appreciation and the knowledge that he wore a metaphorical crown.

There was a little narcissism in that. A little smugness, too, but overall, a thankless job must be paid for somehow, and this price was a small one.

It was good enough for him to be known. It was good enough for him to be thanked, happily, by the rich family who was cheated out of their bits by a card shark. They didn't even need the bits, really, but Ember returned it anyway. It was the principle of the thing. And he made sure that everyone knew he was the one who did it.

He also made sure everyone knew, when they saw the concussed pony being carted away by the medical personnel, who put that pony there.

Emberkite smiled, as he threw his back against a log, one of hundreds in this buried forest. He sank to his hips in the cold, wet cloud, snuggling down and closing his eyes with a contented sigh.

He drew a bag closer toward him, gripping it tightly as a child would a blanket. It was a tatty old thing, with a popped button and scuffed leather, but perfectly useful as it was intended. He had rescued it from the beach – some inconsiderate must have left it there to float endlessly on the pure, white sand.

And there in the darkness of his own head, he reached into his bag to touch a stack of bounded pages that he'd touched a thousand times before. It gave him a sense of comfort. A sense of belonging. A guiding principle.

He withdrew his hoof from the comic, a piece of reading material that was even older and tattier than the bag he housed it in. He had forgotten where he'd got this thing, but yet, every night, he would remind himself that the figure on the cover, clad in blazing blue and streaks of gold, standing with mane to the wind and head held high, represented the one ideal that made him who he was today.

He was a hero.

And nothing else mattered.

Once Egg stepped onto the cold lino floor of the diner, everything suddenly made sense again. The confusion of what had happened over the last few hours erased itself from his mind, and the smell of freshly-brewed coffee and freshly-made Banoffee Pie hit Egg right in the senses, overtaking his thoughts with that special combination of sweet and bitter that could only be found right here in the Banana Blintz Café.

By this time of night, there was almost always no other pony left. Not in any of the booths that snaked its way around the wall, each offering a view out the glass windows to the streets outside, or the counter that placed itself in the middle of the establishment in a horseshoe shape, extending out from the kitchen.

As usual, there was no one else besides Egg.

No pony, save one.

A freshly brewed mug of hot black coffee and a slice of pie had been left lying in the third booth on the left – the same booth that Egg immediately went to without a second's consideration and slid in without a thought.

He picked up the cup of coffee and took a quick sip, roasted notes of almond and honey quickly being swept away by a luxuriously smooth acidity that stung at his tastebuds and ignited his olfactory senses.

It was exactly right.

Bitter.

He took a small piece of the pie, molten caramel dripping off a slice of banana that sat like a swaddled baby on a cookie crumb crust, all topped with a tiny dab of whipped cream.

Sweet.

Perfect.

Egg dropped the fork with a sigh, and sat back, reclining comfortably on a small red cushion. He reached, without looking, to his left, pulling up the newspaper that had been left there and bringing it to his face.

CLOUDSDALE? MORE LIKE CRIMESDALE!
STREET THIEVERY AND VANDALISM HITS ALL-TIME HIGH!

by Gale A. Mezzo

Not another word needed to be read.

"Long day?" said a voice, smooth as chocolate and warm as coffee. Sultry but sweet. Bitter, but coated with a fine sugary layer.

"Yeah."

"Well, you look even more expressionless than usual."

Egg's eyes ran into hers as he put the paper down flat upon the table. A mare, with coat as silky brown as milk chocolate and mane as thick and golden as coffee had planted herself in the seat across Egg's.

Her mane was tied up into a bun that hung off the left side of her head, strands and flaps of hair peeling off it like a flower in mid-bloom. One brown petal hung low, framing the side of her face, a set of deep black eyes staring from behind.

Mocha Leche, the diner's owner and only waitress, gave Egg a warm, encouraging smile, and she knew full well that she would not get one in return.

Egg gave her a look of tiredness.

And that was just fine by her.

"Something happen today?" Mocha asked, tilting her head and propping it up with a hoof as she turned to stare out the window toward the empty city streets.

A slight chill had fallen over the main hub of Cloudsdale, paths and roads spiralling outward from the central coliseum. The huge arena and sports venue had been considered one of the centers of the city for a long time due to its relative size and visibility in the sky.

With a multitude of levels and a rather 'variable' nature to the city, the citizens inhabiting this sprawling metropolis found it easier to base their city planning around landmarks rather than any other particular organized method. When you live in a city where re-arrangement was as simple as pushing the floor aside, forethought tends to fly off the edge of the nearest nimbus.

It was only recently that the leaders of the fine burg thought that perhaps some sort of fixed-position based city structure would be more beneficial to the citizens. With the growing population and rapidly expanding economy, along with earth-borne building techniques and materials, no longer were directions such as 'the shop with the three pillars outside, eh?' any more useful than throwing a rock into the air and going where it landed.

So roads were invented. Addresses were assigned. A permit was now required to move any building manually, and those found doing so without proper authority were in for a horrible talking to.

And the pegasi stopped getting lost as often.

Still, once in a while, a rogue and disgruntled building owner might get tired of the long waits in the bureaucratic greys of the thunderclouds that City Hall was crafted from, and decide to fly away with his house in tow. They called them 'wanderers', and most of them were eventually found, reclaimed by the government, and reinstalled back into the huge gaping hole in the neighbourhood that it had left behind.

Some wanderers remained undiscovered for weeks. Months even. But they were few and far between.

And then there were the ones that had particularly special circumstances.

The diner sat, nestled at the very corner of a set of corporate buildings, a tiny valley in the mountains that stood beside it. It was a common, and correct, assumption that the building wasn't originally built to go there.

Originally, it had been from another cloud entirely – The Rainbow Factory Cluster – where it was victim to a robbery.

It was too much trouble to search through and loot the place, the robbers reckoned, and decided that cutting the entire building off from the quaint, quiet suburban road that it was on was much quicker and quieter.

And so the small café, already a third full to capacity with the two elderly owners sleeping in the back and the three robbers that nabbed it, was floated across the darkened skies to The Coliseum Cluster, where it found its new home.

The robbers got away with the loot. At night, the commercial districts of Cloudsdale were as quiet as a mute badger, the perfect place to land at some random corner and take one's time with a quiet search.

That left the two rather confused and bewildered owners waking up the next morning and deciding that they were far too old for this, selling the building as fast as possible and making their way back to their home in the suburbs – which thankfully hadn't been shifted.

When the building was finally found and a full report was filed and processed, the café was now in the hooves of one Mocha Leche, who had bought it for a song.

And now this presented the government with a rather sticky problem.

The ones who moved the building were gone.

The ones who owned the building no longer did.

And the current owner clearly bought a building that sat where it sat, and so moving it back would then break the very same law that had been passed to prevent such nonsense from happening in the first place.

The government wisely decided to tear the report up and ignore everything.

The diner soon became a local hotspot, and the Banana Blintz Café soon grew a name for itself amongst the officeponies. And without a proper registered address, it was one of those places that either you knew or didn't.

At night when all the pegasi went home, the diner remained open, and only very few strange ponies bothered to venture in at that time.

Mocha pulled her eyes, weighed down permanently by dark bags, from the window. As sleepy as she was, as tired as she looked, she had purchased the place for that very reason.

So that she'd have a home that, just like her, remained awake twenty-four hours of the day, seven days a week.

But still, she smiled. Still, she had that soft, gentle honey in her expression, and the crisp nectarine tangs in the way she regarded all her customers, and she looked with nothing less but a whisper of appreciation to the only one who regularly came to her diner at night.

"Something on my face?" Egg asked, pushing aside his reading glasses to wipe at it.

"Answer my question," Mocha reminded, laying her head down on the table, stretching out a leg across to Egg's side.

"I was about to," Egg responded, turning to look out of the window that Mocha had just a moment ago. "Something else seemed to have caught your attention."

"Just… reminiscing." Mocha breathed in deeply. "Don't change the subject. What happened today?"

Egg took a pause. He almost never did. But this time, he had, leaving Mocha to raise her eyebrows, staring into the glass as she noticed it.

"I quit."

And just like a world of haze, was Mocha's reaction too, in delay, as she picked her head back off her reclined arm and gave her mane a quick shake.

"Really?"

"Yes. I did it."

"What did… what did Mister–"

"He wasn't entirely happy. He was more sad than angry."

"I'd be too, if I had to give you up."

"Told me that I'd been working there so long, that I was practically one of the family. I'd always have a job there should I want to return."

"That's all he said?"

"That's all he said."

"Didn't he mention," Mocha mused, thoughtfully, "didn't he ask you why you were leaving?"

"No."

"Isn't that…"

"Not odd. He probably already knew why."

"How?" Mocha asked softly.

"Ponies like him know everything."

Mocha didn't question it. If Egg said it was so, it was most likely so.

"And he just let you off? Just like that? Same day?" Mocha continued.

"Yes. But this isn't really what you're really asking me, is it?" Egg turned his attention to the one sitting across the table, prying into her dark, black eyes. There was then, suddenly, a flash of sadness behind it that didn't escape Egg's notice.

Conversations were like a cart ride to any destination – you always had to take the road there first. It'd be scenic, mainly pointless, and in the end all you wanted was to get to the final point.

All Egg wanted right now was to get to the final point.

Mocha sighed. It wasn't out of frustration or annoyance. Most conversations she had with this stallion ended up the same way. There was a brutal, rudely frank, but very targeted drilling down of the conversation to get it along. Egg didn't banter. He didn't waffle. The only time he engaged in small-talk were those times when that was all there was to the conversation.

But most conversations with him had a specific purpose.

Even if he wasn't the source of it.

"You're going to get hurt." Mocha started to waver, her voice turning gravelly as her throat tightened. "You're going to get hurt and you're going to die."

"I won't," Egg said, steadfast, declaring the truth, frowning slightly at the mare.

"You can't know that," She declared roughly, her ears falling down by the sides. She breathed in unsteadily, but a few quick swallows of air were all that were needed for her to regain composure.

Egg waited patiently for the wave to pass before amending his previous declaration. "I'll try not to."

"Why?" Mocha asked, almost pleading within a single word.

The newspaper was tapped, at the headlines, and at the article – two quick raps upon the paper in quick succession.

"Last week; report of hate crime against 'outsiders'. Day after; extortion of business owners up in the industrial district. Just three days ago, somepony stole eight barrels of liquid rainbow from the factories. Why would anypony even need that?"

Mocha stared at the paper on the table, vapidly.

"There is no answer," Egg confirmed what Mocha was thinking. "The correct question is why isn't anyone doing anything about it?"

"Well, the Wonderbolts–"

"Do nothing. They haven't ever since crime started to rise a few years ago and they aren't doing anything now. With all the troubles in Canterlot and the surrounding cities, they've had their hooves filled doing something they were never supposed to be doing in the first place."

"Well."

"They aren't anything nowadays but a trick-flying team. Their academy is… inefficient. They weren't even able to support Canterlot during the Changeling invasion last month. That's why you didn't read about them in the papers. All of us were just scared up here, cowering and just hoping that they might not attack us next. And what if Princess Celestia hadn't come through in the end? What then?"

Mocha shook her head. "Surely, you aren't saying you want to take on the next great Changeling invasion, are you?"

"No. We can't do anything on such a grand scale. But we can do something on our level. It's not about it being big or flashy, it's about doing it! It's about getting things done. It's about somepony finally taking a stand when no one else will!"

Egg wheezed, releasing the slight tilt on his eyebrows that he had given them. This was the most emotional he'd ever been in a while. He'd run out of breath with that inglorious speech. The newspaper lay crumpled and wrinkled under his hoof. Paper never fared well around the stallion when he was in a mood.

The diner fell into silence, the ticking of the clock on the wall behind the counter the only thing keeping it from completely degrading into a vacuum. It fell upon 2:19 with one final tick of the minute hand.

Egg snapped up his fork and shovelled another large piece of pie into his mouth.

He chewed carefully, and swallowed.

Mocha was playing with her hooves on the other end.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid, Leche," Egg told her.

"You already have."

"How long have we known each other?"

Mocha's eyes darted to the clock. "Since you first came in here? A year and eight months."

"In all this time, have you ever known me to do anything without a plan?"

"I suppose not."

"And have you ever known me not to have one?"

"Are you trying to show off?" Mocha asked, dryly.

"No, I'm trying to convince you." Egg turned his hoof upward. "I'm not the kind of pony to rush into situations without thinking first. And I've had good practice with making split-second decisions."

"What, as an accountant?"

"Yes."

There was not the slightest trace of irony or sarcasm in Egg's voice as he said that. Mocha decided to give herself the mental equivalent of shaking her head.

"That's not enough, Egg. That's just not enough."

"What do you mean?"

"I need more reasons to believe."

"Fine," Egg said, after a while of thinking. "Fine. I… My job. My old job. I managed millions of bits. Millions. Coming in from thousands of sources at any time of any day. I had to know where everything was from, and know how it all fit together. One small mistake and it would have cost the company."

"Yes, that's what accountants do. What–"

"I had eight juniors. Eight. You wanted to know why I was let off so easily, right? No two weeks, no advance notice? Because there were eight juniors who were ready, willing, and very, very eager to step into my place as soon as I had left. And they know everything I do. You want to know why they never had the chance to replace me before?"

"Why?" Mocha asked, flavourlessly.

"Because for the four years I'd been working as head accountant, I never made one single mistake."

Mocha closed her eyes, breathing in those words. It was a moment before she replied. "Alright."

"I will be in here every night, Mocha."

"Alright."

"And you'll know everything I'm doing, okay?"

"Alright."

"The day that I stop coming is the day you'll need to start worrying."

"I don't want that day to come," said Mocha.

Egg didn't reply.

"What else?" Mocha asked, continuing the conversation through a lead heart. "What else do you have to tell me?"

"I sold my house and bought a small base of operations."

"Wh– in one day?" Mocha objected; the surprises continuing to come one by one.

"Yes. I had my eye on the property already. The location was… desirable. About five minutes flight away from the Cirrus Shores. I had the paperwork prepared in advance for this eventuality. All I had to do was submit it."

"But… in one day, Egg!"

"Why not?" Egg raised his eyebrow. "You yourself bought this place in one day, if I recall. In fact, it was less than four hours since you set eyes on it if one remembers correctly."

"Wh– oh, but that's unfair, Egg!"

Egg's eyebrow dropped. "You're quite right. It is unfair. I apologize. But it is no less true. A day is all it takes, Mocha, for things to happen."

"And the Cirrus Shores too? That's where all the crime is happening!"

"Yes. It is."

"Egg…"

"I said I promise."

"… alright."

Eyes glazed over, Mocha pushed herself away from the table. It was that kind of moment when she wished she could curl up into bed and fall asleep, but likely she'd only be doing the former. But still, some rest was required, and while the diner remained open, she would be taking respite from the sudden turn of events.

At that motion, Egg dropped six bits on the table, sliding the newspaper back toward himself and shuffling out of the booth. He made for the door, fully recognizing the end of tonight's exchange.

"Egg, I've… I've told you a thousand times. You don't have to pay," Mocha said with a slight hint of exasperation. She had told him numerous times before, and normally she wouldn't bother anymore, but with her mind being sundered, she used the complaint as a little bit of relief.

"And I will pay each and every time."

"Even tomorrow, when you come?" Mocha asked hopefully.

Egg nodded. "Yes. Even tomorrow."

Continued in Part 3

Episode 4-3 :: Scrambled

Egg squeezed past the door, pushing against it as hard as he could, trying to get that extra few centimeters out of it. They had liberated a whole slew of items from the lab, and some of them required the extra space.

All hands and hooves were full with the transport of a colourful assortment of gewgaws, amongst them the semi-conscious body of the professor who lay straddled in Cookie’s strong arms. Egg himself sported the giant prism that used to be the centerpiece of the jail.

He shoved it through the opening, placing it carefully in the corner before helping the rest through.

The shelves were filled with the items as Egg barked out orders.

“Eternia. Please place her in my office. Once you’re done, please draft a letter to the school telling them that there were squatters in the old buildings, and gently suggest to them that they secure all abandoned buildings for safety. Pretend to be a concerned mother.”

Cookie nodded, sweeping the professor into the room.

“Champagne. Go disguise yourself and get to the nearest Hospital. I want you to tell them that there are six injured ponies at the University who require dire medical attention. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done without them asking questions. After that, you are to check yourself in and make sure your leg is taken care of. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Champagne said, limping back out the door.

“Ember? Please get some water for the professor. I’d like to give her some time to recuperate. Find out if she needs a shower or anything like that, and please provide for her as much as you can in my absence.”

“M-me?” Ember sputtered. “Where are you going, old stallion?”

“I need to go talk to Survey. I have to follow up on a… number of things.”

“What, now? But it’s like, one thirty in the morning! Doesn’t he have work tomorrow?”

Egg paused for a second as he made his way past the sticky door.

“Yes,” he said, after a second’s thought.

The door closed.

“Aw, man, c’mon!” he yelled to the empty room.

He stretched his head up, staring at the ceiling, the lights above casting a dull glow into his eyes.

“What?” he drawled, standing in the middle of the room. “Come on!”

“Use your words, Ember,” Cookie chortled, closing the door to Egg’s office noisily.

She shut it with a bit more force than usual as a politeness to the others – she was normally so silent that she found she needed to deliberately make noise while doing regular things in order to alert others to her presence. It was a kind consideration she made for her friends.

“Oh. Hey,” Ember greeted bitterly, swinging around. “What’s up?”

“Well, I have to craft a letter, yes? I shall need to think about how to word it carefully. I am not that used to… fraudulence.”

“Then let me do it! I lie all the time!” Ember begged.

“I… think it would be best, given our relative… areas of expertise, if I took care of this small task,” Cookie gently persuaded. “But do tell me, what, as they say, is eating you this time, young Emberkite?”

“Egg’s stuck me on greeting duty again! I gotta go take care of the old mare!”

“And this is a problem? I did not see you had that much hesitance in welcoming little Champagne. In fact, I believe it has been nearly two weeks and you are still welcoming her.”

“That’s different, alright? This pony is crazy and stuff! She makes bombs! Why are we throwing her a party? Why aren’t we carting her off to Big C right now to be thrown in a dungeon or something?”

“I am not sure Princess Celestia has authority. This is something quite new. And besides, as Egg has explained, she is not the enemy, yes? She is…”

“What? Working for them?” Ember spat. “Just making those gem things? She destroyed your shop, Cookie!”

“Hers was not the hoof that threw the bomb,” Cookie responded calmly.

“Yeah? So? It was that punk guy. You telling me you forgive him too?”

“I forgave him a long time ago. His was also not the hoof that threw the bomb.”

“What are you talking about?” Ember fumed, running his leg into the ground. “I’m not in the mood for all this, alright?”

“You want justice.”

“Damn right, I want justice!”

“So we must find the one who devised the plot.”

“And let everyone else off scott free?” Ember snarled, pointing his hoof towards the door.

“Please. I beg for your patience,” Cookie said, moving beside Emberkite to sit for a moment. “But I will use an analogy.”

“A what?”

“Let’s pretend someone purposely sells me some wheat that has gone bad, yes? I use this wheat unknowingly, baking it into a bun, which I then give you to eat. You then fall sick from the bun. Will you punish me for delivering the bread?”

“N-no. Not really your fault, is it?”

“Ah.” Eternia raised a claw. “Then surely we must break the oven, yes? For cooking something so foul.”

“That’s stupid. The oven has nothing to do with it.”

“Yes. We must go for the one who has intentionally sold bad wheat. In this case, as well, young Emberkite, someone or some pony has gone through unimaginable lengths to engineer a series of events that has resulted in my bakery being destroyed by a foul magic. This same hand has also caused many events that have caused many others much distraught, yes? This is the hoof that threw the bomb.”

“What, you’re saying that we shouldn’t punish any of these other asses who are helping this pony?” Ember stamped again as he began a slow pace around the room, looking at the devices on the shelves.

“No. But as there are some bakers who might have baked a poison loaf unintentionally, there are some who will still sell that loaf knowing that the wheat is bad. Each must be taken case by case, and sometimes, we have to slide in deference to what is better.”

The gryphon let off a cooing noise, much like the sigh of an owl.

“I hate to put it in this way,” she continued, hanging her head, “but as we do not blame the ignorant or our tools, we cannot blame this professor and that punk. The punk was ignorant. The professor is a tool. That is the crude truth. I can state it no cleaner.”

“How… are you so patient? How are you like this?” Ember cried out, turning to the gryphon. “Of all of us, you should be the one most angry! Why aren’t you even a little bit pissed?”

There was the soft sound of silence landing in the room, as seconds suddenly danced on a razor’s edge.

“Who says I am not?” Eternia whispered, a glare edging out the side of her eye from behind a feather that fell across her face.

Ember swallowed. A small, unintentional gulp. An automatic reaction to when things were suddenly different.

“Little Emberkite,” the gryphon continued with a strained slowness, a low buzzing audible behind her voice. “It is not about being angry or not. It is about… knowing where to put your anger.”

Ember shuffled, avoiding eye contact with Eternia.

“We gryphons are… patient. We know how to wait. That is what they say of us, yes? Always waiting. I am perfectly capable of being angry. But there is no need to always be. I can wait for the right time to be angry. And every other time…”

She snapped two claws together as her calm smile returned and the room once again felt warm. She gently flourished her arms out, palms up, in a polite curtsey.

“... I am fine being who I am, yes?”

Ember breathed with a little more weight than was necessary, looking towards the door and then back to the room. He played with his teeth with a frustrated tongue before closing his eyes and giving up a big, deep sigh.

He swung towards the door, grabbing his bag off the rack beside it. Wordlessly, he squeezed through the exit, pausing for just a moment as he heard Eternia cry from over his shoulder.

“Emberkite,” she said. “Egg wants you to do this. He has a reason. Please get some air, but do remember your responsibilities.”

Ember closed his eyes, shaking his head. A soft breath of incredulous disbelief escaped his parted lips, and he pushed through to the streets outside.

–––

The pegasus with the streak of yellow in his red mane pulled the comic out of his bag. Shiny and pristine, sealed away nicely in a plastic bag, was Action Sky #1, first edition, proudly proclaiming the exploits of Captain Sterling Silver, leader of the Wonderbolts, against a generic villain simply known as ‘The Mob’.

Emberkite shifted his body to mimic the pose of the figure on the cover. Chest out, head thrust upward, the paragon of justice and law, here to save the city of Cloudsdale from ne’er-do-wells and other assorted unsavouries!

“Come on, son,” a voice called out from above. A figure smiled down at Emberkite, a soft, reassuring smile. A gentle leg placed itself upon his back, as he was led slowly, with shuffling hooves, away from the store and down the street.

The colt beamed back. It was all he could do. It was the first birthday present he was allowed since his ten years on this cloud, simply because he was promised one, and the family made an effort to save for it.

Times were difficult in Cloudsdale. Jobs and progress shared an interesting relationship – the more progress you had, the harder it was to find a job. There were jobs available, of course, but everypony these days wanted specialists and masters and ponies with things like experience; something that an unfortunate, uneducated pony didn’t have.

It was not to say that Emberkite’s father and mother were not smart. They simply didn’t have papers proving that they were. They were just unlucky.

Victims of progress.

But this year, they said, Emberkite could have anything he wanted as a reward for being their son. There was nothing more to it than that. Families didn’t have to go out of their way to be family. This was something that Emberkite’s parents believed in, and they found themselves in the middle of a promise.

It was such that the child found himself asking for a special item, one close to his heart.

Ember pulled down the street in a daze, hoof finally on the comic that he had wanted for years. He had always seen it in the window of that funny little shop around the corner. The one that sold all the other musty, old things like furniture and urns and wingball cards and all that. The young child had no idea why this comic was displayed amongst the other items rather than being in a proper comic store, but ever since he saw the striking figure on the cover and the glory of what it stood for, he knew he had to have it.

He didn’t know why his father looked so sad on the walk home. He didn’t know why he remained in silence, the lines of worry crossing his brow.

He didn’t understand why his parents argued that night.

Something was wrong.

And the child didn’t know why.

But promises were things to be kept, no matter what.

That was what his father told him that night, coming up to his room, weary and tired, passing his sister, leaving his mother downstairs to burn in conflicted anger.

Do not worry, he had said. Every family has arguments sometimes.

Was it me? Did I do it? Was it the book?

The questions of a ten-year-old.

No, his father had told him. It was a promise. His mother would understand as well, given time. In the end all they wanted was to keep their promise and make sure that Emberkite was happy with the book.

Was he happy?

Yes. Thank you, daddy. Thank you, mommy.

I will tell mommy you said so.

He did, later on in the evening, and eventually time would cover up careless promises.

That night, Young Emberkite read the comic for the first time, marvelling in the action and adventure, revelling in the dreams of romance.

Action Sky #1.

A collector’s edition. Ten years since first printing.

How was a child to know?

–––

The book lay crumpled and soiled in his hoof, a tattered thing held together by sheer will alone. The faded cover still proclaimed the exploits of his once-hero, but in faded shades and grey ink. Had he known its worth back then, he wouldn’t have treated it the way he did. But now… all that was left was the comic.

He had read it a few hundred times or more to this date, able to quote every line, remember the intricacies of each panel. None of it mattered. The comic wasn’t what it used to be. Its meaning was lost to the wind a long time ago, and he no longer knew what value it held.

Yet, every day he would touch it as if it gave him strength, as if it gave him reason. As if it was the one thing that reminded him of a purpose.

His hoof strayed to his flank, rubbing it as if it were sore.

It trailed the outline of the cloud that bore the unmistakable resemblance to a skull, and with a quick flick of his wrist, crossed along the bones of lightning under them.

“What are you thinking of?” Eternia asked, appearing behind Ember as he stood on the roof of their base, gazing at the comic.

He lowered the book in shock, flinging around and frowning at the uninvited guest. “Hey, what are you doing here? C’mon. A little privacy?”

“You have been out here a while. I have come to… be sure that you are doing well.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ember muttered, turning back toward the moonlit skies.

“You seem bothered by something.”

“Just thinking of things, okay? Not like it’s any of your concern!” Ember yelled.

A moment passed.

“I mean, I’m alright. I just…” Ember sighed.

“It is alright to speak of it,” the gryphon reassured.

“It’s just stuff. That’s all.”

“Something of your past?” Eternia approached cautiously.

“Yeah. Something I did.”

“About what?”

“Promises,” Ember huffed. “Promises and stupid.”

“But what of this mare that is making you feel this way?” Eternia motioned below them.

“Huh?” Ember raised a weary eyebrow in surprise, revealing his strained eyes. “What’s she got to do with anything?”

“Your anger towards her. It was a bit more than necessary, yes? It felt of a personal thing. Hmmm. It seemed to me, at least, that this is why your memories have been plaguing you.”

“Maybe I’m just an angry stallion, Cookie.”

“Oh, it occurs to me that you are. But anger always comes from somewhere. And you are frequently angry. There is only one thing that is always around you to make you angry, yes?”

“What?”

“Yourself.”

Ember frowned again.

But something fought the tide this time around. Something stopped him from bursting out, telling this gryphon to go to Tartarus, and halted him from flying off into the night.

Maybe he was just tired. There was a weariness about his wings and eyes tonight, and a weight upon his mind.

“Yeah, okay,” Ember surrendered. It was just something to respond to.

“Have you always had problems with this?” Eternia asked gently.

“I dunno. I guess it started a while ago. I didn’t really notice. I was too young. It just… was. I don’t think I know.”

His eyes darted down to the comic in his hoof again.

“I don’t think I know,” he repeated.

–––

“Emberkite, you must learn how to control your temper,” his father said at the dinner table.

It was smaller than the days before, but so was the house. They had to move to cheaper lodgings. No longer did they have two stories. No longer did they have three bedrooms. Now Ember had to sleep with his sister in the same room. It was of no concern to him. He liked his sister very much.

The new house was comfortable, though, not stifling, and rent was a steal.

Life had flown by in the four years since Ember asked for the comic. All their savings had gone into making sure Ember’s younger sister had an education. She had entered school two years before, and the family made a promise to keep her there. It was the first promise they had made after granting one to Ember all those years ago.

Today, Ember had lost a job.

Their parents scraped by with jobs of their own. Stuck in factory work and menial labour, they were the unsung heroes of Cloudsdale, doing what anypony would offer them. It was just enough for food, water and heat, and of course, the school fund.

Ember had no choice but to help out at an early age. He was only fourteen, but did what he could. He worked as an assistant once, but fought with the grocer’s son. He worked as an apprentice to a carver once, but smashed the pots when he couldn’t get the filigree just right. He was too young to be a bouncer, one of the few jobs where a heated temper could come in use, and his parents had always kept him on the straight and narrow, and thusly criminal activities would never cross his mind.

But for all his attempts, his mood always got in the way. There was a cheerful child in him a long time ago, a young colt full of laughter and fun. But each time he failed, each time he ran afoul of his uncontrollable temper, he would run back to the comic, staring at it with fury while he bridled himself in thought, losing himself deeper in hatred.

His parents didn’t understand the behaviour, and neither did he.

But his parents, in their infinite wisdom, told him that it was alright. They consoled him with an explanation. He was special. Unique. And would have a place. He had yet to discover it, but when he did, all things would start to make sense. He was a late bloomer, yet to receive a cutie mark – a child swimming in fog can rarely see the shore. But he would earn it one day, and his path would be made clear.

He need not worry about contributing. He needn’t burden himself with helping to take care of the family. They were the ones who had to shoulder that responsibility. The child was the one to be taken care of with love and patience. The parents are the ones to provide it. Let go of the past, let go of your anger – these were the lessons imparted on one whose mind was blocked by the mists of doubt.

But nothing ever provided him with the answers he needed, and as the days passed he was left with only the questions.

And he would take to the comic. Look at it. Read it. But never understand the weight of the original burden he had to bear.

–––

The night air calmed him. No matter if it was at the docks or up here on the roof of the base, that soft, dark breeze always helped him calm down. He leaned on the edge, staring off toward the quiet street with the broken lights. Nopony ever came down this street. It was quite similar to the docks at night in this regard.

It was quiet.

Emberkite found solace in that, although he usually preferred the noise. Noise was life. He liked the reminder. He felt dead up there alone, but it was a welcome feeling that night.

It reminded him of another night, much like this one, when he was sixteen.

It was the night he earned his mark. When he was branded.

When his path was made clear.

“We can always change,” a cooing voice came from behind, speaking of the world in general as much as of the young stallion.

“Doesn’t matter what you say. I can’t change myself. It’s too late. What I did is… who I am. That’s how these marks work,” Ember said, tapping his flank.

“I never rather understood the convention,” Eternia admitted. “It seems rather odd to base your life off a single picture.”

“It’s not really like that. It’s kinda hard to explain. It’s like… if there was just one thing. Just one thing that your life could be described as, the mark… that mark is the description. It shows you your path.”

“It seems to me like it’s tying you down instead,” Eternia mused.

“Yeah, well. I didn’t invent the damn things. That’s how we were born, right? That’s how ponies are.”

“So now you are nothing but a skull and crossbones? What does it mean?”

“What do you think it means? It means death, you bat.” Ember scowled.

“Death… but you are not dead… surely?”

“No, but… it’s a long story, alright?”

The gryphon raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t about to move.

“Oh, for hail’s sake,” Ember muttered.

––--

It was clear to him that night when he was sixteen. He didn’t know why he didn’t realise it before. He didn’t know why he couldn’t simply reach out and grab what was staring him in the face for six years straight from the cover of a comic.

The Wonderbolts.

Join the Wonderbolts.

He could fly fast. He was pretty talented at that. No mark yet, but still, it was something he could do. His bravery and temper might even be a boon to the squad! Rushing headlong into battle, saving the world, just like Captain Sterling Silver, hero to the people, saviour of the streets!

He too, could be a champion.

The answers were right there in front of him all this while.

This was his calling. This was his deliverance. This was the day when he would get his mark.

It was a decision he made after a long period of consideration. It had taken him some time to work up the nerve, the shadows of his past failures always there to haunt him.

This time, though. He would control himself. This time he would do things right.

It was the first time in Ember’s life that he cried.

He couldn’t remember crying before that day, and he couldn’t remember another time he cried after. He didn’t have room for these things in his daily life. But on that day, two months after he decided to join the Wonderbolts, he cried.

He washed himself off in a raincloud before returning home, that look of anger marring his face. His regular look. That normal look that replaced the silly pointlessness of sadness.

He took the notice of discharge and threw it to the winds. ‘Unable to control temper’ took to the skies. ‘Uncooperative and overly head-strong’ fluttered on the breeze. ‘Unsuitable for admission’ blew away to the fading sun.

He stormed through the house, a night he remembered very well, when a regularly scheduled thunderstorm was to be deployed. It had only just begun raining as he burst through the door, dumping his equipment and bags into the corner.

He shocked his little sister, whom he didn’t respond to as an incessant torrent of ‘what’s wrong, Emby?’ filled the house. He moved upstairs on swift wings, throwing the savings he had made during his enlistment to his parents who were resting in bed.

It was a pittance. Something that Emberkite could have spat at and felt no remorse. A small scratch of money that, in his eyes, wouldn’t help.

For the education fund, he told them.

And then he told his parents that he was leaving.

Bitter, sour, spiteful words came pouring out that bore no resemblance to the son they once knew. They spoke of Ember – himself – as a creature of terrible faith, as a monster of great pain and one who had to do what was necessary.

He was leaving.

One fewer mouth to feed meant that his sister would be assured his portion of the money. He was keeping his promise to her, but in a way that he was sure would work.

It all began with a comic and an argument.

It ended on similar tones.

The yelling continued through the night, enveloping many reasons. Everyone was angry, some of them a bit more sad, some too young to understand, and some old enough to know better.

But as the rain poured down, words dissolved into the storm, and a decision was made. There was no stopping him. All their begging, all their attempts to convince him fell to the wayside in his determination to do what was right.

Finally, after his mother had brought his sister to bed to console her through her slew of tears and questions, he was left alone at the front door with his father.

It was an ungraceful farewell. It was a seeing-off that had no meaning.

Ember slung his bag around his neck, protecting his comic, as he turned to stare out the door into the stormy night sky.

And on the flash of a streak of lightning, Ember was gone, leaving a hole in his house and rain water pooling on the living room floor.

He remembered it well, this night when he was sixteen.

It was the night when, flying into the darkened clouds in the distance, toward the docks, he was marked.

Forever branded with the sign of death, it was a constant reminder of the night he lost his life and had to find one anew.

–––

“This was the only thing I brought with me” Emberkite said, tapping the comic. “I don’t even know why I keep this thing anymore. It ain’t nothin’ but trouble.”

“Then why do you hold onto it so tightly?” Eternia asked.

Ember looked down. A little extra force was given to it to make sure that it wouldn’t be swept away by an errant gust.

“I suppose it still inspired me. Living on the streets, you know?” the young stallion said, holding the comic even closer. “I still used it as a sorta… whatever. Creed. Something to live by. Something to run with. I could still be that hero on the cover, but on my own terms. And now I do this.”

“But does the comic not give you more worry than encouragement?”

“Dunno. It’s not the comic’s fault, is it? Like you said back downstairs. Y’know. tools and whatever. Can’t blame them.”

“Blame,” Eternia said, playing with the word like a cat does to a ball of yarn.

“Yeah. I guess… if anything, I wanted to blame this book. I guess… I got angry because I couldn’t. Then things happened. A whole mess. That whole story. And then now I have to deal with all my crap because… of all the things.”

Ember was calmer now. It was a rare occasion when he let sadness overtake his annoyance, and he was left in a pool of remorseful thoughts and regretful memories.

“All this while…” Cookie chirped.

“What, ‘all this while’?”

“Young Emberkite, perhaps… perhaps it is not that you are looking for justice in our guest downstairs.” Eternia held out a clawed hand.

“Then?”

“Perhaps you are looking for someone to blame.”

“Huh?”

“In the stories you have told me,” Eternia went on. “It seems to me that you have lived a life where you were looking for something to blame. But there was nothing. Perhaps you have always just known this. So in the end, you could only blame yourself. That would have made you… angry. It would have made any child angry.”

Ember let loose a huff of air as he felt his mind empty of stray thoughts.

“But it was… all circumstance. Things happened, as you say,” Eternia continued on, voice trilling in the night. “All out of your control. But there is ever only one pony to blame when things keep going wrong.”

“So… so what?”

“The pony downstairs. Maybe you seek to blame her simply because someone needs to be blamed. It is what you expect.”

Ember looked away. This was a thought that had crossed his mind on quieter nights on the docks – the nights which gave him space to think about his older life. It was one of many thoughts, but one that had always been there nonetheless.

It was strangely affirming to hear the same thing from another’s beak.

And perhaps a bit frightening as well.

“You want to find those who can easily be blamed and punish them. Is that not how you conduct yourself? It is a good feeling, for one who has had no avenue in life… to find the ability to cast judgement. But… it must be handled well. Done correctly. And I believe that with just a little bit of understanding… you can forgive yourself and-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ember cut in.

“Pardon me, please?” Eternia responded.

“Don’t matter.” Ember patted his mark again, misery flavouring his words. “Even if I wanted to change, I can’t. It’s too late for me, like I said. Carved in stone. I’d…”

He trailed off.

Eternia smiled, catching his eye. “That is a sad thing to hear from you, that you think this way. I shall not argue you at this point. But still, there is something you can do.”

“What?”

“Instead of looking to find someone to blame.” Eternia nodded, tapping her beak with a claw. “Maybe you can look to find someone to help.”

Ember watched on wearily, through tired eyelids, where they stood in silence and thought for a few minutes more.

–––

The room was as Egg’s office always was. It could have doubled as the room they normally held interrogations with due to its sparseness, but it had a desk that looked more busy that its counterpart’s.

The professor sat quietly on the cushion behind the desk, not touching anything and looking at a spot on the table. In the clear light, it was easier to take in her features and her looks. As it was when they saw her in the base, she was a pale, almost-white pony with a blue tinge to her hair and skin, a messy mane and quiet disposition.

But now she had a thick set of black glasses around her eyes. She wasn’t wearing them in the darkness of the Unity base.

If she noticed Ember entering, she didn’t let on.

Ember paced across the floor. He scrabbled for the words. He looked for a way to begin. This was not one of his strong suits, and even if he had the thought and the feeling, the articulation escaped him.

He plodded for far too long before he stopped, threw his head up to the ceiling and uttered a single word.

“Shit!” he cried out, sharply, suddenly.

Be it shock or perplexity, the professor juddered back in her seat, her eyes inching upwards for a brief second to look at the pony who had just uttered profound wisdom.

She swallowed.

“Shit!” Ember cried out again, throwing his hooves toward Polychromasia in an odd gesture. “You know what I mean? Shit!”

The professor coughed, eyes darting around the room in discomfort.

“Look, lady. I ain’t too good with words, alright?” Ember said, pouring into it. “But… I get it. I just want you to know that I sorta get it. We know what happened to you. We’ve been trying to track you down for a couple of weeks now, just to, uh… rescue you. Well, actually, we thought you were the one behind it all but then it turned out that… Whatever! We saved your ass, alright?”

Ember breathed heavily again, scratching his head roughly to get the words out.

“Alright. So this is what it is. We know what you’ve been doing and we know that it ain’t your fault. We know what you’ve been put through by these shitty Unity shits and I know you have no reason to trust us, but we just saved you, alright? That’s what we do. We save people.”

Polychromasia’s eyes grew a bit larger. She started to breathe a bit more rapidly as well, taking in small, wheezing squeaks of air.

“I’m… I’m Emberkite, by the way. Um… yeah. Look. I know what you’re feeling. I know that you don’t wanna have to face what you did. I know right now you wanna just run, or die, or hide, or whatever. You don’t wanna talk about it. You don’t wanna think about what happened or what your thingies have been used for.

“I’m… running, too. I’m running away because I made a bad decision long ago. I mean… I know it ain’t got nothing to do with what happened to you or nothing, but…”

Ember grumbled through clenched teeth.

“I’m so bad at this!” He ended up saying with hints of hysterical laughter. “I… I can’t do this! But I just wanted to say something, alright? I don’t know when you’re gonna get better or when you’re gonna get over this. But I know what it’s like. Yeah? Yeah! I know! And I want you to know that we’ve all really looked hard at this. Super hard. It ain’t your fault. We’re gonna find the ones who did this to you and abused your thingies and put him down!”

Ember gave her a half-smile, mouth open, spirit oddly charged.

“Yeah! And you know what? Yeah, it’s your thingies that did a lot of damage. I’m sure you kinda sorta knew what they were being used for. You’re scared to find out, right? Yeah. But you know what, I’m gonna get real witcha. I’m gonna drop some harsh on ya. You gotta hear this because… because it’s all gonna be alright.”

Ember thrust his hoof toward the door, shaking his leg furiously.

“Know that Gryphon outside? She was one of the ones on the team to save your ass. She was at the base. She was the one who carried you back, remember? But you know what, her bakery was bombed by one of your thingies. And that’s how she got involved in the first place.”

Polychromasia jerked her head up at that news, mouth agape.

“But she forgives you. That’s the point! Look, I know. Major, major truth bomb, right? But don’t worry and stuff! I mean… she’s cool with it. Really. She’s super cool. In fact, she was the one who told me that we oughta not take it out on you and go after the main guy.”

Ember tapped himself in the chest, that frantic smile still on his face. “So, you know what? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shoulda given you a chance. But I was angry. I went out. Did some thinking. Decided to tell you that you have that chance too. And I figured out…”

“... all by myself…” Ember punctuated, as a point that everyone should know.

“... how to do it. And it’s pretty simple. All of us were screwed over by Unity. Except for Champa– No. Nevermind. Right, most of us have a score to settle with them. You especially. And then I was thinking. We’re all tools, right?”

Polychromasia raised an eyebrow.

“Not that I’m calling you a tool. I mean, we’re all tools, really. You know? You’re a tool. I’m a tool.”

Polychromasia blinked, biting her lip.

“So now… now you have this chance. Your thingies were being used by them to do bad stuff. They don’t have your thingies anymore. Now, we’re the good guys, alright? You can walk right out that door right now if you wanna. Be free. We ain’t holdin’ ya. You ain’t our prisoner, and we don’t want you or your thingies. But it’s dangerous out there, and you might get nabbed again. And then we’re gonna have to bust your ass out of a weird lab somewhere a second time.”

Ember rubbed his chin with accomplisment.

“Or… you could use your thingies and fight them. You wanna make up for how your thingies have been used? Then help us. Help us go against them. We sure need a smart pony around here. None of us know the science. We could definitely use some of that. So, invitation’s open. Or else, like I said. Go ahead and walk out that door. No problem. We ain’t even mad.”

Ember threw his forelegs wide as if beckoning her for an invitation, wheezing with the rush of adrenaline as he completed his speech.

For a while the professor’s mouth flapped open and shut, as she gathered to make sense of the slew of words that were pressed against her brain.

She raised a hoof slowly, eyebrows slanted back in a soft guilt, as if she were about to be reprimanded for speaking.

Her voice was still as of silk, but this time, poured from a chalice onto a marble floor. Meek and restrained, she sounded like each word required a whisper to utter, like the winds of the fields as they danced through summer.

“H-hummingfield-theory Spectral H-harmonizer,” she breathed.

“What?”

“Not… not a ‘thingie’. They are Hummingfield-theory Spectral Harmonizers.”

“Humm...Spe…?”

“And yes. I will.” Professor Polychromasia stood up, her lab coat flapping around as she did. She looked stronger, somehow, despite the look of guilt that she still sported.

“What? Do what?”

“I will join you,” she declared, hitting the table and knocking over an eraser.

“Tell me more about the situation,” she commanded, an authoritative voice echoing through the halls. This meeting was held in secrecy. In the dark. There was only her, and two others. The only two she could trust.

“Yes, Ma’am,” the stallion replied. “Subject Egg has… rescued Subject Polychromasia. Liberated her from the base with a team of four, consisting of himself, the Gryphon, the young mare and the excitable young stallion.”

“They have taken her from Unity?”

“Yes.”

“And what do they mean to do with her?”

“We do not have this information as of yet, Ma’am.”

The mare with the commanding voice nodded. “Very well. Continue keeping an eye on him and report back to me when you have something. I trust you realise that this is a very sensitive subject. They are progressing far quicker than I would have given them credit for. I find it both a curiosity and a frightening reality, but this… Eggpony is someone that we must deal with.”

“So soon, Ma’am?”

“Yes. So soon. So soon indeed. I was wondering when this would happen, if you would allow me to speak candidly. But to happen at such an unfortunate time…”

“Perhaps it happened because of misfortune, ma’am?” the other pony, another mare, offered.

“Yes, yes. Of course. Do not mind my stray thoughts. Now, proceed with his apprehension. Try to get him alone. He seems to be quite efficient when he’s with his team, and we need to be equally efficient. The fewer who know about this the better.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And… one last thing. I have given your previous request a degree of thought and I have decided.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“You understand that there are very strict rules governing its use, and I expect you to be able to engineer our perceived role in it all.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You also understand that you will be directly responsible if anything… happens. ”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You may reopen The Eye,” the voice decreed.

Romancing the Clouds

EPISODE 4 :: End

Author's Note

For all their time and their help -
Thanks primarily to my colluder unit Crack Javelin for all the help in working out the story and running through stuff that goes bad.
Thanks to HerpyDerpy and q97randomguy for editing assistance
Shout out to Comrade Sparkle who in part convinced me to continue writing this horrendous travesty.

And thank you, to the readers, for being patient and sticking with me for so long.