The Second Page!

Timestamp:
09:38pm, July 14th, 1st day after the bombing.

It had been several hours since the mare had rescued Cloudbuilder from the guards. Together they’d taken the CityLine over to the Industrial Hex, and continued to wander around. She was still playing the part of a mare out on a date, while he tried to relax and loosen up. It was hard, though, especially since he had no idea what was going to happen.

Finally, she led him to a bar tucked away in the slums. Ironically, he wasn’t too far from his tiny little apartment. She opened the door to the bar, gesturing with a wing for him to go inside.

With a nod to her, he stepped inside the dingy, dimly lit interior. A long bar dominated the back wall with several ponies sitting on stools along it, nursing their drinks. The bartender was a pegasus who was slowly running a rag along the counter.. There were also a few tables and booths. Curiously, there were a couple unicorns mixed amongst the mostly pegasus crowd.

The mare entered, letting the door slam closed behind her. The sudden noise startled Cloudbuilder, making him jump. Without hesitation, she strode across the bar, giving the bartender a brief nod. “Well? Come on,” she called to him.

Shaking his head, he followed her, a thin sheen of sweat popping up as everypony in the bar stared at him. He felt like he was marching to his death.

The mare opened a backdoor into a storage room, ushering him inside. A single naked bulb swung lazily overhead, casting harsh light and deep shadows into the tiny space. The door closed behind them, trapping the two together.

Now he was truly nervous. What if she meant to kill him back here? No, that was foolish. If she meant to kill him, she could’ve done it back when she rescued him. Unless that was only to lull him into a false sense of security.

His thoughts circled around his head as he felt the mare brush up against him. She reared up, grabbing onto one of the shelves with both her front hooves. Giving a grunt of effort, she pushed on the shelf. To Cloubuilder’s surprise, the shelf swung inwards, the bottles sitting on it rattling against each other, revealing a hallway.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t going to kill him, but imprisonment was certainly an option. Had he just traded one prison for another? At least in Spitfire’s jail, he would’ve had some basic amenities, and gotten out at some point. This looked more like a dungeon from some trashy novel.

The mare, he realized he still didn’t even know her name, shoved him forward. With another grunt, she closed the secret door, gently, so as to not upset any of the bottles.

As soon as the door closed, the hallway was plunged into darkness. He blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust. The mare hooked a wing around him, leading him forward.

They walked no more than a few paces and turned a corner. Then they walked several more paces and stopped. He heard the sound of her fumbling with something, then a click as another door opened and light spilled into the hallway. As his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he had to squint.

Fortunately, his eyes adjusted to the light far faster than they did the dark. Inside the room were several tables, chairs, couches, and even a couple beds. There were half a dozen pegasi in the room, some sitting on the couches. Upon seeing them, one of the pegasi, a stallion, called out.

“Hey! You made it back!”

The mare sauntered forward. “Like you had any doubt.” She plopped down on one of the couches.

Another pegasi, this one a mare, addressed Cloudbuilder. “Come on in. Take a seat.”

He hesitated, still not sure of what was going on. The mare who had rescued him beckoned with her hoof. “He’s a nervous one,” she explained. “I swear, we ain’t gonna bite. You’re amongst friends here.”

Still hesitant, he stepped into the room, making sure to close the door behind him. For a hidden room, it had a rather cozy feel to it. There were a few shelves stocked with various food and drink. He cautiously made his way over the where the mare was sitting, choosing to sit on a cushion near her.

“So where are we?” he asked.

“Technically, we’re in the building next to the bar, which is a warehouse.” One of the stallions spoke up. He pointed to the wall across from the door. “That’s a false wall. From inside the warehouse, everything looks fine, same from the bar.”

The mare spoke up. “Of course, if someone were to compare the blueprints of the warehouse to the actual space, they’d find a discrepancy. But let’s be honest, the cops aren’t that bright.” She laughed, the others joining in.

“So grab a drink, friend,” she said. Mirroring her words, she plucked a bottle off the table in front of her, popping the cap and taking a swig. “The cops are surely going to be looking for you, so you get to lay low for a few days in here.”

Well, that certainly solved the problem of what was going to happen next for him. Deciding to take the mare’s advice, he grabbed his own bottle. “Who are you all?”

The mare smiled at him. “The name’s Sunny Skies,” she said. Well, with her light blue coat and yellow mane, along with her cheery personality, that name certainly fit. “The loudmouth over there,” she indicated the orange stallion who’d addressed them as they entered, “is Blaze Wing.” She introduced the rest of the ponies in the room, indicating each one in turn.

Cloudbuilder took a sip of his drink. “So what happens now?”

Sunny shrugged. “Now we wait for word on what to do next. Our last orders were to rescue you and bring you back here. After that, we wait.”

He set the bottle down on the table. “Why me?”

“Because you know things about the PRF. Things that Spitfire and her inept cops can’t learn. Rather than risk you spilling your guts—”

“I wouldn’t do that!” he exclaimed.

“Hey, calm down. No one’s saying you would. We’re just saying that we can’t take that risk.” She sighed. “You’re not the only one of us that got caught. But you’re the first one we’ve had a chance to get back. Unfortunately, since we succeeded, Spitfire’s gonna be sure to make rescuing the rest difficult. If she even gives us a chance at all. Her cops may be idiots, but that mare is canny, smart.”

“Geeze, Sunny, sounds like you’ve got a crush,” Blaze said.

Sunny reached over and smacked him. “You’re an idiot,” she said. “I may not like her, but I respect her. She’s good at what she does, and if we’re not careful, she’ll take us down.”

Based on his own interactions with the former Wonderbolt, Cloudbuilder had to agree. Spitfire wasn’t to be taken lightly. Already she knew of his involvement in the PRF, so he’d have to avoid her at all costs.

He took another sip of his drink, looking around at the hideout. So all he had to do was lay low here for a couple of days? That didn’t seem so bad.

05:12 pm, July 15th, Two Days after The Bombing

At the moment, Soarin’ was just relaxing up in the sky. Technically, he shouldn’t be up here, considering he was only supposed to be flying when on the job.

But unfortunately, some idiotic pegasi had thought it to be a good idea to blow up his job. So now he had a license to fly, and nothing to use it for.

So right now, he was just lazily flying about, stretching his wings and letting the wind blow away his worries and thoughts. Well, except for that big one that kept coming up.

I don’t have a job anymore, Soarin’ thought despondently with a sigh. I’ve got a good pile of bits to hold me from my Wonderbolt days, but still, this sucks.

As he flew about, he cast his gaze around below him, still dwelling and silently cursing the idiots that had lost him his job and income. He was still grateful he’d set up a nice emergency fund from his days as a stunt flier, but still -- wait.

Waaaait one feather-picking minute.

Wonderbolt days. Thinking of the recent meet-up with Spitfire, he recalled that she was now the captain of the city’s police corps. She’d invited him to come chat with her whenever she wasn’t busy, if he remembered correctly.

Maybe she could help me find a job or something... yeah!

Soarin’ grinned at the prospect of seeing his friend again, and turned to fly towards the police headquarters to visit. Then he paused as another thought came to mind.

Maybe she’ll be more interested in helping me if I bribe her a little...

With a bit of a chuckle at old memories, Soarin’ headed back home and picked up his bribery item of choice. Then he went towards the headquarters, with his goal in mind.

Thankfully, it only took a few minutes to reach the station, and as he entered the door, his saddlebags had to be inspected. Once they had passed inspection, he put them back on and headed towards the front desk.
“Excuse me, I was wondering if I could speak to Spitfire.”

The attendant stared at Soarin’ for a minute, before nodding. “She’s free at the moment, but don’t use too much of her time. It’s the office at the back, you can’t miss her.”

Soarin’ thanked the attendant and headed down the hallway. He passed what seemed to be a large conference room, several more offices and a couple sets of large double doors which seemed to lead to a small auditorium. There was also another hallway that looked like it lead to the jail, but he didn’t pay it much attention. He could see Spitfire at a desk in the end office.

“Heya, Spits!” He greeted cheerfully. “From one desk of paperwork to another, huh?”

Spitfire glanced up in surprise. “Soarin’!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon!”

“What, I can’t surprise you with a visit?” He reached for the bag and quickly placed its contents on the desk. It covered the piles of paper there, and may or may not have smudged some ink. “And bribe you with some pie to step away from the desk?”

She eyed the slightly mashed pie with a grin. “Wow, apple pie. I’m surprised it actually lasted long enough to get to my desk.”

“What, you expected me to eat it all on the way?”

“Yes?” She glanced up at him, still smirking.

Soarin’ thought for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right. So how goes the investigation?”

With a sigh Spitfire slouched back in her chair. “I guess you aren’t working today, huh? Almost three quarters of the weather stations have been hit and incapacitated.” Spitfire rose from her chair and scooped up the pie. “I don’t know Soarin’, I’ve had to make some tough calls here in the past day. Now I gotta sit tight and wait for the consequences to roll in, good or bad.”

“Well at least you had practice back when you were captain of the team,” Soarin’ attempted to comfort her. “But yeah, I’m not just off from work today. I don’t have work anymore. The entire place is gone now.”

“Sorry about that.” Spitfire sighed again. “Here, let's go eat this pie. I should probably get out of the office for a bit.”

“Sounds good, where to?”

Spitfire shrugged and walked out into the hallway. “I dunno.”

“This place got a good cafeteria?”

“What is a good cafeteria?” Spitfire snorted. “They don’t ex--”

She was cut off as a commotion in the main lobby drew the attention of both pegasi. A white pegasus mare was causing quite the racket. Spitfire groaned once again and drug a hoof down her face.

"Attica, ATTICA!" cried the obstreperous suspect, bound and being dragged to the holding cells. It would have been somewhat more impressive if the chained pony had required more than one guard, or even a beefy one. Instead a pencil-thin pony with a recruit's cap rolled his eyes as he deposited the white pegasus.

"Please Ma’am, just wait here. Processing has been kinda' slow since…" the recruit trailed off, waving a hoof to continue the obvious end of the sentence.

"But, I was just here yesterday – don't I get double jeopardy or something?"

"Um, no, that would only apply if you were being accused of the same thing…" the kid scratched his head, "and in times of emergency we can waive that, uh, I think?"

“Or if you’re playing that Jeopardy! game,” Soarin’ whispered to Spitfire out the side of his mouth.

Spitfire rolled her eyes and stepped into the cell’s small lobby, unnoticed by the two ponies. She opened her mouth but was cut off as the indignant white pegasus spoke again.

"Look, I was stopping a crime. That can't be against the law, it wouldn't make any sense. Ok, when the patrol-ponies found me the perpe- purple- the pony-who'd-done-it was already gone, but I was cleaning up. What kinda' graffiti artist undoes their own vandalism? The kind who's not, that's who." Mirror flapped her wings in frustration.

The junior patrolman started to suspect there was a reason he had suddenly been assigned to process this suspect.
Something having to do with a completely understandable mistake about unlabelled food in the breakroom. It was one bagel and it had been there for three days!

“Is this a normal thing around here?” Soarin’ asked. “‘Cuz it’s almost just like when those fans broke back into our Wonderbolts base.”

Spitfire opened and closed her mouth a few times. Then she gave a frustrated growl. “Mirror, what are you doing here again?”

The effect on the albino was immediate, she turned, grabbing the bars, "Captain Spitfire? Is that you? And…" pale sky blue pegasus, really nice grayish hair… and … pie? 'No… way… ' an idiotic grin crept over the working pegasus's muzzle. Officer Pencil Neck frantically checked through his protocol list to make sure she'd been screened for drugs.

A glance at Soarin’, then back at Mirror, gave Spitfire all the information she needed. “Oh here we go!” she groaned.

"Oh My Luna! You're him, aren't you? Uh, yourself, I mean." What did she mean? She looked at the skinny guard, "That's Soarin. Right. Here." The stallion blinked. Mirror frowned, "Ok, you're right, he's over there and I'm in here…" her eyes widened. This was sooo humiliating! "LET ME OUT!" she roared at the unfortunate defender of Ravaalon's peace and order, grabbing the bars again and rattling them.

Soarin’ turned to Spitfire. “This really is like the fans that broke into the stadium. Just can’t escape them, can you?”

With a shake of her head Spitfire refocused the conversation. “Mirror... Nevermind.” She turned to the skinny officer. “What is this mare in here for?”

"Uhh…" flip, flip, "one count of wanton graffiti, anti-earthpony slur, resisting arrest, public noise violation…" he checked a note on the last entry, "uhh, the noise violation was part of the resistance. And being a …" Pencil realized he was the only non flying pony in the room. "Um that's it, Ma'am."

Soarin’ grimaced at the charges, glancing between the two mares as they were read. Not wishing to get between them, he stayed silent. Paying attention here was important; it would help determine if he would really be interested in this line of work or not. Plus it would show how Spitfire reacted in this kind of situation.

Mirror Shine paused. Looking at the skinny peace officer. "Ohhhh Celestia, that's it, isn't it? 'Flying While Feathered', huh?"

She rolled the expression across her tongue, tasting the bitterness of it. 'This what you wanted, CB?' She didn't even know where the scream came from, it started low in her barrel and just burst forth fully formed. "WHAT THE HAY IS WRONG WITH EVERYPONY IN THIS CRAZY CITY!? We're not like this, this – this is stupid, just… stop being stupid…" She paused, catching her breath. The guard looked, what, afraid? Of her? But… that wasn't fair, she hadn't done anything.

“I... uh, Mirror, please... Just calm down.” Spitfire glanced between the mare and the guard. “What exactly did you do?”

"I saw somepony, their face completely covered," she drew a forehoof out and raised the foreleg in front of her muzzle, bringing up her wing to create the illusion of a cape, "In the alleyway. They were using one of those aerosolized paint can-spraying things?" She shrugged, pulling a stray bit of cloudstuff out and teasing it into a suggestion of a cone, waving it back and forth as though drawing on the wall while making a 'ssssss' noise.

Spitfire tried not to groan and made sure all four hooves remained on the ground. She glanced at Soarin’, but he seemed morbidly fascinated by the mare’s performance.

"So, I see this joker, right?" She brought her wings back and held her left hoof above her eyebrow, pantomiming looking back and forth and suddenly seeing something. The added wing-flap of surprise was a bit too overdone. "And in the time it takes me to realize what's being written, this jerk sees me." Mirror was 'in the zone', as it were, and pointed in an abstract direction as though the perpetrator was present.

"And I'm all, like, 'Hey! What are you doing?'." She paused considering the matter, "which is facetious, I guess, since I knew exactly what the… um, I'm trying not to use a gendered pronoun because I never got a really good look at them. I don't … you know, go around really scoping other ponies out first thing. That's just creepy. Like stalker creepy."

The white pegasus regarded Soarin'. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

Soarin' gave a noncommittal shrug. "Spitfire knows more about that than I do."

“What?!” Spitfire gawked at Soarin’. “I know more about creepy stalkers?”

"Well, yeah," Soarin' started, looking at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "From back in our 'Bolt days. Not to mention the fact that you've been doing this gig for... how long now?"

“That doesn’t- No, you can’t say that. Being a captain or an officer has nothing to do with stalkers.”

"You've never had to arrest one?"

“I’ve had to arrest you.” Spitfire retorted.

Mirror watched the exchange, enraptured.

Soarin' grinned. "Ah, yes... good memories... forget about me, don't you have an interrogation to finish?"

“Officer...” Spitfire glanced at the skinny stallion’s badge. “Officer Neck, let this mare go. Just... put the folder on my desk and I’ll take care of it.”

The skinny stallion had never been so happy to follow an order before. "Y-yes Ma'am, Captain." He threw a salute while still holding his standard issue pencil, barely avoiding putting an eye out.

“Sooo... how do you know each other?” Soarin’ asked casually. “Met at the bar? Maybe got in some dances...?” The white pony turned bright red.

“Soarin’,” Spitfire began. “I will end you.”

Soarin’ grinned. “I can’t wait to tell Fleetfoot! I’ll finally win that old bet we made!”

"Wha– no, she didn't… I was, we never…" Mirror couldn't form coherent sentences, as she backed away from the bars, nearly falling over. A different thought struck her, turning to the elder mare, "uhm not that you're not… I mean it wasn't … oh Luna, kill me now…" She hit the wall both figuratively and literally.

“Officer, the door?” Spitfire snapped.

The perplexed patrol pony perked at his name, shuffling through the keys in a hasty effort to follow orders before this somehow became his fault. Several awkward seconds later the door was open. This time he put the pencil down before snapping another salute.

Spitfire groaned, this kind of idiocy was exactly why she was the secret head of the PRF, because nopony was deserving of this place, and she would see everything purified in FIRE. And the best part was that none of them saw it coming. It was her bucking Name for crying out loud. Some day soon the citizen of this corrupt world would call out to her for help, and she would say 'no'.

Soarin noticed his old friend's silence, and the grit teeth. "Whatcha' thinking about?" he asked.

"Oh, just some laundry I need to deal with."

"Uhh, oookay."

“Anyway!” Spitfire chirped. “Lets go!” She ushered Mirror out of the cell and pushed both pegasi out into the lobby and past the double doors of the police station.

“Okay, seriously, how did you two meet?” Soarin’ asked, once they regrouped outside in the courtyard.

Facts, facts were safe. They hardly ever turned on you. "I was in the group of ponies being arrested by her on the day of the bombing!" Mirror Shine blurted.

“...And now I want to know how that interrogation went, considering how much of a Wonderbolts fan you are.” Soarin’ stated.

"Huh? It wasn't much of a scene, there was barely any plot development and I think I was kinda' incoherent." Mirror tried to remember anything even remotely interesting that'd happened. "Oh, I and I didn't have anything to do with it. The Bombing." Soarin's expression didn’t seem to have changed. "You believed me, right Spi– uh, Captain?"

Mirror continued without waiting for a response. "Because I'd never do something like that. And if I did plan a bombing, I sure as hay wouldn't put myself right in the line of fire. Do you know I lost my hat to a brick? Yeah, a Flaming Brick nearly took my head off, stole my hat, and now people think I'm an arsonist or something." The walls looked closer. That was silly, they couldn't have moved, right?

"I mean, I don't have any problem with dirt ponies and thumbtacks… uhh, I mean other kinds of ponies… err, I mean we're all tiny horses, right? People suck so much in specific, why bother trying to sort them into categories?" 'Why can't I stop talking now?' "Um, not that I'm a misequinist…"

Soarin’ shoved his hoof into Mirror’s mouth to quiet her. “Okay. I believe you.”

“No no, I was just getting into this.” Spitfire pulled Soarin’s hoof out of Mirror’s mouth. “Please, continue.”

The albino was afraid she could count her working neurons on one hoof. "Huh?" she managed.

Soarin’ just chuckled and grabbed the pie Spitfire was still holding. “Pie?”

“Why yes, please!” Spitfire said, rolling her eyes.

"Huh?" changing roles was taking the pale pegasus a moment, and her vocabulary seemed stuck in the meantime.

“Spitfire, why don’t you go get some plates and stuff?” Soarin’ suggested. “Mirror here can ask me some fan questions in the meantime.”

“Hold on.” Spitfire made a show of looking through her uniform’s pockets. “I gotta get a picture of your face for my ‘Before and After’ photo album.”

Soarin’ rolled his eyes. “You’ve still got that thing?”

Taking to the air Spitfire called back, “What can I say? You make for an entertaining picture book.”

“So... big Wonderbolts fan, huh?” Soarin’ asked Mirror, sitting on the grass in the courtyard. “Got anything to ask me?”

"Think think think, they already suspect you're an idiot, so don't ask something stupid or mention the dumb thing with pies and… oh Celestia, I'm thinking out loud again! Stop it!"

Soarin’ chuckled politely. “Okay, I’ll stop trying to get you to ask questions.”

"NOnononono, please!" Mirror placed her forehooves on either side of Soarin's barrel, "I really, really do want to! It's, it's me, not you… wow that sounds worse aloud than… ummm. Uhh… HOW DID YOUR PARENTS DIE!?"

“They haven’t yet, thankfully.” Soarin’ was now wishing he had a way to record this conversation for later enjoyment.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Shine beamed. "Uhh, I hear you like to cook? Um, like, a lot?"

Soarin’ chuckled again. “Yes, I’m a big fan of cooking. It’s definitely one of the things that I was well known for while I was on the team, especially because of what I did when I first got in.”

"I heard Spitfire's version, how did you feel about the, err, thing about the kitchen not having any good cooking tools? I know there's a word for that but I can't think of it?"

“You mean when it was ill equipped? Yeah, that was horrible.” Soarin’ shuddered in an exaggerated manner. “I have never seen a kitchen be so badly stocked ever since, and I am thankful for that. Although the looks on everypony’s faces when I brought back all the supplies and stuff was pretty good. I think I spent a good ten or fifteen minutes just explaining what everything was or did.”

Mirror nodded, understanding the feeling… somewhat. "Cool." 'OK I'm calm now … wait, I'm just thinking this part, right? GABBA-FRAGGLE HOOBLE-DOO!' No response from the blue pony, 'Ok, good. I'm ready...' She gingerly let go of the athletic pony, settling back on the ground with a sheepish grin. "What do you feel was your worst flight, as an adult?"

Soarin’ had to really think about his answer for that one. “Well... that was probably when we were doing the show for Manehatten. It was one of my first shows as a Wonderbolt, and I just kept messing up. Thankfully, it wasn’t so bad that I completely ruined the show, but it was still pretty bad.”

"Did you ever consider being anything else… like, oh I don't know… a baker?"

“I thought about it once or twice. I mean, then I could really make a lot of pies... but then I figured that I could do that and be a Wonderbolt. So I just kept to my dream.”

"Forgetting medals, awards, or official recognition, what are you the proudest of doing?"

“One of the things we did as a Wonderbolt, was that after every show we would go to the town’s orphanage and do a private show and afterparty for them. If there’s one thing I’m proud of, it’s always being able to see the looks on those kids’ faces during and after each show we did just for them.”

"How the heck did you do that think with the corkscrew in the middle of an Immel-mane Turn? Seriously, I tried it once as a kid and I couldn't walk for three days afterward."

Soarin’ chuckled at the memories. “Yeah, that’s how it felt for me for a long time. It just took a lot of practice... and studying. Lots of research and studying. I spent a lot of my spare time in the library, looking at the historical section and their books on past stunt fliers. A couple of the books went over how that move is done in a little more detail.

“There was an autobiography from a former ‘Bolt a long time ago, who mentioned that flexibility was important. So I started to do yoga before each time I practiced the move, and after another few weeks of practice, I got it down.”

"Have you ever felt too drunk to fly? If so, did you, anyway?"

At this one, Soarin’ just burst out laughing. “Yes. To both. Oh dear Celestia, the memories... I’ll save that story for when Spits gets back.”

"Did you have any one you considered a real non-Equestrian Rival?"

“Ohh yeah. Once or twice, we worked together with the griffon flight team... that was fun, but one of those guys is still one of my bigger rivals.”

The white pegasus nodded, thoughtful. She hadn't really thought much about gryphons, that might be something she'd missed. "So, what'd you do, um, after you retired? I mean, where do you go from that?"

“Weather work in Ravaalon. At least, until the bombing...”

Mirror nodded, her ears drooping a little, everyone was suffering because of that. She continued. "What's the most aggravating thing about being… uh, 'retired' from aerobatics?"

“There really isn’t anything aggravating about it, really. It’s certainly more relaxing no longer being a part of that extremely stressful job. It was a ton of fun, but it was stressful. And now I don’t have to be that stressed anymore, so it’s all good.”

"Sooo… Spitfire arrested you? What's that all about?" The white pegasus gave Soarin' a sidelong glance with what she hoped looked like a conspiratorial grin.

“She arrested me for annoying the ever-loving hell out of her,” Soarin’ said. Then he grinned. “Nope, couldn’t keep a straight face! Really, I was just visiting to see if she could help me with a job. You know, since the weather factories got
blown up.”

“What are --” Mirror was interrupted with a flurry of wings as Spitfire landed back in between them.

She dropped a few utensils on the pie. “Couldn’t find any plates, we’ll just have to eat from the pan.”

Soarin' grabbed a knife and began cutting the pie with gusto. “You’re gonna love this Spits. These are Ponyville apples!”
Both mares licked their lips greedily. For as long as Spitfire could remember, anypony who’d had an apple from that town had praised them as the best fruit in Equestria. She didn’t know how they were grown here in Ravaalon, but apples just didn’t compare.

There wasn’t much room for talking as they dug into the pie, each taking turns to nab a bite from the tin. All in all, it was a nice evening. The sun was still shining and the air was warm, but not unbearably hot. The courtyard outside the station had a number of trees and benches; one of which they had commandeered for their use.

A sudden shout and a crash alerted the three pegasi to a commotion across the courtyard. “I don’t want to hear it Wingnut! You’re a pegasus, so forgive me for not believing you!”

Another voice cut in loudly. “Hey, lay off him Fritter, he’s done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong yet! But do you know where he’s been for the past two days Taffy? ‘Cause I sure don’t!”

There was a pause, then Taffy spoke up again. “He does have a point, where have you been, Wings?”

The three ponies were walking towards them. It was hard to ignore their conversation, being the only other ponies in the courtyard and making a beeline right down the path past the three pegasi.

Spitfire sighed and hung her head. How many other pegasi were having this same problem right now? How many friendships were being severed, or would be severed in the next week? How many friends was she going to lose?

“G-guys, c'mon.” Wingnut piped up nervously. “I had work, you know that. I work a fourteen hour shift and when I’m done I crash at home for half a day.”

They were no longer shouting, but were close enough that Spitfire could still hear them. “That’s just it Wings,” Fritter said, shaking his head. “With you working in the Industrial District, we don’t know what you could be getting up to.”

The stallion paused and turned to corner his friend. “We can’t be friends anymore Wings, you’re not trustworthy.”

Taffy said nothing, but Wingnut spluttered for a moment before getting himself under control. “We’ve know each other for five years, Fritter! Five. Years! Does none of that count just because other pegasi-”

“You’ve never been happy with your job, Wings! We know that.” Fritter cut in vehemonously. “We also know that your brother has been missing ever since Town Hall!”

Taffy nodded. “You gotta admit it’s kinda suspicious.”

“You can’t lay my brother’s actions at my hooves.” Wingnut retorted. “This is ridiculous! My own friends, accusing me without even-”

“Without what? Evidence?” Fritter spat. “We’ve got all the evidence we need. You’re a pegasus,” Fritter jabbed Wingnut in the chest. “The attack was carried out by pegasi looking for revenge.”

“Don’t touch me,” Wingnut growled, forcing the hoof away. “I don’t believe this. I can’t believe my own friends are so shallow as to let themselves be blinded by their own incompetence.”

Taffy stepped in. “Incompetence? Is that what you call this? I imagine all those deaths at Town Hall was something completely different wasn’t it?”

“I said I had nothing to with--”

“Ponyfeathers!” Fritter cursed. He stepped forward, challenging the smaller pegasus who glared daggers back.
There was a deathly silence for a moment. One pegasi being stared down by two well built earth ponies. The tension in the air was thick enough for swimming, if somepony didn’t so something soon...

Spitfire moved between them. “Enough,” she said firmly. “I really don’t think you want to be picking fights in front of a police station, and an officer.” She glanced meaningfully at Fritter.

The stallion took her in with a glance, his eyes hardening at the wings folded on her back. He said nothing for a few moments longer until Taffy finally nudged him.

“The mare’s right, let’s just go Fritter. This isn’t worth making a big deal over,” he said, glancing at Wingnut.

Another glance at the police station, then back at Spitfire. Finally, Fritter relented and stepped back. He turned to leave, but paused and looked at his former friend. “This is it Wingnut, we’re through. You’re too dangerous to be around anymore... Or trusted.”

Wingnut made to step forward and opened his mouth, but Spitfire held a wing across his chest.

“Let them go,” she murmured.

They stood in silence for a few moments until they had left the courtyard.

Finally, Wingnut stamped a hoof and snorted. “This isn’t fair! I’ve not done shit.”

“You’re right, it isn’t fair,” Soarin’ agreed, standing behind Spitfire. “I’m sorry things turned out this way.”

What did you say to that? He was right, it wasn't fair. So this was how it was going to end? Faceless terror making the citizens tear each other apart in fear and frustration, like some C-list Thriller flick. Mirror pawed the ground in frustration.
It was stupid, a downright insulting way for the world to end. And there wasn't a Faust-damn thing she could do, right? She took a step, uncertain. Maybe… well, you couldn't make a pony change their mind by telling them they were wrong.
But, could you put the idea out there and let them reach the conclusion on their own? She took another step.

But she was horseapples at arguing. OK, she was good at shouting and not listening, but that wasn't gonna cut it. 'Right, so why is it stupid to assume any pegasus is a member of the PRF? Because they look like everyone else...' Mirror smiled a not very pleasant smile and she kept walking. Yeah that might work, and at the very least it wouldn't make those plot-heads feel any safer. Now she just had to catch up with them before they got too far.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going, Mirror?” Spitfire said, breaking Mirror out of her reverie.

"Ah!" the white mare shrieked.

Mirror turned, catching her breath in small gasps, "After those two. I don't know what to do, but…" she sighed, "I don't, it nopony… uh… it's just…" Flailing gestures failed to express what words couldn't. "It's all ruined, isn't it? There's not going to be a 'normal' again, and I guess it scares me how easy it was. How ready most ponies are to expect the worst of each other."

“It’s been getting this way for quite a few years, Mirror,” Spitfire consoled the white mare. “The Town Hall incident just tipped everything that has been brewing over the edge.”

"You know, I just can't believe things have gotten so bad in this city that there's no way back. I mean, sure, it's messy, it's crowded, it's polluted, and there are ponies who would just as soon step on your face as look at you. But come on! There's gotta be a few sparks of sweet equinity left in this burned-out berg. We just gotta find a way to mobilize it!" Mirror pleaded.

“Running after those Earth Ponies and arguing with them isn’t the way to do that.” Spitfire responded gently. “We have to prove our-”

"But you can't! There's nothing to prove – because they're afraid of something we can't see! The vampony, the invisible stalker, the secret murder at the dinner party… the horror is that there's no way to provide negative proof! All you can know is if you chose wrong." Mirror fought to keep her breathing even, panicking wasn't going to help, either.

Spitfire stood silently, her eyes turned inwards as she seemed to contemplate Mirror’s words. “We’ll see about that,” she finally said. “I’ve got a few ideas, and a plan.”

The albino mare nodded, dumbly. Her impulse to argue with the earth ponies had been stupid, would at best been counter-productive, and probably gotten her hurt. But she was tired of feeling useless. There was really only one solution to that: Do Something. She turned to the orange pegasus, "um, Captain Spitfire? I'd like to volunteer, how would I go about doing that?"

The fiery maned officer pursed her lips. “I would suggest checking out the administrations for the major service organizations for the city. Soarin’ here probably could get you in contact with firefighting personnel, or you could find ponies from Red Cross and just start asking them.”

“Yeah, I can get you in contact with some firefighters,” Soarin’ agreed.

Mirror nodded, "yeah, that would probably be better for everyone, um, in the long-run." There really wasn't any more reason for her to be wasting Spitfire's time, she probably wanted to catch up with Soarin', like old friends do. "Um... thanks, again - for everything - again." She bowed her head.

Shine turned to address the stallion, "And you too, Mr. Soarin' … you know, you're taller than I expected." She tilted her head, still wrapping it around the idea. "You two probably want to catch up on stuff, aand I really should go take care of … things. So, goodbye." She started trotting, pausing a moment later to call back, "it was nice meeting you!" She ran off before she could find some other reason to delay departure.

Soarin’ waved to Mirror as she left. “Nice meeting you, Mirror. I’ll get back to you on how to contact my friends in the firefighting business.” Once she was out of sight, he looked towards Spitfire. “This gig of yours is certainly exciting, that’s for sure... think you could use another set of hooves to help out?”

Spitfire eyed him. “Are you offering to become a cop, Soarin’?”

“Yup.”

The former Wonderbolt turned away with a sigh. “Celestia knows we will probably need the extra hooves here soon.” Spitfire paused, grimacing. “Do you realize what you’re getting yourself into Soarin’? Things are getting dangerous, especially for pegasi.”

Soarin’ shrugged. “There are pegasi are getting in trouble for things they didn’t do. Being a cop would be a good way to help them out.”

“Alright, Soarin’, you’ve got yourself a deal,” Spitfire finally said. “I’ll take all the fliers I can get. I’ve already lost a few pegasi officers. It’s hard on them, having to choose loyalties. Who knows how many more will ‘disappear’ in the next few days.”

Soarin’ nodded. “What do you want me to start with?”

“I suppose we’ll have to bring you back up to speed on a few things, and get you some officer training. I don’t just put anypony out in the field, you’re gonna have to show me you can handle yourself in a fight.

“I hope you’re still fit Soarin’,” Spitfire warned. “I didn’t let you guys get fat and senile twenty-five years ago, nothing has changed since then.”

Soarin’ cracked a smile. “Still the same old routine, then. Good to know that some things haven’t changed.”


[Made in collaboration with Sasha (as Spitfire), and notMurphy (as Mirror Shine).]

Timestamp:
02:41 pm, July 15th

After having left Trinket to his work, Crescent had started going in a direction without any clear goal. It took him ten minutes of walking before he realized this and that he was whistling to himself. This sudden joy feeling started to turn into a worry, why was he so happy? He was still stuck up here with no place to stay, this rebellion that could strike anywhere at any minute and he had just given someone who didn't really trust him one very important item that he treasured. What was happening to him?

"No need to worry, I just boosted some of your feeling. In particular one called compassion."

"Oh so now you're back," he responded out loud. "What are you doing back already? And why are you messing with my head?"

"I'm doing it for your own good," the voice said, losing a bit of its tone. "You said, or rather though, so yourself that you needed at least someone you could trust so I helped by letting some feeling rise in you. It worked didn't it?"

Crescent sighed. "It did, at least I won't be another face in the crowd when I die. So tell me, what are you exactly?"

"I'm your compressed feelings dummy," the feminine voice said and he was sure it smiled. At least that was the image that popped up in his head. "After Her death you have been bottling up your better feelings like love, care and joy. You compressed them for so long and now they've created me, your little own conscious on your shoulder."

"Great, a sword fighter with a grasshopper telling me what's right and wrong," he snorted. "I do show feelings, what about that one mare two days ago?"

"That was your pride speaking, a real overblown guy who you have let grow way too much. Tell me, didn't you enjoy having someone to talk to, someone, even though they don't seem to care, listen to you? You've gone on too much alone and it's time to see others as more than enemies, obstacles and packages." It had a point, he didn't let many ponies into his life and jabbering away at Trinket had started to lift the heavy thoughts away.

"Okay then Jiminy, what's next? Should I start making balloon animal for foals as the city goes down?" The voice giggled and it was weird hearing it in his mind.

"Not quite, but just because the place is going through a tough time doesn't mean you can't make them smile. You need bits, you have a sword and the plaza is an open and safe area. You should do it by the fountain just to be sure though."

"About what? My mind has an idea I can't see?" The voice sighs impatient.

"Fine, I wanted you to figure it out for yourself but if you don’t get it yet then here." Another image popped up out of nowhere in Crescent's head.

"Street performer?" he said shocked. "You gotta be kidding me, using my magic to make a fire show. I'm a honored swordspony and-"

"No, you put your ego down now and listen," the voice said demeaning. "You are out of bits, you're hungry and I won't have your overblown ego come before yourself. Put dignity aside for now, make some pretty flames and get some bits before you fall over of starvation. That is definitely not an honorable way to go."

She was right, his pride wouldn't do him much good if he was dead and he could feel the nagging in his stomach from the lack of sustenance. He took a deep breath before turning around and heading back to the small plaza where there was a fountain. After having found something to use for a bit collector, he placed himself with the running water behind him and readied his sword. No one seemed to pay him much attention which was probably good, he needed a little practice to use fire for fun and not a weapon.

He concentrated on pulling off a small flame at first, shaping it in his head until it turned into a butterlfy of fire. He then closed his eyes and began manifesting the picture through his sword. Somehow the image wanted to alter itself but he kept a firm grasp on it until he felt somethin heat up his face. Opening his eyes again there was a somewhat large fiery butterfly on the tip of his sword and he was pretty amazed he'd pulled it off himself. A small boost and it actually flapped its wings.

"Mommy, mommy look," a small voice cried and he saw a filly pulling her mother over to him. "Look at that pretty butterfly mommy."

"Be careful sweetie, he got a sharp weapon."

"No fear miss, I'm merely using it as a tool for channeling." He put the sword flat anyway just to be safe and held it so the filly could see the burning bug better. "It's made of fire so be careful of that so you don't burn yourself."

"Can you make more appear?" The girl said with hopeful eyes.

"Well I can try." He brought up the picture in his mind again and four more of them popped up along the blade.

"Oh wow," she gasped. The mom looked to be a little impressed too.

"Now, shall we make them fly?" The filly nodded.

Now came the tricky part, letting the fire go and still keeping it going. Fire from or on the blade was okay but no contact was more difficult. He tried anyway and made them flap their wings before taking off. Both him and the filly followed them higher and higher until they were past the rooftops with only tiny ambers behind them. The small spell wore off past that and they popped like orange and yellow bubbles.

"Oh wowie, that was awesome. Could you try something else?"

Crescent scratched the back of his head. "Well I-" a small pinging sound came as two bits were dropped in the collector.
"Sure, would you like me to try a bird?" She nodded with a big smile.

12:14 pm, July 16th

A bright blue sky was punctuated every so often by the odd cloud passing overhead Gem as she lazed about beneath her favourite tree in the nearby park. A cool breeze was blowing, the gentle wind ruffling her feathers. Add that to the warm sun above and it was nearly enough to coax the gryphon into napping; no more than a week ago, that’d probably be exactly what she was doing. The bomb going off had sent shockwaves through the city, figuratively as well as literally. There was a subtle shift in the populace — not enough to incite anger, but enough that Gem no longer felt comfortable letting her guard down so much.

Gem, naturally, hated it. There was an astute difference between the thrill of a fight and the constant on-edge-ness of always being alert to every sound and sight; granted, there were times in her past when it was necessary, but never in a place where she might call home. There were fewer ponies coming to the park for a walk, and those that did come were always looking at her suspiciously. While before it was usually with a sense of wonder or amazement, lately they’d all gotten vaguely-accusatory glares.

With a pony-like snort Gem stood, stretched slightly, and turned for home. If she wanted to relax at all she’d have to do it indoors.

Spitfire landed on the front porch of 5309 Sylva Street. It was a quaint little house, although its striking features were dulled by the near-identical buildings on either side. Many of the homes in Ravaalon, at least here in the residential district, weren’t that diverse. Except for the mansions, there weren’t many of those, but most all of them were unique in one way or another.

Adjusting her saddlebags, she reached up and knocked on the door. There was muffled cursing from the other side, but the door never opened. For a few moments Spitfire thought she had the wrong address, or far more likely, that the gryphon had lied to her. But, the thought was quickly brushed aside as she remembered the number of reports she had on the rambunctious gryphon.

“Oi. Up here.”

The voice came from above and was decidedly male. Craning her neck up Spitfire saw a brown pony head sticking out of the window.

“Hello,” she called. “I’m looking for Gem.”

The stallion narrowed his eyes, looking Spitfire over; after a moment he gave a groan and slumped as well as he could. “Oh, wonderful. What’s she done this time, officer?”

Spitfire blinked a few times, unable to decide whether to be confused, or amused. “I, uh... Well, that doesn’t really matter. I’m here to talk to her about official business, relating to the bombing a couple days ago.”

“I can vouch for her character. She didn’t have anything to do with it,” the stallion said after a moment’s thought.

“That’s not-” she began, but he suddenly disappeared into the house and Spitfire could hear a muffled conversation for a moment before he popped his head out again.

“Oh, so you’re Spitfire,” he said, though the way he raised his voice at the end made it sound more like a question.

“It’s the police uniform isn’t it? My mane really isn’t that big of a giveaway?” Spitfire mused, more to herself than actually asking a question.

“I don’t keep up with each of Gem’s inane fangirl ramblings.”

“Oh please! I’m Spitfire for crying out loud!” Okay, this was a little over the top, this Earth Pony really needed to get out more. It was a good thing he had supervision.

“Uh-huh,” the pony said in a bored manner. “Look, Gem’s the one who’d know every cop by name, not me.” He gave a yelp and glared back in the house. “Real mature, Gem.”

“Ouch. Right, well... May I come in please?”

“Yeah, alright. Gem’ll let you in. Give her a minute.” The pony vanished within and the window was promptly shut, leaving Spitfire standing there for a moment before the door swung open.

“I wasn’t expectin’ ya for another day or so,” Gem said, motioning for Spitfire to enter.

“No time like the present, as they say,” Spitfire said, stepping through the door. “I’ve got things to do and plans to set in motion, sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah, I getcha. Gotta find the PRF before things get too much outta control.” Gem led Spitfire into what appeared to be a den, hopping onto a well-worn couch and curled her tail around her.

Spitfire took a moment to look around; the far wall was one giant bookcase filled with all manner of books and parchment, various rocks and geodes, and even — creepily enough — a pony skull, painted with odd lines. Besides the couch Gem currently rested on, there was an armchair, a coffee table, and several end tables, one of which held a tea cup and book. The entrance to the house was behind her and to her left Spitfire could just make out what might be a kitchen. The room was painted in dark brown, giving a real earthy-feel to it, though what struck her as the most odd was the peculiar smell filling the room. It took her a few moments to spy burning incense on the coffee table, the smoke rising into the air lazily.
She took the armchair, first plopping her saddlebags down on the floor beside her. Reaching over awkwardly, she began shuffling through them.

“Alright, Gem, I’ve gotta ask you a few questions before I decide what I want you to do.” She shuffled some more, finally pulling out a stapled bunch of papers.

“Aw, geez, I gotta take a test?” Gem whined, staring at the papers. “Can I have another month or so to study first?”

“I brought these just in case,” Spitfire said smoothly. “I can either ask you the questions I want answers to, or you can just take the test... it’s not that big of a deal.”

Gem shook her head. “Naw, you’re here. May as well ask. If ya wanted me to fill out forms ya could’ve just mailed ‘em.”
Spitfire smirked. “That’s what I figured.” She paused and stood up, beginning to pace as she collected her thoughts. She glanced at the door Trinket had disappeared behind before continuing. “Alright, I want you to infiltrate the PRF.”

Gem was silent a moment. “...what? You’re not serious.” She scoffed. “Take a good look at me, Spits. I may fly, but I’m a far cry from a Pegasus.”

“There are already Unicorns and, honest to Celestia, Earth Ponies joining their cause. I seriously doubt a gryphon would be that suspicious.”

Gem leaned back on the couch, her features settling into a hardened predator’s gaze. “Suspicious enough to make them wary of me. And what am I infiltrating for? I doubt it’s so you can bust in once I reveal the location of their hide-out.”

“Are you insinuating I would require you to assassinate them?” Spitfire deadpanned. “Because, no, I wouldn’t do that. Besides, that would accomplish nothing but rile the rest of them up even more.”

Gem nodded. “Won’t do any good to rush the hide-out besides. Thing about followers is they follow. What you want me to do is snoop around and find out who’s in charge. Kill the head of the snake and the body will follow. Or however that saying goes.”

Spitfire continued pacing. “No, I think you’re missing the point. They aren’t a snake, they’re more like a... a worm. If you cut them up into five pieces then you end up with five worms. I can’t have any of them killed... yet.” Spitfire frowned.

“Dammit! I wish it was that simple, but I just don’t see that being the best option.”

“Then why am I infiltrating them?” Gem asked, frustrated.

“Because I need information!” Spitfire insisted, stopping her pacing and putting her hooves on the coffee table to lean over at Gem. “I have to know where to strike. I need to know how and when to defend the city. I can’t run in knocking pony’s blocks off until I know I can make it count. It’s too risky giving the PRF haphazard quelling attempts to practice their survival skills!”

Gem was silent for a long time, clenching her talons into the couch stuffing and looking at the floor.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any better ideas?” It sounded as though Spitfire was almost pleading for an answer, but Gem remained quiet. After what felt like an eternity she finally grunted.

“So how many of your officers have deserted you and gone off to join the PRF?” Gem asked. “Or failing that, why ask me at all? Surely there’s gotta be somepony more trustworthy to ya.”

Spitfire retreated from the coffee table and started pacing again. “You’re right, I don’t trust you all that much.” She was silent as she paced back and forth. But, finally blowing out a breath she continued, “I’m making a gamble. I have a lot of reasons for choosing, asking, you, Gem. The main reason is that I think you’re the only one who could actually pull this off.”

“And what, pray tell, makes me more capable than your expertly-trained officers?” Try as she might, Gem couldn’t help but keep a note of smugness to her tone.

Spitfire locked eyes with the gryphon. “I can’t train ponies to be deceptive, Gem. You’re a gryphon, a predator. That upbringing and lifestyle is vastly different than how ponies operate today. I could no more teach an honest pony to be dishonest than I could make you unlearn your instincts.

“Ponies have forgotten what it means to survive, or be hunted.” The pegasus began pacing again, trying to organize her thoughts. “But, you have these traits whether you realize it or not. Those instincts are what make you the best candidate, someone I know who wouldn’t crack under pressure because they fully understand the consequences if they did.”

Gem was quiet for a while, hunched on her hind legs with her forelegs crossed over her chest. Every so often her beak would clack softly as she slipped into deep thought. “Even assuming I accept,” Gem began, opening her eyes, “how exactly do you propose I enter the PRF? Flying around shouting my beak off will only ensure that any members stay far away from me.”

“You’re on your own for that. I can’t tell you where to start. You’re just going to have to start poking around as if you’re wanting to join.”

“What makes you so sure they’ll even accept me? With my record—”

“What makes you think that? If I was a member of the PRF, you’re exactly what I’d be looking for. A flyer who’s had a taste of the law, one who’s been through the system. The information on how things work would be invaluable. Not to mention the instinctive skills that come with being a gryphon.”

Gem huffed and looked away. “Ha, some informant. You’ve seen my record. Nothing but public drunkenness and destruction of property. And each time the same earth pony paid my bail, with only two exceptions. I don’t have the slightest idea how the system works.”

“Well they don’t know that now do they?” Spitfire smirked. “All you have to do is plant the idea and their assumptions and imaginations will expand your skills and knowledge far more than you could ever explain them.”

Gem was silent for a time again, even going so far as to spread a wing and began preening. “Assuming I manage to get in,” Gem began, muffled slightly due to her wing. “Chances are I’ll have to indulge in terrorist acts along with the rest of them. You know, make me look official. Legit.” More silence as she preened, switching to her other wing. Was Spitfire seeing things, or was she sneaking glances at her from the corner of her eye? “I dunno if I could do that. Hurting innocents, I mean. I may be a fighter at heart, but I try not to attack noncombatants.”

“I understand the need for the acts to fit in,” Spitfire said slowly. “At this point I have no reason to believe the PRF will be openly hostile to ponies themselves. Well, maybe the Earth Ponies, but you should be fine. I would imagine they will understand if you make it known you won’t be dishonorable.”

“And if it’s discovered I live with an Earth Pony?” she asked.

“Gem, open your eyes, it’s like you’re coming up with every excuse however implausible!” Spitfire exclaimed, exasperated.
“There are ponies all over the place who are either breaking ties or hiding their involvement from friends. I will bet you a hundred bits that there will be pegasi in the PRF who live with Earth Ponies, but are keeping their involvement a secret because they still want to be friends with them.”

Spitfire blew out a long sigh. “The PRF, so far, haven’t been fighting against the races so much as the administration of the city. Hell, there’s been more social tension and racism from Earth Ponies in the city than the PRF themselves.”

“Na, it’s always been there,” Gem noted. “The PRF just made it worse. Or maybe that’s just the media blowing it out of proportion.” She exhaled, blowing a tuft of fur out of her eyes. “Alright. I’m in. I don’t like it, but I’m in.”

“What else are you going to do, Gem?” Spitfire asked insistently. “We both know things aren’t going to fix themselves anytime soon, and you’ve already made it clear you’re not interested in supporting the PRF. I don’t see you sitting around waiting for your housemate to get caught up in something bad.”

The gryphon groaned, standing and arching her back, her joints popping audibly. After a moment she relaxed again, looking straight at Spitfire. “Trinket can handle himself. I’m not worried about him getting into any scuffle.” She paused, grabbing something from the end table and began to file her claws. “So, once I get in, then what?”

The guard captain shook her head. “I don’t know. I just want you to stay there for now. I need information before planning any move against them.”

“Yes, I am aware of that, but what kind? What should I be focusing on, or do you intend for me to remember every scrap of conversation I overhear?”

“Their movements.” Spitfire stated, picking up her pacing. “What are they planning to do? When are they moving? Where are they moving? What are they moving? I don’t care about rumors, internal politics, what Jimmy’s mom did last night or anything like that. I want to know what they are working towards and how they’re going to accomplish it.”

“We know what they’re working towards. They want Ravaalon. No earth ponies, unicorns. Just Pegasi. Which makes me curious as to why earth ponies and unicorns joined them to begin with.”

“Specifics, my young apprentice, specifics!” Spitfire chimed. “We all know Clover the Clever designed the basic concept for today's irrigation systems, but it wasn't until the details of the engineering and science were figured out that it actually happened. Those details are where things can ‘go wrong’ too.” Spitfire emphasized her last words by using her wings to create metaphorical quotes.

Gem nodded. “Alright, I understand. Quit being so pushy about it. How am I supposed to contact you when I find out anything?”

“I’m not sure what your situation will be once you get in. But I don’t think it would be too hard to send me a letter or just meet back here at the house for the first time to get something set up.”

“Fine. Works for me.” Gem placed the file down as she admired her talons. “Or I could use Trinket as my go-between.”

“I, uh, well fine. Be careful your housemate knows what you’re getting him into,” Spitfire warned. “Now, I obviously don’t know how things work between you two, or anything about him. But you better be careful none of this gets out.”

“I can trust him,” Gem said with finality.

After a moment, Spitfire nodded. “That’s your call.

“Alright, I don’t have anything else. I’ll leave you to it. Just don’t wait too long! I doubt that any of us would like a repeat of Town Hall.”

“Yeah, we need to shut down the PRF, no question. But that won’t fix the problems in town,” Gem mused to herself. She shook her head. “One thing at a time, though, right?”

“Indeed.” Spitfire glanced at the clock on the mantle before moving back to her saddlebags. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work. The mayor is looking to give a speech today on the incident and I need to get things prepared.”

As she made for the exit, Gem called after her. “Alright, take care, ‘boss’.”

Spitfire showed herself out, seeing no sign of the Earth Pony that let her in. Taking an extra moment to secure her saddlebags and settle them on her back, she then spread her wings and took off. Thankfully the meeting with the gryphon hadn’t taken as long as she thought, giving her plenty of time to still have lunch.

The mayor had said he wanted to give a speech on the Town Hall incident later today, she needed to prepare for the public address. Thankfully, there probably wasn’t much that was going to happen, the mayor had announced this on very short notice and there would be little time for the PRF to plan anything drastic. Still, it was better safe than sorry.

Once Spitfire had vanished beyond the tops of the buildings, Trinket came out of hiding and flopped onto the armchair she had been using.

“Well. Interesting conversation you two had.”

“Which I’m sure you overheard entirely, right?” Gem laughed, knowing the answer anyways, but Trinket still nodded. She tapped a talon on her beak in thought for a moment before continuing, “Think I was a little too obtuse at the end there?”

“Maybe a little more than you should have been, but I don’t think she suspects anything.” Trinket sighed as he leaned back in the chair, rubbing his eyes with both forelegs. “Celestia help us, how did we get mixed up in this?”

“You’re the one who thought there was a serious problem,” Gem pointed out. “Besides, didn’t you want inside info on the PRF? And now, I’ve got police permission to be there.”

“I think there’s more here than we know, Gem,” Trinket said slowly. “Spitfire was awfully insistent you join the PRF. Almost fanatical at times. And what’s more, she only offered you a job yesterday.” Trinket pulled out a well-worn compass and set it on the arm of the chair, staring at it intently for a moment as if the answers to his unasked questions would leap out. It was a look that Gem knew all too well; Trinket always used to stare at his compass when perplexed or confused. He claimed that watching the needle slowly settle at north soothed him, set his thoughts in order. Perhaps, then, it was telling that the needle continued to sway side-to-side, never focusing north.

With a mirthless chuckle, Trinket placed the compass back in his pouch and looked up at Gem. “Just be careful, alright? You know how I feel about blind situations.”

“Can’t always know everything before doing a job, bud,” Gem replied cooly. “There’ve been times when we had to make things up as we went and we always pulled through.”

The Earth Pony nodded. “Yeah. But still, watch the skies, Gem. I just feel like...we’re building up to something big.”



Written in collaboration with the illustrious Tricondon

Timestamp:
04:26 pm, July 16th, 3rd day after the bombing.

Cloudbuilder forgot how much he hated doing nothing. The novelty of sitting around in a safehouse wore off fairly quickly. He was confined to a single room, and the only reason he stayed was because the alternative was being confined to a single, even smaller, jail cell.

Sure he got all the food and drink he wanted, but what the room lacked was things to do. Sunny had brought him some books, but he’d never been much of a reader. Sure he indulged in a book every now and then, but he couldn’t sit still long enough to read for more than an hour at a time.

He’d taken to exercise to pass the time. Push-ups, wing-ups, crunches, whatever he could manage to accomplish in the room, he did. Spitfire had been able to outfly him, so he needed to get better in case he ever ran across her again. Now that he could put “Escaped Criminal” on his resumé, the next time they met, he felt like standing a chance of escaping.

For two days, he’d woken up and spent most of the day working out. There was nothing else to do. No other ponies were being forced to hideout in here, so the others used it more as a hangout spot than anything else, and even then they weren’t around much. Most of the time, he was simply alone in here.

Currently, he was doing wing-ups on the floor. Trying to keep as much of his wings as possible off the floor, he was using just the tips to lift and lower his body. A sheen of sweat covered him, little droplets running down his muzzle, landing on on the floor with a plop barely audible over his breathing.

“Nngh... Thirty-one!.” he counted. His goal was thirty-five, so only four more to go. His mouth felt like a desert, but he wouldn’t drink anything until he hit that goal. “Hnnngh...” He struggled, muscles pushing themselves to lift his body weight. “Come on... Come on...” Slowly, he rose off the floor, grunting and chanting those two words.

“Thirty-two!” he cried once his wings hit full extension. Gently he lowered himself back down until he was almost touching the floor. Three more to go, he could do this. Three was easy, it was nothing.

Just as he reached the apex, shouting out the number, the door to the room opened, slamming into the wall with a loud bang. With a cry, his wings gave out and he fell, slamming his muzzle into the floor.

“Whoops, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” came the ever cheery voice of Sunny Skies. He looked over to see the mare standing in the doorway, a smile on her face.

“Ugh, no worries,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his now sore muzzle. “So what brings you by?” Of all the ponies who used this hideout, Sunny was certainly here the most. She came by several times a day to check in on him, grabbing a seat and keeping him company, even while he exercised. If there was a reason he hadn’t gone crazy with cabin fever, she was it.

Her smile widened. “I come bearing news!”

“Can I finally leave this place?”

“Really? It hasn’t even been three whole days yet.”

He looked around the room. “There is literally nothing to do.”

“Oh come on,” she said, sounding hurt. “I brought you those books.”

“Yes, and thanks for that. However, nopony’s ever here, and besides those books, there’s nothing to do. I can’t sit still for that long.”

Sunny moved over to the sitting area. “Yeah, I get that. Anyway, news.” She flicked on the radio sitting on a shelf, fiddling with the dial until a pony speaking came out with only mild static. Her job done, she flopped down on the couch, making herself comfortable.

Cloudbuilder joined her, listening to the pony announcing a press conference starting in just a moment. “I don’t get it. What’s the news?”

“Shh,” she replied. “You’re gonna want to hear this.”

“And now we take you live to Mayor Fine Print,” the newspony said. There was the sound of shuffling around, hushed voices speaking, before the radio went silent.

“Greetings, citizens of Ravaalon,” came the voice of the mayor. He introduced who he was, despite it being entirely obvious, before launching into a speech about the bombing three days ago.

Cloudbuilder listened, growing more and more bored with each passing minute. The mayor was using a lot of words to say that, essentially, they had no idea who was behind the attack.

There was one thing that bothered him, though. The number of ponies who had been injured and killed in the bombing was quite high. He’d known getting into the PRF that ponies were going to get hurt, maybe even killed. But something on this scale...

Spitfire had practically shoved his face in a corpse that day. He nearly lost his lunch at the sight. It was brutal, and grim, but it was also inevitable. To come face to face with it like that shook him. He’d expected to maybe carry out things like the firebombing of the empty shop, not blow up Town Hall. The PRF was violent, but if they got things done, then it would all be worth it. He just hoped change would happen before things got worse, though what was worse than Town Hall, he didn’t know.

“I still don’t get it,” he said, glancing over at Sunny. “All it is, is the usual political crap.”

She swatted him. “Just listen.”

The mayor sounded like he was wrapping up his speech. "However, though in this difficult time it may seem easy to place all the blame on one individual group, I urge everypony that--"

Cloudbuilder became interested once more when what sounded like a pony with a lisp interrupted the conference. The interrupt a live press conference, whatever this pony had to say must be important.

There was an exchange between the pony, who was carrying something and didn’t have a lisp, and the mayor. Finally, the mayor announced that they’d received a recording from the head of the group that planned the attack, and that he was going to play it.

Now Cloudbuilder was really interested. This must be the reason Sunny had come here and turned on the radio.

The recording started, the voice speaking out loud and clear. He didn’t recognize the voice at all. With rapt attention, he listened as the supposed head of the group, now known as the Pegasi Resistance Flock, announced his plans to the entire city. Ponies who weren’t listening to this broadcast would surely hear about it before they sat down to dinner.

Finally the recording stopped, the flapping sound of an empty tape reel echoing out. The silence was broken by a lone reporter asking the question on everypony’s mind, “Who the hell was that?” A question currently being asked by Cloudbuilder.

As the press conference devolved into a cacophony of shouted questions, Sunny turned off the radio. “So?”

Cloudbuilder sank back into the couch. “Three days, huh?” The leader’s speech bounced around in his head. A lot of what had been said made sense. It was high time that the city stood true to its founding goals. It was past time that the Earth Ponies were made to pay for what they’d done. It was time for the pegasi to reclaim their place in society.

Sunny nodded. “Three days. And guess what?”

“What?”

“Now that the RPD is going to be focused on what just happened, they’re not going to be looking for you anymore. So you can go home.”

“Really?” he asked, hope in his voice. As nice as this room was, it wasn’t made to be lived in.

“Yup, really.”

“Oh thank Celestia!” He got off the couch, heading towards the door.

“Hang up a moment,” Sunny called.

He stopped, turning to look at the mare who was trotting to catch up with him. She stood in front of him, blocking the door. “Listen,” she said. “There’s plans in the works. I can’t tell you what, because you’re still a wanted criminal and if they catch you, the less you know the better. For everypony involved.”

She hesitated, shuffling her hooves and looking down. “I can say that we’ll need your help again. I’ll let you know what we need when the time is right.”

Her eyes darted around, as if seeing whether they were alone or not. Cloudbuilder was confused, wondering what she was up to. When her eyes returned to his, she darted forward, catching his lips with hers.

So many responses to this situation ran through his head, that he ended up doing nothing, freezing. Her lips were soft and pleasant against his. Her breath ghosted across his muzzle, gently stirring up his coat there.

Sunny was a very forward mare, she knew what she wanted and she went out and got it. If he was being honest with himself, she was certainly cute, when she wasn’t beating in the faces of two guards. He had to admit that he liked her, especially after hanging out with her over the last couple of days.

Yet for her to just kiss him out of the blue like this was unexpected. She always seemed so upbeat and cheerful that he found her very difficult to read, to know what she was truly thinking.

Just as he started to lean into her, to give into the kiss, she pulled back. A faint taste lingered on his lips. Her cheery smile became almost shy looking.

“Listen, just because the cops aren’t gonna be actively looking for you doesn’t mean you should do something stupid. Keep a low profile and... stay safe.” She turned around, exiting the room.

Cloudbuilder stood there, trying to process just what had happened. He could hear the secret door swing open, the bottles clattering. If it weren’t for the lingering feeling, the taste on his lips, he would swear that he’d hallucinated the whole thing.

He liked Sunny, she was an awesome mare. She was cute, easy to get along with, and a believer in the cause of the PRF. If she liked him back, then things were definitely looking up for him.

With a spring in his step, he left the hideout behind. When he got to the storeroom, he carefully closed the secret door. Sharing a nod with the bartender, the same who’d been there when he arrived, he left the bar behind. His first stop was going to be his apartment, as he hadn’t been there in days.

As he trotted through the streets, he whistled a jaunty tune. Yup, things were looking up.

08:25 PM, July 15th, second day after the bombing

    Things just kept getting worse.

    Mirror Shine had managed to get back to her parents' apartment just in time for her mother to be in the throes of a full-blown panic attack. That had taken nearly three hours to defuse, first calming her down, then convincing both her parents that she wasn't radicalized. And of course thanks to all that nonsense, nopony had bothered to make any dinner. Which was when they discovered that none of the local restaurants were willing to deliver anymore - Mirror assumed that meant 'to anypony' and not 'to pegasi'.

    Having eventually seen to it they all ate, the white pegasus excused herself to head home after repeatedly promising to 'take good care of herself' and 'not associate with any dangerous types'. As if she had any interest in ever seeing any of the lunatics from that terrible day again, let alone any other dangerous ponies. She fully intended to keep her promise about volunteering, but that wouldn't put her near the anarchists and even the most irate victims couldn't fault somepony who was cleaning up messes, right?


July 16th, Day of the Mayor's Speech

    While it was a relief to get back to work, the double-duty shifts were exhausting. Mirror was definitely ready for a break, so when the boss rolled in a wireless so everypony could hear the mayor's speech it seemed like a highlight to a productive day - before the PRF's manifesto was broadcast. They canceled the rest of the workday right then – granted it was only half an hour, but it felt like a punishment for having heard bad news.

    Since she had the extra time anyway, the albino mare decided to stop by the local theater, the Little Minerva, and see what the next production was scheduled to be. No matter how bad things could get on the outside, the theater was a world to itself, with its own little microcosms of–

    Mirror stared at the charred vertical columns, mouth agape. Half of the building was simply gone, cleaning crews had been working since the previous night. Fellow mourners theorized that the 'Minerva had been a victim of guilt by association, the next-door establishment had been a garden supply store run by a well established earth pony family. Sharing an adjacent wall had sealed the theater's fate.

    Her head felt light, like it might float away, her body was cold and she felt like she was drifting. 'Oh, no, I'm just walking. But where? Her hooves deposited her in front of a building she had become far too familiar with, the Ravaalon Police Department Central Offices. That was enough of a hint from her subconscious, so she headed inside.

    Much to Mirror's relief, she did not recognize the officer behind the desk. Marching right up, she caught the pony's attention.

    "Can I help you, miss?" the service mare drawled, obviously wanting to get back to the pile of paperwork in front of her.

    The amateur actress nodded sharply, "Yeah, I'd like to enlist."

Timestamp
1:37 pm, July 16th

The bright midday sun beat down on Spitfire as she flew back towards the police station. Without most of the weather stations, cloudy days were pretty much out for now as the water was being reserved for any more fires. She hoped they got something set up fast, things were going to get hot up here in the sky really quick.

A few minutes later, she landed outside the station. A quick canter inside, a corner for her saddle bags, a brief refreshment in her office, and she was back out, ready to begin throwing out orders. There was a speech to prepare for!

First, she worked with her trusty assistant to send out orders to get a list of officers together she wanted to be on the job. Then, a detailed map of the city was pulled out and they created a secure grid around the small square the mayor would be making the speech at. After that it was back to paperwork, there was plenty that needed taken care of, especially with what was happening of late.

She had a meeting set up with the mayor just a few minutes prior to the speech. She would outline the planned escape routes and go over his notes with him. Hopefully everything would be completed without a hitch, but it always paid to be prepared. Maybe she could convince him to just give the address privately and publish it later... but that seemed unlikely.

The next few hours were hectic. It was surprising how many little things had to be completed before everypony was ready for the mayor to give his speech. Sound equipment checked, rooftops cleared, ground partitioned, buildings and ponies checked... The list never seemed to end.

Still, by the scheduled time of the speech, everything was ready. Spitfire held her breath as the mayor stepped up to the podium and began talking.

Nothing happened.

Five minutes in and still nothing had happened. Good, just as she expected and planned.

Spitfire had read the speech already, make sure she wasn’t caught by surprise by anything. But, even still, when she heard the mayor begin rattling off the numbers from the attack she was overwhelmed. As the mayor continued she felt her frustration building at the culmination of events as he described them.

Was there something she could have done better? Was there some way she could have anticipated that attack? If she had been more vigilant, could that explosion been avoided?

All these questions whirled around inside her head, never to be answered. All she could do was focus on the present and plan for the future. Cloudbuilder’s words about her inactivity burned. It was an itch at the back of her mind, could this all have possibly been her fault?

No! She couldn’t sit around contemplating what could have been. There was only here and now. She had a job to do and by Celestia she was going to see it done right.

A voice cut into her reverie, overriding the mayors words as it was directed straight into her brain from her earpiece. “Captain, we’ve got a colt here at the perimeter. He says he’s got a tape the PRF told him to give to the mayor.”

Spitfire frowned. “Have you checked him? Is he clean?”

“Yes ma’am, all he’s got are the tapes,” the guard responded. “He’s saying the PRF want the tape heard now and will take action if it isn’t.”

Chewing her lip, Spitfire considered her options. The speech was almost over, she didn’t have time to double check anything. If the PRF were going to strike elsewhere there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. The PRF could be bluffing, but what if they weren’t? It was just a tape... she could trust her guards to distinguish between a bomb and a recording, right?

She made her choice. “Let the colt in. Have him come straight up to the podium.”


12:01 am, July 17th

Spitfire’s head slowly sank towards her desk. She was propped up on one hoof, drool beginning to escape from the edge of her mouth as her muzzle slowly inched towards the papers before her.

Her head slipped off, the drool lubricating her skin just enough. She jerked up, her senses screaming as she came back awake fully. Not a second later her office door was thrown open, startling her even further.

“Ma’am, the results are in.”

She stared blankly at him for a moment. “What resu- Oh! Right. Give me a minute.”

The officer nodded and trotted out.

Spitfire had confiscated the tape as soon as it had finished playing. The past six hours she had her ponies going over it with a fine tooth comb trying to find out anything they could from what was said. There might have been background noises, other voices, inference on one word over another. There could be something important that nopony else realized.

She got up and headed for the restroom. In front of the mirror she straightened her uniform and washed her face. Being professional at midnight was hard, but even just a little care said a lot. Looks were important anywhere, you couldn’t always keep from looking slightly disheveled in this job, especially at this hour. But, the effort that showed was almost as important as actually looking good.

As she walked out she stopped at the water fountain, it was more habit than anything. When she was a Wonderbolt, water bottles only got you so far and she took every opportunity she had to stay hydrated. Plus, it helped clear her head.

Finally reaching the work room where she left the tape, she stepped inside. “Alright, what have you got guys?” she asked.

“Almost nothing,” a mare groused. She approached Spitfire and handed her a clipboard.

The one page on it was only half filled. A few notes on the tone, a couple of bumps from the pony holding the recorder and some slight shuffling was all that could be heard. Still, that only told her maybe one thing: the pony holding the recorder probably wasn’t a unicorn.

But, that still left other questions like: What race was the speaker? What about the clues to the location? It was obvious that there were a lot of ponies with the speaker, but it was so silent otherwise one couldn’t tell there was more than one.

There was much more that Spitfire could think of that she’d like to have, but was certain she wouldn’t get them. But this? This was much less than she had hoped.


10:45 am, July 17th

Three hours. Three hours of sleep. Spitfire was no young whippersnapper anymore. Three hours wasn’t enough and she could feel it every second she was awake.

She had been busy with each and every one of her officers giving them special instructions. For the most part, keeping their eyes open for possible suspicious activities. However, there were more she sent on unscheduled inspections to many core buildings across the city.

The more detail she put into trying to expose any actions by the PRF, the more strain it put on everypony in her force. It didn’t help that there was a number of MIA officers who had not reported in after the bombing, and still more trickling away. She had no way to tell if they were just oozing out because they joined the PRF, wanted no part in what would happen, or if they met a more grim fate.

Spitfire refused to let any officers delve too deeply into places she suspected the PRF were hiding. It was a risky gamble, hoping the scant few plans she had put together would come together in time. But, she was unwilling to risk the lives of her officers until she was forced.

Three hours of sleep. Her eyes burned, yet she refused to do more than blink, forcing them to spend more time open than closed. Spitfire shook her head and refocused on the map in front of her. There were still buildings she wanted checked, others double checked and yet more being given full time surveillance.

Her door opened, her secretary entered, carrying a cup of coffee that she laid down carefully on the desk.

“You really need to get some sleep Spitfire,” she admonished. “You’ll be no help if you collapse when it matters most.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” Spitfire said, not looking up.


7:33 pm, July 17th

Nothing! Half of the city had been searched and put under surveillance, yet there was no movement whatsoever! No hidden bombs, no suspicious looking individuals, no nothing!

Spitfire paced her office. What more was there to do? Sure, she was still having buildings checked, but the list had finally dwindled from the few governmental offices and important public gatherings to the more mundane shops and stores.

Either the PRF was going to just make a big mess in two days or they were much, much more organized and stealthy, or trained, than she thought. She thought about that mare that had come for Cloudbuilder. She had deceived the two stallions superbly, and had some kind of martial training. But, Spitfire was certain that was the norm.

Ugh, there had to be something she was missing! Maybe she should just take everypony into the slums and roust all the pegasi out? Spitfire paused in her pacing. It hadn’t crossed her mind to simply just evacuate all the prestigious earth pony families. She already had a healthy number of ponies with them, it wouldn’t take much just to get them out of the picture.

But, what would that do? She still wasn’t going to allow PRF pegasi to take over all the positions that would be vacated by the earth ponies. Could they still act on their threat after that? Would they issue new ones?

No, she decided. Giving in to demands once meant giving up. But, was this the right thing to do? She agreed with the PRF on a few accounts: The earth ponies needed to go, equality needed to be restored. However, the methods were where she and the PRF clashed.

She had taken an oath, what kind of mare would she be if she up and broke it? She’d never be able to live with herself if she just stepped down. But, was what she doing really harmonious? Her conscience was clear, so far she had been performing actions generally in the direction of what she considered morally acceptable.

It had to be enough, this was the best she could do. There was nothing for it, if this was the wrong thing to do then at least she would be able to live with her choices... If she survived this.


11:33 pm, July 17th

“You’re going home, Spitfire! This is final!”

“We’re gonna need you tomorrow, that means you getting rest!”

“You’re in no shape to be doing anything!”

Spitfire’s secretary and four officers had barged into her office and were now grilling her being up for nearly two whole days.

She narrowed her eyes. “So, it has come to this has it?”

“Oh don’t give me that, Spitfire!” a mare said, stomping her hoof. “You’re a wreck and need sleep, outside the office!”
Spitfire sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Yes, I know. You’re all still traitors though,” she mumbled.

Another officer pushed her chair around the desk towards the door. “Uh huh, I’m sure you’ll make an excellent martyr for the cause.” He dumped her into the hallway. “But not today, or tomorrow.”

They had a point. As loathe as she was to admit it, she had done all she could. Putter around as much as she like, it would be infinitely more beneficial if she just got a good night sleep and was ready for whatever happened the next day.
She was pushed insistently towards the door. Spitfire tried to resist, but it was halfhearted at best.

“As you are a walking corpse, Molly is coming with you,” the stallion said, nodding at one of the unicorn mares. “You’ll have to take the train, but I seriously doubt you’re in any condition to fly anyway.”

Feeling her frustration fueled drive fading, Spitfire could barely grumble as exhaustion started to take hold. A few hours of sleep sounded... divine.

Timestamp
5:30 AM, July 18th, Three days after the Mayor’s speech

Cloudbuilder was sleeping in his tiny apartment. After finally being allowed to leave the safehouse, he’d headed home. When he opened the door, he knew instantly the RPD had been there. They’d done a thorough job of ransacking the place, his stuff tossed everywhere.

Not that he had a lot of stuff, but the fact that they’d been there made him feel violated. His apartment may be tiny, and smell faintly of mold, but it was his. For it to be invaded and looted was a low blow. He wouldn’t be surprised if Spitfire herself had given the order.

After cleaning up, he’d fallen into bed, sleep overtaking him quickly. The next day had been spent restocking his apartment and running errands. Not the most exciting, but it was good to feel the sun again, even if it was almost too hot outside.

He lay on his bed, dreams flitting behind his eyes. A knock on his door woke him with a start. He glanced around, wondering who would be at the door. He didn’t exactly have many friends, and those he did have he hadn’t seen since this whole PRF business had started.

The thought that it was the RPD, come to arrest him again, entered his mind before being banished. The RPD wouldn’t bother to knock, unless knocking down the door counted. No, somepony else was out there.

Another knock invaded the room. Whoever it was, they weren’t going away. Cautiously, he got out of bed, grabbing a bat from the closet. The one window in the apartment was too small for him to get through, so his only hope was to knock them senseless and run away. Stealing a glance at the clock, he became even more paranoid when he realized how early it was.

With the bat raised in one forehoof, he stood beside the door. “Who is it?” he asked.

“It’s Sunny. You gonna let me in?”

He lowered the bat, sighing in relief. He hadn’t seen her since the other day, when she’d kissed him and ran away. It hadn’t been that long, so why was she here?

Opening the door, he saw her standing in the hallway. As always, she had a smile on her face, despite it being ridiculously early in the morning. Curiously, she was wearing a saddlebag, and she was alone.

He stepped aside, letting her in. No sooner had she crossed the threshold, then he slammed the door closed, locking it again. Her eyebrow went up as she saw the bat he was holding.

“Wanted criminal,” he said, pointing a hoof at himself. “I felt like being prepared.”

She nodded. “Smart.” Looking around, she took in his tiny apartment. The whole thing was one room, with the bed tucked in the far corner, a kitchenette off to one side, and a single loveseat across from that. “Nice place.”

“It’s all I can afford. I get paid crap at the factory.”

She sat down on the loveseat. “I wasn’t judging.” Her hoof patted the cushion next to her.

As soon as he sat down, she leaned into him. Her weight against him felt comforting. Ever since she’d kissed him, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. It had been a long time since he’d had anything even approaching a relationship. He’d forgotten what it was like, and how much he missed it.

Hesitantly, he put a foreleg around her. When she didn’t say anything, he relaxed a fraction. “So, what brings you here so early?”

Her warm eyes met his. “We— I need your help.”

This surprised him. Sunny seemed like a very capable mare. What could she possibly need help with? “With what?” he asked her.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “We’ve got something planned for this morning. Nothing big, just a demonstration of our growing influence.”

“Okay, how does this involve me? Shouldn’t I still be laying low?”

She nodded. “You should, but there’s a problem. Spitfire.”

Sunny had a point, Spitfire was a problem. The Captain was a relentless enemy.

“We need our plan to go through without a problem,” Sunny continued. “If Spitfire gets involved, the plan will backfire and everything we’re working towards will be set back.” She sighed, her head resting on his chest. “I need you to distract her.”

Cloudbuilder’s jaw dropped open. “What?”

Her hoof gently rested under his chin, pushing his mouth closed. “I have a plan.”

“You do realize that Spitfire will arrest me if she sees me, right? I did kind of escape her custody, which really has to be a sore point for her.” Of all the things he’d expected Sunny to ask, this wasn’t even on the list. The mare had just broken him out of Spitfire’s custody, and now she wanted him to willingly march back into it.

“I mean, you just helped me escape from Spitfire, why in Celestia’s name would you want me to seek her out? Even if we do meet, there’s no way I can escape her, she outflew me last time and I’m certain that a few days of exercising won’t exactly give me an advantage over a former Wonderbolt.”

He was about to continue ranting, when a soft hoof on his lips stopped him. The hoof was removed, replaced with Sunny’s lips. This time, he leaned into the kiss, which only lasted a moment.

“I have a plan,” she repeated. “One where you’ll not only meet Spitfire, but walk away.”

He put his head in his hooves. “Why me?”

“Because you and Spitfire have a history. For whatever reason, she’s taken a personal interest in you.”

He wanted to tell her to just stop talking, to let him go back to sleep. He didn’t want to see Spitfire again, at least until things had calmed down, and possibly ever. Whatever adoration he had for her, had been shattered by her apathy and inaction.

Despite feeling like he was going to regret this, he told Sunny to continue.

“You’re going to write a note, asking Spitfire to meet you in Cloudberry Park, by the fountain. In the note, tell her that you’ve gotten second thoughts about joining the PRF. Instead, you want to pass on information to her about upcoming plans.”

She reached into her saddlebag, pulling out some papers. “These are fake plans. They’ll fool Spitfire long enough for you to leave. Offer to turn informant, to feed her information, and she’ll let you walk away.”

“Won’t she be pissed at me even more though, giving her fake plans?”

“We can protect you, and more than just sitting in some safehouse. The point is to keep Spitfire busy so she can’t interfere with things.”

He had to admit, it was a decent plan. He just didn’t like putting his fate in the hooves of some fake papers. Spitfire was smart, she may see through them quickly, before he could get away.

Sunny wrapped her forehooves around his neck, her eyes staring into his. Once more, she leaned forward, pressing her lips into his. She lingered for longer before pulling away.

“Please, do this. For me.”

He looked into her eyes, seeing the pleading there. She was worried about something. He wondered if she had a part to play in what was going on this morning.  If she was going to be in trouble if Spitfire showed up, then he would go through with the plan. Sunny was too important.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

Her eyes lit up and she smiled. “Oh thank you!” She kissed him once more. “Okay, write Spitfire a note. I’ll make sure that she gets it. Spitfire doesn’t know me, so I’m just a delivery mare. Since she’s a creature of habit, you’ll need to be at the meeting point by 8.”

Cloudbuilder nodded. He got up, retrieving some paper, as well as a quill and inkwell. He had a little tray that he used as a table, sitting on the loveseat. Dipping the quill in the ink, he started writing.

Several minutes later, he had what he hoped was a convincing letter to Spitfire, asking her to meet him in the park. Sunny waved the paper around to dry the ink before stuffing it into an envelope.

“Okay, I’ll make sure this gets to Spitfire.” She headed towards the door, Cloudbuilder accompanying her. She opened the door, going out into the hallway. “Thanks again. This means so much to me.” Leaning in, she gave him a brief kiss before turning away, heading down the hall and out of sight.

He closed the door, leaning against it. What had he just gotten himself into? He’d just agreed to meet with Spitfire.
Glancing at the clock, he calculated that he had enough time to head back to bed. He’d certainly need all the sleep he could if he was going to try and fool Spitfire.


Timestamp
8:00 am, July 18th

Spitfire groaned and rolled over on her bed. There was somepony in her kitchen. There was an infernal squeak in her floor right where the refrigerator was. Sometimes it just didn’t pay to sleep in the basement.

Wait, there was somepony in her kitchen? Hold up again, before we answer that question, there is another: Do we care that there is somepony in the kitchen?

Spitfire decided, no, it did not matter. If somepony was in her house then they were supposed to be there, or were a burglar, in which case she still didn’t care. She snuggled back into the sheets and drifted back off to sleep.

“Spitfire?” a voice at her door pulled her back out of slumber. “Hey, it’s time to get up. There was some mare at the door who dropped a sealed envelope off. Also, it’s eight A.M. and you need to get moving.”

Mare, work, police, late night, PRF... The ultimatum! Spitfire’s memory flooded back as the owner of the voice retreated from the doorway.

She sat up and fluffed her wings. Ugh, they needed quite a bit of attention. She could almost feel the dead feathers that hadn’t been preened in three days. Then there was the part about not having showered for that long either. On top of that, she was still tired and she was going to have to bathe in the morning!

With a sigh she got up and flapped her wings, breaking loose a rain of old feathers. Most of them were pinions, the coverts didn’t fall out as easily. They also took a little bit more work to straighten out.

Spitfire sighed again, cursing herself for not taking care of her wings while at the office. It would be a few days before she was back up to optimal flying power, even after she cleaned up. Usually she was very meticulous in maintaining her wings, habit from her Wonderbolt days, it was upsetting that she had neglected to do it for so long.

“Are you awake yet, Spitfire?” the voice called down the stairs again. Then, the faint pound as hooves began to descend. “Don’t make me walk in there and shake you out! I don’t get paid enough for- Oh!”

She rounded the corner and poked her head inside Spitfire’s bedroom. Her eyes took took in the yellow mare’s half open wings, the feathers on the floor, then the look on her captain’s muzzle.

“Well, good!” She grinned nervously and began to back out. “I’ll just go make some breakfast really quick. I’m sure you’ll be busy for a few more minutes.”

Spitfire snorted as the mare left. It would be thirty minutes if she was lucky and Spitfire cleaned and preened like a demon... Which she wasn’t really keen on at the moment. Impending doom or no, wings were her first priority and would be taken care of properly.

Fluffing her wings again, Spitfire sat on the floor and began the arduous task of aligning, or removing damaged feathers.

Fifteen minutes later and she had completed her left wing. It wasn’t her best work, but then again her wing had been a mess. The pile at her hooves was also much larger than she had anticipated, but thankfully her wing was still in flyable condition.

Another fifteen minutes and her right wing was completed. As she folded them back down next to her body she sighed with relief as they rested comfortably and primly, just as they should. She hadn’t remembered how good it felt to have conditioned wings, having been so long in the business of keeping them in pristine condition.

A glance at the pile of feathers practically begged her to leave them until later, she obliged. Opting instead to move into the shower. Those feathers could wait, maybe she could clean them up when she was back here again, reminding her never to put off preening again.

When she made it back from the rejuvenating stream of water, she found the feathers had been cleaned up and a fresh uniform laying on her bed. Wow, if this was what a maid did, she might just have to get one. She could have spent hours trying to clean up all those feathers with her teeth. A unicorn did it in a matter of minutes, and did some laundry as well.
She donned the uniform, and cantered up the stairs where smells of breakfast tantalized her nose. Her hygienic tasks had left her feeling surprisingly refreshed and she was ready to get back to work. But, breakfast called, there was no way she was skipping out on a free meal, cooked for her in her house.

The unicorn was busy piddling around at the sink when Spitfire walked in.

“There you are!” she said, exasperation clear in her voice. “It’s almost nine! We need to get going!”

“Molly, was it?” Spitfire inquired. “Did you make breakfast?”

“What little I could find to cook up, yes.” Molly rolled her eyes, but pointed a hoof at a plate being warmed on the stove.

“You don’t eat much here do you?”

“Nofph!” Spitfire responded, already filling her mouth with still warm biscuits.

In mere minutes she had scarfed down all the plate had to offer and was headed for the door.

“Wait!” Molly called. “Some mare dropped by about seven this morning, woke me up, but she left a letter for you!”
Molly levitated an envelope over to Spitfire. She hesitated in giving it, instead pulling it back slightly as she narrowed her eyes opened the envelope and slid out the note. Then, she floated the letter to Spitfire who plucked it out of the air.


Spitfire,

I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m going to be blunt. I feel like I made a mistake joining with the PRF. While I agree with their message, it’s their methods that I have a problem with.

You were right. The bombing at Town Hall was wrong. Everytime I close my eyes, I see the destruction. I thought I was joining a group of like-minded Pegasi, but instead they’re violent and willing to do things that I can’t be a part of.

I can’t say much in this letter, but I’ve heard things, plans. I don’t know specifics, not yet. I want to meet with you. I can give you some information about the PRF and their plans. There’s no way I can stop what’s going to happen, but you can.

Please, meet me in Cloudberry Park this morning. Come alone and don’t tell anypony about this, as from what I’ve heard, there are sympathizers in the RPD. I’ll be waiting by the fountain.

-Cloudbuilder


Spitfire browsed the note again before asking, “So, who was the mare who brought the letter? What did she look like?”

“She had a light blue coat and a yellow mane. She seemed to be at the tipping point of ‘young’ and ‘middle-aged’,” Molly recited, as if expecting Spitfire to ask. “She was very nice and called herself ‘Sunny’, which certainly fits her personality.”

Spitfire’s eyes widened in shock. No... It couldn’t be. The mare who had rescued Cloudbuilder? Really? Something was up here, but she couldn’t place a hoof on it. This seemed fishy. Cloudbuilder wanting to come out in the open and talk with her, possibly turn traitor. And then this mare in on it, after rescuing him?

She felt like she should have been ecstatic, that her hunch about Cloudbuilder paid off. But there was certainly something fishy going on here. Still, she couldn’t just let this slide, and the meeting location was along her path to work. Spitfire narrowed her eyes... Yes, very convenient indeed.

But then, what if? What if? A moment longer and Spitfire decided. She already had all her chips on the table, may as well call it.

“Alright, tell you what, Molly.” Spitfire began, picking her words carefully. “I’d like to fly to the station. Get some wind in my mane and not have to deal with the CityLine.

“You can show up whenever, if you want to drop by your home or whatever, that’s fine by me.”

“Got it, boss.” Molly saluted and headed out the door with Spitfire following.

“Oh, and thanks,” Spitfire said. “Drop a note in my office and remind me to give you an extra bonus for...” Spitfire trailed off and rolled her eyes. “For taking me home.”

Molly beamed, but said nothing. Instead opting to merely bob her head and then turning to canter up the street.

Spitfire took a deep breath and took to the air, heading for Cloudberry Park.

Cloudbuilder waited nervously at the fountain. Ponies moved through the park all around him, families with foals, runners, joggers, ponies taking shortcuts, and even ponies who wanted to enjoy the sun before it became too hot.

He’d been waiting for just over an hour already. A glance at the clock told him it was just after nine. Either Spitfire was running late, or she wasn’t going to show at all. Considering what he knew of her, the possibility of her running late was unlikely.

Something was wrong. Maybe his letter was off and Spitfire caught it? But if that was the case, she’d just send some officers to re-arrest him, or come get him herself. Unless she was too busy with something else to bother with him, meaning she was breaking up whatever the PRF had going on.

Another glance at the clock showed that only a minute had passed. Where was Spitfire? Had everything backfired?

Just as he was about to give up, he spotted a familiar yellow mare flying towards him. Now that she was here, the nervousness didn’t fade away, only increased. Whatever Sunny was doing, he hoped it was worth him getting arrested again.

It took her seconds to find him, and when she did, she touched down next to him gracefully. Spitfire said nothing, instead opting to stand where she landed and stare at him with an eyebrow slightly raised. It seemed he would have to make the first move.

Cloudbuilder coughed nervously, “Uh, hi, Spitfire.” Try as he might, he couldn’t get a read on her; her face was an emotionless mask. “Fancy seeing you here.” He looked around at the park.

“What’s the deal, Cloudbuilder?” Spitfire asked. “Had a change of heart?”

Well, she got straight to the point. “Something like that,” he said, avoiding Spitfire’s gaze. He continued quickly, “It’s not their message I disagree with, it’s their methods. That night when we spoke on the rooftop, you were,uh, right, I forgot what harmony meant.” Before coming to the park, he’d looked over the fake plans that Sunny had given him, so he mostly knew what to say. That, and spending so long waiting meant he’d prepared an entire speech. Hopefully his nerves wouldn’t get the best of him. Already he could feel a thin sheen of sweat breaking out under the mare’s piercing glare.

“The PRF is violent, willing to do things that, um, I don’t like. There’s a difference between protesting and explosions. The PRF don’t just want the Earth Pony families gone from Ravaalon, they want them gone entirely. Anyone who isn’t, uh, one of them, is against them.”

Spitfire narrowed her eyes. “You’re taking a pretty big risk. I find it hard to believe you’ve changed this much in three days. Let alone you escaping and heading right back to the PRF.”

“Maybe this will change your mind.” He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out the papers that Sunny gave him. “Here, these are plans, detailing how the PRF will take out the, uh, Crisps family.” He hoofed the papers to Spitfire, who took them without a word. “As for the escape, it was either go with them, or a jail cell.

“Listen, Town Hall was just the beginning. I’ve proven myself now, and they trust me. At this point, I’m in. But I, uh, I don’t want to be in, not anymore. I want Pegasi to reclaim their place in society, but not like this. Spitfire, you can stop them. I want to do what I can to help you, from the inside. I’ll, um, try and smuggle you plans, give you names, hideouts.”

His eyes met hers. He tried to convey a willingness to help in his gaze. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I’ll give you what I can, but in return, I, uh, want my record cleared.”

She was silent for a long time. Cloudbuilder felt an itch develop in his nose as she scrutinized him. It was maddening, trying not to move and scratch his nose. Finally, she took his mind off it. “Who else knows about this?”

He debated on what to tell her. It would sound better if he revealed that he was working alone. The problem came from Sunny. she’d delivered the note to Spitfire. Try as he might, he couldn’t come up with a valid excuse as to why she’d deliver the letter and not be in on the plan. Maybe if he wasn’t standing in front of a glaring Spitfire, he could.

“There’s... There’s one other. The mare who delivered the letter to you. She, um, thinks like me, joined the PRF for her own reasons but neither of us, uh, want to see them continue to hurt others.” He tried to look as contrite as he could, desperately wishing Spitfire would show something so he could tell what she was thinking.

“Really,” Spitfire drawled. “What else to know know about this mare?”

Cloudbuilder hesitated for a moment. “Well, she’s originally from Vanhoover, moved here a few years after the city opened. Like me, she—” He stopped talking, movement over Spitfire’s shoulder drawing his attention. Three pegasi had launched themselves out of a nearby tree, a net unfurling between two of them.

Before he could say anything, or even react, the two Pegasi had thrown the net over Spitfire. Less than a second later, the third one had dive-bombed the Captain, driving her hooves into Spitfire’s head. Spitfire fell over, her eyes rolling up.
Quickly, the two Pegasi with the net wrapped Spitfire up, both of them taking off mere seconds after they landed.

The third turned to Cloudbuilder. It... It was Sunny! She’d just knocked out Spitfire, who’d just been taken away. “Good job,” she said. “But now we’ve gotta go.” Several ponies were looking on in abject horror at what had just happened.

Sunny spread her wings, taking off. Cloudbuilder could only stand there and stare. One moment, he’d been talking to Spitfire, and the next she was being carted away in a net. What had he done?

“Come on!” Sunny called. “It won’t be long before the cops are here. You want to get arrested for kidnapping their Captain?”

Her words jolted him. Spitfire’s words in the interrogation room came back to him, promising him ten years in jail just for being suspected of being involved in the PRF. Now there were witnesses who could very accurately describe him as having kidnapped Spitfire. He’d be tossed in some dark cell and the key thrown away!

Having no other choice, he joined Sunny in the air. She grabbed onto his forehoof, leading him after the one’s who’d taken Spitfire. Already he couldn’t see them anymore.

Sunny led him into an alley, her hooves touching down gracefully. He, on the other hoof, nearly stumbled and fell. Using a wall to steady himself, he watched Sunny root around behind a dumpster, before pulling out a saddlebag.

Reaching into the bag, she retrieved several pieces of clothing. “Put this on,” she said, tossing him a shirt. Already she was pulling on a skirt, one that hid her cutie mark.

Numbly, he did as she directed, pulling on the shirt. It was a bit big on him, but that just meant that most of his cutie mark was hidden.

As she tucked her mane under a wide-brimmed hat, Sunny was speaking. “We’ve got a little time before the cops have a description of us. We need to get to the Industrial Hex before then and they post cops at every CityLine station.”

Cloudbuilder still had no idea what was going on. What was clear, was that he’d just helped Sunny to kidnap Spitfire. No matter his intentions as things went down, he now needed to avoid any and all cops. His best chance of remaining outside of prison was to follow Sunny.

They left the alley, trotting slowly enough to not attract attention, but quickly enough to make great time. Sunny led him to the CityLine station, purchasing two tickets to the Industrial Hex. As the train pulled out of the station, all he could wonder was what he’d just gotten himself into.


Written in collaboration with Sasha Nein

Timestamp:
July 18th, 4:20 pm, three days after the Mayor’s speech

Darkness.

It was the first thing Spitfire was aware of.

Then came pain as she tried to move her head. The base of her neck was on fire, as well as the back of her head. She tried to move again, but her sluggish limbs were slow to respond. It almost felt like she was in a dream, but her groggy mind insisted that it was awake.

Finally, sound returned to her; or was it that she was just now noticing it? Either way, they were not nice sounds. The voices were emphatic and upset, but there was a ringing in her ears that prevented her from hearing the words.

She groaned and rolled over, trying to ignore the pain in her head. Reaching up to hold her head, she was momentarily confused when both hooves moved. She quickly became aware that she was cuffed, but that still didn’t alleviate her headache. Now, she had even more questions; why was she in a dark room with hoofcuffs on with a splitting headache?

It hurt to think, but she focused on the last thing she could remember. Waking up, breakfast, a note, that was it! The note from some mare named Sunny, then the flight to the park. She had met with Cloudbuilder, they had talked about him giving her information, then he had looked behind her... Son of a bitch!

She should have known. She had suspected, of course, but never had she thought he would be a part of such an aggressive setup. In fact, it was surprising that she hadn’t seen this in him. Well, this meant there was only one place she could be.

The door banged open, the voices that had seemed fairly muffled flew in with sharp report. Spitfire was pulled roughly to her feet as light flooded her vision. She was unable to see anything, or anypony, while she furiously blinked her burning eyes. Just as her bearings were returning she was shoved into a chair across from a table.

A pegasus set down across from her, pushing his hooves together in front of him as he contemplated her. Spitfire, for her part, simply sat. Her head and neck were throbbing, she could barely see and had no idea where she was. There was one conclusion: she had been kidnapped.

“Hello, Spitfire,” he said after a moment, his tone neutral.

Focusing her gaze on him, Spitfire said nothing. Instead, opting to stare at him flatly until he spoke again.

“Well, I’ll cut right to the chase I guess: Join the PRF... or you can forget about seeing the light of day again.”

“No,” Spitfire deadpanned.

The pegasus sighed. “I didn’t figure you would just say yes.”

The pony clopped his hooves together and another pegasus appeared. This stallion was a huge specimen, easily doubling Spitfire’s size and standing a head taller. He approached the table as she leaned back and eyed him.

“Why don’t you impart a little bit of the gravity of this situation to Spitfire, Iron Flight.”

The large pony grunted. Then quickly shifted towards Spitfire and pulled her roughly out of her seat before she could react. There was little she could do with her hooves being shackled.  It would be a dumb to open her wings as well, as it would give him something to grab.

She tried to push away from Iron, but he did not budge. In mere moments he had slammed her head down on the table and let her fall to the floor. Her head swam as he dragged her up off the floor and delivered a blow to her midsection. She flew out of his grasp and fell back against a wall several wing lengths away.

Her insides bent painfully inwards with a crunch from the force of his punch, she would have screamed if he hadn’t winded her. The only thing she could think about was the burning pain in her abdomen, and trying to breathe.

As she retched violently, he pulled her back up. She tried desperately to push away, but his steel grip made her efforts futile. The stallion raised his hoof again but the voice of the pony at the table stopped him. “Iron, please don’t break her. Killing Spitfire does nothing for us.”

Iron grunted again, but still threw her back against the wall, driving out any air she had managed to regain. Spitfire crumpled once again on the ground, groaning in agony as she tried to gather her hooves under her.

The pegasus got up from the table and came over to stand over Spitfire. “This isn’t going to get any prettier Spitfire. I’ll give you one more chance: Join us.”

Spitfire coughed violently, but managed to gasp out, “Burn in Tartarus, bastard!”

The pony pushed his hoof roughly down on Spitfire’s head, grinding her muzzle into the floor. “You think you’re going to become a martyr for the cause, Spitfire? I don’t think so. Nopony is going to find your body or be given a chance to benefit from your death.”

The pegasus twisted his hoof, forcing Spitfire’s head to turn painfully along the floor. “Or maybe you think you’re being heroic? You’re a disgrace to pegasi and to this city. Defending corrupt ponies from true justice. Resistance is pointless and degrading. But, I see your mind is made up, so we’ll just let you think about this for a few days. After few appointments with Iron Flight we’ll talk again.”

The pony twisted a final time, smearing the blood from Spitfire’s muzzle across her face, before releasing her and walking off. He paused to speak with Iron, speaking loudly so as Spitfire could hear.

“Take her back to the- her cell. Give her another lesson, just make sure she doesn’t require any medical attention.” The pony paused, the emphasized firmly, “No. Medical. Attention. We don’t have a doctor on hoof yet, and we can’t afford to let Spitfire die, not yet at least.”

Iron Flight nodded and grunted again, but this was lost to Spitfire as she groveled on the floor, trying desperately to keep her composure through the pain. Just as she was able to maneuver her forehooves to cradle her face she was dragged roughly to her feet.

The large stallion spoke for the first time. “You can walk, or I drag you. You’ve got two seconds to decide,” he said in a gravelly voice.

Spitfire stumbled forward automatically, doing her best to not trip on her tied legs or collapse from the pain in her middle. She made it about five steps before keeling over with a groan, unable to even muster the strength, or breath, to scream.

Before she even had time to settle against the ground hooves grabbed her around her already pained midsection and pulled her roughly upwards. As soon as she found her legs she was shoved forward, her walk suddenly becoming a stumble. Collapsing once more against the ground, Spitfire lay there unable to think of anything but how much she hurt right now.

She was picked up again, but could barely register she was being dragged. Somepony stepped on her tail, pulling out a few hairs. But that was barely more than a blip on her consciousness. The trip already seemed much longer on the way back than it did for her to get to the... Whatever room she was in a moment ago.

Suddenly, she was slammed against a wall, bringing her focus back with sharp clarity. Spitfire moaned as her ribs burned with each breath. She heard a door open nearby, but instead focused on trying to wipe her stinging muzzle with her hooves. It was already swelling and she could tell her nose was still bleeding.

Spitfire screamed as she was picked up once more. The hooves grabbing her paid little mind to the pain they were causing, instead opting to throw her into the dungeon she had come from. She landed with a gasp, her vision flickering as she glanced back at the door. There was a pegasus standing there, framed by the backlight in an intimidating pose.

The pegasus spoke, confirming himself as Iron Flight. “I’m not one for wasting time, so we’ll get right to it, shall we?”

In terror, Spitfire stumbled to her hooves and backed against the far wall in a haze of pain. Iron stepped into the enclosure and advanced on her. Just before he was within grabbing distance, Spitfire spread her wings and pushed as hard as she could into Iron Flight in an attempt to escape.

He took her punch in his chest stoically, not even flinching as Spitfire collapsed into him as she tried to power through. Pain spasmed through her body, and before she realized what had happened, she was back against the wall. Iron Flight was still there, and still advancing.

Spitfire sobbed once as she tried to push him away, but he was too strong. He grabbed her back legs and heaved, tossing her over his head and behind him. Even as she landed with a sickening crunch, her eyes focused on the door that was now within her reach. She tried to stand up and run, but she hurt all over and her legs wouldn’t respond. Another sob escaped her lips as she tried desperately to move forward.

She barely moved before Iron grabbed one of her wings. He twisted it backwards, forcing her body with it as she screamed again.

“Looks like that door is going to distract you a bit from this lesson. I’ll close it,” he said, stepping past her.

Any further sounds were cut off as the heavy oak door clanged shut, trapping them within the small room.

Timestamp
12:00 PM, July 18th, Three days after the Mayor’s speech

Sunny led Cloudbuilder to a factory building. From the outside, it was large and venting some sort of cloud, possibly steam. Distantly he could hear the sound of machinery running, though considering there were factories all around him, that wasn’t unexpected.

Opening the door, she led him inside. Machines lined the interior, pegasi working them. A conveyor belt moved materials along the way, pegasi working on the pieces as they moved past. It was not unlike the place where he’d spent the last fifteen years working.

Threading her way through the machines, Sunny walked across the factory floor to another door. She waited patiently next to it, holding it open for him. With a nod to her, he headed through. Standing on the inside of the door were two pegasi. They faced forward, not reacting as he walked past them.

“Welcome to our headquarters,” Sunny said.

He looked around. There wasn’t a whole lot in here, just a small hallway and a few doors. Most likely it was the offices of whatever factory this is. If he squinted he could just make out a plaque on one of the doors labeled “Forepony.”

“Impressive,” was all he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Just... Come on.”

Leading him into another room, this one more of a closet than a room, she knelt down. On the floor was a grate, a ladder descending into darkness. With a grunt, she lifted the grate.

“You go first,” she said.

At this point, he had no reason to not trust Sunny. So with a shrug, he climbed down the ladder. From above, he could hear Sunny closing the grate with a clang.

At the bottom, he was standing in a tunnel of sorts. Pipes ran along the ceiling, which was not much higher than his head. A couple other tunnels branched off. Attached into the pipes were small lights, casting intermittent pools of light and shadows.

Sunny landed next to him. “Where are we?” he asked her.

“Maintenance tunnels underneath the city. Ravaalon has an infrastructure that includes getting water and other supplies to businesses and residences. Nopony wants to see those around, so the layer under the city was hollowed out and the pipes laid down there. Since pipes break, workers needed to be able to access them without digging up the street, so these tunnels were built. We’ve simply put the tunnels to use.”

“Huh,” he said.

“Now come on.” She set off down one of the tunnels. He followed behind her. Taking a couple turns, they passed more ponies, mostly pegasi and a few unicorns. Sunny shared nods with several of them.

At one point, Cloudbuilder thought he heard a distant scream. It sounded like a mare was in trouble. He asked Sunny about it, but she just waved it off. Still, it bothered him as they walked.

She stopped outside a wooden door set into a wall. “Here’s your room.” Opening the door revealed a room about the same size as the bedroom area in his apartment. It had a bed and a single wooden chair in it for furniture.

He stepped into the room. “That’s it?”

“Don’t like it? You could always go back outside where every cop in Ravaalon is looking for you.” She rolled her eyes.

With a defeated sigh, he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Okay, so now what?”

“Now, you stay here. You’ve been a great asset, but at this point you’re our biggest liability. You’re free to roam the headquarters all you want. Don’t worry about getting lost in the tunnels, we’ve walled off everything, so there’s only a few ways in and out, which are all guarded. And don’t try and leave, the guards all know to not let you out.”

“So I’m a prisoner, again.”

She nodded. “It’s for your safety.”

“Well, it could be worse. At least you’ll be here with me.” He flashed her a smile.

“No, I won’t.” Before he could ask her to explain what she meant, she was out the door, kicking it closed behind her.

“What?” he asked the empty room.

July 19th, Four Days after the Mayor's Speech
07:18 pm

Crescent stood on the corner, or rather the overblown cross road, of Flowertop lane and Clover Street. He waved his sword like a conductor as he made a fire monkey, his latest fire creation, hop around doing tricks for the audience. They all stood a safe distance away, of course, and he was careful to keep the ever-burning flames on a flame-proof carpet so not to leave traces on the pavement. A good amount of bits had collected itself in the hat he had bought for that specific purpose. Another few got tossed in with a satisfying clink and he made the figure do a somersault.

The life as a street performer wasn’t as bad as he first had foreseen; it gave a somewhat steady income so that he didn’t have to sleep on the street every night, it gave him a carrot bread and, as a sort of added bonus, he felt more agile with the blade and his fire power than ever before. He couldn’t help but feel that things were going the right way for once. The thought of his father plagued his mind every now and then but right now there wasn’t much he could do on that matter. The borders were closed so saving up some for what could be a long home trip was probably the best course of action, let the RPD deal with this matter on their own.

“You’re kinda giving up too easily on the matter,” said the charming female voice in his head. He had gotten used to her whispering in his ear by now as she popped in several times a day. “The RPD has rules and they don’t cross those rules as often as they should, maybe except for that Spitfire mare.”

“What, you’re suggesting I’ll go on a one-pony assault on the pegasi terrorists?” he said to himself. The audience was too focused on the monkey trying to catch newly brought-in fire butterflies to notice him mutter to himself. “You were the one saying I should start doing this anyway, and besides, I would be a fool to go alone.”

“What about trying to hook up with your friend again, see if he’s interested in helping you out in some way.”

“Trust me, he’s not coming back. The only reason I would have to meet him again is to get back the pendant which you technically gave to him.”

“Hey, don’t try to pin this on your own conscious, I just boosted your mood-set so that you might have a chance to make an ally.”

“Well that didn’t work very well, now did it?” His concentration slipped and the fire monkey took a step off the carpet, leaving a black imprint on the stone. He snapped out of it and got control before it swayed out into the crowd. “All I’m saying is that I have no intention to interfere with what is going on. No playing the dark knight or righteous hero, I just want to get off this place and back… back home.”

It was silent in his head for a while and he thought she’d might have left. “Okay then, mister big street performer, I’ll leave you to the fiery pet zoo of yours but I’ll leave you to think on this on your own: have you heard any announcement from the RPD on progress in the case?”

“No, why do you say that?” There was no answer and he was almost tempted to turn; even though it was only a voice in his head, it felt like She was whispering to him. He tried put his focus back on the task at hand but what she had said lingered in his mind.


07:33pm, July 19th

Mirror all but dragged herself down the street. She hadn't expected the guard tryouts to be easy or anything… Ok, to be honest she hadn't really thought about physical tests at all. But if she had, she certainly wouldn't have expected them to be easy. The reality, however, was far more grueling than the hypothetical scenario she hadn't even constructed before-hoof and was now trying to imagine after the fact. Except she kept getting it confused with what had really happened and episodes of 'The Naked Crossbow', which made it really confusing.

But if she was honest, she was thinking about how tired she was because it was easier than worrying about the Captain. Sure, cadets… and she wasn't even a fully fledged cadet, yet, but they didn't have the privilege of asking to see the captain or any of the other brass. But… well she kinda' had a special relationship, didn't she? That sort of follows when you've been personally discharged twice from prison by someone. Only… she wasn't about to mention that, since Spitfire had promised her records were clear and Mirror wasn't sure if you were allowed to be a guard if you had a criminal record – which she didn't, since the record didn't count. But…

Mirror was getting distracted again. Nopony knew where Captain Spitfire was. Apparently she'd gone home to get some sleep after putting in almost two full days at the station, catching only some short naps on the office couch. But Spitfire hadn't come in the following day, either, after getting a full night's rest. That didn't exactly sound like the pegasus captain of the City Guard, but who was she to push the issue?

Mirror grumbled as she walked, oh, that was rich. Who was she? Like just being a citizen of Ravaalon didn't give her an equal stake in the fate of the city. OK, maybe they had a point, maybe Mirror Shine wasn't important enough to be wasting the Captain's time, but when the Captain might be in danger, trapped, or lost… maybe… maybe Mirror Shine wasn't good enough to do anything about it, but what about Barbed Umbrella, spacepony adventurer and her – DRAGON MADE ENTIRELY OF BLUE FIRE, wtfbbq!?

The albino mare… currently a very pale blue, due to a misunderstanding about whether cadets were allowed to dye their fur the same blue as guard uniforms or not and the fact that indigo was really really hard to wash out completely, especially when you were only given five minutes to try… anyway, she was panicking and flapping her wings, trying to back away from the blazing apparition, which only seemed to draw it closer, which only made her want to flap harder which…

"Hey, hold still! You're making a backdraft."

Mirror froze and the dragon miraculously vanished into thin air. She blinked. "Ok, what? No. Seriously. What!?"

“Geez, that could’ve gone seriously- you?! What are you doing here?”

"Going home, maybe? Look mister, I'm really –y… ok, no. No no no… I refuse to use that cheap double-take reaction." Mirror huffed. "You're … uh, croissant-guy, right?" She started eyeing the edges of the crowd, grateful she'd taken off her uniform before leaving the station.

Crescent grinned. “Yeah, something like that. You’re that cosplaying mare from the alley, something with mirrors, right?”
Mirror grinned, "Not a bad memory for an anti-hero. So the fiery fire-thing, that was you?" She didn't mean to sound skeptical.

He frowned. “Anti-hero? Well yeah, I guess I gave a bad first impression. Yeah, that ‘fiery-thing’ was my doing, normally I keep them sized but this one got a little out of hoof.”

"Look, I'm not holding it against you or anything. But… you wear dark colors, use a sword I could feed a family of three off of, and summon… uh, fire-constructs? That totally sounds like either an anti-hero or a dark hero. Now that I'm not afraid of being burnt alive, I can admit that dragon-thing was pretty cool." Mirror put a hoof on her chin, considering the unicorn's ensemble. 'Maybe...'

Crescent brushed his dark red and grey mane at her mention of dark colors. “Well, it’s not as much as summon as constructing something through fire. Now if you’ll excuse me I have an audience waiting.” He started heading back to his spot again.

Mirror opened and closed her mouth. 'No, don't screw this up… he might… erg.' She trotted over to the fairly sizable crowd. Noting the hat, she dug around in her saddlebag for… she tried to estimate the average tip… 'Five bits?' Seemed a little high, but she didn't think being rude would help her case. After tossing the coins in she moved back and began waiting; she tried to be quiet as she grumbled to herself about delays when she just wanted to go home and sleep for a few hours.

“Now then dear ponies of Ravaalon, is there any wishes for what creature I might make appear in flames?” An array of voices asked for different critters. Cats, birds, fish and someone even asking for a fiery version of themselves.

"How about a seven-headed hydra?" came a suspiciously familiar voice from the back of the crowd.

Crescent raised an eyebrow, a hydra was a first-timer. Normally ponies were intimidated just by a picture. “A seven-headed Hydra everyone, the fearsome beast which haunts the swamps of the Everfree forest, a creature which even the basilisk shyes from.” A wave of mumbling, some a bit concerned, went through the building crowd. There were about thirty watching now from what he could count. “Very well, if everyone could take a step back. This beast is pretty big.” Everypony did as he asked and he aimed his sword at the ground.

He had never actually seen a Hydra in person, they had always been less likely to spot than a Phoenix, which was a rarity in itself, but he had read up on the creature and had a general idea of how it looked. He brought up the picture in his mind and made sure to make it big enough to rise above the crowd but not enough to cause any alarm. Adding heads was a bit of a problem, he had to account for the sneaky neck six times over which would really test how good he’d gotten with this.

He started forming the looks and appearance in the heating steel of his blade before a stream of flames erupted from the tip and onto the blanket. From the spot he hit started the burning figure of the Hydra to appear, maybe with a bit oversized heads but at least he got the height right.

An off-white pegasus joined the rest of the crowd in gaping at the apparition. 'Wow… I didn't think he could actually pull it off. That is… really tall. Well that settles it, I've got to convince him to help me find the Captain.' However, she decided to watch the show first. She'd paid, after all.

To puppeteer the monster of flames was easy enough, it mostly was an empty shell seeing how that would be easier to put out than a full body of it. The difficult part was to make it so it didn’t came in contact with any of the viewers and that it didn’t just vanish into thin air. Although, he did want to show off what he could so he flicked his sword to make it move. He let four heads lower over the crowd as to inspect its prey while the others just kinda looked at each other and flickered their tongues. Let’s finish this a bit comedic, just to show it’s nothing to really be afraid of, Crescent thought.

As two of the heads seemed to be busy bickering, he let the third look away before hitting it in the head with a fire hammer. There was a chuckle or two from the audience as the head swayed in a comedic fashion. He was tempted to add stars going around the head but one trick at a time was enough, he would need a break after this one anyway. Two heads came back up to see what was going as the head with a overblown bump in his head seemed to accuse the other two heads for hitting it. It snapped and hissed at the others while the two other heads looked to try and defend themselves from this wild accusation. One of the heads that had been over the crowd seemed to agree with the one that got hit and so started a big dispute. The two others join in as well and so was all the seven heads in a heated discussion with themselves about the attacker. The heads leaned back and forth and in between each other before they suddenly seemed to realize the had tangled their necks into each others and was now unable to move. They tried to struggle loose but it only seemed to tie them more together, something that made the watching group laugh. Crescent could feel beads of sweat form on his head which was not from the heat and he decided it was best to end it. He had the monster bow deeply before disappearing as it never had been there at all. He didn’t have to wait for the sound of applause.

“Thank you, thank you dear citizens of Ravaalon! As always I aim to please and it seems you have all agreed I did. I must unfortunately call for a break, the latest performance took a little toll on me, but please do consider donating a few extra bits to a showpony and I will see you all later!” He let the collection hat slide along the edge of the crowd to let them all put a bit or two in. “Thank you all again for coming, remember to have your eyes out for me around town and please do not try what I do at home! It might put you on the street like me!”

Mirror watched the ponies disperse, heading home, to forgotten errands, or on other business. She watched, wanting to remain hidden for as long as she could, but not wanting to let the unicorn get away. Fortunately, he really did seem pretty tired, and she was able to push through the stragglers and wait just behind the last few well-wishers to spring upon her prey without warning.

"Hey, great show… I honestly didn't think you could pull that off." She scratched the back of her mane, unsure how to proceed. "Umm, can I… uh, that is, can I buy you a drink, or something?"

“You didn’t think I’d do it?” He wiped his forehead for sweat. “You are to have more faith in someone with a sword. I haven’t had a drink in… a week actually. Flammable liquids aren’t something that goes well with my line of work.”

"Well, then a cup of coffee?" Mirror leaned in, trying to impress the urgency of her request on the unicorn. "Please? It's indofkay important-hay." She mock-whispered. Realizing she was frowning, she tried to smile, but only succeeded in baring her teeth.

“Well seeing how I’m not working now I’ll take you up on that drink.”

"Great, thank you so much I…" the pegasus mare wracked her brain for a nearby bar that hadn't burned down in the last few days. Alcohol was highly flammable, and if there was  firebombing in the same block, any alcohol serving establishments nearby tended to go up as well. Her face fell, thinking about how many ponies were suffering without even being part of the whole conflict to begin with. 'It's all so bucking stupid...'

She remembered the other pony when he coughed. "Oh! Umm… I don't suppose you know a place around here?" Mirror chuckled, looking around, in case one had sprouted up nearby without warning.

“Hmm, I think I know a place,” He said as he rolled up his carpet. “It’s a bit off towards the Hexline, but it’s at least still s-standing.” He could bit himself in the tongue for his stuttering around mares. It was a really annoying quirk.

"That sounds just fine, I'll be catching the train afterward." She grabbed the stallion's hoof, tugging, "C'mon, if you're all packed, let's go!" She smiled, this might actually work out.

“Eh, well, I-I… okay.” He let himself get himself be dragged off by the pegasus, feeling his face heat up and it was not because of any flames.


08:07 pm, July 19th

The unlikely duo eased into a booth, at Mirror's insistence. She looked around for a menu before realizing that a local shop like this probably expected the regulars to know the offered beverages by heart. While she tried to figure out what she could get away with ordering and not either getting something way too strong or sounding like a rube. "So, what are you getting?" she asked.

“Uhm, I use to take the glass of flame but it’s not what I recommend for a first timer.” Crescent didn’t feel too comfortable, last time here he had been saved by a mare and now he was drinking with one. It wasn’t a place for mares but he just seemed to end up with some in here.

Mirror bit back a retort, because he had a point, she wasn't much of a regular drinker, and her system was whatever the rating above 'lightweight' would be. It didn't make her any happier, though. "Right. Do they have any white wines?" it didn't seem like the sort of place, but one never knew.

“Well, I would pick… the rainbow shot, it’s like a normal shot only with a bit of a mellow taste. I have to warn you though, it, uhm, stains pretty easily seeing how it’s made with rainbow.”

She glanced at the waiter, "Ok, I'll get what he just said." Mirror looked over at … Crescent, that was it. "Ohmigosh, did I really call him a pastry earlier? I've got to stop opening my mouth without thinking first, this is getting out of humi…" She was doing it again. After smacking her head against the table-top, she looked up again, blushing, "Uh, sorry… um, twice, I guess." She took a breath and decided to just keep going as though nothing had happened.

"Yeah, I probably know more about getting stains out of fur than anypony you know who's not either a mane-dresser or a taxidermist." Noticing the odd look she got, she extended a foreleg, turning it too and fro. "My fur's not actually white, it has no pigment whatsoever. Takes up anything it comes in contact like you wouldn't believe. I've had to deal with it since I was a filly. So yeah… I'll be careful."

“Oh, I’m sorry if that was a touchy subject, you do have a very pretty coat-” He cut himself off before he could say anything more. This wasn't making the situation, whatever it was, not better. It was tempting to just let his head fall to the table.

Mirror grinned, but reminded herself she couldn't afford to tease this stallion at the moment. "Thank you for the compliment, you're not too hard on the eyes, either. But that's not what I dragged you here to talk about." She leaned across the table, expression becoming very serious as she looked deeply into his eyes, "We need to talk about Spitfire."
“Spitfir- oh yeah, the officer at RPD.”

"Yeah, CAPTAIN Spitfire is the one trying to put a stop to the PRF while there's still a city to save." The albino sighed loudly, falling back into her seat. "At least she was before she disappeared two days ago. Nopony knows where she went, and…" she swallowed, "I'm not sure they really care. I mean, I understand there's procedure and forms and regulations and junk… but by the time a formal report is filed, it could be too late." She paused as their drinks were brought around, downing the shot faster than was probably wise.

Crescent didn’t really know what to say, here was this mare who he’d met under a riot asking him if he would help her track down the captain of the RPD because she thought the mare was gone. Having seen her in action, he knew Spitfire was more than capable to take care of herself, but it would also be like cutting the head of a snake, making everything against the pegasi resistance fall apart. “I can’t really say anything about this, I mean, maybe she has a sick day? She is a determined pegasus but even she can get sick.”

"Then why wouldn't her secretary know about that?" Mirror smirked as she added, "Besides, she'd be more likely to be out sneezing on the badguys than staying home."

"Look, I know this is crazy. What I'm asking for your help with… if you had any sense you'd be walking out the door right about now. But I know something is wrong, and I can't trust anyone else. Besides, this is totally your thing, right? Crazy adventure against an unknown assailant? I bet we'll have to crawl through a sewer before it's over, too." She paused, that had sounded better in her head. "Listen, I just… ok, suppose I'm wrong –" she shot out a hoof, "Which I'm not! But… just suppose I'm wrong. What do you lose by humoring me? A few hours wandering around the city? Look, if it's money you're worried about losing out on I… well, it's not like I'm exactly well off, but I do have a small amount saved up, I could… I dunno, hire you? This place… all this horrible stuff is going on, and everyone says 'oh, it's terrible, but what can I do?' and… it's just..."

He looked down in his glass, taking in what she’d said. “Maybe the reason I haven’t left is because I haven’t even started my drink? I have been without this for a week.” He took a sip of his glass, groaning as the drink went down his throat. “On the other hoof… this city is crumbling and there are only a hoofful of ponies willing to do something about it. This might be ironic on my part but why do you place your trust in a complete stranger? What sets me over any other that might help you?”

She almost said 'narrative' but he wouldn't have understood. "Two things: first off, you're waaaay too honest, you practically wear your heart on your sleeve, and that tells me the city hasn't gotten its hooks into you yet. Second of all, the equi-  uh epic throw piece… um, on principle… you're the only option I have, and I'd rather not live in a world where there's nopony worth trusting, so I just have to trust that you're worth it."

'Heeey, great job not sounding crazy there – shut up, me' She tried to focus on the suspiciously fuzzy looking unicorn. "Look, haven't you ever had a feeling, a completely irrational notion, that just wouldn't let you alone? A little madly optimistic voice in the back of your head saying 'yeah, you can do this!' something that cut through all your doubts, your fears, and just made you want to take that jump?"

“Hey, she’s talking about me! I’d say we’ve trust her,” the cheerful sound of Her voice said in his head.

“I’m the one with the mouth here, I’ll make the decision on my own, thank you very much,” he mumbled into his glass as he took another sip. “Got to admit, I actually do get that voice sometimes."

Mirror nodded, considering the drink in her hoof. She didn't remember ordering a second round… but she didn't remember not ordering it, either. The surface of the table was pretty shiny… but it could have been shinier, she considered, rubbing at it absently. "See? That's the ... voice of your … um, something. Like a cricket or… it's… you don't get that unless you wanna be a better pony. Like, really, really want to… maybe?" She paused, trying to remember what she was going to say. "Well, it still means I'm right. Can I getta glass've water?"

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I probably should’ve warned you about the numbing of the tongue, it follows after two-three glasses if you’re not used to it. Though I gotta admit, you make a valid point for being drunk. Guess I’ve let the voice smooth talk me into a little too much of a pacifist.” He took the last bit of brown liquid and shuddered. “Time to break out of the shelter I guess.”

Mirror stared at him nodding slowly, "The Grrrreat and Powerful Trixie agrees with whatever you just said, but she is afraid she must refresh herself now." Standing up, the pegasus discovered a wall that she was fairly certain hadn't been there when she sat down. Also, none of the other walls in the building were covered in fur. She looked up, somewhat unstably. "I do say, you are rather a tall drink of… something, are ye not?"

"You're obviously drunk, feathers, so I'm gonna give you one chance to apologize and get the pluck out of here," rumbled the earth pony, sneering down in disgust. The hair on the back of Crescent's neck went up as he recognized the smug baritone.

"Huh? Which one of you said that? The ugly one, or the ugly one?" Mirror bobbed slightly as she frowned, sliding her nonexistent fedora slightly further down her head. Jackson Hall didn't take guff off of no pony.

"You’re treading on thin ice, shrimp," the stallion snarled.

Mirror squeaked, jumping into the air and hovering. "Eww, eww, eww!" she shrieked, wiping her hooves on the closest surface. "I hate seafood… um, what's an ice-shrimp?"

The closest surface snarled, extending one massive foreleg to pin a pegasus pony prone on the wall. "You little plucking moron, I'd be doing the world a favor if I just squished you right now." He pressed his hoof forward, to emphasize his point, extracting a gasp from a suddenly much more sober pony.

“The world might not care if she goes but I will.” Without a sound Crescent had gotten up and put his blade to the buff earth pony’s throat. He seemed to remember the blade since he lost interest in Mirror and turned to the swordspony. “Hello again, friend. It’s a small city.”

The musclebound earth pony smirked, one tooth clearly replaced with a too-white color than the others. “Why if it isn’t the magitab with his razor. Scum always turn up twice, that’s what I always say. Think you can actually fight this time or do you need to call in your mare friend?”

“Oh I’m just a little tipsy this time but I’m willing to give it a try if you are done snuggling with your friend under the blanket.”

"Um, did I miss somethin?" Mirror gasped, completely unable to remove the pillar of a hoof holding her to the wall. "Not that there's any- anything wrong with that. Really, some of my best friends are… you know." She caught the eye of an onlooker and winked, "It's the theater, we get all kinds."

The guy clearly didn’t like to be reminded of it and the pegasus's chattering didn’t help. “The cheap toothpick fighter dropped a banner as me and another chased him. Well tough luck, I brought more than enough friends for both of you.” Four more brutes stood up from their tables.

Crescent lowered his sword a little. “Well then, shall we take this outside? Would be bad if we have to break more furniture than last time.”

“Fair enough, bring your little white pigeon with you if you need to.”

Mirror scoffed, "That doesn't even make any sense!" She flapped her forehooves while making an idiotic face, "Oooh, it's a bird so it must be insulting, cause she's got featherses. I mean – what, if I just pick something ridiculously bad-
proportioned with hooves and compare it to you, does that make it an insult? So if I say that your mom must have screwed the ugliest minotaur she could find to make you… hmm, you know what? I see your point, that is pretty good. Ouch, mane, insulting yourself like that just to prove a point? I'd say that takes nerve, but you've only got one, and I'm pretty sure it has a hard time getting through that tree-trunk of a neck you've got there. Huh… did you know you've got this really big vein on the side of your head? That can't be healthy…"

“Good goddess, do you ever shut up?” The big grunt sneered at her. “You’re worse than a class of 3rd graders.”

"Who's the bigger idiot, the fool, or the pony arguing with the fool?" Mirror delivered the line, but something about the insult seemed off. "I'm drunk, but you're a giant plot-hole; tomorrow I'm gonna have a huuuuge headache, but you're still gonna be you." There, that was better. Wait, was she really drunk? Well that certainly explained a lot.

“Enough, lets just go outside and settle this, stop this stupid word fight.” The big guy stood with a puzzled look from her insult but did as Crescent said.

They stepped outside into the mild Summer night with the five bodybuilders who looked very secure on themselves. The score of five against two would be a pretty clear disadvantage but Crescent was pretty confident himself that the sword would tip the table the other way. However, Crescent needed to sort one thing out first before they started. He brought out his Coin of Fate from his sheath, flinging it up in the air and letting it land with a cling. It spun on the pavement for a second before landing with the smooth side up.

“Alright then, just wanted to check,” he said seemingly to himself before retrieving the golden circle.

Mirror shook her head, trying to find her balance again, "Ok, I c'n take the three on the left if you can get the seven onna right. OK?" She put her nose in her saddlebag, trying to remember what stuff she'd brought with her today.

“Sorry, but I think you better take a step back.” With a sting of regret, Crescent used the hilt of his sword to knock her to the side for so to create a shield around her. “It’s for your own good, I at least have a chance better alone than with a drunk side-kick.”

“How heroic of you,” The brute leader chuckled and the others followed his example. “The great, big hero protects his marefriend. You just gonna tire yourself out quicker by holdin’ a shield as well.”

Crescent readied his sword to attack. “I’m no hero, I’m just a crazy pony with a sword.” he muttered, as much to himself as to anypony present, as the five spread out to flank him.


Written in collaboration with notMurphy, because reasons

July 17th, 2nd day after Mayor's Speech
05:15pm

“What do you mean Spitfire isn’t here?” Soarin’ asked the secretary, frowning.

“I mean just that, sir. She hasn’t clocked in yet.”

Soarin’ put a hoof to his forehead, trying to massage away his growing migraine. “And she hasn’t sent a message about being sick or something?”

“Uh, no sir.”

Soarin’s frown deepened. He sighed and started to walk back to where he was supposed to be: doing paperwork at the front desk. Well, at least for the next few minutes until his lunch hour began. But his mind was on other things. Like where Spitfire could be. Missing work was not normal for her, even when sick. Back in their Wonderbolt days, she’d even come in on days where she was sick just to supervise and make sure things got done.

So missing even a single day of work was not normal for Spitfire, and it worried Soarin’.

Glancing through the little window on the door to the front desk, he noticed that his coworker was looking bored from a lack of ponies coming with problems at the moment. He momentarily wondered if it would be noticed if he vanished for a bit. So he quickly started to head towards Spitfire’s office. Noticing that the secretary was momentarily distracted with paperwork, he slipped by and snuck into the small room.

There’s gotta be something here to tell me where she went.

Soarin’ began to look about the office quietly and efficiently, starting with the drawers in the desk. He smiled as memories of days in the Wonderbolts resurfaced, challenges between teammates to see who could sneak into Spit’s office and snag whatever they could. This time, however, he was actually looking for something that might lead to her whereabouts.

With a bit of a frustrated sigh as his worry started to get to him, Soarin’ wrenched open one of the file cabinet drawers -- and frowned. There was something in there, even though it appeared empty. He could tell from the weight of the drawer itself.

Ohh... she’s resorted to her false bottoms, again? She should know better after all the times they didn’t work back in the ‘Bolts.

Reaching to the underside of the drawer, he found what he was searching for. With a flick of his hoof, the bottom of the drawer popped up, and he carefully lifted it to reveal a small book. Spotting it, his frown deepened.

Why would it have my name on it?

Removing it from its storage place and carefully returning the drawer to how it had been, he cracked open the book labeled for him. He found a small note on the inside cover, once more addressed to him. Soarin’s frown only grew with each word that he read -- and once he’d finished, he quickly put the book back where it was and dashed out the door.


July 17th,
05:42 pm

Trinket grimaced as he set the broom aside in its usual spot and cracked his neck from side to side. The floor was once again resembling something like a floor, save for a few well-caked-in mud stains. Satisfied, Trinket grabbed a glass of water and downed it quickly, relishing in how it cleared the taste of wood out of his mouth.

“Luna above, what I wouldn’t give to be a unicorn some days,” he muttered to himself. Sighing, he trotted back out to take inventory of the shop. Again. Ever since that bomb had gone off business had trickled to nearly nothing, leaving the earth pony with almost nothing to do. Not exactly like it was booming before the explosion, though, Trinket thought bitterly. Maybe I should find a way out of town until this all blows over. Make that trip to the Badlands like I’d been planning.

“Excuse me?” The bell on the door rang. “I have a few questions for you.”

Startled, Trinket spun towards the entrance, though he quickly regained his composure and smiled in what he hoped was an inviting smile. “Yes sir. How may I help you?” he asked, trotting over to the pegasus smartly.

“I’m Soarin’, and I’m with the police. I just have a couple of questions.”

Trinket’s good mood vanished almost immediately and he frowned. “Oh, wonderful. What’d Gem do this time?”

Soarin’ blinked at the name. “No, sorry, it doesn’t have anything to do with Gem. It has to do with Spitfire. As far as I know, you were one of the last ponies she talked to.”

“Spitfire, Spitfire,” Trinket said slowly, rubbing a hoof against his chin. “The name doesn’t ring a bell, though I’m not in the habit of asking for customer’s names in the first place. Can you describe her at all?”

“Captain of the RPD, mare, fiery-orange fur? She’s been gone all day and I was wondering if you knew where she was.”

Trinket scrunched up his forehead, a flurry of thoughts racing through his mind. Spitfire missing? So soon after conscripting Gem? Something’s up. Aloud, he continued, “Sorry, officer. Can’t say anypony matching that description’s come around here lately.”

Soarin’ frowned slightly. “Do you know anypony that has?”

“No, I can honestly say that nopony I know has.”

“None of your friends have?”

“Couldn’t say for certain,” Trinket said after a moment’s thought. “She might’ve been in plainclothes. Bumped into her on the street. Unless it was an official police matter, I doubt any of my friends would’ve brought it up.”

Soarin’ sighed in frustration. This was going nowhere fast. “Well, do you know anything about any officers being taken somewhere?”

Trinket raised an eyebrow. “Have our loyal guards been vanishing? Is the city at risk?” Try as he might, Trinket couldn’t resist slipping into a mocking tone.

“More than it would be if we weren’t here in the first place.”

Trinket nodded sagely. “Yeah, I must agree with you on that.”

“So you really don’t know anything about where Captain Spitfire could be? Like some kind of clue or... or something?”

Trinket let his gaze wander, going over the various items in his shoppe. He came to rest on a tiny jade carving of a pegasus, the wings having worn away over time. Grimacing, he spoke softly, “Captain of the guards...be a nice target for the PRF, wouldn’t you say?”

“That is exactly why I’m worried.”

“No spies in the PRF you can talk to?”

Soarin’s annoyance at how this was going nowhere was steadily growing. “No. They don’t talk to pegasi like me.”

“No? Strange,” Trinket said slowly. “Thought they’d be all over you. Pegasus in the police would be a powerful ally.”

“Not ones they can’t manipulate. But ones they can torture? Big targets. Which is what they are probably doing to Spitfire right now. Now seriously -- you’re certain you don’t have anything that could help me find her?”

“If I knew anything about Miss Spitfire’s whereabouts, don’t you think I’d have told you by now?” Trinket asked innocently.

“Considering what most, if not all, ponies in Ravaalon currently think of all pegasi whether they’re innocent or not?” Soarin’ deadpanned. “No.”

“I see no reason to suspect any single pony without due cause,” Trinket said quickly, defensively.

Soarin’s shoulders slumped as he sighed again. “True enough. Just... please, for the love of Harmony, let me know if you hear something about where she could be. Anything.”

“If the PRF does have her, I’m not likely to hear anything about it before somepony with authority does,” Trinket said. “But I shall keep an ear out regardless.”

“Thank you, that’s all I ask.” Soarin’ turned to head out. “Oh. You should probably know -- Spitfire left a note for me with your name on it. Something about you being a part of a contingency plan. Hope your business goes well.”

And with that, Soarin’ waved casually over his shoulder as he left the building and headed back towards the station for the remainder of his shift.

Trinket, for his part, was left wondering and confused. “Contingency? What does that even mean?”

Timestamp
4:50 PM, July 19th, Four days after the Mayor’s speech

In what was quickly becoming a recurring theme, Cloudbuilder found himself sitting across a table from another pony. This one wasn’t a cop though, he was a leader in the PRF.

The pony was a tall pegasus, in near perfect flight shape. His perfectly groomed wings rested at his side, while his short grey mane was expertly styled. If somepony were to make a poster about the perfect pegasus, this stallion would be at the head of the line.

Of course, a lot had happened in the last day to lead him to this table, not the least of which was trying to figure out what was going on. After Sunny had left him alone in his room, he’d been too stunned to go after her.

Her words had echoed in his head. He’d remarked that despite the two of them being confined, they’d at least have each other. The flat look she’d given him, as well as her answer of “No, I won’t,” stuck in his head. What had she meant by that?

Once he’d gotten himself back under control, the first order of business was to find Sunny and get the truth. No sooner had he left his room, did he realize that was a lot easier said than done. There were a lot of tunnels down here, and it was akin to a maze.

He’d think he was heading in the right direction to get to the center of the place, and instead he’d run into a blockade. Sunny had mentioned that all the tunnels leading out were sealed up, preventing PRF members from wandering off and getting lost in the tunnels, and preventing any maintenance workers from stumbling into the PRF.

It took him over an hour, and asking for directions twice, just to find the main room. His first act was to ask if a map of the tunnels even existed, and if he could have one if it did.

Fortunately, maps did exist, though they were all hoof-drawn ones, copied by a unicorn who was in the PRF. He got his hooves on one, seeing for the first time just how many tunnels existed. Despite being only a small section of tunnel, basically what was below the factory, it was still expansive.

Of course, now the problem was finding Sunny in all this mess. It would take him hours to search all the tunnels, and even then, there was no guarantee that Sunny would stay in one spot. He needed to locate her in some other fashion.

So he asked around. Any pegasus, and a few unicorns, who would listen to him, he asked if they’d seen Sunny. If they didn’t know who that was, he would describe her coat and mane.

Three hours, and six wild parasprite chases later, he finally found her.

She was in the exercise room, a small room that had only some basic equipment and a section of mats on the floor. Sunny was on the mats, punching and kicking the air for some reason. Cloudbuilder’s knowledge of fighting began, and ended, at punching and kicking hurts. So seeing her move through some routine was interesting.

However, he wasn’t here to observe her, but to question her. As soon as he stepped into the room, she leapt into the air, flaring her wings and piledriving the ground, letting out a grunt.

On second thought, maybe he could wait until she wasn’t in such a violent mood. He backed out of the room, hoping she didn’t notice him.

Some time later, a panting, sweaty Sunny left the exercise room. Cloudbuilder had taken up a position down a nearby dead end, peeking out around the corner. When she left, he snuck down the hallway after her, darting from hiding place to hiding place. More than a few ponies stared at him, but none of them said anything.

Sunny disappeared around a corner. He waited a moment, before peeking around. The hallway was empty.

“What?” he whispered. There weren’t any doorways or anything for her to have gone into. It was like she just vanished.

Cautiously, he stepped into the hallway. His eyes looked side to side. There was nothing there. Unless she broke into a gallop, she’d be visible, and if she galloped, he’d hear it. The echo in these tunnels was loud. He heard a lot of things, but it was nearly impossible to tell where they were coming from.

One, two, three steps down the hallway, and still no sign of Sunny. As soon as his hoof made contact for the fourth step, he felt a weight from above shove him down into the floor.

The wind was violently pushed out of him. As soon as he hit the floor, the weight on top of him vanished. He gasped, trying to get his breath back.

Yet whoever attacked him had other ideas. A strong pair of hooves grabbed his throat, dragging him upright and slamming him into the wall.

As his vision cleared, he saw Sunny staring back at him. “Cloudbuilder. Why are you following me?”

“Gack!” was all he could manage in response. She was making it very difficult to breathe. The pressure around his throat loosened enough to allow him to breathe, but he couldn’t get away.

“I have some questions for you,” he said between coughs.

Sunny sighed, letting him drop to the floor. “Cloud, just go away.” She started off down the hallway again.

He struggled to his feet. Sunny was special to him, and he thought the he was special to her. “No.”

He couldn’t see her, but her hoofsteps stopped. “No?” her voice said.

He coughed once more, looking up, seeing her staring at him. “No,” he repeated. “What did you mean by saying what you said in my room?”

“Cloud, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re an idiot.”

That startled him. “What do you mean?”

“Listen. If you actually think there was ever anything between us, you’re more of an idiot that I thought you were.”

What was she saying? He could’ve sworn that there were actual feelings between them. When they kissed, he could feel the emotions flowing between them. “What?”

Her hooves landed on his shoulders, pressing him roughly into the wall. “You, Cloud, have a connection to Spitfire. I used that to get to her. We needed to take Spitfire out of the equation, and you were the way we could do that. Rescuing you, seducing you, getting you to betray Spitfire, all that was part of the plan. I don’t know what you were thinking, but there’s nothing between us.” She was nearly shouting at this point. A few heads poked around the corner, but a glare from Sunny sent them away.

“Nothing!” she repeated. “You were a means to an end, nothing more. The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be for you.”

She let him go. Rather than fight gravity, he slid down the wall until he was half-sitting, half-laying at an awkward angle. Sunny never felt anything for him? A hoof went to his chest, making sure his heart was still beating.

Sunny was nearly the perfect mare. She was beautiful. She believed in the cause of the PRF devotedly. She could easily take care of herself. Sure, she had a rough attitude, but that wasn’t a big deal. Cloudbuilder knew he wasn’t perfect, but surely he wasn’t entirely out of Sunny’s league.

“Listen, Cloud. You’re a good Pegasus. The PRF will have further need of you. As for me, we’re done. Not that we were ever started to begin with.” She turned and walked away. After a few steps, she stopped. “Move on. Focus on the PRF,” she said without turning around.

She paused another moment, before turning around and coming back over to him. “Listen. “I’m sorry this is hard for you, and that you fell for me, but you’re not my type.” She left, heading down the hall.

Her hoofsteps echoed around him, slowly growing fainter until he couldn’t pick them out amongst the other background noise. Sunny never loved him. Despite all he’d done, she was just playing him the whole time.

He lay in the hallway for some time. Precisely how long, he didn’t know. Several other ponies simply stepped over him, continuing along their way.

His thoughts all revolved around Sunny. Despite the short amount of time they’d known each other, she’d saved him several times. He’d fallen for her. He wanted her, to make her his.

She was a mare dedicated to the PRF and their cause. If he was going to win Sunny over, he’d need to further prove himself to the PRF.

Slowly, he got up. Sunny may be gone for now, but he’d get her back. If he proved himself enough, she’d be forced to take notice. And then, he’d win her over.

He needed to find somepony in charge. He needed another job to do. There was no way he could go back above ground. By now, every cop in Ravaalon would be looking for him. But surely there was some way he could prove himself while still staying down here. Surely the PRF had need of his talents. Hopefully those talents wouldn’t involve him getting used again.

So it was that less than a day later, he found himself sitting across the table from a PRF leader. The Pegasus had taken time out of planning their next strike to meet with him. Though, his pure insistence may have had something to do with that.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked.

The stallion, whose name Cloudbuilder had never actually caught, looked down at some papers on the table. “Well, we’re having some trouble with Spitfire.”

The mention of the Captain brought up a feeling of regret in him. He respected Spitfire. Sure, she was a coward and wouldn’t do what needed to be done, but not even she deserved to be kidnapped. If he’d have known what the PRF was planning, he’d have argued for a different method.

But the past was the past. Spitfire was in custody, and if helping meant doing something with her, he’d do it.

“How so?” he asked.

“She’s resistant to our methods. We need somepony she knows to offer her a helping hoof. Among our ranks, that we trust, that means you.”

“What do you need me to do?” He wondered what he could possibly do to help out.

“We need somepony to be her friend. Go to her, offer her food, water, a respite. Talk to her.” Cloudbuilder was about to say something, but the Pegasus held up a hoof.

“Know that if you take this, you will be alone with her. No others will enter the room with you. Nopony will help you. The illusion needs to be absolute.” His eyes narrowed, staring into Cloud’s soul. “What do you say?”

Cloudbuilder thought about that. He had no idea what was happening to Spitfire. The Pegasus made it sound like something bad, but he figured they were simply withholding food and water. He’d read enough stories to know that it was a classic. One pony took away the food and water, another pony brought it. The prisoner would come to trust the one who brought the food, and hate the one who took it away. They’d spill their secrets, then be let go.

If they wanted him to be the good pony, he could do that. If it meant that Sunny would respect him, he could do that. If he could win Sunny over, he’d go along with their plan.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

The Pegasus smiled. “Good.” A map came to rest on the table, the Pegasus pointing a hoof at a small section below which was scribbled ‘Cell Block.’ “Head to the cell block. Spitfire is in cell A-4. Remember, once inside, you’ll be alone with her. Whatever you decide to do is up to you, just be her friend.” With that, he stood up, leaving the table and heading through a door.

Cloudbuilder consulted his map, figuring out where the cell block was. He had a mission to accomplish, might as well start now.

When he got to the cell block, there were two burly Pegasi blocking the way. “I’m to see Spitfire,” he said.

They looked at each other, then at him. He felt like he was being scrutinized. After a moment, one caught sight of his cutie mark.

“That’s him,” the Pegasus said. His partner shrugged, offering no verbal response. “You can go in.”

Cloudbuilder walked past them. Inside the cell block were several doors. Most of them looked hastily built, but solid. The entire cell block just seemed like it was converted from something else. He walked down the short hallway, seeing that there were only four cells. Why would they call it A-4 if there were only four cells?

If what the PRF leader said was true, then Spitfire had probably not eaten since yesterday. She’d be hungry, so he should bring her some food.

Balancing a plate of food and a water glass on his back, he walked down the hall. The final door bore the identifier A-4. Sitting on a hook next to it was a keyring with two keys.

With a wingtip, he grabbed the keys and inserted one into the lock. Turning it, the lock clicked open. He wondered what the second key was for, before putting the keyring back on the hook.

Steeling himself, he took a deep breath. Spitfire was probably not very happy with him, which made befriending her an uphill battle. Yet he could do this, he would do this. For Sunny.

Letting out the breath in a woosh of air, he turned the handle and opened the door. A shaft of light spilled into the room, allowing him to see what was inside.

Timestamp July 19th, 09:10 pm

Crescent wiped sweat out of his eye, feeling his energy dip as he tried to make the slowly circling ponies keep their distance. Behind him Mirror Shine shuffled noisily through her bags, seemingly oblivious to the shield he had created to keep her out of trouble… though he was painfully aware of the energy it cost him to maintain it. He shifted positions again, trying to figure out how in Equestria he was going to turn this around.

"Yeah, you keep dancing around, pointy," the dumb brute taunted, a grin plastered across his muzzle. "But you're slowing down a lot. What's the matter, tired? Yeah, we'll put you to sleep." The stallion snickered and his friends chuckled along with the 'joke'.

“Oh yeah? that sounds like you’re too scared to fight me.” He had been training his magic with the fire figures but he still got a limit to his magic. In retrospect this was a stupid idea, a very stupid idea and you blame the shot of strong liquor to have clouded your judgement.

The Mirror made an abortive attempt to fly over the invisible wall, quickly discovering it was, in fact, a dome. "Right, so he's dealt with pegasi before. Ugh." Her sulk was short lived, she began rooting through her saddlebags, muttering "yes" and "no".

The unicorn paused, tilting his head. Something was off with the fight, “Are you really going through all this effort just to get back at me for that one incident with your marefriend? It doesn't really seem to warrant… this.” Crescent gestured at the pony posse periphery encircling him.

The guy harrumphed. “You think I’m still lingering on that? It didn’t help but I’m blaming you for my job! I was high up in the Casino organization, the first guardian of the boss’s son and thanks to you I have to build it all up from the beginning. I am reduced to a door guard, a simple door guard!

"Huh, from patron to porter... no, how about… you, uh, made a better doorman than a window? Nah… you were… hmm, broken to entry. Shoot, these are hard to come up with," the pegasus muttered, gathering a small pile of an indeterminate fluffy white material, a compact, and a square of cloth.

“Wait, I still don’t follow. Why do you blame me for you losing your job?” The circle around Crescent started to get smaller as he began to sweat to keep the field up around Mirror.

“You have caused a lot of trouble for the Casino’s and bringing you in would have secured me a place by the top.” Seeing the swordspony’s confusion, the muscular mook sighed deeply. “And ponies call me slow." He shook his head, barrel vibrating in laugher.

As he continued, the stallion paced, tapping out his points, "Having a schmuck like you drop a banner on me and getting away was embarrassing and would normally singe my cape, not good but I could live with it. However, when the Town Hall went up in flames and there was a mentioning of you being a suspect, it became much, much worse for me. The Casino family is quite the influential group you see and they don’t take kindly to ponies who touch their businesses which have happened far too often for them lately. I was already suspecting you with that high attitude and that pyro-blade of yours and when it turns out the chief of police disappears shortly after your release, it’s one more thing pointing back to you.”

The pale pegasus paused. "Wait, I'm with the City Guard, and he's not a rebel – we're looking for the PRF." She frowned, "I mean, I get that you're a meat-headed mobster, but maybe we have a common goal here?"

“Yeah right,” one of the guys laughed. “Why would they hire a pegasus at a time like this? Just be quiet in there, we’ll deal with you later.” He obviously had forgotten the barrier would go as soon as Crescent did.

Crescent however looked away from those in front of him and over at her. “That’s… that actually makes sense, at least more than if you just approached me without having others with you already.”

"Well, it was half random chance, but yeah… the department can't even act yet, and honestly I don't think most of them even think there's anything wrong. But it's just not right." Mirror pulled out a thick piece of paper. "Oh, my trainee badge! Hey, Mr. Criminal Scum, would this help?" She called the nearest thug, who was not the one that had spoken earlier.

“I don’t know Warrant, it seems pretty legit.” He looks over at the stallion in charge.

"Yeah, because nobody we know could make fake ID, right?" the pony… 'Warrant' snorted in disgust. “Trust me, soon pegasi in the guard are gonna be a non-issue."

The large pony inclined his head at one of his compatriots behind the unicorn. Mirror caught sight of motion from the corner of her eye, shouting before she was even fully aware. "Wha– left, no Stage left!" she shouted, wings flapping in alarm as one of the ponies behind Crescent tried to blindside him.

He turned to look at her and ask what she meant when he noticed the one behind him sneaking up. Being seen, the pony tried to jump him but he blocked his front hooves which would have pounced him to the ground and rolled to the left. The guy started going to the right, now being inside the circle no and Crescent followed him like two animals ready to attack one another. Another of the group looked ready to grab the swordspony from behind as he came close enough.

"Again! Downstage right" the pegasus shouted, shuffling something in her hooves.

That almost made sense to Crescent but by the time he'd decoded it he couldn’t dodge out of the way. The brute grabbed hold of him in an iron grip on him, squeezing hard enough to make the unicorn's ribs creek. The magic holding the sword started to flicker  before it clanked to the street along with the magic holding the now frantic mare on the sideline.

The first guy smirked, walking up to the struggling unicorn and kicked away his blade. He looked over at the group leader who nodded to him. The stallion’s smirk got even wider as he drew back his right hoof and punched Crescent right in the jaw. It looked like it really hurt, not like the fake hit they did on stage. He gave him a left too, this one more on the muzzle and a red line ran down from Crescent’s nose.

“That was just because you irritate me. Now, if you spill some beans on the Rebellion we will go easier on you. Heck, we might just let her go. What do you say?”

“How can I tell you about something I don’t know anything abou-aah!” the one holding him pressed harder.

“Wrong answer mate.” He gives him a right upper-hook and then turns around to buck both his hind hooves into his chest, right below where the other guy holds him.

Another tough, waiting for an opening chuckled nastily, "things don't seem to be going well for your colt-friend, do they?"

Mirror grunted frustratedly, lashing out "He is NOT my colt-friend!" The blow took both recipient and deliverer by surprise. The pegasus, for her part immediately clutched her hoof and winced, "Sheesh, what do they make your skulls out of, cement?"

The mook straightened his neck, popping several joints in an intimidating fashion. "You're gonna wish you never did that, girlie."

"Ok, this is total bull. I sucker punched you, you're supposed to fall unconscious."

"Actually, blunt force trauma rarely results in unconsciousness outside of a concussion."

Mirror paused, nonplussed, "wat?"

"It's a common misconception, propagated by plays and film. Most'a the time when you hit a guy and he stays down, it's because it hurts too much to get back up, not because he's unconscious."

"How do you know this junk?" the pegasus was sure she didn't really want an answer to that question.

"Name's Compound Fracture, wanna know my special talent?" The stallion grinned, stepping forward.

Something clicked in the pale pony's mind and she dove to the side, barely missing the enclosing hooves of the pony behind her. Gasping for breath she took to the air.

Something caught her eye – a figure on the rooftops? Looking out, she didn't immediately see anything… and couldn't pause to investigate. 'How drunk was I to think we could handle this?' Mirror started to groan. She had no time for melodrama, however. 'Come on, brain, this is your last chance to come up with something smart…' no answer was forthcoming. "OK, stupid direct approach it is."

She climbed as high as she dared into the sky, considering the limits of a pony's ability to hold their breath, before diving at a sharp angle toward 'Warrant'. "Ooooooverly telegraphed ataaaaaac– *hurk*!" her cry was cut short when one of the hench-ponies tackled her out of the air, bruisingly crashing her to the ground, pinned under the brute's bulk.

"Finally." Warrant snorted, "make sure you cover her damn muzzle. I am sick to death of those damn long-winded sentences. Who the buck does that? Don't you two knuckleheads know nothing? 'Friendship Is Magic', no small group of vigilantes is gonna make a damn bit of difference in the end."

The brute holding her down lifted one of his forelegs and Mirror’s eyes widened in fear as she realized what was about to come. The brute gave a mirthless chuckle and slammed his hoof downwards...

Mirror drew in a breath, tensing for the impact.

...only for a flash of feathers and fur to zoom by Mirror’s face, with the brute — and subsequently, the weight on her back — vanishing from sight.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

The brute gave a cry of pain, finally hitting the ground. With a flash of pale bronze, Mirror found herself roughly pulled to her hooves by her mane. Golden orange under white feathers, short curved beak, tawny fur, claws... and two points of jade. As the albino attempted to focus, the figure suddenly shoved the pony backwards, ducking under another hench-pony’s attack. The tufted tail twitched once as the … gryphon? Yes, as the gryphon bunched her legs and lunged at the assailant with feral ferocity.

Mirror struggled to remain upright, watching the ensuing melee from a unique perspective. In one motion the gryphon rolled under a buck from one of the stallions, grabbing his hooves and pulling him along the arc of his kick. As an afterthought she headbutted the barrel of the next thug, knocking him into a sitting position, before using his shoulders to vault over the gathering assailants.

The gryphon's moments, full of a feral grace and surprising serenity, led the hench-ponies in a sort of fierce dance. While she leapt, turned, and somersaulted amongst the mass, providing punches, kicks, and the occasional body check, her partners stumbled in a staccato of fumbling futility. Half delirious, Crescent's muzzle crept into a grin, humming a half remembered flamenco tune as he concentrated on relaxing his body to be ready for opportunity.

The albino shook her head, retrieving her implements, still seeing the weaving pattern of attack, dodge, counter attack, and movement. 'Did everypony go and rehearse this before-hoof or something?' Ducking back from the whirlwind of activity, she carefully put the parts together.

Warrant shook off his stupor, squeezing his captive one last time before he got ready to – something flashed in his vision. Not really strong enough to hurt, but annoy – it happened again, and he reached a hoof to rub his eye–

The unicorn felt the iron grip around him loosen, and put his remaining strength into breaking the hold. He broke free and triumphantly… staggered three steps and coughed horribly, ugh, he felt terrible. To his right, Mirror Shine swore, dropping a lighter and blowing on her singed hoof, still clutching some mishmash of clouds and a pocket mirror.

"Enough'a this nonsense!" Warrant roared, "Regroup, you mooks, we're going to flatten…" Two ponies lay in a pile, bruised, bloodied, and exhausted. The sounds of retreating hooves spoke for another, and his right hoof stallion was being menaced by the floating sword again. It was disgusting, how hard was it to find competent mooks these days?

"War, this isn't going so well, and I think we've made too much noise… Guard'll be here any minute. We gotta…" Compound Fracture recognized his boss's expression, and instead of pleading sanity, the pony simply ran.

"Huh, looks like your friend was better at math than you are," the gryphon taunted, half a grin on her beak, eyes sparkling in the lamplight. "How about you?"

'Celestia above, she's enjoying this!' Mirror pondered.  

"You are all going to regret this…" the earth pony glared at the sword pony, "We're not done, Crescent, not by a long shot!" Having salvaged his ego, the stallion turned and ran, putting on a respectable burst of speed for such an overdeveloped frame.

“I-” He cut off into a coughing fit for a moment before speaking again. “I’ll kill that piece of-” Crescent got stopped by sudden, heavy coughing, spitting blood on the ground. “We, we can’t let him get away.”

Mirror placed a hoof on the unicorn's shoulder, frowning in sympathy. She inclined her head toward him and said "Are you out of your tiny horse-brain!?" only neglecting to scream because she didn't have the energy. "More importantly, why do I feel like I've seen that gryph–"

“Hey, horn-head!” the gryphon interrupted, rather rudely. “And you too, Wings.” She paused, cocking her head to the side and listening intently. “Guards won’t wait for us to make ourselves scarce.”

"Wait, now I remember – you're the one who thought I was an old man!" Mirror shouted, satisfaction over making the association overruling her admittedly small supply of common sense.

The gryphon blinked in surprise, the inanity of Mirror’s statement momentarily stunning her into silence.

Crescent shook his head, "S-sorry, she seems to always be like that. You mentioned egress?"

The pegasus glared at the pyromancer, "Oh. My. Luna. You did not just make that absolutely horrible pun."

The gryphon groaned in frustration. “Oh, forget it. I don’t have time to waste with you two featherheads.” Without waiting for a response she leapt into the air and flew off, with only a few scattered feathers leaving any hint she was there.

"See what your weird sense of humor has done?" The albino sighed, slowly climbing into the air and trailing after the tawny flier.

"But… but…" Cresent sputtered, chasing after, "I didn't – what joke?"

The gryphon was already a fair distance away, flapping furiously. She seemed to notice something to her left and abruptly dove down into the streets, beyond a building, and Mirror lost sight of her.

“Hey wait, you can’t just- fine, I won’t let a little chest pain stop me.” Crescent started heading for the corner to follow her with a pained hilting from being bucked in the chest. As he went, he picked up his sword. “Come on Mirror, she might know something.”

"Rghhh, how can someone be bronze and still disappear like that? I know she's supposed to be the aloof mysterious cypher character, but seriously, this coy horse-apples stuff is getting really, really old," Mirror muttered. "Huh? Oh, sorry, Cress, yeah, let's go. I… don't really know how I'd explain this whole thing if we stuck around for the guards."

“Less talk and more chasing please.”

Coming around the house, the swordspony barely caught a glimpse of their compatriot before she slipped into an alley full speed. Determined, he gave chase into the darkness and away from the lit street. He wasn’t too familiar with the backroads on this section which the gryphon probably were but maybe Mirror could help him through the maze of buildings.

“Mirror, do you have any visual on her from up there?!” he called out to the pegasus flying above the rooftops.

"Uhh…" The pale pony paused, perusing the periphery, "I think I saw something over that way… c'mon."

Crescent followed the pegasus's circuitous flight path. There was an endless supply of arching roads and pathways, all backdoors to stores or shops leading into the dirty alley with trash cans and other things the public were suppose to see, pretty fitting how this town ran as a whole. As he hurried through the paths, following the white spot above him, he could easily see why the rebellion wanted to try to bring some justice to their side. Of course, bringing down the society as a whole was a bad idea. If it all continued like this, the rebellion would only be in charge of a floating ruin.

“Hey, where’re you going?” Crescent halted as he noticed he had almost taken the wrong passage.

“Sorry, it’s a bit difficult to see. Are we closing in on her?”

"Barely. Are you sure she wants us to–" The pegasus began desperately backflapping, "Sonova timberwolf!" the albino landed abruptly, gesturing toward an awning projecting over a side-alley. "I guess those claws help her corner really well?"

Crescent squinted, barely making out the outline of the gryphon clinging unto the underside of an awning.

“Okay, Gem was it? We’re out of sight for sight for any guards. why don’t you come down and we can talk about you swooping in and saving us?”

Mirror stumbled the last few steps toward the other two, noting that the location did seem quite well shielded from outside view. "Uhh, I think he means 'thank you for bailing us out back there', at least, that's what I want to say. That was about to get really ugly." The mare tilted her head, "Although… I would be curious to know why you were in the area. If that's not, you know, like too personal or anything?"

“Hmpf, you aren’t as dumb as you look,” the gryphon said, quite unperturbed. “Though to be fair, I did make it rather easy for ya.” She let go of the awning and fell, twisting in the air and landing on her feet with feline grace, then drew up to her full height and sized up both Mirror and Crescent. “Though I must say I’m confused. Not many question their savior.”

"Oh, was that rude? I wasn't trying insult you or anything, it was just… um, ridiculously convenient?" The pegasus mulled this over. 'Wait.. if it's all ridiculously convenient, maybe she...' "Hey, can I ask you something pretty much not related to this, except like possibly very tangentially?"

“Fine, but make it quick, Wings.”

"Ok, well, you remember the Founding Day Speech… or, well, the explosion that kinda interrupted it? What am I saying, of course you do… nopony– argh, I mean no-one, that's ok, right? *Herm* Yeah… sorry. Shutting up about that. The guard who arrested us all, with the orange mane… her name is Spitfire, in case you don't know. Have you seen her any time recently?" 'OMC, shut up, shut up, shut up…'

“Yeah, I’ve seen her. Which is to say, I saw her,” the gryphon replied enigmatically.

The pegasus stood, an optimistically expectant expression on her face, for nearly a minute before she realized this was the end of the gryphon's reply. "Ok. Neat. Um, you haven't by any chance seen her in the last two days, have you? Because otherwise I kinda' have to assume that the PRF really did manage to capture her."

“That is the going theory, I hear,” the gryphon drawled.

Mirror sighed in frustration. Why is she being so difficult? "Oh, I … yeah. Ok. Um, thanks for your help, I won't bother you again." The pale mare turned, to regard the unicorn, "Uh, Crescent, how can I find you again when we start looking, just look for a busker with a ball of flame?"

"Well I did have a tracking stone but I lent it to someone else in trade for a sort trust. I bet Trinket might just have stashed it away somewhere anyway, pretty irritating if he has since it's very special to me."

“Ah, Crescent,” the gryphon cut in. “Knew your name was something like that. Hard to forget that little apple peeler, though.” She glanced towards Mirror for a moment. “You, I don’t know.”

"What, seriously? We were arrested together! Wait, no, you and the guy on the roof escaped, didn't you?" Mirror fought the last hazy fumes in her brain for clarity, " You ... called me Grandpa– um, that didn't sound so creepy in my head." Mirror slapped a hoof over her eyes. "Urgh, I was the one in the 'Starswirl the Bearded' costume on the day of the bombing."

“Which one’s Starswirl again?”

"I had my face dyed green and wore a blue cloak with some stars-”

Mirror cut off, her voice drowned out by the gryphon’s boisterous laughter. “Focusing on the wrong thing, Wings,” she said with a smirk. “Don’t care what you were wearing. I wanted to know your name.”

The white fur of the mare's muzzle did absolutely nothing to hide her blush. "Oh. Uh, right. My name." 'OK, what kind of malfunction is this? I know my name, it's' "Mirror Shine. Um, that's two separate words."

The gryphon rolled her eyes. “Seriously, you ponies...” she muttered, then spoke louder. “You’re on the guard patrol, ain’cha? Or something like that.”

The pegasus started, staring at the gryphon wide-eyed. "H-how did you know that? I only joined two days ago…" it flickered a few times, but a light popped on in her mind, "So you DID talk to her!" Mirror's wings flapped once in satisfaction, a gesture completely lost on non-flying creatures. "Huh, I wonder why I was so sure you would have…?" Her vision turned inward as she tried to track down where the odd conviction could have come from.

The gryphon frowned. “Hmpf. Lot to learn, Wings.”

"Umm, like what?" Mirror asked, jarred from her musings. "Honestly, aside from the basics, amature lit appreciation, and, of course, mirrors, I don't really know that much."

“Information trading,” the gryphon said simply. “Nevermind, though. I doubt you’re who I’m looking for.”

"Trading? I don't… um, you mean like spies? But I don't care about that. Can't imagine I know anything you want, but.. if I do, I'll tell you, whether you continue trying to be the random cypher protagonist or not." The amature theatrist spoke without really considering her words, letting the conversation head where it would. Gem had likely already made up her mind, all Mirror could do was give her the space to finalize it.

“For Celestia’s sake, would any of you at least try to make sense?” Crescent was getting tired of the chatting which didn’t seem to go anywhere. “Okay, so you’re both somehow in this ‘guard patrol’. To me it sounds like you're both scouts, most likely for the rebellion, and there was suppose to be a info trading going down. Now if this turns out to be a attempt of recruitment to join the pegasi, count me out.”

Mirror tried to keep a straight face, she really did. "*Pfffft*! Ha ha, seriously?" But it was simply too absurd. "Have you even been listening?"

"Don't answer, that was a trick question, nopony listens to me." She grabbed the unicorn's shoulder to keep her balance, "lissen *heh*, I don't have an organization… I'm a… conspiracy of one." She let go of the pony, opting to fall against the wall as she laughed, giggled, and snorted in response to the fear, frustration, anger, and helplessness that had surrounded her for the last week.

The gryphon stared at Mirror for a while before turning to Crescent. “You should find better friends, bub. Less crazy ones, if I may suggest.”

“She had her first drink just a few minutes ago, she’ll just need to sober up and she will make more sense… I hope so at least.” He held the pegasus on a hoof length to see if she could at least stand up right by herself. “So you’re saying you're not a part of the rebellion?”

"Haaa… nope." The mare felt very tired, drained of the nervous energy that had been pushing her forward. "Urgh, no, I am not now, nor have I ever been part of the so-called Pegasus Revolution Front. It's stupid, you know? I mean, go beyond the absolutely hateful way they're doing stuff for a moment and consider this: how the BUCK do you go about 'keeping' a magitech city flying if you kick out all the unicorns? Their own goals don't make any sense even beyond the fact that it's all based on exactly the same kinda' racism they're saying they don't like. You know?"

Tired tired tired… but there was something else that needed to happen – she could almost taste it, something important was on the … 'what's that word? Like an edge, but the kind you fall off of? Nah, not a tipping point, what an overblwon overblown phrase. Verge! That's it. Totally verging. Uh… vergaliginous. No. Whatever, can't go to sleep yet. Ugh.'

“You know, she actually makes a good point,” he said, still supporting her. “The plan of expelling us unicorn from a place which relies on our magic to keep it afloat seems pretty underdeveloped if they haven’t planned any replacement to keep this place in the air.”

“It’s been my experience that these rebel groups never plan that far ahead,” the gryphon said after a moment’s thought.
“Always thinking about how to overthrow the ones in command, but never giving any thought as to what they do when they win.” She sat down and preened her right wing, mumbling through feather. “Ah well. If the city falls, then it falls. Trinket won’t be happy, but at least we’ll be alive.”

"Huh? That makes no sense. Um, I mean, he is an earth pony, right? If the city falls, how in Equestria will he be ok?"

Mirror groaned, "Oh, you mean after the completely inconceivable event of those nuts driving everyone without feathers off the city. That's…"

The pegasus paused, a look of consternation spreading across her face. "Hold on, there's another reason this can never work: we're still technically part of Equestria, right? The Princesses would never stand for this kind of horseapples… but then, why haven't we heard from them already? Ough, the size of this plot-hole is making my head hurt."

She turned to the others, "Seriously, has anyone even thought about contacting Canterlot yet? And if they have, why haven't we heard anything back yet? This is… really weird." Mirror frowned, drifting into contemplation.

“Na, doubt it’ll get that far,” the gryphon said, switching wings. “The banishing ponies, I mean. The PRF’s taking in unicorns and earth ponies now. Sorta defeats the purpose of the name if ya ask me.”

"Well… yeah.The whole stupid thing is … um, stupid." The pegasus sighed, " All I know is I don't know what's really going on, but what I do see is pretty terrible, you know?"

The gryphon stared at Mirror for a long while, her steely gaze piercing the pegasus. “The way I see it, you have three options,” she finally said. “You ignore it and hope it solves itself, you leave and put the city out of your mind, or you work to fix it.” She paused a moment to look around furtively, craning her neck this way and that; it reminded Mirror of a hawk scanning for a fieldmouse. Without looking back, she continued, “Way I see it, you fall under the first category, Wings.”

The mare shivered, unable to suppress an instinctual prey response. Which embarrassed and angered the pony further.
"Yeah, thanks for your advice… I'm intentionally not adding additional sarcastic comments because I do owe you some gratitude about the fight, but I don't really see anything useful that can come from us talking further."

“Then you’re of little help to me,” the gryphon said, then turned her attention to Crescent. “Hey, moon-colt. Are you more interested in helping to save the city than your marefriend here?”

"Wha? Hey– you're the one who just brushed me off, don't act like I refused to help you. As for Crescent, I barely know him better than you, if you want him, take him." The pegasus sniffed.

“Hey, I’m still here you know,” he said a bit offended.

“Wings,” the gryphon started, much gentler than before. “You refused my offer by not defending yourself.”

Mirror stared at the gryphon, "That… wow, you really are a cypher. Look, making up your own set of arcane rules inside your own head… I think you're just looking for an excuse to leave me behind. I'm not as strong, fast, or tough as you, I'm sure that's true. I probably would just slow you down, as you demonstrated earlier. But have the decency to just say that, don't fake up some excuse about horse-apples non-verbal cues or something."

She pulled her eyebrows up and down,"I NEED help, I would be embarrassingly grateful to team up with you… but leaving here alone isn't going to make me stop trying to help this crazy place. This is my home, and I'm not about to let anyone destroy it."

The gryphon smirked, one side of her beak pulled upwards. “Well now, guess there’s a fire in you after all. But you try to fight a dragon alone, that fire will burn you to a crisp.”

"OK, you've got no context there, hypothetically speaking. Why am I fighting this dragon? Where are we, what's his beef? What in Equestria would make me think that facing a dragon by myself was a good idea? Stories don't happen in a vacuum, and circumstances can change everything." Despite her words, Mirror was starting to enjoy the discussion.

The gryphon nodded. “So why take on the city alone? Allies at your side would make things easier.”

The white pony raised an eyebrow, "Well, I certainly can't fault your logic. Any idea where I could find such a band of intrepid and daring heroes?"

“I might,” the gryphon said enigmatically. “What’s it to ya?”

"Mane, you are… equally frustrating and cool. Um… what is it to me…" Mirror tapped her chin, eyes raised in mock consideration. "How about we say it's the difference between a slain dragon and a pathetic pile of partially pulverized pony parts."

‘Come on Cressy, this is your best chance!’ The female voice in Crescent’s head seemed really eager on this. ‘The big, bad bird is right, you can’t do your normal stand alone warrior style against this rebellion and with the training you have been doing you will be a good asset. You can’t get this served on a cleaner silver plate’

“Enough!” Crescent yelled, mostly to the voice. He didn’t need a third one talking over his head, especially when it was inside it. “I’m growing tired of this. If I could speak my mind for once, I’d say we look into this ‘guard patrol’ group and see if we could add something to the group. What we’re doing now is just say we will do something while things are crumbling around us so let’s stop saying we’ll do something and actually do something already!”

The pegasus nodded, snorting, "Gee Cress, why don't you tell us how you really feel? The only problem with going to the City Guard is that I'm not sure what they can do as a group. Officially we're not even supposed to acknowledge that the Captain is missing yet."

He rolled his eyes at her. “That’s exactly what I mean, you’re doubting the situation. If we keep dwelling on it like this, the city will meet solid ground before anything is done. Act now and regret later and this place sorely need someone to react on all of this.”

Mirror put a hoof over her face, "I don't know who to ask, though. I mean, there's Spitfire's secretary, she's cool… and the one who confirmed for me that the Captain disappeared somewhere between her home and work… so yeah, I guess there's her." Actually Molly was pretty neat, and definitely had her head on straight.

"But I'm trying to find others who are interested. I was kinda' hoping somepony else had asked her about Spitfire before I did, but no luck. As far as I know, I'm the only one who's out trying to find stuff on their off duty time." She looked up, "OK, I don't know how to say this without sounding sarcastic, but I'm really not trying to be: if you've got a better idea, I would love to hear it. Really."

“Sounds like the guard detail isn’t exactly very helpful,” the gryphon said, then laughed. “But I knew that already. Maybe you should be looking somewhere besides work for any good leads.”

“Anything! Follow leads, ask out ponies close to the Captain, chase down possible rebellion members to see if they know something just anything than sitting around talking about doing stuff,” Crescent said at the same time, both him and the gryphon nearly drowning the other out. The swordspony was starting to get back his old feel, the wanting to do things and act instead of what he had been doing the past days.

"So… basically you're telling me I'm the only one who can actually get anything done, huh? Sorry to disappoint you, but I've already checked in with everyone I could think of, and it's not like I'm on a first name basis with her old frie..." Mirror's eyes lit up, "Soarin'! Ohhh my goodness, how did I forget about him?" She smacked her forehead, wincing because it really hurt. "*ouch* Mane, I feel stupid. I've been so busy feeling sorry for myself that... oh forget that stuff. Thank you!" She hugged the unicorn, considered the gryphon, and… respectfully kept her distance, still grinning like an idiot. "You know, in spite of your grating personality, you really are helpful. Thanks again, I guess."

“Crescent,” the gryphon said, giving the pegasus a wry smile. “Trinket wanted to talk to ya when ya got the chance. Stop by the shop sometime around noon tomorrow. Hope ya remember where it was.”

They suddenly heard someone calling out, sounding like some City Guards had found the knocked out brutes. “I think we might have to move again,” Crescent suggested. “I thought Trinket listened to me when I told him how the, well, how the trinket worked but I guess he didn't. Fine, I'll see if I can find his shop.”

The pegasus shrugged, "Yeah that would be bad *yawn* sorry, I'm feeling pretty tired. Why don't we head to my place to finish up? I… look, no offense, but I kind of think my place is probably the most secure, plus I have a lot of friends in the theater, so my neighbors are used to seeing people in weird costumes visiting." 'That way I can just go to bed when we're done.' She carefully made sure to only think to herself.

“Na, I’ve said my piece.” The gryphon flapped her wings and stretched. “Keep to the main roads, don’t look around to see if you’re being followed, don’t run from any guards you see.” This last was directed to Mirror. “Pretty basic stuff, but that’s often the things we forget first.”

The mare rolled her eyes, "Okay fine, I won't run from my co-workers." But she couldn't keep a straight face, snorting. 'Damnit, she's friendly at the same time she's being condescending, her ambivalence is so confusing. And yet it makes her a compelling character, that is so not fair.' She regarded the other 'co-conspirator', "What about you, slick? I need a point of contact with at least one of you guys, and I've got a decently comfortable couch you can crash on if you don't feel like dragging yourself back to your secret hideout."

“Secret hideout? I-I’ve barely got enough to rent a dog house and have a decent meal.” He turned to the gryphon. “I’ll swing by Tinker’s shop as soon as possible, Gem.”

The gryphon just gave a nick of agreement. “Glad you remembered my name.” Without any further comment, she took off, disappearing into the night sky.


Be advised co-conspirators Tricondon and Dr. Techno are still at large

July 20, Four Days after the Mayor's Speech
10:17 am

Trinket stared up at the building and shuddered involuntarily. It wasn’t as if the building was imposing in its design, nor was it bad memories of guards. Anticipation, the earth pony figured. That, or general nervousness.

With a shake of his head Trinket steeled his courage and walked in.

The guard building was its usual bluster of activity. A number of guards eyed Trinket suspiciously, but otherwise paid him no mind. Scoffing, he walked up to someone behind a desk and coughed gently. The pegasus glanced over at Trinket and gruffly said, “Yeah? What?”

“I’m lookin’ for a pegasus. New guy. Name of Soarin’,” Trinket said cooly; no reason to antagonize anyone just yet. Trinket hoped that the former Wonderbolt wasn’t sick or on patrol at the moment.

“What’dya need to see him for?”, the grizzled featherduster eyed him with casual suspicion.

“Private matter,” Trinket replied curtly. “It is imperative we speak. Is he perhaps on break at the moment?”

“No. He’s just not available for somepony who has a secret agenda.” The pony buffed his chestplate idley.

“Secret implies that I don’t intend to share the details,” Trinket said in a bored manner. “I said ‘private’. As in, above your pay grade.”

“I don’t have the time to deal with ponies with problems above my pay grade.” The pegasus said in an equally bored manner. He waved one of his wings in a shooing motion. “Move along.”

“Now see here,” Trinket snapped, a bit flustered. “If you’d bother to listen to me, you’d be aware that I’m trying to take my issue to somepony who is actually capable of helping.”

The guard rolled his eyes. “The new guy? He can’t do anything without –”

“Without what?”

The guard blanched and turned to see Soarin’ right behind him. “Er, uh...”

Soarin’ rolled his eyes. “C’mon back, Trinket.” He quickly made a VIP pass for the earth pony, and let him into the back area of the building, leading the way to his small office. “What’s up?”

Trinket took a moment to wander the room, seeming uninterested in Soarin’ as he peeked behind plants and in a few drawers. “No recording devices?” he asked bluntly. “That you’re aware of?”, added, as an afterthought.

“None here. After Spit, well... you know... I started checking pretty much daily. We’re clear, for now, but try to avoid sensitive topics here. There’s better places for that.”

“Hmm,” the earth pony mumbled. “You decide if my information is sensitive or not." He paused, drawing in a breath, "I was… not entirely truthful when last we spoke.”

Soarin’ nodded. “I figured. Some new officer you don’t know comes in to your store and demands information." The pegasus ran a hoof through his mane, "Sorry about that, by the way.”

The shopkeep waved a hoof lazily, “You’re far from the first pony to demand what I know,” Trinket laughed. “Though certainly among the most polite.”

“Let me guess: Spitfire’s been more demanding?” It only sounded like a question.

“No. I never spoke to her.” Trinket paused a moment in thought. “No, we exchanged brief...pleasantries, let’s say.”
Knowing Spitfire, Soarin’ could imagine what that meant. “Perhaps something regarding why she’d recommend visiting you?”

“Probably didn’t recommend me at all. She was more likely referring to my housemate.”

“Gem, right?”, Soarin' pulled open a drawer, eyeing the folders within.

“Yeah.” Trinket settled into one of the chairs, frowning as he discovered how poorly it was constructed.

“Sorry about the chairs, it’s all I could get,” Soarin’ grimaced. He shoved his own aside and pulled the cushion off to simply sit on that instead. “Anyway, if anything really sensitive comes up, I’ve got a better spot where we can talk.”

Trinket was silent for a while, deep in thought. He wasn’t sure how far he could trust Soarin’, yet he needed information about Spitfire as much as the pegasus across from him did. “I doubt there’s much I could tell you,” Trinket began slowly.

“Suffice it to say, though, Spitfire offered Gem a job. She took it, and Spits flew.”

Soarin’ nodded slowly. He took a minute to dig through the drawers in his desk for a moment, before coming up with a binder full of papers. The cover labeled it as an Officer Directory. Going through it for a bit, he found what he was finding.

“Ah, here she is: Gem. Yeah, she was brought in not that long ago. Does she have something for me to find Spitfire?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Trinket inhaled deeply; he wasn’t going to like this next part.

A shiver went down Soarin’s spine at the way Trinket said that. “Yes...?”

“I’m saying...maybe it’s possible that Spitfire doesn’t want to be found.”

“I doubt that. She did leave me a contingency plan folder and all that. She’s not the kind of pony to put effort into a plan she’s not going to use.”

Trinket fell silent for a bit. “Perhaps. Perhaps I’m reading something into this where there is nothing. But it’s the only lead I have right now, and damn if I’m going to ignore it.”

“And how do you plan on following up on it?”

“The PRF isn’t going to sit on their laurels forever. They’re bound to make a move soon. When they do, I’ll have a good idea what my next move will be. Until I know more declaring war on them is a mistake.”

“I agree,” Soarin’ nodded. “Can’t be too hasty with this. I just... worry.”

“Soarin’, I realize it may be a breach of confidentiality, but I must ask. Can I see that contingency plan of yours?”

“Sorry, but I don’t have it here. So not right now.”

“Fair enough.” Trinket rose and stretched. “One last question, Soarin’, if I may.”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you think Princess Twilight is still in the city somewhere? Is there anywhere she could be hiding?”

Soarin’ remained silent for several moments. “I... don’t know. I used to think that she was simply busy doing research or something, but now... I just don’t know.”

“Nor do I,” Trinket agreed. “I don’t think she is the type to abandon her vision like this, however. Either she works in secret, or some other task far more important than ruling Ravaalon is keeping her from us.”

“We might find out in the future. Right now, I’m just interested in getting my friend back.”

“I can respect that,” Trinket said as he ran a hoof through his mane. “But I’ve had experience in this sort of matter. You may find the truth a difficult pill to swallow when the time comes.”

“It’s already difficult to accept that some pegasi are stupid enough to do things like this. But I’ll make it.”

“Well, if I find out anything further, I’ll bring you the news when I can. I hope I can expect the same from you,” Trinket finished.

“You can.” Soarin’ nodded. “Can you find your way out?"

“Unless I’m in a minotaur maze again, I think I’ll manage.”

Soarin’ nodded. “Well... hopefully next time we meet, either of us will have a way of finding Spitfire.” Trinket nodded and left as quickly and quietly as he came.

“Wait...” Soarin’ paused as he realized what had been said. “What did he mean by being in a minotaur maze again?”


Made with original Tricondon, accept no substitutes.

July 20th, five days after the Mayor's Speech
08:47 am (aka 'too damn early')

Crescent awoke not to his usual post indulgence headache, but to an aching chest. While he was no stranger to injury, most of his opponents had the decency to slice his flesh, not buck him repeatedly in the ribs while he was restrained. He rolled over, seeking a position that didn't insult his bruised barrel, but ended up rolling off the couch and onto the floor with a thud, which did nothing to ease his suffering.

"Hnng, by Nightmare Moon's flank!" he cursed through gritted teeth.

He struggled to his hooves, looking about the place. Last night he had been too tired, beaten, and moderately drunk to take note of anything; bathed in Celestia's light, he could see better. The walls were covered with posters advertising myriad plays, such as Hoofington and The Magical Flute, Swiftwing: a Poor Flyer's Tale and others he had never heard of.
To the unicorn's left lay a desk, or something that looked like a desk, heaped with papers, small plates, cups stacked haphazardly; an inexcusable real mess, unless one truly had no time for cleaning. The room itself was somewhat small for a living room, although the vaulted ceiling was nice. A bay window let the morning sunshine in, though he noticed a thick looking curtain was pulled aside to allow this. A large carpet took up most of the floor; it looked to have once been quite fetching, though now tea and coffee stains marred the splendor somewhat.

The furniture was well worn, the couch's fabric faded, the table he had almost brained himself on had plenty of scratches; yet the items were well built, the scuffing superficial, and the items seemed ready to last several years longer. Those were explicable, if somewhat at odds with the flighty persona the perplexing pegasus presented – what was odd were the clothing rack, faded green dresser, and two closets all stuffed with clothing and accessories that seemed to have nothing to do with each other. Robes, coats, ball gowns, a stallion's work uniform, some sort of metallic plastic full-body getup, hats too numerous to list, and a large collection of wigs, beards, and tail extensions.

Looking at the posters and the obviously hoof-made nature of some of the items, he wondered if she had some involvement in the theater; the numerous bottles of dye and paste lent some believability to this idea… Or she could be a serial killer who collected the belonging of her victims as twisted mementos – but, seeing as he was still alive to be speculating, that was less likely. He hoped.

Crescent's speculations were interrupted by an alarmingly loud thud from what he assumed was the bedroom door. Followed by a great deal of cursing and the scraping of hooves on wood, before the door was finally flung open. A disgruntled looking white pegasus stumbled forth, rubbing absently over her forehead. It seemed he wasn't the only one with a rough morning.

After navigating the room nearly blind, she paused to lift her bangs and examine at the unicorn for a long moment. Her expression ran through curiosity, confusion, a moment of what looked like panic, and realization. He made an attempt to speak, but was interrupted by a hazily waving hoof, which became a shushing motion as Mirror Shine pointed at the kitchen area, the one part of the apartment that seemed to be completely clean. The mare then made her way there.

Not sure what else to do, Crescent followed. After filling a kettle and putting it onto the stove with what the swordspony felt was alarming disregard for her own safety, she dragged out two metal canisters. She pointed at the two and raised an eyebrow in his direction before turning to retrieve mugs from the cabinet. Examining them, the unicorn found that one had the image of an oval bisected the long way by and s-curve, while the other had a picture of a curled up leaf on the front.

In addition to a pair of sturdy looking mugs, Mirror deposited a contrivance consisting of a glass cylinder with a complicated arrangement involving a metal plunger of some sort within. Pulling the top off, she began carefully depositing small spoonfuls of a dark brown crumbly material from the first cannister, which could only be coffee grounds from the smell of them. Realization dawned on the stallion.

"Ohh! You're– *mffm*–" he began, only to have the pegasus reach out and close his mouth with her hoof while shaking her
head and wincing.

At this point the kettle began to whistle, and the pale pony dove to pull it off the heat.

"Not easy having a hangover for the first time," he whispered, knowing how bad loud sounds was after a night on the town.

"Na'firss, buh nah hoffen." It was hard to tell if the slurring came from the kettle she was pouring hot water from, or the 'wrath of grapes'. It probably didn't make much difference. Still holding the object, she waved at the cannisters, "Itch oou hefurr?"

"Sorry, it sounds like your tongue has been stung by a bee. I think you said this wasn't your first time drunk, a bit surprised seeing how knocked out you were after a few soft drinks. I guess you also asked if it was my first time which –
Mirror carefully set the kettle down, spat out the potholder, dramatically slapped her forehead with a hoof, and butted her forehead against the unicorn's. "I said 'WHICH DO YOU PREFER' – I was asking if you wanted coffee or tea," and winced at the sound of her own voice.

"Ehm, coffee please." He had clearly overstepped some line. He didn’t blame her for the anger and outburst, if you weren't used to hangovers they were a pain in the flank if there was a loudmouth around. Glad it's not me with the headache at least, he thought.

The pegasus nodded, thoughtful. Pushing down the plunger arrangement, she caught the grounds in the bottom of the glass device, allowing the brown liquid to rise above, and poured out a measure of what was certainly coffee into one of the mugs, pointing to a bowl of sugar and a small white pitcher, both of which she must have procured while the unicorn was contemplating headaches. The albino pony began cleaning out the glass contrivance, pausing to put the kettle back on the heat as she finished.

"Should I... help with something?" Crescent asked carefully, not wanting to give her another reason to throw him out.

"Mmm… toast?" Mirror mumbled, pointing to a loaf of bread on the counter. Upon further consideration she decided to pour a glass of water and drink it, some arcane bit of lore one alcoholic two-bit actor or another had slurred at some point… maybe. 'Eh, couldn't hurt in any case.'

"Sure, I can do that." He grabbed his sword by the couch and levitated it over and took it out of its holster. Taking some slices of bread, he put them on the broadside of the blade which started heating up. He tended to use this trick often since it was a low magic cost and, in his opinion, made better toast than what other ponies did.

The perplexed pegasus pony watched this display until the shrill cry of the kettle called her back to reality, and – more importantly – coffee. Lift, scoop, pour, swirl, plunge, pour… the routine required mercifully little of her tortured brain. Another sip of the near lifeless water that reminded her how stale the roof of her mouth felt, a single pinch of sugar, and the bliss of the black elixir was hers.

There was something almost indecent about how much the mare seemed to be enjoying her coffee. She tore herself away from the mug long enough to retrieve plates, a butter dish, honey, and a jam whose original fruit was almost impossible to determine. Dropping napkins, long spoons, and a butter-knife on the counter, she waved at Crescent as she dove back into her caffeinated beverage, sighing contentedly. The unicorn was almost convinced he saw her mane settle down as she drank.

Putting his blade back, he sent the pieces of sliced, crisp brown bread to each plate. He sat down by the slightly worn kitchen table and levitated the cup of steaming hot liquid to his mouth, not really wanting to tip Mirror off and rather went with the pressing silence. He wasn’t sure why he was so careful with her about the hangover, normally he would have been nagging about how they just should buckle it up and deal with it later but that might also be it, that it was a she and not some stallion next door which was complaining loudly in the morning.

The mare managed to miss the musing, setting her mug down and lazily drawing in a deep breath. "Ahhhh. I almost feel equine again. Um, sorry if I was grouchy or anything. There's … reasons I don't drink very often." She offered a self deprecating grin. Picking up a piece of toast and buttering it, she eyed the implement use to heat the crisped bread, "So, do you often use your cutlery as a cooking appliance?"

“Uhm, yeah, I never got the point of using magitech when I can use magic myself. Gives me a better control over how much power I use but I see how it can be useful for you… unmagical ponies, I mean I know pegasi have some magic for flying and earth ponies with crafting but you know what I mean, right?” He really couldn’t get his act together around mares, only being slightly tipsy helped.

"*pffft*! I thought maybe it was a fluke, but no… you're a dork. For all that your brooding and flame-y magical swordocity is pretty bad-flank, you've got this core of…" she paused, noticing his expression and waved a hoof," No, that's not a bad thing, it … like… um, counterbalances you? C'mon, it's not just anypony who could have a special talent for wielding a … what the heck do you call a magical fire sword thingamabob?"

“Pyromancer?” He didn’t see himself as one, he just happened to have a fire enchantment engrave on the blade. “To tell you the truth I never was a big fan of fire or flame, heck, I was never even taught how to properly fight with a sword.”

Mirror paused from spreading shnozzberry jam to look up, "Wait, that's not your special talent?"

“Well that’s the problem with cutie marks, isn’t it? You get one and suddenly you have your future set out for you. Just because I have swords as mine doesn't mean I want to fight.”

"Mmm, not really. Mine got me a pretty well paying job. I mean, polishing mirrors isn't the most amazing special talent I've ever heard of, but somepony's got to do it, right? I do plenty of other stuff… I'm just no good at any of it." She focused upon the toast once again. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day… according to some anonymous source nopony has ever met. "I mean, isn't the point of a weapon to first dissuade combat, and then to end it as quickly as possible?" Yes, it would be rude for a hostess to monopolize the conversation. Totally rude.

“The only thing weapons do is end lives more quickly… sorry, not really a good topic there.”

"Oh, sorry." 'Stupid, stupid, stupid… say somthing else!' "Ummm… we didn't really get to talk last night… or I don't remember any conversation, I practically fell asleep in the door. Heh, sorry again. But… what did you want to discuss from last night, if… you can recall?" The recent past shouldn't be as painful, right? Mirror resolutely refused to draw on her usual analytics and realize that Crescent's dark past obviously involved having to harm or kill someone close to – 'Damnit, what did I just say, WHAT DID I JUST SAY!'

“Well, let me think…” He rubbed the space between his eyes as he tried to remember it correctly. “So both you and your friend, Gem the gryphon, are in this group and you’re looking for the head of police force Spitfire who has disappeared, correct?”

"Look there is no…" She let the breath out, what was the point in quibbling, she was trying to start a group in any case.

"Um, yeah … although, do you really think Gem wants to be friends? That'd be neat, she seems pretty cool, but I just can't ever get a read on her – I'm rambling again. Sorry. Ok…" the mare took a quick drink of water while she gathered her wits. "Um yeah, I guess you can call us team Spitfire is Pretty OK in Our oppinioN or… SPOON for short I guess? Whatever, not the point. Yes, team Spo– darn it, now you've got me saying that!"

She took a few breaths and swig of coffee, "Yes I am trying to find out what happened to Captain Spitfire and I'd really like your help." It was surprising how exhausting being straightforward could be, or maybe it was the last dregs of the hangover.

“Ehm, okay?” He couldn’t really see how he could help at the moment, no real knowledge of the city, informatives or this pegasi rebellion. “Just one thing, please don’t call the group, or any group for that matter, for SPOON. Unless it has to do with cooking it doesn’t fit.”

"That was a joke, seriously there is no group. I wish there was a group, then maybe I wouldn't have to try to hold down two jobs and do all of this stuff on top of that." Crunch crunch… "Heyb, this iff pretty goob. *Gulp* Sorry, but that weird sword affectation of yours makes some great toast. See, the problem with all the ponies who 'know the city' or whatever is twofold: first off, they've got irons in the fi… I do not like using that analogy in this case… um, they all have their own concerns they're trying to take care of."

"Secondly, and I hate to admit it, but we're a pretty apathetic lot. I mean, we let things get this bad in the first place, right?" She frowned, hears clapping down on her head. "There are just so few ponies out there who even care. Which… I guess is another reason we let stuff get so bad. You're like… um, ok forget the analogies; you strike me as an idealist, no not like some sort of useless idiot who goes around shoving obnoxious what-ifs down everypony's throat, I mean like one of those ponies who's always wishing they had some greater purpose or some horse-apples like that."

Crescent blinked, that was pretty direct for her. “Wow… thanks I guess. You really seem to have gotten an idea of what’s happening now than under the festival. So, what makes you think getting the head of police back will help? I admit, she is pretty devoted to the city but what if it turns out she actually wanted it to look like she was taken and really are up in the ranks with the rebellion?” The unicorn parted his bread in two, taking butter on both, then jam on one and honey on the other.

"In the past week, I have been nearly blown up, arrested two times, once for stopping vandalism, and the volunteer theater I used to frequent was burned to the ground, and now half of my friends don't even want to be seen with me anymore. Not to mention losing a perfectly good wizard's hat and … ok, whatever, let's just say it hasn't been the best time of my life, k? But buck that noise, I'm going to assume that life gets better, that it's worth continuing to play along."

She sighed, taking in a deep breath. "Long story short, I know Spitfire is clean because she has to be, or there's nothing left to even hope for. You know what the problem with nihilists is? They lack the conviction to follow the idea through to the end. If life is meaningless and all you do is suffer, well then, what keeps ponies coming back for more? Attachments, friendship, love, hope, whatever. See, there's no suffering without hope, eventually you'd just go numb."

"Plus, past all of that? Having Spitfire turn out to be the evil mastermind, or even worse just some scraping toady… that'd be the cruddiest plot-twist I could think of, I mean who would even read nonsense like that?"

“I would state this isn’t a story in a book but even acknowledging that would be clichè.”  He put the two pieces of bread together and took a bite. “Personally, my story has more suffering than hope, I mean, my father is in the hospital, slowly dying from something they can’t treat, my marefriend died because of my accursed ‘talent’ and all the hope I get is from seeing others than myself move on and get through stuff… I’d like, just for once, to have one of those moments where I get to the resolution of hope and not just suffering.” He swallowed. “I did it again didn’t I? Sorry, I don’t mean to be such a downer.”

"No no, that was great. Um, I mean, not the bad stuff, it sucks that happened to ponies you care about, but you're not accepting the role anymore, and that is great. You're trying not to be an NP… er, you're trying to take control of your life." 'Ok, note to self: stop using script analogies, at best you're annoying folk, at worst making ponies worried about your sanity.' "Um, what were we talking about again?"

“I dunno, something about this little group you’re trying to start.” He took another bite of the honey and jam sandwich.
“What did you need me for exactly?”

The toast paused halfway to Mirror's mouth. She'd been so busy trying to recruit him there had been no consideration of what to actually do with a sword wielding pyromancer nee street performer. "Well, aside from being eye candy, I guess I'm going to need to keep in touch with a lot of ponies… um and at least one gryphon?" She grabbed a quick bite before the food could finish getting cold. "Alfo *gulp* you may be an unknown quantity, but that also means you've got no history… hmm, that doesn't even make sense to me… um, your lack of contact in the city means that you might be able to talk to folk as, like, the only genuinely neutral party in the whole city."

Crescent was still dwelling on ‘aside from eye candy’. was she coming on to him? His grey and deep red mane had to be a total mess from sleeping on the couch and… dammit, he was reading too deeply into it. “Uhm, well, I-I’m not totally neutral, I mean those guys we met on at the bar plus their employers has it in for me. Other than that I see what you mean. It will still be a bit weird for a total stranger going around asking for the rebellion.”

The pegasus shrugged, "So don't. All of this terrible stuff is shaking up everyone's carefully laid plans, um I'd assume. I don't exactly rub shoulders with the criminal element on a regular 'at all' or anything. But… ok this is going to sound dumb… you know how there are all those books and plays about robbers, pirates, criminals, and whatevers? I think the ponies who end up being the badguys see the same stuff the rest of us do… I think we learn how to be whatever role we end up with in life from the stuff we see and read. I said all that so that I won't sound like a complete idiot saying that in any halfway decent crime novel this would totally be when the ambitions underbosses would make their moves."

He sat and chewed on what she just had said. “I… don’t quite see where you’re going with this.”

"Don't go looking for the rebellion. You're not going to suddenly find them when nopony else has been been able to. I figure the group is sort of like a huge, emotionally dysfunctional cat with pyromaniac issues… that analogy is getting away from me… but my point is, if you're going to find them, it will be because they approach you. So, in the meantime," Her eyes gleamed as she finished her coffee. "Why not see about doing some of that 'taking control of your own life' stuff you were talking about?" She really tried not to grin.

Oh goddess, she really was coming onto him. He could feel his face heating up, the smile she gave him wasn’t helping either, she seemed to enjoy toying with him. “W-what do you mean by that? T-taking control of my life?”

'Oohkhay, this is going to take some work, I can see that.' Why the hay was he blushing? No time for that. "Well, bad stuff comes and finds you, right? Or you get stuck in bad situations. It's like the dream about being chased by a timber-wolf, or a mountain-lion, or whatever haunted your foalhood nightmares. Running does no good, that's just being good little prey and behaving the way nature programmed our ancestors, if you subscribe to that mythos. Point is, you've gotta turn and face the stuff, chase it down at the source. You may not stop the bad stuff, but maybe you can face it… I don't know, on your terms, or something? Make the confrontations actually mean something to you? At least not feel like it's life picking on you?" She tried not to eye the clock – this was important, if she wasn't just babbling again.

Was she saying he needed to face that 'She' was dead? stop dwelling with the past and move forward? Her voice in his head could been the sign that he had been holding onto a ghost for too long and needed to look at what he had now. “I.. I think you’re right Mirror, I might not clear my past but I can do my best with what’s to come.”

'Is… is it actually working? Wait, what's he talking about – no, don't screw it up by asking.' The albino nodded, "It's a weight off, isn't it? So now the question just becomes what do we do about it? I mean, this is going to take a lot of planning. Um, I don't suppose you've ever watched a production of 'Plucky Number Slevin', have you?"

“Never. I actually never seen any play to be honest, except for a school play of Hoofwarming’s day.”

"Really?" Mirror's ears perked up. "Wow, you've got no idea what you're missing. Maybe we could go see one later… unfortunately I'm going to be kinda completely busy today, what with two part time shifts and a whole 'nother case of skullduggery after I get all of that finished." She clamped her jaws shut in an idiotic looking grin, because it was better than reciting the list of plays being performed at theaters that were still intact around the city. Her non-theatrical friends had made it abundantly clear that sort of thing got very old very quickly.

’This is it,’ he thought to himself. ’She’s throwing me a liferaft to see if I’m ready to do something to change.’ He took a deep breath. “I might take you up on that offer. About the theater I mean, when all this is over.” He felt embarrassed but good.

"Sounds like a plan. So… I've got to head off to work in, say, five minutes ago. I…" She debated for a moment, 'Erg, well, if I'm going to be asking him to risk his life, I guess it's not really much for me to offer some trust in return.' "Um, there's a spare key under that vase over there on the bookshelf. If, well, I don't have any idea what your plans are, but… I'm planning on talking to one of Spitfire's oldest friends later today, so I may have some actual leads, or at least … I don't know, some useful information, maybe?"

“Wow, you know, this might be the first time anyone has shown me trust, other than Trinket but he still doesn’t trust me completely I bet. Thank you, I really appreciate this.”

Mirror paused for a moment, "You're welcome? And, ah, thank you for taking me seriously." That was odd, why did his gratitude leave her feeling flustered? Best to skip that, "Oh, this is the second time I've heard this Trinket guy mentioned. He's Gem's friend who likes to climb stuff, right? Any idea what his deal is?"

“Well he does have a talent for scaling walls and whatnot, think he runs his own shop a minute or so from the HexStation and seems to have a bit knowledge on artifacts, he gave the thing I gave him an architect's looked but I couldn’t tell you anything more. He’s at least not a stuck up earth pony so that’s something.”

"Hmm, yeah. Good for him. I guess I just didn't meet many of the really snooty earth ponies, maybe they have their own poetry clubs?"

Crescent chuckled. “Yeah, I can really imagine that brute from yesterday dictating a poem about flowers and the sky. Guess we both have an agenda today but I got more time than you so here, let me clean up the breakfast.” He started bringing the plates and empty cups to the sink and the butter and such back in the ice cabinet.

"I… huh, well thank you." She glanced at the clock and winced. "Oh mane, I am going to being late. I've got to take off. Um, help yourself to anything in the fridge that looks edible, sorry, I haven't had a chance to go through it in the last week, but I don't keep a lot of stuff that spoils easily so… I don't know? Argh, thanks again, see you later!" She bolted for the door, stopped, went back and got her saddlebags, and was gone.

'She might trust you but do you trust her?' unbidden as always, her voice called to him. There was a tone of harshness she had never used in life. 'All this talk about working out your personal life, playing dumb, maybe she’s planning to use you. It could turn out that she’s actually with the rebellion and playing you the backhoof, luring you in and then-BAM, you're up to your horn in the bad stuff.'

“Why are you even talking to me?” Crescent asked. “You are just my memory of my old marefriend, and though I want to respect her memory, I can’t always be alone. I’ve been playing the stand-alone hero for far too long and as I said, I think I deserve some happiness myself.” He went over to the bookshelf and moved the vase aside, revealing a key.

'If you pick up that key, you are abandoning my memory. But I won’t leave you alone. I will nag in the back of your mind and remind you of your treachery.'

He stood and looked at the key, thinking it over. “I’m sorry, but I’m the one living now and you are a just a figment of my memory of her.” He quickly picked up the key before he could reconsider it. “You were a fantastic mare but that’s just it, you were and I have to move on… Forgive me, Moontwirl.”

He hugged the key tightly and awaited her voice giving him an earful, but there was silence in his mind. His mind was his own again, at least for a while. He was still not sure if this was the right thing to do but now the choice was taken and he just had to wait and see. At least, it was some progress in his life, a very big step.

He picked up his sword and fastened it around himself, he had some time to kill before meeting Trinket so he could at least make a few coins on a short performance around the corner. He went out the door and closed it behind him, giving him a feeling of symbolism about leaving some of his old life behind. he locked it and stood a second to just marvel at the wooden door before going down the steps.


Brought to you by Dr. Techno, the letter P, and the number ϕ

July 20th, Five days after the Mayor's Speech
01:14 pm

It’d been an incredibly long day for Soarin’. Despite being fairly new to the police force, a timely memo from one Captain Spitfire of the Ravaalon City Police Department had endorsed him as acting Captain in her absence, citing his excellent record as her second in command and occasional stand-in for the Wonderbolts. Soarin' would have been more reluctant to pursue the position if he hadn't been told about it by Copper Top, Spitfire's actual Guard second-in-command, a unicorn who seemed to have as much responsibility as he cared for, with all respect, 'Sir'...

Which meant that the former Wonderbolt was there for the long term... it was only just past lunch, and his head was still ringing from briefings and paperwork. Dear Luna, the paperwork.

With a sigh, Soarin’ tossed the Neighponese take-out he’d ordered into his little trash can, and returned to his desk to continue powering through his piles of paperwork.


July 20
06:07 pm

Soarin’ yawned widely, laying his head down on the desk. Thank Celestia, he was finally done with all that paperwork! Perhaps now he could – thump. He looked up to see the apologetic face of one of the secretaries.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He deadpanned.

“Sorry sir. This is the last of it, I promise.” 'Molly' winced in sympathy.

Soarin’ stared at the pile of paper from where he rested his head, Molly seeing herself out as he did so. Was there a possibility that he could sneak out and leave it for tomorrow, like he did back in his ‘Bolt days? No, he needed to get it done today. It would be finished, and then he’d be able to go search for more clues for Spitfire’s location.

Somepony banged on the door. The window rattled, and it seemed more like they had run into it than knocked. A moment later the door swung open and a white pegasus staggered in, grasping the handle like a support.

Soarin’ raised an eyebrow at the pony, recognizing her easily. “You okay, Mirror? You look like a bull ran you over.”

"Only if the bull is called … um 'Chronos' or whoever the titan of time was, I forget… you know what? No, because that guy would have sex with anything and I just don't have the energy for some sort of crazy complicated…" She trailed off, realizing she was babbling.

"Hangover, two partial shifts in different hexes, and … I forget. Oh, yeah, bar-fight last night. Um, that's unusual for me, if you're wondering." She rubbed her head, walking over to the desk.

“Oh.” Soarin’ blinked and stood up. He came over to help the mare take a seat in front of his desk, closing the door behind her. “That doesn’t sound like something you’d do.”

"Well, I'm doing a lot of stuff I didn't think I would lately. But that's not important." She took a deep breath. "I hear you're the defacto chief thanks to a standing order from our illustrious Captain?"

Soarin’s ears flattened from being reminded of his missing friend. “Yeah...”

"Hmm, then I take it you haven't heard from her, either." Mirror sighed, 'well, so much for the easy way.'

“Not yet, no. I’m still trying to find her.” He shook his head. Then he brightened up a bit. “Wait... have you heard something?! Please tell me you have!”

The albino hung her head, "Nothing direct, although I did meet the gryphon she recruited to try and infiltrate the PRF, and another guy who might be able to help… if he can get the Casino family off his back."

Soarin’ frowned. “Casino family?”

Mirror shrugged, "I guess they're some criminal syndicate-thing operating in the City. I've only seen one of their mid level goons, but he was a real piece of work. Would have hurt us pretty badly if Gem–

“Gem?!” Soarin’ leapt out of his chair and slammed his hooves on his desk. “You’ve met her?! Where can I find her?”

"Well, she's not really very communicative, but she wants to talk to the other guy, Crescent. I think she lives with somepony named Trinket?" Mirror scratched her head.

Soarin’ nodded, slowly relaxing back into his seat. “Yeah... yeah, I’ve met him a couple of times. He’s mentioned her.”

"Wait, you mean I actually managed to do something useful for once?" She really didn't mean to sound so skeptical.
Soarin’ rolled his eyes. “No need to sound so surprised. Anyway, what else have you found?”

"Um, ok, according to Molly Maplehoof - um, she was one of Spitfire's secretaries – a message was delivered to the Captain's house three days ago by a blue pegasus. Whatever was in the message got her up and moving, but she said she'd be going to work… but, as you know, she never got there."

“Yeah, that’s what’s got me freaking out. She’s never just skipped out on work like that.”

"Didn't Cloudbailer escape custody shortly before that?" Mirror speculated.

Soarin’ paused as he thought about that. “Now that you mention it...”

"I couldn't get access to the report itself, so I don't know the exact details. But… it seems kinda fishy."

“One moment, I should have a copy of it around here somewhere.” Soarin’ stood and moved over to his pair of filing cabinets, opening the drawers. It took him a few minutes of looking, but he did find it. “Ah, here it is. Spits passed a copy around to the higher ranking officers here to keep.” He handed it to Mirror.

Mirror accepted the folder, flipping through the pages… 'aha, there it is! "Here!" the mare stabbed a hoof at the entry about the accomplice. "That sounds like the pony Molly mentioned delivering the note!"

Soarin’ frowned at what Mirror was pointing. “I don’t recognize that pony. Do you?”

The white pony quirked an eyebrow, "I've never seen her in my life, and after reading what she did to those poor guards, I'm not sorry I've never met her."

Soarin’ sighed. “That’s alright. Just another dead end.”

"Is it though? We … well 'I', know so little about what's going on that every bit of information helps me to at least refine the shape of what's going on." Mirror considered what this 'shape' was, and her ears flopped onto her head, "And I really don't like where this leads."

“Me either. My gut’s telling me she’s getting hurt, and I just hate that all I can do is sit here and just scramble around trying to find her...”

The pale pony blanched, she knew Soarin' probably wouldn't have much more of a lead, but hearing it really struck home how utterly lost they were. "Yeah… that, um. Well, at the very least now there's four of us blindly searching, so maybe by keeping in touch we can actually turn something up?" She spoke the words, but didn't feel the conviction.

Soarin’ smiled softly. “Yeah, maybe...”

"No, definitely." Mirror shook off her self-pity. "I was just telling the other guy this morning… if we have no way of know what the case is, I'm going to assume that it's something solvable, because otherwise, what's the point of anything?"

Another thought struck her, "I don't think you've met Crescent yet. We should figure out a time for you two to meet."
“Why? Does he have a good connection to the PRF?”

"Um, not really? Or, like, at all? His only contact to the underworld is pissing off a … what's that word, not Cappo, um lieutenant, maybe? Some middle-management bad-colt from that criminal family. But if anypony is going to catch the PRF's attention, wouldn't it be somepony who starts a war with an entire syndicate? … Wow, that sounds really stupid when I say it out loud." Oops, she'd meant to think the last part.

Soarin’ chuckled. “Well, glad to know you haven’t changed, at least.”

"Uh, thanks, I guess?" 'He's got a point though, I should find a ponysona for intrigue… now who would that be?'

“Sorry, it’s just... after these past few days, it’s good to know that some things don’t change.”

"Well, when you put it that way." she smiled. Maybe that was a good thing, not losing yourself? "Honestly, just knowing there's another pony in the Guard who's trying to figure this stuff out is a relief. I mean, I guess there'll be an official investigation or something starting tomorrow – I was told the Captain would have to be absent for three days? Or something, but… I just don't know if that's going to work or not. I mean, if we could find the PRF, why wouldn't we have done so before now?"

Soarin’ nodded in agreement. “That’s true.” He sighed and stood again, holding his hoof out to Mirror for a shake. “Thanks for stopping by and telling me all this. I... It means a lot to me.”

She grasped the hoof, nodding. "Yeah. Actually you're already given me some more stuff to think about. I'll try to get both Gem and Crescent to agree to meet with you, but I don't think either one is going to want to come to the station."

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.” He went over to the door. “I’ll see you again soon with some more information? Or maybe a way to meet Gem and Crescent?”

"Yeah, I think I'll see Crescent tonight, so I should be able to set that up pretty easy. And now that I've actually got a name I've got an excuse to meet the mysterious Trinket… I kinda get the impression he's got a high opinion of his personal time, and if he's anything like Gem you'd better have something to offer." She was babbling again, "I'm babbling again. I'll see you later, thanks again!"

Soarin’ waved as Mirror headed out, smiling. “And get some sleep! You could use it!”

She smiled in a grin that spoke equally of chagrin and mischief, "I will, and you have fun with your paperwork!"

Soarin’ chuckled again, and sighed as he turned back to the piles of paperwork on his desk as Mirror left. Slowly making his way over, he put away the copy of that report, and sat down at his spot with another heavy sigh -- and returned to work.

This time, however, he had a smile on his face. Hopefully, he would find his friend soon…


Made in association with notMurphy

Timestamp:
6:23 PM July 19th, four days after the Mayor’s speech

Cloudbuilder squinted into the cell. The lights were off, and in the dim glow spilling in from the hallway, he couldn’t see much. Fumbling around just outside the door, he found a switch, flicking it with a wingtip. Harsh, bright lights snapped on.

There, laying on the floor, was Spitfire. He nearly lost the tray of food on his back as he started in shock. Her wing was being held in an odd position, a clear sign that it was hurt. She sported bruises and cuts all along her body. There was no way a knock to the head in the park had gotten her all of that.

As the lights came on her head snapped around as she shied away from the door. While her gaze avoided looking up into the harsh brightness, Cloudbuilder could still see the bruises around her eyes and on her muzzle.

“Wha—” was all he could manage to say. What had happened to her?

Spitfire stared at him as he stood in the doorway awkwardly, trying to find anything but her accusing eyes to stare at. As it was, he missed the numerous emotions that crossed her face, but it wasn’t hard for him to pick up the vibes. They were silent for the longest time before she finally turned away and laid her head back down.

Cautiously, Cloudbuilder approached her. “Spitfire?” he said. “I brought you some food.” The words sounded weak to him, but he could honestly not think of anything else to say. With a clink of metal meeting stone, he set the tray down on the floor. He sat there silently, waiting for her to respond, but she was still except for her slow breathing.

She finally turned to stare at him “Do you plan to feed me or something?” she asked flatly.

Did he what? “Uh, not really.” Taking another look at her current state, he hastily continued. “I mean, unless you need me to.”

After a moment longer of staring, she sat up and faced him. “What do you want, Cloudbuilder?”

That was a good question. He’d only been told to be nice to Spitfire, to become her friend. Nopony had bothered to tell him how to go about doing that. It was becoming apparent that in his haste to prove himself, he’d completely forgotten to plan anything out.

He pointed to the tray. “I thought you could use something to eat.” He tried to think back to anything prison related he could, though most of that came from the Daring Doo novels when she got captured. One way she would escape would be to fashion some tool out of whatever she was given. “I just can’t leave you alone with a metal tray, sorry.”

Spitfire glanced down at the tray, then back up at him. Clearly she was contemplating all the things she could do with that tray. After a moment, she picked up the glass and began drinking deeply before quickly stuffing the food down.

Cloudbuilder watched her eat. Ever since moving to Ravaalon, he’d gone hungry at times himself. Factory work didn’t always afford him enough money to eat. Based on how she was attacking the tray, she hadn’t eaten in a day. Most likely since yesterday morning.

She was hungry, hurt, and tired. Part of him was surprised she wasn’t using the tray to knock him senseless, either in an attempt to escape, or for revenge. He was trying to sit just out of reach of her hoof, just in case.

He needed to say something. If he was in her place, what would he like to hear? They weren’t friends, that was for sure. Each time they saw each other, they parted on worse and worse terms. The last time, she’d ended up getting kidnapped and knocked out. In her place, he’d want somepony to start apologizing and making up to him for what had happened.

“Listen, Spitfire. I know that you hate me, but...” He trailed off, taking a moment to collect his scattered thoughts. “But I’m sorry.”

She continued to eat the food, ignoring him entirely. When she finally finished she turned her back to him and laid down. He saw her wince a few times as she adjusted her wing and legs. Eventually she seemed to relax as she sighed softly, Cloudbuilder wondering how she could be comfortable.

She was laying with her bad wing facing him. Leaning over, he tried to take a closer look at it. “How’s your wing?” he asked.

Spitfire shifted, turning her wing away as she grimaced in irritation. “Go away, Cloudbuilder. I don’t want to talk to you.”

She was certainly not going to make this easy on him. Her stubborn nature, and general opinion of him, would make this entire operation an uphill battle. He felt like there was something he could do to make this easier, but he couldn’t think of it.

“If you’re sure...” If she wasn’t going to talk to him, there wasn’t much he could do. Sticking around would only get her mad at him. When she didn’t answer him, he picked up the tray and glass and left the cell, closing the door behind him.
After locking the door, he left the cell block behind. He’d leave Spitfire alone for now, come back tomorrow morning with more food. All he needed to do was show that he was willing to be nice to her. Hopefully then she’d come around, and he could get the job done.


Timestamp
Date and time: Sometime after the 19th

Who did Cloudbuilder think he was walking in like that? The stallion had been nothing but a pain in her flank since day one and now here he was, with the enemy, trying to butter her up for something. Whatever he wanted, whatever the PRF wanted, they weren’t going to get it.

Cloudbuilder had been back several times, although Spitfire’s sense of time was still skewed. His first and second visits had the longest stretch of emptiness between them, which lead her to believe that had been an evening, then morning visit. But, she still couldn’t be sure, nothing seemed to happen correctly anymore.

The visits were terrible, she couldn’t be sure who would step through the door when. Two ponies kept coming in at seemingly random times and spent their time concocting news of the outside, which seemed too far fetched to be true, or they simply beat on her while screaming threats to her family and friends until she agreed to work for the PRF.

A short time after each one of those visits Cloudbuilder had been in to clean up whatever he could. It was starting to be more and more after each visit, she had lost her last meal after the bad ponies had shown up. Cloudbuilder would sometimes stay for quite a while trying to scrub up bloodstains, and all that time he would try to make conversation. But she refused to talk with him, it wasn’t worth the effort to keep telling him to shut up.

More than once he had tried to get closer to look at her injuries, but she vehemently denied his attempts. The less ponies that had access to her body, the better. She didn’t care if he said he was trying to help? It felt like one of the last things she had control over; refusing to comply to, or accept, Cloudbuilder’s help. It was embarrassing enough that he saw what they were doing to her, not to mention audacious for him to act like he was sorry after it was him that put her here.

The last visit had been the worst. Spitfire didn’t know how they kept finding new places to make her hurt, but they did. She was pretty sure one of her wings was dislocated, or something. She also couldn’t walk on her rear... was it left? Yes she was pretty sure it was her left, back hoof, that she couldn’t walk on at all. It throbbed painfully non-stop, and putting any pressure on it was even worse.


Timestamp:
Date and time: Unknown

Spitfire just wanted to die. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it hurt to think. Keeping her food down was impossible with ponies coming in and forcing it out of her at every turn. All she knew was that nothing good came through that door. Everything that came through there was either embarrassment or pain, both physical and mental. She thanked her lucky stars she could still hobble to the bucket in the corner and relieve herself when nopony was around.

Maybe she should try to make them kill her... get really violent and maybe they would finish her off. Yea, it might work, if she could actually do more than stand. Perhaps if she made a big mess on the floor with that bucket... that might make them mad enough.

Yes, that sounded like a good enough plan. What more could they do to her? She struggled for a moment with that, as it was a rather important question. But, in the end, she couldn’t think of anything. The plan must be good enough then.

Struggling to her hooves she limped over to the corner. Each step sent a jolt through her wings since she was hopping slightly, but it was nothing compared to the burning in her hoof. She finally made it over to the corner and the bucket.

Cloudbuilder hadn’t been in, actually nopony had been in for quite a while. She wasn’t sure if it was just her mind lying to her or what, but what she did know was that the bucket had a fair amount of waste in it.

Bracing herself against the wall she tipped the bucket over with a front hoof. Surprisingly, she registered the smell almost instantly, it was terrible. Still, she began spreading the sick around with a hoof, what else was she going to do?

She lost track of how long she pushed the mess around, it could have been seconds, or minutes, or hours. But, was forced to stop when she slipped on the excrement she was pushing around. It sent her crashing to the floor on her bad hoof and wing. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a choked gasp.

Everything burned. All she knew was the pain, it was impossible to think about anything else. Thankfully, a blessed blackness rolled over her senses, quickly smothering even the pain.

Cloudbuilder headed down the hall back towards the cell blocks. He wasn’t in the best mood, having just gotten out from a meeting with the same Pegasus stallion who’d given him the assignment to befriend Spitfire.

Spitfire was getting worse. Her injuries weren’t being allowed to heal before new ones were added. The last time he’d seen her, her bad wing was even worse and she could barely stand, the pain was so bad in one of her legs. It looked too bad to be a sprain, so he was sure that she’d broken it , or that it had been broken. The stubborn mare wouldn’t let him examine her injuries, so he’d resorted to a different tactic.

He’d gone to the stallion, asking about getting a reprieve for Spitfire. If they continued like they were, he feared that they’d kill her. Already he was worried that she’d suffered some kind of permanent harm.

Unfortunately, the stallion had refused. He’d said that things were proceeding exactly as planned, and if they stopped now, they’d risk losing everything.

Cloudbuilder had argued with the stallion, but in the end he’d lost. So now he was heading to see Spitfire again, mood foul but resolved to do his best anyway.

He got to the cell block, the guards letting him through. Grabbing a tray of food and glass of water, he unlocked the door to the cell. Spitfire was having trouble keeping her food down, but it was important that she at least keep eating.

Opening the door, he braced himself for what he’d see this time. Each time he saw her, she had some new injuries. Whoever was working her over was being thorough.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. He tried to keep the bucket in her cell as clean as possible, but it was difficult. This time, it smelled like it was very full.

He stood in the open door for a moment, fighting his gag reflex. The light spilling into the room didn’t illuminate much, though it never did. Finally, he felt confident in his ability to not vomit to turn on the lights.

Inside the cell, it was a mess. The bucket sat overturned in the corner, the contents of it spread out. Curiously, it looked like there were hoofprints smearing it about, though why Spitfire would do that, he had no idea.

His eyes roaming over the mess, he gasped when he spotted Spitfire. She was laying down in it, not moving. Even at her most painful she still looked up and acknowledged him when he entered.

The tray and glass dropped, food spilling across the doorway and the glass shattering on the floor. Heedless of the mess, Cloudbuilder ran into the room, stopping next to Spitfire.

“Spitfire?” He shook her, calling her name.

She let out a weak groan. Maybe she had been trying to say words, but it was lost in translation. She tried to raise up her head, but was only able to get a couple inches off the floor.

“Spitfire? What happened?”

She tried to speak again, but still nothing came out. Instead she just lay there in the middle of the mess.

“Dammit!” he swore. “I knew they’d go too far.” He looked down at the broken mare. “Sorry about this.” He grabbed her around her midsection, being very careful about her wings. Using all of his strength, he managed to pick her up and get her clear of the mess.

When she felt his hooves around her, she struggled, but it was weak. As soon as he set her down, she stopped struggling and just lay there. He had to check to make sure she was still breathing. It looked like she’d pretty much passed out.

It took him over an hour, but he managed to get not only the cell clean, but Spitfire as well. The entire time, he kept an eye on the mare. She woke up once, mumbled to herself a bit, then passed out again.

Once he was done, he hated to leave Spitfire alone, but this was it. He had to go back to that stallion and tell him just what had happened. They’d either give Spitfire a rest, or he’d do something. Maybe quit their plan. Nopony deserved what Spitfire was suffering.

He closed and locked the cell. His features set into a look of determination, he marched down the hallway towards the center room where the stallion kept his office.

Fortunately, the stallion wasn’t busy, so when Cloudbuilder threw open the door, he wasn’t interrupting a meeting. The stallion looked up at his entrance. “Yes?”

“Enough is enough. I just came back from visiting Spitfire. She’s barely conscious and if you continue with what you’re doing, you’re gonna kill her. If she dies, then she’s useless to us. It might even become a liability.”

He went on to detail all the injuries that he’d found on Spitfire, taking advantage of actually being able to get close to her while cleaning her up. It was worse than he’d feared. Her back leg was broken. Her wing needed to be set and bandaged. She had cuts and bruises on top of old ones that didn’t even have the needed time to heal. She was weak from a lack of food. Basically, she was a mess.

While he spoke, the stallion sat and listened. As soon as Cloudbuilder finished speaking, he sat back in his chair. “Well, that is quite the injury list. I knew those boys were doing their job well. A little too well, it seems. You’re right in that Spitfire is no good to us dead.”

That caught him off guard. “I... I am?”

The stallion nodded. “Of course, we need to keep her around. So I’ll tell you what. We’ll grant her a reprieve. You take care of her, monitor her, give her medical assistance. Make her trust you. We can use this to our advantage.”

“And no harm will come to her?”

“The only pony allowed in her cell will be you.”

This was exactly what Cloudbuilder was looking for. This would give Spitfire the time her body needed to heal. “Okay.”

The stallion gave him a dismissive wave. He left the office, making sure to close the door behind him. Now that Spitfire wasn’t in danger of being hurt, for now, he could really focus on getting her trust.

The first thing he needed to do would be getting her some medical help. There were a lack of doctors in this place, but he was fairly certain he’d seen a book on first aid somewhere. All he needed to know how to do was help her broken leg. His own wing had been reset several times, so he felt pretty confident doing that one.

Half an hour later, he had a book on first aid, as well as all the bandages and gauze he could carry, heading back to the cell. Hopefully Spitfire would be awake, though it might be easier to bandage her up is she was still out of it.

Comfortable. It was the best word Spitfire’s mind could come up with: she was comfortable. Her sluggish, half awake mind was not able to register much more than that. If there were any questions about her current state, they were lost in the deep recesses of her unconscious.

Next, a feeling washed over her like a warm wave: relief. Once again, she had no idea why she felt it, but it was there. As her mind tried to make sense of it’s own reasonings, she came awake more. She could hear something, but couldn’t place it.

The noise sounded again and her world snapped into focus. Opening her eyes she was faced with a dark wall. That... wasn’t right. Her bedroom walls were a light blue, this meant she wasn’t in bed. Where could she... Spitfire felt the relief she just had ooze out of her grasp and vanish.

She knew where she was.

Still, why did she feel comfortable? Spitfire could quite clearly remember her body hurting worse last time she was awake. She also remembered doing a few things that were beyond disgusting. So, what had changed?

There was the noise again, a slight shuffling. She shifted, trying to turn her body over. A sharp twinge from her back leg shocked her into stillness. Now she could feel the cast covering her leg, odd how she missed the pressure before. Still, that must be why it wasn’t hurting as much as it had been. Her wings were still throbbing, but she could move them without much trouble.

“Spitfire?” A voice asked.

She shuffled again, this time taking care not to jostle her leg. Her body responded better this time and she was able to get her hooves under her body. Turning over she surveyed her room. It looked much the same as it had. It was a little brighter, certainly much cleaner than she knew she had left it. There was a chair in the corner, sitting on it was a pony. That pony was... Cloudbuilder.

What the hell was he doing here? He had been bringing her food and cleaning up for... Well, a while now. What did he want?

Spitfire narrowed her eyes. There were too many questions about his presence. Her reasoning flew in circles as she tried to find a reason for him to be here without malicious intent. Nothing seemed to fit. Asking was becoming a rather appealing option, but her pride still held her back. She didn’t want to talk to Cloudbuilder. He was the one who put her here, and through all this.

Still, if he had wanted to hurt her, he could have already when she was out or when bringing food. Which once again led her to concluding he was her best source of information.

“Hello, Cloudbuilder,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness to a minimum. It was hard.

“Spitfire,” he replied. “How’re you feeling?”

She glanced at him. “Fine.” Taking a breath, she tried something nicer. “Better, I guess. Why am I fixed up?”

“Uh, well, I did that.” He looked past her, at the wall. “You weren’t good when I found you earlier. I convinced the others to let you rest for now. You don’t have to worry about anyone other than me coming in here.”

“I don’t want you in here,” Spitfire began. “If any—” she stopped, considering her next words. “What do you want? And how long before... the others come back?” she asked, carefully.

That was a good question, what did he want? At first it was only for them to not kill Spitfire. Then it became wanting to at least ease her pain somewhat. Now that both of those goals had been met, he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted beyond accomplishing his original goal of getting her to trust him. Obviously he couldn’t tell her that.

“Right now, you need to rest and heal. You may not believe this, but I don’t want to see you killed. I don’t know how long I’ve bought you, but I’ll keep them away for as long as I can.” There, a nice statement, showing that he cares about her and is willing to fight for her. That should help convince her he’s there to help.

If her eyes hadn’t been as puffy as they were, he would have noticed Spitfire narrowing her eyes. As it was, her disbelief was masked behind her black and blue features. He was avoiding her question, and the way he dodged it was almost laughable.

“Fine, but this doesn’t make us square by a long shot.” Spitfire shuffled again and laid back down in a comfortable position as she could. “You can leave now.”

He gestured to a tray of food that was sitting on the floor. “If I leave that, do you promise to not hit me with it next time I’m here?”

Spitfire rolled her eyes. “Go away, Cloudbuilder. You’re such an idiot.”

Cloudbuilder got up, picking up the chair and heading for the door. He opened it, standing in the doorway. “Listen, Spitfire. You may not like me, you may hate me, but right now, I’m your only ally in here.” He closed the door behind him, locking it. Hopefully that wasn’t too harsh of a line, but he’d read it in a Daring Doo book once, and liked it.

Knowing her face was already in bad enough shape, Spitfire forced her hoof not to gravitate towards it. What an idiot, he didn’t even get the accent right. It didn’t matter if he wanted to be her ally or not, he was in no position for her to even remotely consider him a legitimate friend.


Timestamp:
Date and time: Unknown

Balancing a tray on his back, Cloudbuilder unlocked the door to Spitfire’s cell. He turned on the lights inside before slowly pushing open the door. She’d never actually promised to not use the metal tray against him, and he figured that being cautious would be wise.

When nothing hard slammed into his face, he opened the door enough to walk in. Spitfire was laying close to where he’d last seen her. The old tray had been moved closer to her and was empty.

“Hello, Spitfire,” he said, setting down the new tray.

Her head snapped up. “Um, hello?” she responded, cautiously.

Scooting the tray over to her so it would be easier for her to get, he picked up the old tray. “Feeling any better?”

“Not really.” Spitfire grabbed the glass and downed it. “More water would be nice.”

He nodded, leaving the cell and grabbing several glasses of water. Turning around after getting the glasses, he realized that he left the door open and panicked for a moment. However, Spitfire was still laying over by the wall.

“Here,” he said, setting the glasses down in front of her. “Is there anything else you need?”

“What are you hoping to accomplish by being nice to me, Cloudbuilder?”

He sighed, drawing it out to buy time to organize his thoughts. Spitfire was a cop, so she would ask questions. It would be a good thing if he were prepared for those questions, so he’d taken the time to think of answers to general things she might ask.

“Believe it or not, but I honestly had no idea what was planned for you, even back in the park. You may be against us, but I don’t like seeing you hurt, not like this. When I found you collapsed, I was worried they’d actually killed you.” He breathed deeply. “I’m not trying to accomplish anything, other than keeping you alive.”

“You have a really bad poker face.”

“Like I said, you can believe me or not. But I want to help you.” He looked at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

Spitfire frowned at him. “I don’t want to believe you, Cloudbuilder. You lost my trust back at the park. I’ve got no reason to think you want to help me.” She paused, thinking of the things he had done for her. “A few bandages and some water isn’t going to cut it.”

Spitfire’s words merely confirmed what he already thought. Their relationship didn’t have much trust to begin with, and what had happened in the park, what it led to, he knew that he was starting back at ground zero. Words were never going to convince Spitfire, instead he needed to let his actions speak for themselves.

He tried asking asking his question again. “Is there anything else you need, Spitfire? If not, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Grabbing all the empty glasses, as well as the old tray, he left the cell. Closing the door, he locked it, hearing the click as the bolt engaged. Spitfire was stubborn, it would take a concentrated effort by him to win her over.

As he walked away, he got an idea. It had been a while since he’d bandaged her. Most likely it was time for him to change them. He’d go grab some more bandages, as well as a cloth and bucket of water. Taking care of her should go a long way towards earning her trust.

Cloudbuilder headed back into the cell block. A box filled with medical supplies was on his back, and in his muzzle was a bucket of water.

He had to drop the bucket to unlock and open the door. When it swung open, he trotted in, seeing Spitfire still laying in the same area. The food tray was empty, along with the two water glasses he’d left behind.

She heard him enter, her head lifting up and regarding him. When she saw the box and bucket, her eyes narrowed, a questioning look on her face.

“I thought it would be a good idea to change your bandages,” he said, setting the bucket down. “That’s just water to clean things up with.”

“Absolutely not.” Spitfire’s questioning look became stoic. “You can leave it there, I’ll take care of myself.”

“You sure? I mean, you’ve got to be getting pretty itchy by now.” The look on Spitfire’s face said it all. “Well, if you’re sure...”

He set the box down on the floor next to her. “Listen, I’ll be back later with more food.” Turning around, he left the cell, closing the door behind him.

Getting the bandages off hadn’t been that hard. Being smart and gathering new wrappings before unwrapping the old ones was a pretty good idea too. No, what had been dumb was to chase Cloudbuilder away. That, and the fact that the painkillers seemed to be in an unknown, and unmarked bottle, didn’t help her mood.

Still, now that she was sitting here, unable to put her cast back on or re-sling her wing, it seemed foolish that she didn’t accept Cloudbuilder’s help. It didn’t matter if she trusted him or not, or even liked him. That didn’t deny the fact of him being here now, and wanting to assist her. She should be taking advantage of that, regardless of her feelings.

Also, not being able to get at that damn analgesic was frustrating. The ache in her leg was coming back. The swelling was returning and she couldn’t move without it reminding her it was... well, broken. All she could do was sit and wait, hopefully Cloudbuilder would be back before she had to go to the bathroom, and would keep his mouth shut.

No sooner had she thought that, then the sound of the door being unlocked echo throughout the cell. Sure enough, the door swung open a moment later, revealing Cloudbuilder. He had the usual tray of food balanced on his back.

“Spitfire,” he greeted. “How goes changing your bandages?” He set the tray down close to her. If she had to choose between eating anymore of that food, and starving, starving was looking like the more appetizing option.

She took a calming breath. “Not well enough, I suppose.”

“Do you need help?”

She sighed again. “Yea.”

He approached her, picking up the set aside cast. “This is probably going to hurt, sorry.” Reaching out, he was about to start, when her voice stopped him.

“Your drug bottles aren’t labeled... you sure about what you got in there?”

“Pretty sure, yeah. There’s not much in the way of medical supplies down here, just basic stuff. I asked one of the other pegasi, and this is what she tossed me.” He reached out, grasping her leg. “Okay, gotta put the cast back on.”

Spitfire flinched at the touch, but managed to still her limbs as she grit her teeth. She’d had her fair share of injuries, but she never got used to the pain. Especially after the past few days, when it was all she could think about. While he continued to jostle her leg she decided it probably was for the best nopony enjoyed pain. Well, any sane pony... She had read about a few villains in Daring Do’s novels who cut themselves open or burned themselves for pleasure... Or whatever it was. Cutting yourself open just because you enjoy pain was hazardous to your health, in her opinion, and not worth doing.

Cloudbuilder finished resetting the cast. All that was left was putting her wing back in the sling. The makeshift sling, he hadn’t been able to find a real one, was sitting on the floor. It was less a sling and more a piece of cloth that he’d repurposed.

“One last thing,” he said, before picking up the cloth. It took a little finagling with his hooves and mouth, but he managed to wrap up her wing in the sling.

“There we go,” he said. “That wasn’t so bad.” Popping the top on one of the bottles, he hoofed her several pills. “Take these, it should help with the pain.”

“Enough with the babying... I’m fine, I just couldn’t bend enough to put stuff on,” Spitfire said irritably.

“It’s not babying. If you need help, just ask for it. It’s just you and me in here, Spitfire, your pride won’t be damaged.” He put the pill bottle back in the box.

Spitfire grunted, but said nothing. Pride nothing, she just didn’t want this stallion anywhere near her. Although, she was forced to admit it was better than that monster of a pegasus. She shuddered slightly as flashbacks of the past few... days? Came back to her.

Cloudbuilder noticed the shudder. “Is everything okay? You cold?”

Spitfire closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Just, leave me alone, please.”


Written in collaboration with DarkPhoenix

Timestamp:
Date unknown. Time: approximately lunch hour.

Cloudbuilder entered Spitfire’s cell, it was pitch black. Spitfire must have turned the lights out after he left last. He peered into the room, trying to locate the mare with what little light spilled in through the doorway. It was only a moment before he saw her roll over and sit up on the small cot he had been allowed to set up for her.

“Spitfire,” he greeted her. “I brought you something to eat and drink.”

“You can turn on the light.” she responded, her voice cracking with disuse.

With the tip of a wing, he flicked the switch. The overhead lights came on, filling the room with their harsh glare. Spitfire blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the sudden illumination.

Taking the tray of food off his back, he passed it over to her. A slight frown was on his face. He was obviously trying to conceal it, but not being very successful about it. “Here you go.”

Spitfire took the tray and glanced at it, then at Cloudbuilder. “They didn’t put anything in this, did they?”

“No, they didn’t. I fixed this tray myself.”

“Then why do you look like you just ate a grapefruit?”

He sighed. “I just... heard some news today, that’s all.”

After a moment, Spitfire turned and set the tray down on the cot. Climbing carefully up next to it, she began eating. There wasn’t much to say, Cloudbuilder never left until he could take the tray away, and she wasn’t inclined to try and eke out a conversation from the stallion.

“There was another attack today,” he blurted out. “This one against pegasi. There were squads of... Mostly earth ponies, going through the housing in the Industrial Hex. They were pulling families out of their homes, and then ransacked them.”
He stomped a hoof on the ground. “Innocent families, their homes destroyed. And you know who was leading it? The new police chief!”

Not turning from her food, Spitfire gave Cloudbuilder a sidelong look. “Somehow, I’m not surprised,” she deadpanned. “Why are you? I seem to remember telling somepony that this is what would happen.” She tapped a hoof on her chin. “Now, who was it I was telling...” She trailed off meaningfully.

“Very funny, Spitfire,” he deadpanned back. “But things are getting worse out there, not better. Groups of ponies are roaming around, attacking other races. Earth ponies are ganging up on pegasi, pegasi are doing the same right back. There’s unicorns on both sides. At least, that’s what I’m hearing.”

Spitfire stood up quickly. “Well I hope you’re happy then, Cloudbuilder... It’s just what you and your pegasus friends wanted to happen when you removed me, isn’t it?

“But no, I don’t think it is.” She turned back to her food. “I told you this is what would happen. Things are only going to get worse, Cloudbuilder, as long as this goes on.”

Taking a step back, he responded. “Things were supposed to get better, that’s what the PRF is for. We want equality amongst the races, not... not... Whatever’s going on outside.” He waved a wing towards the door to the cell.

“Removing you, as far as I can tell, was about removing our biggest enemy. At least, that’s what I was told by Sunny.” The mention of the mare brought a wistful look to his face. Spitfire barely caught it before it was gone. “I don’t even know what’s going on anymore, only what the others around here are saying.”

Spitfire gave the pegasus a hard look. There was something off about his responses. He sure was speaking a lot in past tense for current events. “You sure sound like you’re... When was the last time you were outside, Cloudbuilder?” Spitfire asked, looking the stallion in the eye.

He turned away, unwilling to meet her eyes. “The same time you were,” he mumbled.

“Say what now?” Spitfire cocked an ear closer.

“I haven’t been outside since that day in the park, okay?” he repeated loudly.

Cloudbuilder looked away. “Look, they haven’t let me out since then. Something about me knowing too much, or something.”

“I see.” Spitfire was silent for moment before she turned back to the cot. “I guess you’re in the same-”

She cut off as she twisted awkwardly on her broken leg. Even though it was casted, a sharp twinge of pain shot up her leg, causing her to collapse with a hiss. She grabbed the cot for support, but it too overturned at the sudden weight. The tray spilled, thankfully there was little left on it. Breadcrumbs, a few fruit husks and an empty cup scattered across the floor.

Cloudbuilder moved to help as Spitfire sat down hard. “Whoa, take it easy there. You’re still in bad shape.”

“I’m fine,” Spitfire hissed through clenched teeth.

Cloudbuilder paid her no mind, helping her over to the nearest wall and letting her sink down against it, panting. “I told you, try and keep your weight off that leg.”

Spitfire blew out a breath and watched Cloudbuilder fix her mess. “You know things aren’t going to end nice and pretty, don’t you? Sooner or later the princesses are going to take action. Or, maybe they won’t, but my point remains.”’

“I know that,” he said while scraping up the spilled food, placing it on the tray. “I thought things would get better, that’s why I joined the Resistance in the first place. Instead, it’s only getting worse, like you said it would.”

He set the tray aside, sitting down and leaning against her cot. “I think maybe I knew that from the start, with what happened at City Hall. I just didn’t want to see it. I wanted to know I did the right thing. But that day, the bombing... If that was just the beginning, what’s next?” His voice quieting as he spoke.

“Something like that, we can’t just take it back and apologize. We’re stuck now. We can’t go back, only forward.”

There was a long silence between the two pegasi. Eventually Spitfire rose to her hooves and leaned against the wall. She met Cloudbuilder’s gaze. “I am not staying here. I made a promise to Twilight Sparkle and I intend to keep it. I don’t give a damn about one cause or the other, my concern is the city and the innocent ponies out there.” Spitfire struggled to the door. “If I have to corral either side in this ridiculous power trip, then I will do what it takes.”

“There’s two ponies at the end of the hall. If you made it ten steps, I’d be surprised,” he said.

“Well, there you go. I suppose it is up to you to decide whether or not I get out. But I’m not staying here willingly any longer.” Spitfire walked back towards the cot and sat down. “The next time you come in here, you’d better have that... monster of a pony with you, or a plan to escape.”

Cloudbuilder stood up. “I don’t know what to think anymore. The PRF isn’t what I expected it to be. Things aren’t happening like I expected them to. But I can’t just... I don’t...” He trailed off.

Walking over to the door, he looked back at Spitfire. She stared at him silently. He met her hard gaze for a moment then opened the door and left the room, closing it behind him. He locked the door.

Cloudbuilder wandered aimlessly through the tunnels. Ponies, mostly pegasi with a few unicorns mixed in, passed him by. Some nodded at him, or offered a greeting, but he ignored them all. It wasn’t in an attempt to be rude, he was simply caught up in his thoughts.

Spitfire had made her position abundantly clear. She was fed up and determined to get out of here. He had a choice to make: whether or not he helped her, or hindered her.

He could go see the stallion in charge, tell him what Spitfire had said. If he did that, the reprieve he’d fought for would be over. Somehow, it would be ensured that Spitfire wouldn’t be able to leave. Possibly through shackles and chain, but given the way she’d been treated this whole time, more than likely she’d be left in a state where movement wasn’t possible.

He didn’t want to see her hurt. What she’d been through he wouldn’t wish on anypony. Yet, this wasn’t a situation where he could just do nothing.

She was clear that she’d be trying to get out, one way or another. He had no doubt that if he didn’t help her, she’d try anyway, most likely going through him. In which case, she’d be caught easily in her condition.

If that happened, it would be the same outcome as if he told the stallion in charge about her escape plan. Only this time, he’d most likely lose his access to her. He would no longer be able to help her. Then he would be alone down here.

No, not doing anything was the same as hindering her in this case. He needed to make a choice, and, knowing Spitfire, she’d be restless. He didn’t have long to choose.

These thoughts consumed his mind. What should he choose? No matter what, he was turning his back on something or someone. The PRF no longer stood for what he thought they did. They were violent and unnecessarily brutal. But at the same time,  they were his fellows. Turning his back on them felt like turning his back on his race, on all pegasi.

On the other hoof, there was Spitfire. She wasn’t a friend, but she was honest enough, and trusted him enough, to warn him about her intentions. Personally, he had nothing against the mare. He’d grown up watching her be the Captain of the Wonderbolts. He’d idolized her. Betraying her would practically be the same thing as signing her death sentence. There was no way the PRF would let her go.

Just being in the PRF, he felt like he had blood on his hooves from what happened at City Hall, and the part he unknowingly played in that. Innocent ponies had been injured and killed. Yet he hadn’t known any of those ponies. He knew Spitfire. Already her blood was on his hooves in a way at the treatment she’d received down here. Could he stand having her death hanging over his head?

There was no easy choice here, neither of them struck him as the right thing to do. Both paths led to betrayal. It was simply a question of who he wanted to support, the PRF or Spitfire.

The PRF had kept him prisoner on several occasions; and in a way, they had betrayed him by using Sunny against him. Yet at the same time, he couldn’t just turn his back on them. They were pegasi fighting for equality. Yes, their methods may be extreme, possibly misguided, but their core values he still agreed with.

He wasn’t naive enough to believe that helping Spitfire escape would set things right between them. Technically, he’d been involved in the attack on City Hall, and was partially responsible for kidnapping her. Those were crimes he had to answer for. While Spitfire might be kind enough to give him a head start, she wouldn’t let it go.

She resented him, and rightly so. If it weren’t for him, she’d still be out there, the police chief of Ravaalon. She wouldn’t be sitting in some cell underground, hurting. She would come after him.

The more he wandered, the more he went back and forth. Eventually he found himself outside the tiny section that was his “room.” He stood in the doorway, looking in at it. He had a bed, and a door. Even Spitfire’s cell was bigger than this.

As he looked down the hallway, he came to a conclusion. He was free to wander these halls all he wanted, but the freedom was an illusion. He was as much a prisoner down here as Spitfire was. If anything, it was worse, being allowed to roam. He could approach and exit ladder, he could see it, but the guards would always turn him away. They’d been given orders to not let him out. The ladders, the freedom, they taunted him.

If he was going to be a prisoner, it should be with someone who had honor. The leaders of the PRF had proven that they had very little, if any at all. Spitfire, at least, was honorable.

His mind made up, he knew what he had to do. The only question left was how to get it done. There wasn’t much time, he needed to think quickly. Closing the door to his room, he trotted off down the hall, an idea already forming in his mind.
There wasn’t much for Spitfire to do. It was impossible to tell when Cloudbuilder would return, but hopefully it would be before she fell asleep again. If he refused to help her, she would have one shot to get out and hopefully she wouldn’t be caught unawares.

Her mind nagged at her for not taking the chance to escape when Cloudbuilder was still inside, before he was aware of her intentions. But, she crushed those thoughts as soon as they came up. It wasn’t in her nature to be dishonest, it would have been a low blow to break what little trust they had built. Even if they were still to be enemies, Spitfire wouldn’t be caught pulling the feathers from a pony while their back was turned.

She began stretching her wings as soon as Cloudbuilder left. In either outcome, she was going to need them. Her leg was still broken, movement was going to be hard so she needed to be able to fly. Flapping her wings hurt, but she could do it. It had been too long since she had used them, and having one recently dislocated didn’t help matters.

It would be tough, but she had no doubt she could outfly any of the large pegasi used as guards, they were never built for movement. That’s why they were given guard duty, so they didn’t have to move.

However,  if Cloudbuilder said no, she would have no choice but to incapacitate him somehow, he was too fast and agile to try and outrun in her current condition. If things had been different, he might have made a good wonderbolt someday, or at the very least a sure second. She wondered where he learned to fly so well, it took a lot of work to be as athletic as she’d seen.

Taking a deep breath and shaking her head, Spitfire cleared her thoughts. “Focus! Now was not the time to be distracted. The easiest, and fastest, way to slow him down would be to crush one of his wings. If she made a break for it, it would be
likely he’d flair them as she passed. It would only take a moment to stop and jar one of them properly.

Spitfire frowned. Purposefully injuring a pegasus’ wings was a big deal. Not something anypony would do lightly, it was a very harsh punishment if you assaulted a pony and focused on brutalizing their wings, or horn if they were a unicorn. While wings could certainly take their fair share of abuse, any pony with a little know how could do a lot of damage quickly.

She wasn’t too keen on doing something like that, especially with the risk of permanent injury. But, there was little else that could be done. As she continued to work her wings, Spitfire fervently hoped Cloudbuilder wouldn’t force her do something she might regret.

That stallion wasn’t a bad pony, in her opinion. Her having to forcefully remove him was going to be hard. If she just started removing any old pony who stood in her way, what made her different than the PRF or those ass stuck Earth ponies?

It was a difficult conundrum for her to contemplate. One the one hoof, Cloudbuilder had done some really bad things, and needed to answer for them. It would be justifiable to say he deserved what she was planning to do. But then, what if he came back and helped her escape? He would be showing his willingness to own up to his mistakes, and even face consequences. So, did that mean he would be entitled to a second chance?

Spitfire didn’t know. Cloudbuilder had repeatedly swung in favor of the PRF so far, yet she could tell he was having doubts. He had been having doubts since the City Hall incident. But, she’d gone this far to let him figure things out, with no success. How much more time was she going to give him? How many more times was she going to let him stall her?

Well, whatever happened, when he walked back through that door, things would change. She’d decide what to do after she got out. If she didn’t, it wouldn’t matter anyway.


Written alongside Sasha Nein

Timestamp:
Date unknown. Time: approximately lunch hour.

Cloudbuilder stood outside the door to Spitfire’s cell. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck and his legs were shaking. Time was short, he needed to open that door and face what was inside.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the key and unlocked the door. He didn’t think Spitfire would attack him as soon as the door opened, but he wasn’t entirely sure, either.

Slowly he opened the door, peeking his head inside. The mare stood next to her cot, looking right at him. When he was sure she wasn’t going to charge him, he pulled the door open fully.

“Was what you said about fixing things outside true?” he asked her, his voice quiet, trembling.

“I can’t promise anything,” Spitfire responded, “But I can say: I’ll do my best to see things done.”

Cloudbuilder nodded. “Come on,” he said, beckoning to the open door. “We don’t have long before the guards realize I sent them away for a meeting that doesn’t exist.”

Spitfire shifted and fluffed her wings, letting a hidden piece of the cot fall from under her feathers to the floor. As it clattered on the stone floor, Cloudbuilder noticed she had been standing to hide a broken leg on the rickety bed.

His face paled. He knew she was going to do something, so he wasn’t surprised. Just the thought of receiving that upside his head made him shudder.

“C- Come on,” he stuttered, still staring at the piece of metal. Turning away from the door, he left it wide open, moving into the hallway and waiting for her.

A moment later Spitfire appeared. “What’s the plan?”

“Follow me, I’ll explain on the way.” He led her down the hallway, sticking his head out to make sure the coast was clear. The good thing about the cell block, such as it was, was that the PRF had stuck it away from everything else, so other than the guards, there was very little traffic down here.

At the end of the hallway was a pile of rubble and various odds and ends, stacked up to form a barricade. “We need to take this down. The PRF put them up to prevent ponies from wandering too far from the area. It’s a maze down here and they didn’t want anypony getting lost. These are the walls of the base, in a sense.”

He began pulling out some of the items. “Since it’s a maze, we’re going to disappear in it. Hopefully, we can evade pursuit and hide. Then find a way out of here through a ladder.”

Spitfire began pulling rubble down alongside Cloudbuilder. “Are you telling me you don’t have a map? We could be stuck down here for ages. Why can’t we just rush out some small exit?”

“Ever wonder why I can’t leave? All the ladders here have guards at them, in case we get raided, they can sound an alarm. Maybe if you were in your prime, you could take the guard quietly. But right now, you can’t, and I certainly can’t.”

Grunting, he tugged at a chair. After a moment, it popped free, sending him tumbling backwards and releasing a small cascade of objects. Getting to his hooves, he continued. “That, and the nearest ladder is too far away. We’d be spotted long before we ever made it. No offense, but you kind of stick out.”

“Do you at least have some supplies in case we’re stuck down here for a while?”

“Crap!” he exclaimed. Without saying anything else, he rushed down the tunnel, disappearing around the corner. Spitfire stared at the corner, waiting. A few seconds later, he came rushing back, carrying a saddlebag in his mouth.

“I had to leave these around the corner, since I never wear them to see you. I didn’t want to make the guards suspicious. I forgot about them.”

Rolling her eyes, Spitfire turned back to the barricade and continued creating a hole. It didn’t take long, before they broke through. As they worked to enlarge the opening, shouts echoed down the hall, their intent all too clear.

Cloudbuilder’s head whipped around, looking behind them. “We need to go now!” he exclaimed. Panic was rising in his chest and evident in his voice. If they caught him helping Spitfire, he’d be tossed in a cell right next to her. They’d beat him up, break his wings!

Frantically, he grabbed at the barricade, yanking things out and tossing them behind him. When the hole was wide enough, he practically grabbed Spitfire, tossing her at the hole. “You go first!”

She scrambled awkwardly through the hole, careful not to catch her cast on anything. When she was through, she turned around to receive the saddlebags in her face as they were thrown through.

Cloudbuilder dived through, grabbing the saddlebags and taking off down the tunnel all in one motion. Spitfire charged after him, fluttering her wings for balance as she tried to keep weight off her broken leg.

Since he was barely able to fit through the hole, and he was somewhat skinny, Cloudbuilder hoped that whoever was behind them wouldn’t be able to fit. They’d have to waste time widening the hole, allowing him and Spitfire time to get away.

Speaking of Spitfire, he looked behind him. She was further back down the tunnel, running in an odd, hobbling gait and fluttering her wings to keep weight off her broken leg. Despite every fiber of his being telling him to run faster, he slowed down, allowing her to catch up.

“Can you fly?” he asked.

Spitfire grimaced. “If I have to. But, realize, it’s been... forever. I’m not going to be able to move very far or fast.”

“Still probably faster than running on that leg.” As he spoke, a loud crash sounded behind them. That was probably the rest of the barricade coming down. Those guard ponies were strong. “And we need all the speed we can get right now.”

Wincing, she flapped her wings harder. It took a moment, but her hooves left the floor and she picked up some speed. Thankfully the hallways were large enough to accommodate them flying side by side.

There was a branch up ahead, with three choices: straight, left, or right. Straight seemed like a bad idea, they wanted to lose their pursuers. As the branch neared, he made a gut choice, and nudged Spitfire to the left.

He had no destination, the tunnels were as much a mystery to him as the ones pursuing them, he hoped. His entire plan was to take turns and find somewhere to hide. Based on what he saw at the hideout, there were alcoves and other small spaces that they could squeeze into.

Running across a ladder would be ideal, but he wasn’t going to bet on it. Not that hiding was much of a plan. The PRF would search the tunnels, and there were enough of them to form teams and scour the area.

Flying gave them an advantage in terms of both speed, and stealth. The tunnels were rock and brick, their hooves would echo, the sound being funneled a long way. Flying didn’t produce near as much noise.

This tunnel ended in a T-junction. Left would send them back towards the hideout, so this time he went right, Spitfire still beside him.

She wasn’t kidding when she said she wouldn’t be fast. They were still moving faster than running, but based on when she chased him after the bombing, he knew she was not at her best. Already she was panting, perspiration running down her face. He hoped she’d be able to keep it up for a little longer. The more distance they put between them and the PRF, the better.

“You okay?” he asked. “We can try and find somewhere to hide if you need to rest.”

She grit her teeth but shook her head. “Let’s keep going, we need to get out of here.”

He didn’t bother asking if she was sure. He knew she was. If there was anything he could say about Spitfire, it would be that she was tough. “Okay,” he agreed.

They took off down the tunnels. At each junction, Cloudbuilder would pick a turn at random. If they were lost, then their pursuers wouldn’t be able to find them. At least, that’s what he was hoping.

This continued for a while. Cloudbuilder aimlessly charging through tunnels with Spitfire trying to keep up. Finally, she called out, “Enough! Stop, Cloudbuilder. I can’t go on like this.”

With a groan she sank against a wall, her leg laying out awkwardly as she laid back on her haunches. “Did you bring any painkillers or something in that saddlebag?”

Taking a seat next to her, he nodded. “I grabbed what I could.” Pulling off the saddlebag, he set it on the floor and undid one of the straps. Digging into it with a wing, he pulled out one of the unmarked bottles, tossing it to her. “Here.”

“Thank Celestia,” Spitfire sighed. She popped open the bottle and downed three of the pills.

Cloudbuilder cocked his ears, listening for the sound of any pursuit. The only thing he could hear, was their own panting breaths echoing back.

After a moment, Spitfire spoke again, “So you don’t have a map. Did you at least grab a compass or something? Maybe if we know the general location of the base, we can head towards the city’s engine rooms and get out that way.”

“Um, about that...” He trailed off for a moment. “The only map I have is of the base itself. I couldn’t find anything with the tunnels. And as for a compass, well... I... didn’t get one.” His voice got quieter and quieter as he spoke and he turned his head, unable to meet Spitfire’s eyes.

He could feel her gaze boring into the back of his head. This entire plan was dumb, but it was all he could come up with. Still, it was working, mostly.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Spitfire contemplated their options. They were rather sparse. They could go back the way they came, which wasn’t really an option. They, and by they she meant her, could let Cloudbuilder keep leading them around. Or, she could start hauling him off in a direction and pray he brought water.

She sighed. “Alright, lets get moving. Do you remember which way the base is?”

Cloudbuilder went over their escape in his head, his hoof in the air, pantomiming directions while he muttered. “Left, right, right, straight, left, straight, right... Or was it left? No, pretty sure we went right there. Mostly sure...” After a few more seconds, he pointed down the tunnel behind them. “That way,” he said with as much confidence as he could muster.

Spitfire gritted her teeth. “Okay, we’re going this way then.” Spitfire took off down the opposite tunnel not bothering to do more than flutter her wings slightly to displace weight off her leg.

After gathering his saddlebags, Cloudbuilder chased after her, his hooves clattering in the enclosed area. At each junction they came to, Spitfire kept leading them straight. If there wasn’t a straight through tunnel, Spitfire led them to the right until they could return to their original direction.

“Where are we going?” he asked. He still couldn’t hear anypony behind them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. He was getting jumpy at every noise. While they weren’t making an exceptional amount of noise, each hoof strike echoed eerily around them.

“We’re following this water pipe,” Spitfire responded, not turning around.

Looking up, he noticed that a few of the pipelines were damp with condensation. It wasn’t long before she suddenly veered off to the left. As Cloudbuilder glanced up at the pipes again he saw a ladder at the end of the small dead end they had turned into.

“Here we go.” Spitfire said, her voice suddenly cheery.

“Oh thank Celestia,” he responded. Looking at the ladder, then at Spitfire, something occurred to him. “Let me go up first.”
At her questioning gaze, he continued. “I’ll see if the coast is clear. We’re still in the Industrial Hex, the PRF are looking for you. They may have moved outside.”

After looking up the ladder, Spitfire stepped aside. “It looks like there is a hatch anyways. It might take a bit of brawn to remove it.”

Carefully, Cloudbuilder climbed the ladder. Fortunately, the covering wasn’t locked. He had to throw his shoulder into it, and nearly slipped off the ladder, but it popped open.

Sticking his head out, he saw sunlight for the first time in forever. Used to the dim light in the tunnels, he had to blink a few times before he could see properly. The exit led into a dead-end alley between two buildings. A couple of ponies strode past the mouth of the alley, but none of them were paying attention to it’s shadowy depths.

“It’s clear!” he called down to Spitfire, climbing fully out of the tunnels.

She appeared in the hatch almost instantly, doing her best to scramble out. “Quick! I can hear them, they must have found our hoofprints!”

Cloudbuilder glanced at her quizzically. “What are you talking about?”

“The floor was damp you idiot! They must have found where we started walking!” Spitfire hissed. “Now quick, grab that big trash can and bring it over here!” She gestured to the large bin at the entrance to the alley as she began nudging the hatch back over the hole.

He rushed over to the indicated trashcan. Grunting with effort, he managed to slide it towards the hatch. Just as Spitfire got the hatch back in place, he shoved the trashcan over it, blocking any ponies from opening the hatch and following them.

“There’s another problem,” he said.

Spitfire glanced at Cloudbuilder, then back at the hatch. “Well whatever it is, we can’t deal with it right now.” She began moving towards the alley entrance. “We gotta move!”

He ran after her, talking as he moved. “We’re still in the middle of PRF territory, and Spitfire, you stick out.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re trying to hint at my weight.” Spitfire growled. “PRF territory or no, they don’t have a clue of what is going on. But they will as soon as those ponies out of that hole!”

A sudden bang from behind emphasized her point. “Ponies aren’t going to react in time before we’re gone.”

“Okay, point taken. Running would be good now.” He glanced nervously at the hatch as there was another bang and the trashcan holding it down rattled.

They took off out of the alley and into the street. Gritting her teeth, Spitfire took to the air and powered her way up over the rooftops to gather her bearings. Cloudbuilder followed her, looking around. He lived here, he knew this hex intimately from the air. A quick glance around, and he spotted several familiar landmarks and knew where he was.

As she tried to orient herself with the sun, he quickly spoke, “The train station’s that way,” he said, pointing with a hoof to the northwest.

“Well we better not go that way,” Spitfire said, biting her lip.

She began dropping back towards the rooftops as she aligned herself with the railway moving north. In her mind, the train station would be the first place the PRF would head for. She was injured, unable to fly well, it made sense for her to head for the quickest way out. Celestia knew she wanted to take the train, but it was too dangerous.

“We’re not taking the train? I don’t think you can fly between hexes with that wing.”

“Think, Cloudbuilder. That’s exactly what they’re thinking. There’s no way we’d be able to get away in time if we headed for the train station.” Spitfire grit her teeth as she eased into a glide. It was going to be a long, painful flight. “If we can just get across the hex border we can find a place to hide for a couple hours, easy. The Administrative Hex is right there.”

Of course, there was still the unspoken distance that they still had to traverse. It was still easily ten minutes of flight time, but only if Spitfire had been in top shape. Now, maybe half an hour or more. Even the train was faster now, but that wasn’t an option.

“Oh, please tell me you have a safe house or something,” Cloudbuilder interrupted her thoughts.

Spitfire continued gliding forward, flapping as little as possible to remain aloft. “There are a number of small warehouses just across the wall under the train. I think staying in one of those would be relatively safe, it won’t be too hard to get in. Then we can assess the situation with this new police chief before we barge in there.”

“Okay. But are you sure you can make that flight? I can’t carry you all that way.”

Spitfire glared. “I’m not your rickety old mother. Stop fussing or I’ll make you carry me.”

“If you’re sure.” He dug into the saddlebags, tossing her the pill bottle. “Take some more. We can’t risk you being unable to fly halfway there.”

Catching the bottle, Spitfire hesitated before taking one pill and tossing it back. With that she refocused on her flying, putting on a little extra speed and flying closer to the rooftops. The less anypony could see in the air, the better. It also helped reduce the any drafts of air that might jostle her wing, although it was fairly still for a Ravaalon evening.

Luck, or providence, was on their side and they weren’t too far from the edge of the hex. Even at Spitfire’s slower speed, it only took them several minutes to reach the wall. The entire time they were flying, Cloudbuilder was looking for anypony following them. Spitfire tried not to roll her eyes at the stallion’s nervousness.

Their real worry was what lay before them. Thankfully her estimate about the time to the wall was incorrect, they must have been on the inner side of the hex, closer to the center of the city, making the walls much nearer to the train station. Spitfire slowed down and looked for a place to land near the wall.

They set down on a rooftop looking over the empty stretch of air between the hexes. Normally, there would be pegasi from the police force patrolling, as flight between the hexes was forbidden. Given the distrust of pegasi, it seemed more likely that the patrols would have been changed up to something else. It wouldn’t do for them to dodge the PRF, only to get arrested trying to cross the gulf. If there was a change in the police force, she couldn’t count on her status to get them out of trouble.

“What are you doing?” Cloudbuilder asked her. “We need to get out of here.”

Spitfire looked at him. “We also need to not get caught by the police. In case you’ve forgotten, flying between the hexes is against the law.”

“But you’re the Captain. Or, at least, you were.”

“Keyword there, was. If what you said was true, I’ll bet there’s a lot of new ponies on the force more loyal to the new captain than their actual duty.” Spitfire glanced up and down the wall. “I bet they’d just love to get their hooves on the both of us.”

“I can understand why they’d like to catch me, I have a record. But why you?”

Spitfire fought the urge not to roll her eyes. “You really think any of the ponies pulling strings around here are going to be happy if I show back up?” She turned to catch Cloudbuilder’s questioning gaze. “Look, I imagine most of my police force has gotten their two weeks notice and are being kept guarding the agricultural district or something until they’re let go.”

Spitfire turned back to observing the wall. “Unless we’re very careful, me butting back into the picture is going to cause the upper class ponies to secede into a faction of their own. That’ll leave me with two rogue groups, basically half the city, fighting against me.

“So we need to avoid both the PRF and the cops.” He tucked his head into his hooves. “Great.”

She ignored him. “Okay, it looks like we’re clear on this side. I can’t tell on the other side, so we’ll just have to hope.”

Stretching out her wings, she took off, Cloudbuilder right behind her. Out here over the open air, the wind made it’s presence known. Once again, Spitfire grit her teeth as she tried to stay on course as the wind jostled every part of her injured self. She started to wonder if she should have taken two painkillers. As it was, her wing was burning with the effort of sustained flight.

Cloudbuilder could see her straining, but there was little he could do. While he could tell that the flight was clearly proving too much for Spitfire, there was no support he could give without ruining her flying or picking her up entirely. He was actually surprised she was still going, but he flew under her just in case. He wasn’t entirely sure he could carry her the whole way, but he’d at least get her close enough she could make it the rest of the way.

Finally, the distant walls of the Administrative hex came within a reasonable distance for him to stop worrying. She would be able to glide in at this point. Cheering her on in his head, he fell back to come in along side the ex-wonderbolt. Somehow, against all the odds, his quickly scraped together plan had worked.

Just as they crossed over the wall a bubble of magic encased his body and began forcing him to the ground. Before Spitfire could react, a bundle of very white pony rocketed into her side, trapping her wings open and bringing her down to the ground alongside Cloudbuilder.

She didn’t struggle, she could already see the unicorn. These were her ponies, at least, she hoped they still were. It was a patrol squad of three, a pony from each race, just how she had always set it up to work.

Cloudbuilder struggled in the magic. They’d come this far, only to be stopped right at the end!? Fate was laughing at him right now.

“Cloudbuilder, stop.” Spitfire ordered. She turned to the three ponies and opened her mouth, but the pegasus cut her off as she dived into the traditional spiel police were required to memorize.

"Hold on, you've got the right not to say anything. If you do say anything, we can use it as evidence. If you don't, it may be pretty weak if you try to use it in court, later. If you don't have a lawyer, we have to supply you with one. Don't do anything stupid, this has been a really crappy night."

The unicorn facehoofed. “Mirror...”

Spitfire did a double take, those painkillers must have been affecting her more than she thought. “Mirror?” she asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. Glancing at the other two ponies, she recognized the sergeant leading the group. She was a unicorn named Hard Boiled, Spitfire promoted the mare herself, the mare had deserved it. However, she didn’t know the earth pony, he must be newer. Spitfire smiled inwardly, if there was anypony capable of keeping two new recruits in line it would be Hard Boiled.

The white mare's ears perked. Something triggered, the mare reminded her of something… "Do I know you, ma’am?" She squinted, trying to remember any 'burnt umber' ponies she'd ever met. She turned to look at the stallion, and her jaw dropped, her wings moved to a ready position, and she unconsciously took on a crouching position. 'That face...'

Cloudbuilder was looking between the two mares. Of all the pegasi to run into in the entire city, it had to be that albino actress. The one who talked to herself. Also the one who resented him for what happened that day at City Hall.

Glancing at her rather dishevelled appearance, Spitfire chuckled. “Okay, I-”

"YOU!" The diminutive albino shouted stabbing a hoof at the flier. She turned to the earth pony, barking "Sir, we've got a PRF operative here!" Her head whipped back to face the face of the pony who… "WHERE is she? What did you do to her?" Her paltry defensive training was hard to remember sometimes, but she at least knew she couldn't take Cloudbuilder down, but with every fiber she wanted to. She settled for growling.

He tried to step backwards, but was still caught in a magical field from the unicorn. “Where’s who?” If this mare wanted Sunny, she was out of luck. He had no idea where she was anymore. “I don’t know where Sunny is!”

“Listen, guys, I’m-

"Spitfire!" Mirror shouted. "Just how dense do you think I am, Cloudbailer? Where. Is. Spitfire?"

Pointing was useless, so instead he jabbed his muzzle towards Spitfire. “Right there! You’re arresting her!”

"I–" the albino looked at the dirty, tired, disheveled pony, back at Cloudbuilder, back at… "Spitfire?" She shook her head. "No. That makes no sense."

Spitfire sighed in exasperation. “Would you just let me talk, please.”

The ironic quirk of the mouth, the subtly raised eyebrow … even the exhausted impatience. The beginnings of a smile died with one thought. "Sunny Days." She sneered at the stallion, spitting the name out. "You gave yourself away by mentioning your stooge. We have reports of how good Miz Days is at impersonation." Mirror strolled past the more-brown-than-orange pegasus, "And I do have to admit, I'm impressed." The police mare chuckled, "You had me fooled for a moment." She moved a little closer. "But there's one thing. One thing you can't fake–" Mirror's hoof darted out, smacking the mare's flank loud enough to produce a clapping noise as she spun around to address her guard compatriots. "Fake cutie mar…" she examined her empty hoof.

“Celestia damn it, Mirror!” Spitfire yelled, reaching back to protect her now stinging butt.

"Recruit Shine? What are you doing to our arrestees?" The unicorn had, by now, enough of Mirror’s antics.

"I…" Mirror Shine took a very close look at her empty hoof. "I…" it remained empty. "But … but…"

“See?” Cloudbuilder said. “That’s her. That’s the real Spitfire.”

She leapt, then pulled back midleap, noting the cast, and instead hovered right in the beleaguered pegasus's personal space. "Ohmigosh I am sooooo sorry! Are you ok? Where have you been– no offense but you smell like the sewers. And so much stuff has happened while you were gone! But you've got to be tired, so I promise I won't talk your ears off because you really look like you could do with a good night's sleep. Only that'd be really nice for any of us, it's been hard to get new recruits for the force since thing started getting even more crazy, and the new–

“Enough!” Spitfire yelled, cutting across Mirror’s massive monologue. “Yes, it’s me. Yes, a lot has happened. And yes, I am tired, and getting to be rather cranky.” She let that sink in for a moment before continuing. “Here’s what’s going to happen: You three are either going to get me into that warehouse over there or I’m going to show you how a very bitchy Spitfire cracks heads together.”

Mirror held a hoof over her muzzle, nodding idiotically and grinning like a fool. She looked at the squad leader, "Hrrrm, mph hmph hmmm mm…" She removed the hoof from her mouth. "Sir, that is Captain Spitfire."

Sergeant Hard Boiled pulled a deep breath through his nostrils and exhaled loudly. "Alright, alright. Let's get this over with." The Captain was going to need to hear about this ASAP.

“Um,” Cloudbuilder spoke up. “What about me?”

“Cloudbuilder, shut up and help that earth pony break the lock on that door.” Spitfire glanced meaningfully at the unicorn sergeant still holding the pegasus in her magic.

As soon as the magic holding him in place vanished, he headed towards the indicated door. The earth pony officer right next to him made him nervous. Now that Spitfire was among her own ponies, he had no idea what she’d do to him. It was entirely possible she’d lock him up, somehow.

They reached the door, seeing the handles had a length of chain intertwined through them and sealed with a padlock. A few swift strikes from the officer, and the lock fell to the floor. Cloudbuilder unwrapped the chain, leaving it in a pile next to the lock.

A slight tug on a handle, and the door slid open, revealing a large room full of boxes. Squinting, he could see that the label on the side read “Fireworks.” That would explain why the doors were locked, that many explosives in one place at a time like this.

The earth pony called over his shoulder. “It’s open!”

Spitfire glanced at the two stallions at the door before turning back to Hard Boiled. She knew the mare was true to her name and stuck to the rules. Sergeant Boiled would assume, logically, that Spitfire had been kidnapped and would thus intend to report her findings to the new captain. It was also safe to assume that Cloudbuilder was a wanted suspect and would be jailed until further notice.

This, of course, meant that Spitfire needed to remind, or possibly convince, Hard Boiled that she was still the real captain. She couldn’t have the mare heading back and revealing her position so soon, it would most certainly lead to her loss of the element of surprise. As she raced through possible things to say that would convince Hard Boiled of her position, she mentally steeled herself to incapacitate the unicorn in any way possible.

What was worse, she noticed the unicorn beginning to frown a little herself. It seemed the mare was coming to much of the same conclusions. “So...” Spitfire began. “What’s it going to be, Sergeant?”

Hard Boiled sighed, looking at Spitfire. “Ma’am, you know that I’m bound by my job to report your reappearance.”

“I do.”

She was silent for a moment. “Tell me, ma’am. What do you intend to do?”

Spitfire too, was silent for a moment before she responded. “The current captain is doing a pretty poor job of keeping things under control. I’m wagering he’s also not been legally bound to his position. I intend to take back my position without instigating sedition among the upper class.”

The mare looked past Spitfire, at the city. “It’s true that things have been rough here since you disappeared. The city’s changed, and not for the better. The violence has been getting worse. We need someone in charge who can be trusted to do the right thing, who’s not in the pocket of the rich.”

“Well, it seems you’ve got a mare for the job,” Spitfire grunted, keeping her gaze locked on the unicorn. “So back to my original question, what’s it going to be?”

“You’ve put me in a tough position. But if there’s anypony who can do some good around here, it’s you.” She turned her gaze back to Spitfire. “I won’t turn you in, but don’t make me choose again.”

Spitfire nodded. “Very well, I’ll be seeing you around, Sergeant Boiled.”

“I hope we don’t, ma’am,” she replied. “Officer Pencil Neck, Recruit Shine, let’s get moving.”

"Uh, Ma'am? Permission to um… investigate a lead, and stuff?"

Hard Boiled stared at Mirror. She was silent for several long moments, her gaze unwavering. “Very well, Recruit Shine, you get some solo field work as a test. I fully expect to see the paperwork on my desk in the morning. Officer Neck, we have a patrol to finish.” Without saying anything else, the unicorn stepped past Spitfire, heading down the street.

The corporal closed his mouth; realizing there was nothing to do but follow the orders. He nodded dumbly, glancing enviously as the pale pegasus stayed behind.

Mirror watched her superior, and fellow officer, walk out of sight. A thin squeal escaped her, like a balloon deflating. She restrained herself from hugging the captain, who had not miraculously recovered in the last five minutes from her weeks of tor… The white mare's face fell.

Sparing Mirror only a glance, Spitfire made for the warehouse door. Cloudbuilder stood by, uncertainty etched on his face. “So, what now?” he asked tentatively.

“Now, we sleep.” Spitfire said, opening the door a little wider. She turned to Mirror. “Come on, lets get off the street.” She walked inside, not waiting for the other two pegasi.

Mirror gestured at the door while watching Cloudbuilder, "After you, I insist."

Giving the mare a funny look, but unwilling to argue with her and jeopardize his newfound freedom, he stepped past her and into the warehouse, trailing after Spitfire.

After shutting the door and turning on the lights, Spitfire led the far into the warehouse. It wasn’t the largest, but there enough stacks and rows of the fireworks for them to hide quite well a ways back. Breathing deep, Spitfire finally collapsed onto a pile of discarded wrapping.

Barely registering the tantalizing smell of Black Powder and Sulfuric fumes, she turned to Mirror. “So, why are you here?”

"I…" Mirror shook her head, trying to free her thoughts, "Um, that is…" 'Just start at the very beginning, it's a very good place to start.' "I ah, joined the RPD like the day before you got… um, you know." She swallowed. "And then, well, you weren't there. A few of us knew something had to be wrong, but there was all this missing pony proceedure that had to be gone through, and I'm still working part-time at my old job– I couldn't just quit on them, Tycho Reflectives has been really good to me… plus I still kinda' have to support my parents and– " the mare shook her head, "Right. So, Soarin' was put in charge for a while… like, under the table or something… oh, yeah, he was 'Acting Captain.' But… I couldn't get in to see him. So I started asking around, but nopony knew where you'd gone. And then I ran into Ms. Meadows, your secretary, and it seems like she was the last pony to see you before you disappeared, that's where I learned about the name Sunny Days. But nothing came out of that, so I started trying to track down the people you'd been talking to outside the force about the PRF, and then I ran into Crescent by accident while I was trying to find Gem. And there was this huge hydra made of fire… and a barfight, and I think there was a pawnshop involved at one point? And this earth pony who like climbs buildings at the drop of a hat, only not literally, and I thought he'd be really old, but he's not – not that he's like super young either, but he's like Gem's roommate and sort of like her guardian, sort of, except I think they're just really good friends because neither of them is good at relating to ponies very well, except I never actually MET Trinket. Wait, he runs the pawnshop, see, I KNEW there was a shop involved!" Mirror smiled at her triumph. "And eventually we…" she trailed off, noticing Spitfire was asleep in an ungainly heap, snoring contentedly.

Cloudbuilder had settled himself in nearby, shifting around some additional fabric to make a bed. While he was lying down, his eyes were still open. Spitfire had to have pushed herself close to her limits today.The adrenaline wore off and her fatigue caught up to her.

Underneath his adrenaline, he was tired, but not enough to sleep just yet. It had been a long, stressful, panic-inducing day. But he was now free of the PRF, and surprisingly not sitting in a jail cell. His plan, which, while he’d never admit it to Spitfire, pretty much ended after “Escape into the tunnels,” had actually worked. He knew that he’d made the right choice, but what he’d done still didn’t sit right with him.

Glancing over at Mirror, he could tell that she was watching him. It was obvious she didn’t trust him. “I’m not going to run away, you know.”

She frowned, her instinct was to point at him and assign all the blame, but it was obvious he'd just helped Spitfire out of… whatever happened. Restraining her tone, she asked him, "What happened? Where have you two been all this time?"

He didn’t answer her immediately, instead rolling onto his back and finding something of interest on the ceiling. “It’s a long story, Mirror. There’s not enough time left in the day to tell it.” He tilted his head, glancing at Spitfire. “And she’s back and safe for now, so that’s what matters.”

The white pony said nothing for a long moment before exhaling noisily. "Fine, whatever. You're obviously on some 'redemption' arc, so wow, great for you."

“Do you think in acting terms? Or is it just the way you speak?”

Mirror shrugged, "I'm not sure what the difference would be. I mean, I'm not … 'playing' anypony right now, this is me." She waved a hoof toward a window. "Things happen, people do things. We make the same mistakes over and over. Plays… they just take what we see happen again and again and distill them into stories. It's like art is a reflection of life, and that makes sense to me."

He looked over at her through half-lidded eyes. “I would say that you’re weird, and you are. But after the last... However long it’s been, your type of weirdness is preferable, considering some of the ponies I’ve met recently.”

"I'm… going to take that as a compliment." The pale pegasus pondered the two… refugees? "Looks like you could both use some sleep, so why don't we just give it a rest, k?"

“For once, I find myself agreeing with you.” Having nothing further to say, he rolled over, turning his back on Mirror.

Mirror watched the pair fall asleep, and waited another fifteen minutes to be sure they wouldn't be suddenly getting up. As much as she would have liked to be present when Spitfire woke up again, there were things that had to happen… such as letting her cohort know that the missing mare had been found. She considered the wisdom of dragging a pyromancer out to guard a fireworks storehouse, and chuckled, the time for common sense had passed a while ago. Just to be sure maybe she should make him leave the damn sword behind, though.


Written alongside Sasha Nein and notMurphy

Timestamp: 20th July, 01:25 pm

Walking down Pennywhistle Lane, Crescent felt the ground burning under his hooves. All the town’s water reserves seemed to have gone to putting out the fires which just added on the already frying Summer heat. He felt the heat but it didn’t really bother him, after the years of playing with fire had given him a bit of resistance to it. He tried following the road he’d walked when he first met the guy and going out from what he knew, he was looking for some store with antiques and such. He came to what looked to be an old store; the display window was tinted with dust and made it difficult to spot anything inside. The front door was set in beside the window and on the left side of the building there was a dimly lit alley. There wasn’t really any other stores in the nearby proximity so this was as good as any place to start.

The swordspony pushed the door open, a small bell signaling his entrance to the place. He could see this place being a normal convenience store but that the desks where the fruit and greens would stand, was displays and urns. All manner of odd-looking masks lined the walls, jewelry sat in a case set against the rear of the shop. One shelf held old scrolls and books, and to its right were an assortment of weapons; staves, swords, clubs, even a peculiar bow that was clearly not designed for pony hooves. Hanging in the air, mixed among the smell of aged parchment and wood, was a sickly-sweet odor; following the source, Crescent spied a stick of burning incense sitting beside the register. It was also here he found
Trinket, hunched over an old book, making notes and muttering to himself.

As he walked up to the counter, Crescent couldn’t help but feel a chilling unease. Sure, he had seen a thing or two but this place with this place’s smell and air filled with dust didn’t quite sit right with him. The thought of giving the stallion a bad rap about not really listening when he told him about the call stone weirdly started to leave his mind the closer he came to the desk. As he came to the counter, the thought was completely out of his mind and instead just plinged the small bell lightly to call his attention.

Trinket glanced up from his book, staring at Crescent for a few moments before recognition set in. “Ah, yes, you’re late.” The earth pony stretched, closed his book, tucking the pages within the front cover, and drew his attention to Crescent’s sword. “Hmm. Interesting design. Where was it forged?”

He wanted to point out he never got a time to arrive. “I-it was made in… Haldurr, made by enchanted steel bars to keep the fire spell forge into the blade and the runes for the magic cost decrease. Made by a unicorn named Forgehammer, originally made to… someone else, given to me as a sign of good faith. Turned out to have a price anyway.” He took it out of the sheath and laid it across the desk.

Trinket grunted, picking up the sword in his front hooves and hefting it. “Mm. Recent make, then. Peculiar weight, though I probably attribute that to being designed for a unicorn. Balance is similarly off, though I doubt that matters much when being levitated.” He laid it back down, then grabbed a slip of paper and quickly copied the runes; Crescent was somewhat surprised at how skillfully the earth pony could replicate the intricate design. “But I doubt you came to sell me your sword,” the shopkeep mulled. “I suppose Gem found you easily enough.”

“Yeah… actually, there was something I was going to say about that, but it slipped my mind as I came in… something about the way you called me.”

“Mm. Must not have been very important, then,” Trinket said, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. “Well, let us not consider that for the moment. Tell me, what do you think of the recent events in town?”

The unicorn knew he had been angry, furious and pissed off but now the strongest word he could come up with was, “It’s bad?”

“I can think of a few choice words,” Trinket replied. “But the message would be the same either way.” He took a moment to crack his neck, then inhaled deeply. “What do you think the chances are of the police doing anything to solve the issue?”

“What they can do? Oh, there’s a lot they can do, but if they’re capable is another question.”

“If Spitfire were still here, I’d be more hopeful for their chances. But with her disappearance, my faith is wavering.”
Crescent got tired of going around the subject. “So why did you call me here? I bet for something a bit more important than just having a chat. If not, I will have to take my leave.”

“Patience, Crescent,” Trinket said slowly. “Rushing into or out of situations never works out in the long run. Just because they’re going poorly for you at the moment is no reason to leave. Or is that how you work? When something goes wrong, you bail.” He clucked his tongue. “Seems rather dishonourable to run from your past like that. Or did Moontwirl mean nothing to you?”

Crescent froze at the mention of or her name. “What did you just say?”

“Moontwirl. Oh, I do hope I’m pronouncing that correctly...” Trinket let his voice trail off, seemingly trying to remember something.

“You have no idea of what you’re talking about!” Crescent’s anger flowed back in over him. “You are treading on thin ice mentioning her to me like that, especially together of dishonor.”

If Trinket was at all intimidated, he didn’t show it. “Such fury. If you’re truly at peace with your past, why so defensive about it?”

Crescent wanted to give the guy a real swollen eye. “As I said, you have no idea of what you’re dealing with.”

“Nor do you,” Trinket said simply.

“Who do you think you are? Talking about my past which you don’t really know anything about, knowing my old marefriend’s name… How do you even know her name?”

Trinket spread his forelegs, motioning to the shop. “I’m in the business of antiquities. To make the best sell, it helps if you know a bit about the object in question. And it really helps to know your customer. If you know who to talk to, you can find out quite a bit. Information is just as valuable as a lance to me. You may think you’re a ghost, my dear Crescent, but it’s a lot harder to start anew than you’d think.”

Crescent retracted some of his anger. “I never tried to start anew, I tried to move on, tried to save what I had left which led me here to this city. But apparently, the past won’t let go of me… if you really want to know what truly hides in my past, I will tell you.”

“We can run from the past, but it always has a way of catching up,” Trinket said. “Not even any of the Princesses can hide from it.” He sighed deeply, then crossed his hooves and leaned on the counter. “Very well. I’ll listen, if you’re willing to speak.”

Crescent sighed, this colt really got ponies to talk apparently. Maybe sharing his past could help him, at least somewhat? “Moontwirl… she was my marefriend as you seem to have found out. She was in a resistance group along with a few others, trying to bring down a dictator. In the public’s eyes they were being lead by a unselfish and caring pony but behind the white smile laid corruption and evil. Everyone on a normal payroll was shown the way of a good life which included most of the city, what they- what I didn’t know then was that the poor and homeless was paying for the better life they never got to see.” He took a minute to let it process. “I met her by literally bumping into her as she and another were on their way to find evidence of the suffering our homes were built on, turns out I ended up at the pace they were heading to. Something went wrong for them and in the confusion I was taken with them. I remember she had gotten pretty hurt and that she had bandages for days after that. They amazingly enough recruited me based on my cutie mark and thought I would be able to help them in their quest.”

“For about a year I lived two lives, my normal life and the secret life of a freedom fighter and I started growing fond of Moontwirl… the group leader gave me the sword, thinking it was the thing for me which it turned out, it was. One day, we finally get to the one in charge of the whole thing, turns out the one we thought was the guy was just the face. We storm  in, me and her in lead and we corner him.” He paused, taking in the memories this awoken. Unconsciously, he started rubbing the bandage on his hoof. “He didn’t go down without a fight but we didn’t get so far just to let him go. I remember swinging my sword, he threw something, I never knew what it was, and hit me in the head. It broke my magic for nothing more than a second but it was too late. It flew out of my grasp and… and hit her straight through the chest… I remember burning inside, an uncontrollable white-glowing anger that drove me insane. I hit him, punched him, kicked him, before sending him out the window from his accursed tower. I remember holding her hoof, hearing her gasp for air as she bleed out… and then… she slipped away.” He dried his eyes hastily. “My father was in the hospital, had some illness that they didn’t know how to cure so that’s why I travel. He and my mom are the only thing I have left and I won’t let them slip away from me too.”

“Mm,” Trinket said once it was apparent Crescent was going to say no more. “That’s certainly a fair amount of hardship for one pony to bear.”

“Top that off with an ability to irritate a bodyguard and the son to a mafia family and the voice of your deceased marefriend in your head, yeah, it’s a mystery how I manage to carry on.” He dropped his head to the desk as if that would help anything else besides starting a headache.

“But here’s the question,” Trinket began, drawing up to his full height. “Was it necessary?”

“What do you mean?” Crescent didn’t like where this was going. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to tell him after all.

“Was it necessary to take the dictator down? Was it needed? Did you have to do it? Did it even have to have been you?”

“Yes, it was necessary. It helped ponies, many more ponies than we first expected, it just came at the cost of someone else. I guess, for your last question, no, it didn’t have to be me. It was just that I was the one finding the place the top guy was at and she wouldn’t let me go in alone… if only I had.”

“Crescent, shut up,” Trinket snapped. “From what you tell me, it was necessary. Her death is painful, but it was not in vain, so stop acting like it was.” The earth pony sighed, and for a moment Crescent thought he saw a hint of sorrow in his eyes. “You can make all the plans in the world, but sometimes things happen that are simply out of your control.”

Crescent rubbed his hoof  between his eyes. “Believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve blamed faith, karma, everything but it hasn’t eased my mind. I blamed it on the dictator which didn’t help either and then I just tried putting it behind me until now.” He chuckled. “To think, I continue to swing the reason for my suffering, trying to make it feel right by putting myself up for hire as protection and saying to myself I’m doing the right thing. Truth is, I never believed it, it just felt right for… some reason.”

“We can think up all kind of ways to justify actions we may take in the future,” Trinket began slowly, choosing his words with care. “But I find it hardest to justify actions you’ve already taken. Things you did, or didn’t do, you should have done...those are the ones everypony ends up dwelling on. We can regret our actions, try to find reason in them, but you have to eventually move past them, start looking ahead. Getting trapped in self-doubt, your mind a blaze of ‘should I’ and ‘what ifs?’ It isn’t healthy for a stallion.”

“Don’t I know it.” The reflex of grabbing a glass on the counter struck Crescent but he managed to control the impulse. Normally he would need a couple of drinks to open up like this. “Her death has been the thing driving me to this point but honestly, it has helped me help others. If I never got guilty over her I would probably have been trotting around the hospital to my father and pulling my mane out over that he was slowly dying and that nothing got done. I would like to at least imagine the trouble I’ve run into and the thanks I got wasn’t for nothing. You’re probably right, I should leave the past and look for the future, at least now I don’t hear her voice anymore.”

“You hear a voice in your head?” Trinket asked quickly, his voice suddenly full of intrigue and interest. “When did this start? Are you sure you’re not schizophrenic? Is it like a separate personality from your own? Does it know things you don’t?” He grabbed a book from the shelf and began flipping through it. “Is it at related to Ravaalon’s current affairs?”

Had Crescent mentioned the voice he’d heard? Oh great, either it had just been a slip of the tongue or she had let him blurt it out. If she had started manipulating his mind like this, it could be some serious trouble. Either way, Trinket seemed more interested than disturbed about it. “I don’t think it has anything to do with what’s happening now, I mean she spoke to me after the bombing when I was in my cell but I don’t think that triggered it. What’s a schizophrenic?”

“Oh, term for ponies who suffer from a variety of mental issues, including but not limited to delusions and hallucinations,” Trinket explained quickly, then paused in thought. “Though, now that I give it some thought, perhaps multiple personality disorder would be more appropriate. Bah, I’m no doctor, though. Don’t put so much weight in my uninformed hypothesis.”

Trinket cleared his throat. “Forgive me, I had merely begun to think I had found myself in another situation like I did in Saddle Arabia.”

“Saddle Arabia? Don’t think I’ve been there. I have mostly stayed on the northern hemisphere, I get enough heat as it is if I don’t have to deal with a frying sun.”

“Ah, it’s lovely there. Shopkeeps love to haggle, there’s plenty to see and do, no shortage of expeditions out to unexplored lands, myths and legends galore. And the sun ain’t so bad, so long as you dress appropriately.”

“Well when you say it like that you make it sound pleasant. Might have to checked it out if my travels ever take me there.”

“I highly recommend it. Just a word of warning if you do: keep a close eye on your belongings. Plenty of thieves in town, and highway robbers beyond the city borders. Learned that the hard way.”

“Yeah, I ran into some nasty gryphon raiders up around a town called Clover village, stopped almost all traffic of food and supplies in and out of the place.”

“Mm. Buncha punks, I hear.” Trinket set the book onto the shelf and retrieved another, flipping through it as he spoke. “So, about your voice. Male? Female? Indeterminate? Does it whisper suggestions, try to guide you along a specific path? Or is
it more commanding?”

“It is- was female, Moonswirl’s to be specific. She was kinda leading me to do better choices like taking up street performing, not take up a fight against the pegasi rebellion and, well, some general other things like giving you the calling stone which actually she took and seemingly altered some of my personality, making me seem more… joyful than I normally would be.”

“Hmm,” Trinket mumbled non-committally. “All things which, incidentally, don’t lead to fighting. At all.” Trinket looked up, staring into Crescent’s eyes, closer than the swordspony would have liked. “No dilation of the pupils. No visual remnants of magic in the cornea, outside of the usual scope present in all unicorns.” Trinket grunted, looking away as his thoughts churned.

“Oookay?” The unicorn really didn’t understand what that would indicate. “I kinda had a fight with the voice where it refused to let go of the past. I feel like it’s a separate part of me even though it says it’s my conscience with her voice.”

“Which do you think?” Trinket asked simply. “Are you insane, or is it not of your own mind?”

“I… I’m not sure. It would make sense if I’m insane with the stuff I’ve been through but then again, realizing I might be mad would prove I’m not really insane. If it’s something that has infiltrated my mind, it will make me seem paranoid which leads into insanity theories about my own psyche.” Crescent frowned. “I might have reached too far into that. It feels like my own mind, it has knowledge about her I would have locked in the deepest part of my mind but it doesn’t act or use words she would normally do.”

“It is possible to be insane and be perfectly aware of such,” Trinket said slowly. “And it’s hardly paranoia if someone is out to get you. Though it’s been my experience that these disembodied voices have a very difficult time getting into a pony’s head if they are not invited, or your mind is already broken enough that a fourth or fifth extra voice whispering in your ear won’t make much difference.”

Crescent shook his head. “She’s been the only voice in my head, haven’t heard any other either of my old friends, parents or the other parts of the resistance group. After the fight I haven’t heard from her, a bit relieved I have my head to myself again but I’m also worried what it might do to mess with my head.”

“I may have something for that,” Trinket said, trotting off into his shop and searched through the aisles. He emerged moments later toting a tiny vial of blue liquid, no more than a few ounces, and held it out to Crescent. “Alicorn tears, the locals in Zebrafrica call it. Fascinating where it comes from, really. As near as I understand it, it creates a mental shield around you. Zebra shamen use it to meditate, as it blocks out magical interference when they’re trying to commune with nature. I’m not saying this’ll be a precise fix, mind. If the voice stops, good. If it comes back, either you’re crazy, or whatever is speaking with you is more powerful than I know how to stop.”

Crescent looked at the small bottle’s content. “Alicorn tears? I want to ask how you obtain them but I don’t think I want to know the answer.”

Trinket waved a hoof. “Bah, a misnomer is all, but nine hundred years of folklore is difficult to overthrow. It’s just the sap from a flower native to Zebrafrica which curiously only blooms during a full moon. Local legend held it was Nightmare Moon’s influence, that she was lamenting her prison. The question I want to know is what possessed the first zebra to drink the stuff.”

“Well,” he picked up the bottle. “After a drink of double dragon belly there isn’t much I shy from trying. Bottoms up.” He put the vial to his mouth and threw it down like if he took a shot. The fluid felt like it burned an imprint in his throat as he swallowed it, making him groan deeply. “Goddess, that wasn’t far from a double dragon belly. Remind me never to have a drinking contest with a zebra.”

“That’s one of the weaker concoctions,” Trinket admitted. “I have a hard time selling anything stronger, though I do carry some of them.”

“Okay then,” the swordspony couldn’t withhold a grimace from the aftertaste. “Thanks for the help but what was the actual reason you wanted me here?”

“To talk. Isn’t that usually how interviews go?”

Crescent blinked, “An interview? Wait, you’re into this patrol group as well? Mirror and Gem were talking about some sort of private guard group which was looking into the disappearance of this Spitfire. Are you involved as well?”

“Mm, Gem has a way of exaggerating too much for her own good. I wouldn’t say a private guard group so much as a team of concerned citizens who don’t completely trust in the official guards. Who’s Mirror?” he added after a moment.

“Ehm, the mare which got arrested with me and another pegasus under the first bombing. She and I were at some bar when an old ‘friend’ of mine came and caused trouble. Gem came in and lent a hoof, or a claw rather, and she and Mirror mentioned they were under the same division. She let me stay with her so she could keep in contact since I said I wanted to do something else than sit and watch this city run itself into the ground, literally.”

“Mm. That may happen sooner than you expect if things continue as they have been.”

“Anyway, does this mean you are the supervisor for this operation? I mean, you seem to have a good grip on things around here.”

“Not as good as I’d like. I need more ponies in the field, as it were. Spies, to use a term, though nothing as grandiose as you read in novels.”

“Novels?” Crescent snorted. “They’re filled with misleading impressions of what really goes on. The real deal is much different than what they think espionage is about; it requires so much planning on beforehoof, tailing ponies for maybe weeks and many other things they leave out of the whole scenario. Some is right though, but just some parts.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Some number of ponies, usually the younger ones, always equate me to Daring Do when I mention I’m an archaeologist. My life is rarely so hectic, though I’ve gotten in my fair share of scrapes all the same.”

“So let me get this straight,” Crescent began, trying to get the conversation back on track. “You want me to find a way to be recruited by the pegasi, find out what they know and finding out about Spitfire, possibly free her and dig out what they’re all about. Do we have an informant?”

“Perhaps. I could also use some extra muscle if things come to blows. That is, of course, assuming your lovely blade there is usable as a weapon. I do hope it isn’t merely ceremonial.”

“I would give you a demonstration but the shop wouldn’t look too good afterward. Trust me, this sword can give you more than a flesh wound.”

Trinket nodded. “I believe it.” He closed his eyes in thought. “I can’t pay you for any of this work, sadly. Not in coin, at the least. The most I can offer is that I will be indebted to you. A favour to be repaid at some point in the future.” The earth pony opened his eyes and looked at Crescent coolly. “Does that suit you?”

Crescent thought about it. Trinket could be a good ally and to have on a debt roll could prove useful. “Not normally how I do things but I guess I can make an exception. You got any leads to go on?”

“Two so far,” Trinket replied. “Wait here a moment.” Without another word the pony vanished into the rear of the shop, leaving Crescent alone for a time.

You’re just fooling yourself, you know that? Crescent spun around, grabbing the sword with his magic and nearly missed beheading a mannequin. The voice sounded like someone had whispered right in his ear but there was no one there. That stuff you drank wouldn’t destroy your conscience, unless it really was alcohol which would only cloud me.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to talk to me, be that nagging feeling and not the open voice in my head,” Crescent said out in the open, not loud enough for Trinket to hear hopefully.

You’re trying to get rid of me, of course I will come out when you rattle the cage. You know, you’re not like you used to be, you are making all this deals when before you would just hold your focus on one thing. What happened to that?
He sighed. “I have my focus on one thing and that is to get off this island in the clouds.”

Yeah right, before your focus was to find something to help your father but I can see your prioritizing in your mind. Find the police captain, get a solution to the rebellion… oh, and what's this? Find out if Mirror really likes you? Your mind is filling up with distractions from your main plan until you suddenly settle down and lose your family back home. Her angry tone started to fade as if she moved further away from him. Oh look, it seems the drug has some effect on me. You are denying I’m your conscience so much you’re actually distancing your own sense of right and wrong. This will only put me off for a while but I hope you’ve made up your mind of what’s really important to you.

“I’ve already did,” he called out. “I want you out of my head!” No response, the drug must have taken effect.

“Perhaps the dosage was too small,” Trinket said, startling Crescent. “Or you really are crazy.”

“Geez Trinket.” He lowered his sword. “I’m- I’m fine now, she just got upset by attempting to remove her. Do you think it’s possible to push one’s own conscience away so the stuff could remove it instead?”

“Not so far as I know,” Trinket replied, then slid a few dossiers over towards Crescent. They were somewhat cool to the touch, almost as if they’d been refrigerated. “These are two leads I need looked into ASAP.”

Crescent opened the first one; a picture of a pegasus greeted him, primarily blue, and the name underneath was ‘Cloudbuilder’. There was a bit underneath about his habits and normal routes to and from home. “Hmm, this Cloudbuilder figure seems surprisingly familiar… I think I saw him at the first bombing. I think he was trying to escape but got caught by the Captain. Haven’t seen him after that.”

“He was seen once since,” Trinket said. “The day Spitfire went missing.” The earth pony paused for a long while. “He was the last to talk to her before she vanished. The guards suspect him as a PRF member, and I’m inclined to agree. Find him, follow him. Either he’ll lead you to Spitfire, or he might know what happened to her. I’m convinced whatever the two of them talked about is related.”

Crescent looked at the second file; another pegasus, this one a mare. Her mane and cutie mark and tail were hidden behind a hat and a dress, respectively. Her fur was a nice shade of blue, but she wore thick sunglasses, hiding most of her face. The name printed neatly underneath her was ‘Sunny Skies’. Beyond that, the file was nearly empty. “What’s with the little intel on Sunny?”

“She’s a damned ghost,” Trinket spat. “Remember what I said earlier about it being hard to erase your past? That pegasus is a prime example of doing it right. She could be the leader of the PRF, she could be Princess Twilight in disguise, she could just be that one lucky sap who fell through the cracks in the bureaucracy. The fact remains that I don’t know a thing about her, which makes her incredibly dangerous. Luna above, I don’t even know if that’s her actual name.” Trinket grunted, clearly ill-at-ease over this pegasus. “While you’re looking into Cloudbuilder, try to find out anything you can about Sunny. I don’t care if it’s just what brand shampoo she uses, I want something to start from.”

“Really, you got absolutely blank on her?” Crescent breathed out. “Find a pony when the picture might not even be correct, that’s gonna be a hard one. I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”

“Yeah. You get caught, you never heard of me, understood? Last thing I need is the entire PRF coming through my door.”

“Understood. If so, you might not want the calling stone I gave you. It has a magic link which, with the right spell, can be traced back to the caller if I get caught.”

“I know. The magic’s strong enough on that thing for even me to sense. And I know a bit about how linking spells work.” Trinket paused, taking out a tiny pouch, not much bigger than a rock. He deftly undid the string holding it closed — Crescent took a moment to marvel at how the earth pony was so skilled with his hooves — and pulled out the calling stone. “I’ve had to deal with magic run-off from arcane items every now and again. This pouch has been treated with a special liquid that nullifies magic. Prevents magic from getting in or out.”

"Hmm, seems nifty for concealing magic," Crescent said as he took the bracelet with the lapis-blue stone. "Just wondering, why didn’t you use this to get a hold of me rather than send your gryphon friend?"

“I intended to, but I had a...vision, I guess you’d say? Or perhaps a premonition?” He shook his head. “The word fails me. I simply knew without knowing that using the stone would be disadvantageous.” Trinket looked straight at Crescent. “However, whether that would have been for me or you is impossible to say.”

“Hmm, well we have been talking about voices in at least my head so I guess it’s not too weird. I will start looking for these ponies, maybe Mirror has seen one of them recently since she’s more around than me.” He picked up the files and was about to leave. “I guess thanks too, for trusting me. I know I behaved pretty bizarre when we first met but at least you gave me a chance so, yeah.”

“Try not to waste it,” the earth pony replied stoically. “I’m not in the habit of granting second chances without due cause.”

“I’ll do my best to not disappoint you. Also, could we keep this ‘voice in the head’ thing between us? At least not tell anyone unless it’s a dire situation and it’s needed; ponies wouldn’t like a mentally unstable swordspony around them.”

“My lips are sealed,” Trinket said with a smirk, then motioned to the counter. “But, ah, if I may suggest, a swordspony without a sword is a sad warrior indeed.”

“Oh, hehe, right.” Crescent picked up his sword from the counter and put it back in the sleath. “I will be on my way.” With that, the unicorn left the antique store.

Crescent had no clear goal, so he started wandering the street, letting his now quiet mind focus on the task at hoof. Even though the weather was almost unbearably warm, there were still a good amount of ponies out walking. The district, mostly the home of the middle class, but here and there were some more high class-looking earth ponies looking at the stores. Maybe the heat on the upper levels had become too much for them and they had decided to take a trip as low as they dared to the low class levels, this wasn’t exactly a pompous shopping street with repair shops for magitech, cheap, knick-knack stores and the tiny food markets. Crescent got some glares from the earth ponies as if he was the cause of the burning temperature but it could also just be that he was carrying a sword with no indication of being a part of the RPD.

Focus, let them think what they want and keep your eyes on finding these ponies. Crescent thought to himself. So this Cloudbuilder, from what I remember he seemed pretty certain about his calling… something about standing up to the higher power and telling them off, but he also seemed to have respect for the Captain. He looked to be a newcomer, if he even knew what the resistance group was up to, another one with hopes of a brighter future if only he held the power in his hooves. He was surprised Her voice hadn’t commented that’s how he used to be until he remembered the potion.
If I start by finding Cloudbuilder, it could lead me to this Sunny mare, Crescent went on in his head, smirking to himself. Won’t be the first time I’ve chased a ghost but this might be a bit more difficult. Now let’s see, pegasi normally keeps to the Northern side of this level so… He stopped to check where he was. Crescent recognized the street corner he’d stood on a few days ago, a slight singe in the pavement from a fire tiger. So to the right down Clover Alley here is West which means up Horseshoe Road here. Content with his inner compass still working, Crescent went to the left towards the North side of town.


Fortified with Tricondon and partly with DrTechno

13:15, July 23rd, Police Headquarters

Soarin’ sighed as he heard another story from a fellow officer on the difficulties of working under the new Chief of Police.
He had to agree, however; that guy was like... like... some horrible mix of Prince Blueblood, Jet Set, and Upper Crust. Except with actual political power.

Silverhoof was a big problem. He had been assigned to be the acting Chief of Police by the city’s council. There was nothing Soarin’ could do about that. What was worse was the legal power that came with being appointed in such a way. Silverhoof was causing trouble all over the place. He was finding the most mundane and ridiculous reasons to have the homes of pegasi ransacked and searched, and even worse, he was having the pegasi of the police force do the dirty work.
Over the past few days, the prick had done absolutely everything possible to drive his fellow pegasi up the wall and work them to the bone. Assigning them with the most mundane tasks; consistently giving them the late-night patrols while giving his fellow earth ponies the favorable shifts; finding any reason to make them stay later than their shift required. Silverhoof was without mercy towards them, and quite frankly, it pissed Soarin’ off.

But what pissed him off even more was the simple fact that he couldn’t do anything about it. He’d already heard countless complaints from other pegasi working with him, and he was having a hard time keeping them calm. If things didn’t get better soon, the police force was going to be much smaller than it should be. His ear twitched when he heard what his coworker said next.

“ -- Silverhoof made me miss my daughter’s first flight yesterday!”

“He did what?” Another pegasus asked to clarify.

“I was supposed to take my daughter out to help her get the finer points of flying down. But because of the shift that mud-dweller gave me, I was stuck here while my wife did it instead. And... and she got it. My little baby girl flew. And I mean more than the little fluttering they do, she actually flew. I asked Silverhoof for the day off, and he told me to go buck myself.”

The break room exploded with noise. Soarin’s jaw clenched.

“That’s just crossing the line,” another pegasus growled.

Preventing the parent of a pegasus foal from seeing their first flight, for any reason, was like... like... keeping a unicorn foal from learning magic.

And having been a Wonderbolt, to Soarin’, doing something like that made his blood boil.

“I gotta ask, Soarin’,” one pegasus asked, loudly enough to get everypony’s attention. “Why the hell did you just let him take over?! It’s obvious that you’re just as mad as the rest of us, so why don’t we just kick him out?”

The crowded room of pegasi quickly grew loud with most, if not all, of its occupants quickly agreeing to this idea. Despite the fact that Soarin’ was actually quite tempted to do the same, he knew that it would only end badly for them all.

“Everypony!” he cried, trying to get their attention. When that failed, he hovered into the air and whistled as loudly as he could, just like Spitfire used to do in their ‘Bolt days. “Quiet! Everypony listening? Good. I hate to say it, but we can’t just kick Silver-kiss-my-plot-hoof out onto the streets. The council will probably send someone even worse, someone who’ll just skip all the torment and fire us and evict us all.”

“So what do you suggest we do instead?” The stallion who had brought up his daughter’s first flight asked. “I mean, he’s probably going to be firing us all pretty soon anyway.”

“He probably is, but before he does that, there’s that meeting a couple days from now,” Soarin’ pointed out.

“So?”

Soarin’ grinned. “I have a plan. Here’s what we’re going to do...”


09:00, July 25th, Police Headquarters

The last couple of days had been very hectic for Soarin’. One of his flight-gifted coworkers had found an old abandoned building in the same hex as the police station. It had been abandoned only recently, as a direct result of the bombing on City Hall. The poor place was somewhat weakened on one side, and seeing as it no longer had a City Hall to work for, it had quickly become vacant and gone up for sale.

It had been somewhat costly, but after pooling money together from his colleagues -- and using a chunk of his rather substantial savings -- he had purchased it in his name. Then Soarin’ had put another bunch of bits in to making sure that the building was safe, secure, and a good place to stay for more than a single night.

On the morning of the meeting, he received a message in the mail, and his spirit soared at what he read. The building was more or less safe to live in. He already had some of his colleagues spreading the word to fellow pegasi, the ones that had been wrongly evicted, that they were free to come and stay for as long as they like. He’d even paid some ponies to help repair the place a little quicker.

But first... there was a certain earth pony to deflate.

Soarin’ couldn’t keep a confident smirk off of his face as the entirety of the Ravaalon police force filed into the station’s auditorium for their monthly meeting. The pegasi made sure to seat themselves near the doors, and most of them sported expressions that were rather grim. None of them were going to have a job after this, after all.

Silverhoof entered last, from the door nearest the auditorium’s stage and podium. Today, like the past week, he was not wearing the proper uniform for the Chief of Police. Rather, he was wearing one of those fancy-shmancy suits that only the rich or well-connected could afford. Soarin’s pleasant mood diminished as he scowled at this.

Silverhoof cleared his throat carefully. “Thank you for coming. I would like to start this meeting by apologizing.” Ponies’ ears perked up, some pegasi hoping he would be aiming it towards them. “My fellow earth ponies, and my unicorn friends, I have not been giving you your due diligence in this work force. All of the pegasi have been holding my attention, and I apologize for that.”

Soarin’s scowl deepened. He could not wait to give this foal his well-deserved comeuppance.

“But now that I have been appointed Chief of Police in place of that idiotic mare before me, the rights of you to have a better share of hours and better work will be seen to immediately. It will be much better than before. I can assure you of that.”

Oh, he did not just say that. Soarin’ growled at the stallion’s implication. Several other ponies in the crowd, of all races, did not appreciate what was being said, either. The only ones in the audience who outwardly approved were Silverhoof’s supporters, sitting right in front of the stage.

“My first goal to achieve this is to ensure that the right jobs are done by the right ponies. I have plenty of specific assignments for the pegasi alone, and the rest are for everypony else.”

Soarin’ couldn’t take another minute of this. “So you just want us to stay out the way, then?”

Silverhoof scoffed. “All you pegasi do is get in the way. It’s about time somepony put you in your place.”

“This isn’t Victorian Canterlot, Silverhoof.” Soarin’ countered, as he boldly walked onto the stage, glaring the whole way.

“There is no such thing as ‘putting somepony in their place’ these days.”

“You are just proving my point. Ponies -- pegasi like you need to learn not to cause such problems for us all, or you’re only going to make things worse for everypony else. If you don’t like the truth, then feel free to resign.”

“It won’t be just me. Do you really want to see how well this police force will operate without pegasi in the mix, Silverhoof?" Soarin' demanded, slamming a hoof against the stage. "Because with the way you're treating all of them, us, right now isn't doing you any favors."

"As if," Silverhoof scoffed. "Quite contrary to your beliefs, I believe I'm doing this force a tremendous favor. You pegasi are all the same, can't trust a single damned one of you."

He moved away from the podium in the corner, and more towards the center of the stage where Soarin’ stood. They stood only inches apart. "It's a good thing I didn't expect any better from you. Wonderbolt material or not, you're a shameful example of what true justice and integrity stand for," he sneered.

Soarin' grit his teeth and forced his hooves to remain on the floor. Oh how tempting it was to drive his hooves into that prick’s face. "If you do not allow equal officer rights for all the pegasi on this force, then what is even the point?"

"Equality!?" Silverhoof screamed, spittle flying from his lips. Soarin’ winced as some landed on his fur. "You lost your chance at equality the moment you bombed the City Hall!"

"I did no such thing." Soarin' said evenly. "And neither did any of the pegasi in this room. In fact, they provided more help than any of you earth ponies with the fire brigades and transportation."

Silverhoof scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Your kind can’t do anyth--”

“Hey!” A voice called from further in the audience. It was an earth pony mare. “We couldn’t have saved nearly as many ponies if these pegasi hadn’t been helping us.”

“She’s right.” A male unicorn stood, agreeing. “These ponies, our pegasus friends, have helped us through these hard times more than you and any member of the council have, or ever will.”

A few other earth ponies and unicorns stood as well, agreeing with these statements.

Silverhoof’s face screwed up into a snarl, “I suggest you watch what you say about the council, or you will no longer be an officer!” Silverhoof, angered and incensed, turned back to Soarin’. “And you! You dare to try and upstage me in front of the entirety of the police force! Congratulations, flyboy, you’ve succeeded in upsetting me. And to make sure you can’t get in the way again -- you’re fired.”

“Saves me the trouble,” Soarin’ murmured to himself, before speaking up for all to hear. "If you're too blind and selfish to distinguish individuals for who they truly are, then you're unfit for your position. But, I obviously have no way of disposing of you, so unless you agree to these demands I, and the remaining pegasi, are leaving."

Silverhoof didn’t even hesitate. "Good! I don't need you, nor want you jackals!"

Soarin' stared at the chief hard for a moment, before turning away. "So that's it then." He made for the conference room door, but waited until the rest of the pegasi exited. He turned back towards Silverhoof. "Let's just see how well you function with a third of your force, and flying capabilities, removed," he quipped, but just before he shut the door, he paused. “And do you know what the final straw was?”

“What?” Silverhoof taunted, knowing he had won in removing the pegasus menace from the police force.

“The captain that came before you. You didn’t even bother to learn her name.” Soarin’ said quietly. Silverhoof blinked; that certainly hadn’t been the answer he was expecting. “You didn’t know Spitfire’s name.”

It was with that little declaration that Soarin’ finally walked out of the auditorium.

Once he had cleared his job locker of all his personal belongings, Soarin’ landed right in front of his new home. He calmly walked inside the old office building, and once he dropped his overloaded saddlebags in his claimed room, he took a nice, deep breath...

And punched the nearest wall as hard as he could. Soarin’ growled as he pulled back and punched again, before letting out a deep sigh. He ran his hoof through his mane.

He got to me a lot more than I thought... He mused. I need to go blow off some steam.

Soarin’ decided to just leave his former job stuff where it lay, doubting anypony would care about the police uniforms of somepony who had just left the force. Launching back into the air, Soarin’ let his wings decide where to go for now. Feeling the wind blowing through his mane, his feathers... it was incredibly soothing, and helped to calm his frayed nerves. Once he felt like he was calm, he landed in the industrial hex, in a small alleyway just for the sake of testing his landing skills.
And the first thing Soarin’ saw was a small family, huddled together. Between the mare and stallion, was a small, shivering foal, wrapped in the wings of their parents for warmth.

The anger and frustration that Soarin’ had just finished letting go returned with a vengeance. Taking a deep breath and attempting to not lose his temper for the umpteenth time that day, he looked towards the little family. He opened his mouth to speak, but then clicked it shut when he looked a little closer at the little filly.

“Hey... I remember you,” He said quietly. “You’re the little filly Spitfire and I gave an autograph to.”
The young filly’s ears perked, as did her parents’. She peeked through her mother’s feathers, and upon seeing Soarin’, grinned.

“Soarink!” She squealed cheerfully, dashing towards him, where he greeted her with a warm hug. “You ‘member me! Did you come to help?”

“Of course I did, squirt. What’s your name, kiddo?”

“My name’s Wind Whistler, Mr. Soarink! And this is my mama and dada!”

Her mother came up behind her, “What are you really doing here, Mr. Soarin’?”

Soarin’ sighed. “Long story short, the new temporary chief of police is a big meanie head --” he smiled at the way lil’ Whistler pouted at that -- “to the point where I and literally every other pegasus officer left.”

The mother frowned. “But what are you going to do now?”

“Now?” Soarin’s smile widened. “I, and those same officers, are offering a place to stay. There’s an abandoned building near where City Hall used to be. We pooled our money together and purchased it, and now we’re offering it to other pegasi who... well, ponies that are in the same situation as you.”

The adults looked at each other, and then they looked back to Soarin’. “Is there still room?”

Soarin’ nodded, starting to lead the way. “Just follow me.”

“Is there a name for your place?”

Soarin’ blinked. “Uh... yeah. We’re calling it the Pegasus Underground Railroad.”

“...You just came up with that, didn’t you?”

“...Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Mr. Soarink!” Wind Whistler whined after only a few steps. “Can... can I ride with you?”

Soarin’ smiled ever wider, and nodded to the little filly. She squealed happily, and with a little assistance, hopped onto Soarin’s back and curled up in his thick fur. The parents thanked him deeply, to which he said he was just doing the right thing.

Soarin’ just hoped that this didn’t cause more trouble for the pegasi of Ravaalon.


Post edited and proofread by Sasha Nein and DarkPhoenix.

Timestamp:
6:36 AM, July 28th, Industrial Hex Warehouse

A haze of light drew Spitfire out of the depths of her slumber. She groaned groggily as she forced her eyes open in the half light of the warehouse. She almost gave the morning the middle feather and rolled over to go back to sleep, but the overwhelming smell of fireworks invaded her brain, reminding her of where she was.

Sluggishly, she sat up and stretched, popping her back and legs. While the trash she slept on had been more comfortable than the cot, they were still nowhere near as comfortable as her real bed was. It did come as a small comfort that her internal clock was still functioning to some degree. Although it would probably get back into shape once she cleared her system of painkillers and exhaustion.

She glanced around and located Cloudbuilder snoring on his own hoard of firework packaging. Taking a deep breath Spitfire rose. There were things to do, dates to figure out, ponies to meet. Better to start early than wait for anypony to notice the warehouse had been broken into.

As she began to step forward, she hissed as her broken leg came down for the first time. She fell forward, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain. Spitfire knew she shouldn’t be walking on a broken leg, but she had little choice. Gritting her teeth, she got back up and moved forward gingerly.

Walking over to Cloudbuilder, she contemplated a number of ways to wake him up. Should she kick him? Maybe, but that was what all the bad guys did in westerns. She wasn’t feeling nice enough to shake him gently and she certainly wasn’t kissing him.

Spitfire rolled her eyes, she was still too tired for this. Stepping forward, she rapped a hoof on the back of his head. “Hey, wake up.”

He let out a groan, holding a hoof to his head. When he attempted to open his eyes, the harsh sunlight filtering in through the windows set high on the walls invaded his vision. Squeezing his eyelids closed, he blinked a few times to get rid of the spots.

Based on the light, it was still early. It felt like he’d only just gone to sleep, even though he knew he’d slept the entire night. The orange eyes of Spitfire were staring down at him. Seeing her flooded his mind with the memories of what had happened yesterday.

He’d rescued her from the PRF, making himself their enemy in the process. Now he was on the run from both the police, and the PRF. Once, Spitfire had been reliant upon him, but now the tables had turned. She was his best chance at staying out of a cell somewhere.

“Morning already?” he asked her.

“Yes, and we need to be out of here.” Spitfire glanced at the door. “No telling when somepony will be along here. Where’s Mirror?”

He looked around, not seeing the shockingly white pegasus anywhere. “I don’t know. She was still here when I fell asleep.” He could feel her watching him as he tried to fall asleep the night before. He was getting the impression that she didn’t trust him.

Spitfire turned away and bit her lip. “Well, we can’t stay here. We’ll just have to find her later. Come on.” She began weaving her way towards the front of the warehouse.

Picking up his saddlebag from yesterday, he dug into it and pulled out two oat bars. “Here,” he said, tossing one to Spitfire as he followed her towards the door.

Hesitating slightly, Spitfire glanced at Cloudbuilder before digging into the bar. “Thanks,” she said quickly, hastening her steps forward.

They stepped out into the morning, which was actually quite brighter than the warehouse interior had led them to believe. Gravel crunched under Cloudbuilder’s hooves as he turned and pushed the large door closed. He slid the chain back into it’s position and perched the broken lock on the chain, maybe it would fool ponies if they didn’t actually rattle it.

He turned back to Spitfire, she was watching him. But, as soon as he stepped away from the door she gave him a quick nod and turned away while unfurling her wings.

“We’re going to an... acquaintance, first. A gryphon named Gem.” she called. “We need a hideout, there is a stallion who lives with her that I’m sure can think of someplace to accommodate us.”

“And you need to see a doctor,” he mentioned. “Somepony with actual training needs to look at your leg.” In truth, he was worried about it. Everything he’d done to fix it had been out of a first aid book. Down in the tunnels, it was the best that he could give her. Now that they were outside, maybe this Gem of hers knew something.

Spitfire looked down at her leg. It was easier to ignore the throb now, but already she could tell, even with a few steps, that her ability to walk wasn’t going to last long. It itched too, but that was probably because the cast needed changed. The thing hadn’t been the cleanest or best piece of work from the start. Still, it worked well enough for now. “Later,” she dismissed.

He frowned, not sure if putting it off was the best idea. But she was stubborn, so arguing with her about it was a good way to get left behind.

Another thing that was bugging him, was what she intended to do with him. Yes, he’d rescued her, but that didn’t make up for everything that he’d done prior to that. He was still a wanted fugitive who was directly responsible for her kidnapping, and the state she was in now. As much as he wanted to bring it up with her, he didn’t think it was a good idea, not yet at least. However, he couldn’t put it off for long. As soon as they were in a safehouse, a proper one and not just a warehouse, he’d ask her about it.

They flew from alley to alley, never in the open and only over rooftops if they couldn’t avoid it. Spitfire was taking no chances being spotted, which was probably a good thing, being so close to the police station.

It took them the better part of an hour to sneak their way to the train station and catch a ride to the residential hex. Spitfire took a corner seat with Cloudbuilder trying his best to inconspicuously hide her casted leg. Thankfully, there were no other pegasi on the train, so they didn’t have to worry about the PRF. But the few earth ponies on board gave them dirty looks. Still, when they got off at their stop, nopony caused them trouble.

Spitfire eventually stopped at a seemingly random home. It didn’t look special at all to Cloudbuilder, and certainly wasn’t her home. But, if they were looking for a safe place to stay, he figured low key was what they wanted.

“Um, Spitfire,” he said. “Is this where we’re meeting...” He trailed off, unable to remember the name. He thought it was something like Jewel.

“Gem, yes,” she responded, knocking on the door. “She’s a gryphon, and hopefully home, and hopefully still doing what I asked her, and hopefully won’t turn us in, or snitch.”

“That’s a lot of hopefullys. Are you sure about this?”

Whatever retort Spitfire had was pushed aside as the door swung open, a disheveled and sleepy-looking earth pony standing in the entrance, blinking at the two pegasi before him. “Yeah?”

“Hello, Trinket.” Spitfire said. “Can I come in, please?”

It wasn’t a request, by her tone. Yet, she still stood and waited expectantly.

Trinket blinked a few times, sleep not fully gone from his system. “Do I know you?” he finally asked.

“Yes, I believe you do.” Spitfire craned her neck, trying to see past Trinket into the home. “Is Gem here? I need to speak with her.”

“She’s not in at the moment,” Trinket replied, cracking his neck from side to side. “Can I take a message for you?”

“Well, we were really hoping to talk to her,” Cloudbuilder chimed in.

“Bucking Celestia,” Spitfire swore. “Am I really that dirty? I’m bucking Spitfire, let me in.”

“Spitfire was kidnapped, geez, I dunno, like two weeks ago now. Three?” Trinket said laconically.

“Yes, she was,” Spitfire groused. “Now she’s standing on a doorstep about ready to bash in the head of some purposefully frustrating earth pony.”

“Weakened wings and a broken leg. Pretty sure I can take you,” the earth pony said.

Spitfire pinched her muzzle in her forehoof. “Trinket... ugh. Where is Gem?”

“Gone to get breakfast. I don’t exactly keep a large store of gryphon-ready meat on hoof.”

“May we wait for her inside, please?” Spitfire asked, exasperated. “I’m not exactly trying to flaunt my presence here.”

Trinket sighed and moved aside, waving the pegasus in. Cloudbuilder waited until Spitfire had entered, then followed her inside. Spitfire didn’t go far, opting to stay standing and not muss up any furniture. A wooden chair would have been nice, but she didn’t see any in the near vicinity.

“How much longer will she be?”

Trinket shrugged. “How should I know? Depends on whether she wants pegasus colt or unicorn filly this morning.”
Trying not groan, Spitfire changed the topic. “Heard anything about the new police chief?”

“I try not to get involved with office politics,” he replied, then motioned to the den. “Please, sit down before you fall down.”

Giving the earth pony a skeptical glance, Spitfire moved towards one of the plush couches. “Well, thank you.” she said, plopping down with a sigh. “But you still didn’t answer my question.”

Not entirely sure what to do, Cloudbuilder opted to remain standing next to the couch. He got the sense that Spitfire and Trinket at least knew each other, though perhaps weren’t on the best of terms. If this earth pony was their hope for finding a safe house, he wasn’t entirely sure about this plan. Yet, it was the only plan they had at the moment.

“Earth pony, name of Silverhoof,” Trinket began, choosing his words carefully. “Haven’t quite figured out where he’s from or how he got his position. Bit of elitism to him, basically making pegasi’s jobs miserable for those on the force. And even those honest ones in the city aren’t faring much better. Families are getting evicted and their homes and possessions essentially destroyed, claiming it’s being done to search for PRF members.” There was a pause, then he continued, “Ain’t much fond of gryphons either.”

“I see,” Spitfire said after a long pause. “And how is business for you?”

“I’ve been lucky so far. My shop’s one of the few to not be set aflame. Not many folk doin’ much shopping, though.”

“Not for... trinkets, anyway. What about the more, supplyish, stores? Groceries, batteries... you know.”

“A more charitable stallion would say that folk are acting rather boorish. I’d go so far as to call them downright villains. Shoving others out of their way, trampling the young, weak, and elderly. Fairly certain if I didn’t have a gryphon on my side I’d end up among the injured last time I ventured to the market.” Another long pause as he considered his responses. “To put it bluntly, there are a lot of starving ponies. There’s a shortage of food for those not lucky enough to be wealthy or bullies. And at the rate we’re going, I’d say the amenities of city life will be drying up within a fortnight, perhaps less.”

“So basically the city’s gone to Tartarus in a saddlebag,” Cloudbuilder said. “What about getting supplies from ground-cities? It’s expensive, but maybe as some sort of holdover.”

Spitfire rubbed her chin. “That’s where a lot of our supplies come from, though. Why are we running out so soon? Are ponies stocking up or are the airships not running anymore?” Spitfire asked.

“Little of both. Ponies are stocking up, and airships aren’t coming in because the taxes are too high. That’s for both foodships and passenger liners, mind you. Most ponies who want to leave can’t afford it anymore.”

“Has something happened to the tax while I was gone?”

“Silverhoof raised it. Said it’s supposed to stem the PRF movements. Somehow.”

“That... makes no sense. Why would the PRF want to leave Ravaalon, when it’s the city they’re fighting for?” Cloudbuilder wondered aloud. He could already tell that Spitfire was going to give him one of her “You’re an idiot” looks, but it still bothered him. Didn’t Silverhoof know that the city needed those supplies to last? Surely he wasn’t trying to starve out the PRF, as that would affect the rest of the city as well. Then again, if he was deep in the upper class Earth Ponies’ pockets, then he had nothing to worry about when it came to food.

Spitfire gave Cloudbuilder the look. “Anypony with half a brain would know the pegasi aren’t going anywhere. No, I think he’s simply hitting and missing with his tactics, like a moron.”

“Counter-argument,” Trinket cut in. “He’s on the PRF’s payroll and is trying to starve everypony else out.”

“That also makes no sense. The PRF want equality amongst the races, not Ravaalon all to themselves. Or, at least, that’s what I thought they wanted...” Cloudbuilder wasn’t entirely sure what they wanted anymore. Their stated goals seemed to contradict what they did.

“I’ve no doubt they started out with such intentions, when the PRF was nothing more than an idea in some pegasus’ mind,” Trinket said. “But the larger a group, the better chance there is that whomever the leader is will be overthrown. The leader finds themselves bowing to the angry masses, until suddenly they’re pushed out of power and a radical leader is installed. Or they succumb to the inevitable ego boost that comes with guiding a large force.” He sighed wistfully, looking around the room at his personal collection.

“I’m far from blind. I see what pegasi endure in this town. But resorting to bombings, threats, ultimatums...that’s not the work of ponies striving for equality, that’s ponies striving for—” he cut off, running his mouth before he’d had a chance to think things through. “They’re not after living in harmony,” he resumed after a moment. “They’re after domination.”

“It’s doubtful an earth pony evicting pegasi from their homes and raising taxes would be affiliated with the PRF,” Spitfire cut in.

“Spitfire’s right. I’ve met some of the higher-ups in the PRF.” His mind thought about the stallion with whom he’d fought over Spitfire. And Sunny... Briefly, he wondered what she was up to these days. He hadn’t seen her since that day in the tunnels when she abandoned him.

“I offer theories and possibilities,” Trinket said defensively. “Just because it’s doubtful is no reason to ignore the possibility of it entirely without hard evidence one way or the other.”

Spitfire nodded thoughtfully, but was interrupted from speaking when the sound of the door swinging open, bashing into the wall, made the three ponies jump. Trinket gave a sigh, slumping forward in his seat and rubbed his face for a time.
“Damnit, Gem!” he finally yelled, raising back up to his full height. “How many times do I have to tell you, stop breaking my door!”

The gryphon sauntered into the room, a wry grin on her beak. “Aw, relax. I wouldn’t break your precious hous—” She cut off as she focused on Spitfire and Cloudbuilder, her good mood evaporating quickly.

“Hello, Gem,” Spitfire said, standing up.

Cloudbuilder stared at Gem. Spitfire must have forgotten to mention that she was a gryphon. He thought Trinket had been joking when he mentioned stocking gryphon-meat. There were a few gryphons in Ravaalon, but he’d never met any of them. Despite his best efforts, he felt his jaw lowering.

Gem eyed both Spitfire and Cloudbuilder for a bit before looking over at Trinket. “Peculiar company you keep these days.”

“Thought I’d branch out.” There was something odd about the delivery; it was too practiced, too calm. “No harm in talking, after all.”

Spitfire snorted, but ignored Trinket and spoke to the gryphon. “Before you ask, I am Spitfire. But, I’m short on time, so let’s get to it. I have some questions for you.”

“Well, I doubt you can run that fast with that leg,” Gem said sardonically. “Won’t be any fun chasing you. Very well. Ask.”

“Have you been doing what I asked you to?”

“Not easy to climb the ranks so quickly. Easier in a gryphon community.”

Cloudbuilder had no idea what they were talking about. Obviously, Spitfire had asked Gem to do something for her before she’d been taken. He tried to stay quiet, but his curiosity got the better of him. What had Spitfire needed a gryphon for? “What are you talking about?” he asked.

Spitfire ignored Cloudbuilder. “What have you learned so far? Tell me what they’re doing, the short version.”

“Mass recruiting. Targeting more government buildings, wealthy earth pony families. I hear rumbles of going after the farmland in the agriculture hex.”

“How fast are they getting things done?” Spitfire asked. “Any idea on their timeframe for big targets?”

“You’re talking about the PRF,” Cloudbuilder said. He pointed a hoof at Spitfire. “You, sent her,” his hoof moved to point at Gem, “to infiltrate them.”

Gem ignored the pegasus. “Unfortunately, no. I’m just a low-level grunt. I do what I’m told.”

“Damn,” Spitfire muttered. She glanced at Cloudbuilder, but said nothing. Finally, she turned back to Gem. “Okay, one more thing. I need a place to stay hidden, can you tell me what places I can hide that would be good to avoid the PRF for... I dunno, a week?”

Gem mulled it over for a few minutes. “Hard to say. I rarely know what I’m supposed to hit more than a day before. I’d say maybe the industrial hex.”

“Stop ignoring me!” Cloudbuilder stomped a hoof on the ground. “What is going on? How come I never saw Gem down in those tunnels?”

“I dunno. Cataracts?” Gem pointedly looked at him.

“Very funny.” Gem just laughed quietly. “But seriously,” he continued. “What is going on?”

“We’re looking for a place to hide, Cloudbuilder,” sighed Spitfire. “The industrial hex may be safe from the PRF, being on their turf and all. But from what I’ve heard, it seems that new Silverhoof bloke has his goons all over it.”

Spitfire grumbled for a moment, then asked, “Do either of you know what happened to the acting chief before Silverbutt came into the picture?”

“You mean Soarin’?” Trinket asked. At a nod from Spitfire, he continued, “The whole lot of pegasi on the police force up and quit. At once.”

“What!?” Spitfire’s voice cracked, raising an octave. She took a deep breath. “Where did they go?”

“He’s got this...alternate pegasus group thing,” Gem said uneasily. “What was it? Pegasus Ultimate? No, Pegasus Under...Under...”

“Pegasus Underground Railroad,” Trinket finished for her, a little tartly.

“That bucking idiot...” Spitfire trailed off, planting a hoof to her face once again. “One. Simple. Job. I should have... Nevermind.”

She stood silent, staring at the floor as she thought. It had been a far fetched hope that Soarin’ would stay in command if something like this had happened. Not enough of the ponies on the force knew him well enough to stand up and keep him there. Yet, he had always been a good lieutenant and substitute if she was indisposed. What the hell was he doing?

Whatever it was, this development was a problem. Now she was going to have to go find the stupid stallion and figure out what had happened exactly, maybe this wasn’t as big of a wrench as it sounded...

Spitfire continued contemplating her options until a voice cut across her thoughts. “Uh, so going back to the whole safehouse thing,” Cloudbuilder broke in. “We still need one. And Spitfire needs to see a doctor.”

Neither Gem nor Trinket spoke up, more interested in their private conversation. Spitfire, however, blinked and turned to Cloudbuilder. She chewed her lip for a moment before finally speaking.

“Thank you, Gem.” The gryphon glanced up from her conversation with the earth pony. “I’d very much appreciate it if you kept up your work. Although, I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a bind as to payment at the moment,” Spitfire said with a grimace. “Hopefully I can get things... Worked out, at the station. Then you can come in and we can talk about that.

“But, I need to get moving. You’ve informed me of quite a few intimidating developments and the time before ponies realize I’m still flying around is rapidly diminishing.”

“Gem, go to my apartment. Assuming Silverhoof and his cronies haven’t hit it yet, there’s a bag of bits under the mattress. That should work, right Spitfire?”

Spitfire glanced at Cloudbuilder, then back to the two conspirators. She raised an eyebrow.

“Well, we’ll see if it’s still there before I accept payment,” Gem said slowly.

The fiery pegasus nodded. “Very well.” She made for the door, limping slightly. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. Alright.” Gem couldn’t think of anything better to say.

Spitfire ushered Cloudbuilder out the door. She hesitated on the threshold, turning back to Gem she said quietly, “Best stay away from as many large raids as you can... For, obvious reasons.”

“Wasn’t planning on participating much to begin with,” Gem replied.

Nodding, Spitfire turned away and took flight. Gem noticed the mare’s flight was stiff. She had seen Spitfire’s wings back inside, although they were closed, but having taken care of a pair herself she could tell they were in pretty poor shape. Her flight confirmed it though, somebody had done a number on that mare, it was a surprise she was still ticking.

Gem watched the mare until she was just an orange speck in the sky, then closed the door and headed back to Trinket; the stallion was sitting in his chair, brooding.

“Well? What did you make of them?” Gem asked after a time.

“There are unanswered questions, naturally. I can’t shake the feeling she’s hiding something.”

“Trinket, you think everyone’s hiding something,” Gem said, exasperated. “And even then, she was the head of the police until not too long ago. I’d be surprised if she wasn’t keeping info secret.”

Trinket gave a noncommittal grunt. “True. But I’d rather err on the side of caution for now.” Getting to his hooves, he looked over at his roommate. “You’d best go check Cloud’s place. Snoop around some while you’re there. As for me, I think I’ll take a walk.”


Written in collaboration with DarkPhoenix and Tricondon

TIMESTAMP: July 21, Six Days before the breakout
09:10 pm

Just then the door opened and Mirror entered the room trailed by an earth pony with fur and mane of a hue between off-white and beige.

"...and that's when I turned to her and I said 'honey, that's not a hemline, that's a floor-cleaner'." The earth pony clucked his teeth, head shaking from side to side.

Mirror giggled, "you didn't!"

The tan hued pony held a hoof up, "tailor's honor."

The pegasus looked up, noting Crescent, "Oh, yeah, this is Crescent Sunrise, the guy I told you about. Hey Crescent, this is Terry Cloth, an old friend of mine."

Crescent nodded. “Hello, sorry if I look a bit shabby, the streets aren’t to be idly walked at night.”

"Oh, all that and good manners, Mir, you do know how to pick them."

"Oh my gosh, Terry, shut up! It's not like that." Mirror used wing to smack the stallion in the back of the head. She glanced at the unicorn, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, Terry here has agreed to make up a couple of outfits for you. I uh… kinda' noticed your clothing is a little worse for wear."

He looked at her. “What clothing?”

The real world couldn't hold her attention for long. "Well, just a couple of articles would really help you 'blend in', in places. You can't go wrong with a cape, and in dressier places a nice jacket doesn't hurt. Around the industrial hex vests are pretty common, and …" she glanced at the earth pony, "what kind of hat? I'm thinking pork-pie."

"You have got to be kidding me, seriously? Why don't you just put a derby and 'kick me' sign on him." The tailor shook his head in disgust, approaching the bemused sword-wielder and extracting a tape-measure from his saddlebags.

Crescent took a step back as if the measuring tape scared him. "Is this really the time? I mean, it's starting to get late and-"

"Simmer down, Sparky, this'll only take a moment."

Mirror sat at the table, chin held in her hooves as her elbows rested on the surface and grinned. "If you struggle, Crescent, it'll take longer."

He grumbled but stood still for the measurement, at least, without too much complaining. “So how will a dress make me less suspicious? In my experience a cloak is the best disguise and I doubt it needs measured.”

Terry looped the tape over the reluctant stallion's barrel. "Spoken like somepony who's never had clothing that fits." He sighed, "Hiding that frame under a tarp would be a crime."

Crescent actually blushed and looked away. "F-fine, just don't make me look like some sort of superhero. Capes and such never suited me." Mirror was clearly enjoying this more than him.

The measuring was mercifully quick. Looking up the earth pony quirked an ear. "Hey, Mirror, did you see anypony famous at the Founding Day speech?"

Mirror frowned, "No, I was kinda busy running for my life. Why, did you hear somepony big was supposed to show up… other than Princess Twilight?"

"Mmm… I heard a few rumors that Miss Rarity was seen in town the previous day, but–

"OK, now you're just pulling my feathers. There is no way I'm falling for that. Not after you had me convinced that Pinkie Pie had a bakery downtown." The petite pegasus puffed her cheeks, expressing annoyance.

"I told you she had a bakery, but it went out of business. Now she's got a toysho–

The mare held up a hoof, "Speak to the hoof, 'cause the ankle's not listening. Fool me once and all that."

Terry looked at the unicorn and rolled his eyes helplessly. "Well, that's about all I needed. I'll drop off the outfit later this
week."

Ehm, thanks I guess,” the unicorn said, still a bit shy. “So who are these two you’re talking about? I recognize the names from somewhere but the characters are a bit lost on me.”

Mirror spent several moments staring at the traveling sword-stallion, blinking occasionally to make sure he wasn't a hallucination. "Ok, I have never been more convinced that you come from a land outside Equestria."

She took a deep breath, also a bottle of a light-reddish hue, which she poured a portion of into her hoof, running it madly through her mane, causing coloration you couldn't call coral to spread as it also frizzed and fluffed her hair into a crazy collection of curls. The temporarily pink-maned pony crouched. "We'll start with.."

"Pinkie Pie!" the pegasus shouted, leaping into the air, tossing several streamers too and fro before landing. "Bearer of the element of Laughter, and first pony to greet not-yet-princess Twilight Sparkle on her first visit to Ponyville. Mistress of mirth, mayhem, and partying."

Mirror jumped behind the couch, Popping up by the other end. "Random!" she called from one end, ducking back again. "Inscrutable!" Called the mare, head stuck out from under the furniture. She had a little trouble crawling back out. "Umm, a little help?"

Crescent enveloped the couch in his magic, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he concentrated on lifting the thing, which felt as though it were constructed of cinder blocks and lead weights.

The pink eyed pony nodded her thanks. "I may have gotten a little carried away, but the point is, she was– is, I mean IS! She is the embodiment of good humor, as well as a brilliant inventor – do you know she developed a pony-powered pedal-copter? Granted, I don't think anypony but an earth pony in excellent condition could manage to power it for longer than a minute or two but c'mon…"

Mirror took a moment or two to catch her breath, leaning back against the second wardrobe. Somepony who wasn't expecting her to grab a second bottle of mane dye really didn't know her and might have been surprised that a minute later her mane had taken on a decent purple hue. Finishing brushing it back straight, the pegasus glanced back over her shoulder as she draped a robe over herself, covering her wings.

"And then, of course, there is the inimitable Miss Rarity." The mare seemed to have no sense of the irony inherent in the statement. "One of the most powerful driving forces of the fashion community, VIP in five major metropolitan regions, including Canterlot, and…"

She paced, her movements precise and flowing. "Bearer of the Element of Generosity. When she isn't designing, sewing, teaching, critiquing, eating, sleeping, or breathing fabulosity she spends her time working with charity organizations, darling."

The pale pony paused, returning the robe to the wardrobe. "So, yeah. Um, friends of Princess Twilight's from back when she was only Princess Celestia's protege. Both of them came from humble families, had to invent the ponies they wanted to be, and found a balance between family, ambition, and their principles. Heh, don't even get me started on the number of demons and dark gods they had a hoof in taking down."

Mirror finally started to slow down a little, recognizing the signs of excessive fangeeking. "So, um, yeah."

"Well, based on your little... performance I can at least tell you that Pinkie Pie was in town at least on the day of the Speech,  I saw her by a booth which means she's probably still in town." The memory of how much the mare had looked like Moontwirl still haunted him.

Neither pony spoke, lost in their own thoughts. Mirror picked up all the various objects she had managed to upset acting like a foalish-filly… and wondering how she was going to get the dye out of her mane by the time of the staff meeting on the 25th. Seemed to be a 'big thing'. For his part, Crescent was lost in memories of the past, looping through the same cycle of memories over and over and o–

"Well, I think I'd better wash up and get some sleep. Goodnight, Mirror." Crescent pushed the cobwebs from his mind and forced himself to move.

The pegasus nodded, "Yeah, good luck."


July 22,
09:11 am

Mirror took another sip of the acrid liquid. It still didn't help. "Ok, so why does it make sense to replace one acting police captain with another one?"

"Oh please," snorted the yellow coated corporal. "You're just upset because he's not another pegasus. Soarin' was fine, but he was never official. I hear he wasn't even vetted before Spitfire brought him on. And we were supposed to follow him because she left a note saying that was a good idea?" Pencil shook his head. "Honestly, I'm glad we've got somepony with actual experience running things."

The white mare didn't even bother rolling her eyes, she'd discovered that Pencil Neck was virtually immune to irony. "Setting aside the fact that Soarn' does have experience running a team – little group of fliers called the WONDERBOLTS, I'm sure you've never heard of them – in any case, what sort of experience does this Silver-hair guy have?"

"Silverhoof," the stallion corrected. "Administration."

"So, like, guard administration?"

"No." Cpl. Neck tried, and failed, not to look condescending.

"Oh, military?" Mirror considered. Perhaps Silverhoof really was the right pony for–

"Nah, I think it was import and customs. But the point is he's got the ear of the council–

"Which means the upper-class earthers," Mirror grumbled, unable to keep from commenting.

Pencil frowned. "Well, yeah. I mean, how do you think they made so much money? They know what they're doing, and they're concerned about what happens to all the citizens."

The pegasus stared. "You… wow, you actually said that with a straight face. Look, it's got nothing to do with race–" she held up a hoof to forestall an argument when Pencil opened his mouth. "Hay, poor is poor no matter how many limbs you've got. I…" Mirror felt a headache coming on, she'd avoided politics for a reason. "It's… ugh, look. It has more to do with the money and power and junk than anything else. I mean, I'm sure there are ponies just as power-mad in Cloudsdale who are peg–

"Cloudsdale? You mean the city made out of clouds – yeah, that's not exclusionist or anything."

"Ok, bad example, but–"

"Look, just give the guy a chance, I'm sure after a few days you'll see that things are going to get better."


24th July,
05:46 pm

Walking around dirty alleys wasn’t something Crescent wasn’t too uncomfortable with; just something about the shadow and the possibility of disappearing into them almost completely felt more comforting than a bright and sunny day. Of course there weren’t many shadows in the Summer, but the cramped roads between the run-down buildings made for at least some hiding places. He had gone through the popular places the more ill-tempered and fight-happy pegasi and lower class the last days but not a lead had been found. Apparently the resistance had been smart enough to tell their ponies not to wander to bars and hangouts, one loose mouth and it would all fall apart. Yet, there was always one who didn’t follow the rules and maybe he just so happened to be out today.

Turning into another dingy corner, he was met with a surprisingly warm-looking bar with yellowed windows and a worn wooden sign that one could barely make out, ‘The Rotting Pear’. Not a very inviting name, but then again this wasn’t exactly the place for a midnight stroll. The door opened with a creak as to call the attention of the whole place that there was fresh blood coming in, though the weight of his sword did help against the stares he was met with.

The inside of the bar was filled with mumbled talking, not the normal loud chattering the other places more central in the Hex. It had a low roof with everything build of wood, the tiles well-trampled and the supports looked more worn than the city had been flying. Sour, old ponies sat by the tables and eyed everything they found suspicious, others glimpsed over their shoulders as they whispered to the pony next to them while others just sat in corners and minded their own business.

However, there was one pony who sat alone in an almost hidden corner of the pub. The pony was wearing a cloak which was strange seeing the cloudless skies and burning sun but also the pony seemed a bit out of place in this unwelcoming environment. The cloaked figure had a sizeable drink in front of them and stepping closer, Crescent noticed the pony was a mare. He stood and just stared in surprise at the revelation while the mare didn’t look up.

“If you’re gonna keep staring, I might just punch that horn off your head and stab you with it. No one here would care, either. The owner might get pissed for the stained floor, though.”

Crescent shook the surprise out his head. “E-excuse me, I just didn’t expect to see a mare in a place like this.”

“Well you are here so it can’t be that dangerous. Beside, just because I’m a mare doesn't mean I’m weak,” she sneered and took a sip of her drink.

“I never said you were,” Crescent said as he sat down with her. “Now you have to have quite the reputation to feel comfortable in this dump.” He could try fishing some info out of her if she actually had some strings with the rebellion. “Still, there are nicer pubs in this part of town so why choose this gloomy place?” The hood were covering her face, only her blue muzzle peaked out from the shadow of the hood.

“Because I wanted to be left alone. Seems I didn’t find a good enough hiding spot.”

Crescent frowned. “What are you hiding from? Done something that drove you into this place or just trouble home?”

“What do you care? You probably just wandering around, trying to find someone to rob and maybe you thought you could make more coin on the rebellion. From what I’ve heard you unicorns can dance very well at the sound of golden coins.”

Either the mare had the whole bar on her side ready to spring up if he as much at hinted at his sword or she wanted to see how long his patient would last. “I’m not a common thief miss but from your tone I take it you have some connection with the pegasi resistance.”

She stared into her drink. “I’m here now because one I thought I could trust betrayed me. If I knew something about the PRF I wouldn't trust you. Buck off before I really get angry.”

This was Crescent ticket to the inside of the PRF, only problem was that whoever betrayed them did a good number of it and maybe shutting all outsiders as himself. “Let me tell you something, I work from morning to evening for bits barely enough to pay a closet-big flat and canned beans. I am tired of the low treatment both pegsi and some unicorns gets and I want to see an end to it. At least let me prove myself somehow.”

The mare scanned him from under the hood. “Okay, just to see if you can do good in a fight. Leave your sword here and start a fight, if you survive long enough to get thrown out, I might give you a chance.”

“You makes it sound like I won’t stand a chance.”

“You don’t,” she said, a slight smile came over her face. “Nopony here would miss out on a way to let their compressed anger out.”

Crescent took a deep breath and placed the sword by the table. “This better be worth it,” he mumbled as he went over to a table where a particular angry pegasus sat.

“And stay out!” Crescent got thrown out the door and landed in the gutter of the road. He was bleeding from the muzzle, again, he had gotten a minor cut from someone who had smashed their glass and he’d gotten a nasty kick to his left hind leg, luckily his ribs hadn’t been re-broken and he could walk with a limp. He was about to stand up when something landed in front of him. It was his sword.

“You made it,” the mare said. “You even managed to take three of them down before getting thrown out. I guess I owe you a chance to maybe join the rebellion.”

“Thanks,” the unicorn spat along with some blood. “Any possibility I might get a way to contact you?”

She thought it over. “Mmm, no. We will contact you, trust me when I say you will know if you’re in or not.” With that, she started to walk down the alley.

“Can I at least get your name?”

She looked over her shoulder. “I guess you deserve at least that much. Name’s Sunny, but that’s all you’re getting.”

Crescent’s eyes widened. “Sunny?! Wait a second-” He thought to stand up but she was already gone. “By Luna’s flank!” He stamped the pavement in anger. He had had her right in front of him the whole time and he had spoiled the chance. Well, if they approved of him he would have more opportunities but that was less likely seeing how she was so withdrawn from this earlier betrayer.

He picked up his sword from the ground and buckled it before he started to head back home, he had at least got something done today and he didn’t know how long he could walk before the limp could worsen.


July 25,Pegasus walk-out

Mirror paced, "I know, I KNOW! I mean, on the one hoof, it was really cool – you should have seen Silverhoof's face, he couldn't decide if he wanted to be furious with us for quitting, contemptuous of us for doing exactly what he was trying to get us to do, or try to figure out how he was going to run an already overworked force with one third fewer patrol ponies."
She closed her eyes, reliving the moment.

The next moment her ears fell. "But… it also means we just sacrificed a huge resource for trying to find Spitfire."

"That’s a big shame Mirror, now we just have me trotting around for the RPF to respond.” There was a pause. “Say, why did you sign off your resignation?" Crescent asked.

Mirror Shine paused in her tracks, wings flexing slightly before settling. "Cressie, you're a genius!" She hugged the bemused unicorn before ransacking several closets and picking through piles of fabric.

"Ehm, okay? May I know why I'm a genius?"

"Because I didn't quit. Sure, I walked out with the others, but I never said I was quitting." She grinned, it was simple, really, once she thought about it. What Silverhoof didn't know couldn't hurt Mirror. The important part was getting the back of the uniform right, so she could tuck her wings underneath without leaving an obvious hump.

"Ahh, and now you're thinking of posing as an earth pony since the flier squad all up and left. That's very clever of you."

"Weww phee iff itf effecfiff." Mirror set down the material, "That's not the hard part, there's just going to be one tough egg to crack…"


July 26,
08:01 am

Sergeant Hard Boiled rubbed her temples, "Run that by me again?"

Mirror shifted a little, still trying to find the most comfortable way to stand with her wings covered, "Well, um, I never actually formally quit."

The unicorn shook her head, "Doesn't matter, the Captain fired everypony that walked out."

The albino frowned for a moment, "Well, did he write my name down, specifically?"
"I haven't seen any documentation yet, look are you really this hard up for a job? Because I guarantee that the first time you try to claim a check you'll not only be very very formally fired, but also charged with impersonating an officer."

"Umm, hold on…" Mirror flipped through her recruit's hoofbook. "Ah, here!" She stabbed a hoof at subsection iii of paragraph 5 on page 20."… and trainees will work for a period of thirty days before they are subject to a performance review and their status as employees of the Police Department is approved or denied."

Sgt. Boiled squinted at the text, then at the pegasus. "That's… pretty flimsy."

"Sure, but it's … what do you always say? ‘That is the letter of the law.’ I'm not really a full officer yet, so if all the pegasus officers are fired, that doesn't include me. And I'm not here for the check."

The unicorn held up a hoof, "I swear, if you go off on another speech about Spitfire, I'm going to drag you to the Captain's office right now. You want to play around with technicalities? Fine, but I never approved you to do this."

Mirror carefully didn't ask the  other half of the question, instead just nodding idiotically.

Hard Boiled resisted the urge to plant her forehoof on her forehead, 'Celestia preserve us, was I ever that young and idiotic?' "Look, don't make me regret this."

"Ma'am, no Maam!" The pale pegasus saluted.


July 27,
08:53 pm

Three ponies in uniform patrolled the street. There was little conversation, the night was almost over and there hadn't been any suspicious activity despite the neighborhood's reputation. Hard Boiled was about to order them back to the station when her corporal spoke up.

"What's that? Up there." He began to point before the unicorn slapped his hoof back down.

"Officer Neck, you circle around from the south, I'll take the northern approach. Recruit, those are pegasi, do you think you can cover the vertical?"

"Yes ma’am, sir." Mirror wasn't sure how she felt about enforcing curfew in a mostly pegasus residence area, but it did improve her chances of encountering a PRF operative...


July 27, Day of the Breakout
10:30 pm

The door banged open as Mirror Shine all but leapt into her apartment. "Crescent! You'll never believe it!"

"Well you won't believe how ridiculous I feel."

The pegasus stifled a giggle, "Well, you're only supposed to wear one shirt at a time and…" She frowned. "How did you even get the cape on inside-out?" She grabbed the clasp and unfastened it, pulling the garment off and inverting it, careful to adjust the fit across the unicorn's back before closing the clasp back up.

Mirror took a step back to evaluate, "There… although, um…" she stifled another laugh. "Ok, you're right, I don't think pantaloons are ever going to look good on you."

“I thought I made it clear I didn’t wanted to look like a superhero, this cape thingy could barely keep a small dog warm.”

She shook her head, "nevermind, I'll get those pants off you later." The pale pony pranced.

"What?" Crescent gasped.

The pegasus didn't seem to hear. "But seriously, I have The. Best. News!" She fluttered into the air, grinning fit to have the top of her head fall off. "I found her!"

The pyromancer recognized his cue and sighed, "Ok, who did you find?"

"Spitfire! She's ok, or at least not dead, and she managed to escape the rebellion." Mirror paused, "Oh, sorry, that means we won't get to have an epic battle in the sewers now… with a high-profile prisoner escaped, they'll have already started moving their base. By the time the guard get down there I'm sure all we'll find is debris and empty wrappers."

Crescent shrugged. “A place like the sewers there would have been easy to mistake ponies plus the endless and complex layout would have anypony wander in circles for day. Whatever new location they are moving to might just end up being easier to capture. It’s great we have the real police captain back though, she will give us valuable info on the PRF. How did you find them by the way?”

Mirror quickly looked away. "Oh, I just… ran into her on patrol." She cringed, 'Yeah, literally. And with her injured like that.'
“you just… ran into her?” he repeated. “Just like that? She was just wandering the streets and you bumped into her like an old friend? She wasn’t with anyone else?”

"It's uh… complicated." The pegasus paused. "Oh, yeah, she was with that guy, ClodBoullder. I'm not sure about him yet, but I think he's trying to shift from misguided antagonist to dark hero. So you might want to watch out, he'll be threatening your position." Mirror frowned, running  hoof over the cape. "Hmm, maybe I should ask Terry if he's got any good black fabric…"

“Clodbuilder? You mean Cloudbuilder?” He stomped on the floor. “Damnit. He's one of the top ponies on my list to track down; he probably has saddlebags packed with info on the rebellion camp.”

A grin crept across the mare's muzzle. "Well, I have good news for you then. I was already going to ask you to go watch over the warehouse that the two of them are sleeping in – and now you have an even better reason to want to do that."
She clapped one forehoof down onto the other, making a decisive noise that oddly resembled the sound of two halves of a coconut being banged together.

Her brows knit for a moment. "Although I don't remember whether he had on saddlebags or not." She shrugged. "but in any case, if he was in tight enough to be causing trouble, they've got to have trusted him with some good info, right?"

Turning the pegasus finished her musing, "in any case, please do this for me. I need to talk to Spitfire before she disappears again, or else…" her ears flapped down onto her head. "Or else I go back to being completely irrelevant. I don't think I could stand that."

“You? Irrelevant? Mirror, you’ve manage to do something the police force never would’ve done, finding their real captain. You assembled a team, a minor team, but nonetheless a more capable team than the police could ever could. Heck, if it hadn’t been for you, Cloudbuilder and Spitfire would probably be back with the rebellion right now but instead they are safe and that’s thanks to you."

Mirror's ears had drooped all through Crescent's speech, until finally she hung her head on the back of the couch, covering her face with her hooves. "Ok, ok – I admit it… I didn't 'run into' Spitfire, I-I tackled her! I couldn't even recognize her, dirty, abused, wearing a cast, and …" She pulled her forehooves off her head, set one on the floor, and used the other one to tweak her own nose.

"...and I'm being melodramatic. Sorry." She grinned, chagrinned. "Um, thank you for the cheering."

"Now don’t worry, I’ll make sure they stay safe even… even though I haven’t had the best of luck in battles lately.” His speech kinda crumbled as he realized his lack of wins in the latest fights he’d been in. “Though it will stand on my life to
protect them,” he added, trying to make up for a clumsy finish.

Mirror nodded, starting to reply, her mouth snapped shut and she stared at the unicorn with wide eyes for a moment before groaning and putting a hoof over her eyes. "Crescent Sunrise, please tell me you didn't just trigger a death-flag."

He tilted his head. “Death-flag? After speeches the normally say something very honorable about a promise which usually strengthens the protagonist's goal, not that I’m any real protagonist, and helps him power through at the last moment to save those in need. Of course, sometimes the hero fails but helped by the important promise he powers up and saves the day.” He lets her think a bit. “I might not have seen many plays but I’ve read a good amount of newer adventure stories, they usually have a very obvious plot.”

The pegasus paused. She opened her mouth only to close it again. A hoof was raised, she frowned, eyebrows wrestling across her forehead. "Hmm… character development… secret nerdy inclinations…" She gave one decisive nod. "Ok, that may be enough to keep you safe. But remember: you've got an unresolved emotional subplot – that's a double-edged sword – err, pardon the pun."

Mirror shook her head. "See, it keeps you relevant – but only so long as you don't perform some stupid act of self-sacrifice and say something like 'Looks like I can't keep my promise. I'll see you soon, Clarice.' or something." The more the mare considered it, the less she liked the idea of asking Crescent to watch the warehouse.

"Wait, so what you're saying is that I shouldn't go? I thought you just said you wanted keep to watch over them. I know I've had a bit of bad fighting luck but at least give me a chance here."

He had a point. "Well… Oh! What if we trade off every four hours?"

The unicorn stared at Mirror from half lidded eyes. "That is a terrible idea for far too many reasons to enumerate. Mirror, either you have faith in me or you do not, which is it going to be?"

"I know, I know!" The pegasus groaned. "It's… it's got nothing to do with you. Even a cursory glance at what they did to Spitfire, well, it's enough to freak me out a little. I don't want to see anypony get hurt because of something I said or did, you understand?" She sighed, "But… that's selfish, I get that. And I also get that I can't have it both ways."

She pulled out a piece of paper and began sketching a very simplified map. "So yeah, I trust you – it's everypony else I'm not so sure about. I … hah, what am I saying? I'm about to complain about only having a hoof-full of ponies and sundry that I can trust, when you've been wandering around without a single friend this whole time."

“Oh, well, I haven’t been completely alone. I- I mean, it has given me a lot of time to think about things,” he said frantic as he saw her look. “You know, being alone gives you time to think about stuff like what you really want to do a-and things you might should let go and… I’ll shut up and be on my way. I’m gonna stay hidden, kinda like a watcher in the night.”

A cheesy grin split the pegasus's muzzle, "Kinda like a dark and stormy knight? Like a caped crusader, even? Face it, you're cut out to be a brooding dark superhero."

“I hope not.” He picked up his sword. “Superheroes always have a complicated story with depressing backstory plus difficult love lives.”

Mirror reflected on Crescent's comments. "Well, at least you've only got half of that, right?" 'Poor guy's got enough sad history to make Pony Hamlet give up the ghost.'

He chuckled. “Yeah, right.” ’And the second part,’ he thought to himself before leaving.

"Terry says he can have a black cape made up for you by the end of the week!" She called after the closing door, cackling.

"If he wants to dress up like Batmare he can forget it!" he called back. "Besides, capes are troublesome in a fight and I already look like a fool!" Crescent kicked the door shut, his mission set.


Made with regular Dr. Techno, which tastes just like Diet Dr. Techno, but with no saccharine.

TIMESTAMP: July 28, The Long Morning
06:01 am

‘Darkness, the darkness of the night is the cloak to many criminals and thugs. Seeking shelter is the only way to escape the brutality the street offers after sunset, but sometimes the shelter isn't more than a warehouse with unprotected doors; an easy target for anypony who might find the hiding spot of two pegasi’. However, the night is also the host to a masked hero guards over the unknowing ponies.’

Crescent frowned at the voice in his head. “You really want to mock me for helping out somepony? I thought that’s what you wanted me to do something and take a side instead of going solo.”

‘Well, you’re standing on the rooftop, you haven’t talked with the ponies you’re guarding and you have only let one pony in on what’s going on in your head, one that has a creepy amount of info on you and not your future marefriend. I applaud your attempt but let’s admit it, with me in your head you won’t have much hope of a normal life.’

She actually had a point, having her hanging over him and being the voice of reason didn’t speak well for a healthy relationship with anypony.

He sighed. “I might have brought this up at a better point but I really think it’s time to let go. It’s a bit weird having to say this out loud to myself but I really need to move on with my life. Moontwirl will always be one I will hold dear but I can’t let the loss of someone take down my life forever.”

‘And I’m not really Moontwirl, I’m a figment of your memory about her telling you what you fail to see yourself. This Mirror mare is clearly not interested in you, she just wants to exploit you for your fighting skills. Trust me, when this is over she will be ‘thanks for the help’ and it will be back on the road with us, with only a few more scars and an re-broken heart to show for your effort.’

He stamps on the roof, probably disturbing the owners. “You know what, you’re wrong! If you know the same things as me, you would also know how nice she’s been to us, I mean me. She has given me a decent roof over my head, provided food, helped giving me this somewhat strange outfit and been generally nice to a total stranger. I also remember you being like that when you first met me so watch yourself!”

It takes a few seconds before she answers. ‘Fine then, live your little wonder world fantasy with her but don’t come complaining to me when she shoves you off.’

He groaned to himself before going back to watching. It was time to take a round and check the other entrances.


06:40 am,

Staying up all night was pretty boring, there had been one thief at least who’d ran home when he tried flicking a pocket knife on him and he responded with his sword, at least one battle won. He had difficulties not glipping and half sleeping when he saw someone leaving the warehouse. Crescent stretched his legs, if they were planning to go somewhere it would probably be best to escort them in his own way. He made sure to stay at least a good distance behind them while still managing to keep up. The clothes probably helped him be less recognizable after all, though the minotaur cape had to go. He followed them onto the Hex which was partly crowded by early workers on their way to their jobs and it was a miracle that they didn’t spot the oddly dressed unicorn with a sword in the Hex with them.

They came to the level where Mirror’s home was and he kept up with them still undetected as they headed into town. Crescent noticed the houses started to look familiar, though they were heading in towards some other place it seemed like. Triangle place, you still couldn’t see why they called Mirror’s street that, met up with the one they were one now later on but they could easily have taken another and more direct way. When they turned into a side road however, they went in the direction of Trinket’s shop.

True, the swordspony didn’t know quite how they had planned to meet up, but he was pretty sure it didn’t involve taking a trip to the information broker on Pennywhistle. Following them, still unnoticed, he spotted the unlikely duo entering the store; seeing as how following them would give up his chase, he waited outside in a darkened alley.

The minutes ticked by until it passed an hour with still no sign of them and he started to wonder if they actually had spotted him and taken the backdoor. With his luck they probably had and were now waiting for him back at Mirror’s place. Even though Crescent didn’t like the outfit very much, he had taken use of the pockets and he fished out his golden coin. Scratched part, he would leave for home, whole part and he’d wait a while more. It landed with the whole side up so with a sigh he sat back down to wait even longer. It didn’t take more than a minute before they came back out and went back the way the came, now heading for Mirror’s now.


08:20 am,

Mirror stared at the coffee pot, her mind felt perfectly blank. In the filter sat a small pile of dry grounds. In her teeth she held the scoop, full. For the life of her, she couldn't remember if this was the third or the fourth scoop. The pile in the filter could easily have been either two or three scoops-worth. Not knowing what else to do, she dumped the current scoop into the filter.

It was a simple mistake. The question was, would it be better to risk having too much, or too little coffee in the mix? She set the scoop down and thought about it. Once the liquid was brewed, you couldn't add more grounds to it if it was too weak. So… she should err on the side of excess? She shrugged, picking the scoop up and adding a fourth (or was it fifth?) scoop of grounds to the filter basket.

It seemed unfair that this kind of calculus was unavoidably going to occur before she'd been able to have a cup of coffee. But, who was there to complain to? Yelling at her own brain sounded like the first step on the road to a padded room that came with a coat that let you hug yourself all day.

It wasn't the coffee thing that was bothering her. Not really. Well, nothing was bothering her, but that was the problem. No, that wasn't right, either. It all just felt… flat. Two weeks of insanity, and then Spitfire just … showed up. All the effort she and her new friends had put out, just so much sound and fury, signifying… what?

She filled the pitcher with water. That much she could manage not to screw up.

Her friends from the theater had started looking for a new place to operate while they tried to find a permanent location. Fresnel Lens, Powder Puff, Terry, and the rest, they'd picked a sane goal, something they had a hope of achieving.
She poured the water into the reservoir. Was it a special form of arrogance, hoping that she was necessary, somehow? They already had a leader, a fighter, a revolutionary, a trickster, a planner… heck, now they had their own small army. And there were several choices for the intermediate villain, the next step on the road to the ultimate climax of this crazy conflict.

Because, really, what they knew made no sense. Like, at all. Mirror didn't notice the knocking until it had gotten fairly loud. Then, just as she noticed it, the noise stopped. The door made the ratchetting click of a key turning… 'Oh, right I gave Crescent a key. Heh, I'm not needed to even open my own door...'


8:28 am,

Cloudbuilder flew behind Spitfire through the Residential Hex. He wasn’t sure where they were going, she hadn’t told him. He just wished that they would get there soon.

The flying was putting too much strain on her injured wing. He could see it in the way she flapped, putting more effort into each stroke than was necessary. A slight grimace of pain was written on her face, breaking through her usual mask.

He wanted to call her out on it, but if they weren’t flying, they’d be walking. Her wing had been recently sprained, while her leg was broken. Although, by pushing herself like this, she risked another, more serious, injury to her wing. That mare was pushing herself too hard, taking too many risks with her injuries.

Before long Spitfire angled down and landed on the porch of one of the homes. It looked the same as all the others on the block, except for the number on the side, and a different arrangement of flowers out front. Cloudbuilder could find no reason as to why this house was special. His best guess was that she was looking to visit some officer she considered trustworthy.

As glad as he was that she could rest now, he looked up and down the street. There were a few ponies out and about, though none were paying them any mind. Still, he felt exposed, like one of them could be watching him.

A shudder crawled up his spine. When did he get so afraid? The Cloudbuilder he once knew would never feel something like this. Maybe having his whole world turned upside down several times in the space of two weeks had shaken him more than he knew.

Ignoring the shudder, he turned back to Spitfire. So far, she’d shown no signs of planning to turn him in, or otherwise send him away. He still wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t later, once her own safety was assured, but for now, he was safe enough.

If he wanted to stay with Spitfire, and he really didn’t have an alternative plan, he needed to make himself useful somehow. He needed to figure out where he left his spine, and go get it. Taking in a deep breath, he resolved to make himself better. No more being a whiny, scaredy-cat..

His thoughts were cut short as she stepped up to the door and knocked. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he stepped up onto the porch with Spitfire, trying to hide himself under the eaves. They stood there for a moment, but there was no response.

Spitfire knocked again, this time, louder.

“Maybe she’s not home?” Cloudbuilder offered.

Spitfire frowned, but said nothing, instead opting to pound on the door more. Just as she removed her hoof, a heavy sigh emanated from behind them.

“Here, let me.” A unicorn stepped up and levitated keys into the lock.

Try as he might, Cloudbuilder couldn’t suppress the slight jump at the sudden voice. He’d been too focused on the door, not what was behind them.

“Well, it’s a small world isn’t it, Crescent Sunrise?” Spitfire said, stepping aside.

"Well its certainly gotten smaller with no exit to the ground, sorta like a floating prison with no warden to look after the prisoners. Hopefully we can change that." He noticed her stance. "After somepony had a look at that hoof." The lock clicked and the door open. "Right then, let's get to it."


08:31 am,

Unicorn, pegasus, pegasus… the math agreed with Mirror's expectations, and she found herself inordinately pleased. Then she realized that the place was a mess - putting away her props from last night's impromptu 'into to the Elements of Harmony' had been the first time in a week she had…

Then she actually looked around. While the place was certainly not 'spotless', it was far tidier than she had expected. She looked at the unicorn, who seemed to be waiting for something. 'Oh, riiight, Crescent's been picking up. Huh, kinda' handy having a stallion around.'

She frowned. 'That doesn't mean I'm taking advantage of him, right?' The pale pegasus shook her head, 'Nah, he'd say something if that was happening… I think. Right? Whatever.'

"Mirror?" Crescent called. "Mind bringing the guests up to speed on what the plan is?" To be honest he wasn't quite sure himself.

"Huh? Oh, right. So … heh, well at least we all know each other, right?" She smiled weakly. "Nothing like being arrested, or arresting, as a group to fix ponies faces in one's mind."

“What are you talking about?” Cloudbuilder asked? “I’ve certainly met you before, Mirror. You tried to arrest both Spitfire and myself after we escaped the PRF. But I don’t know this... stallion at all.” He indicated Crescent with a hoof.

Mirror shine stared at the perplexed pegasus stallion. "Um, three weeks ago, Town Hall explodes, you and your poorly garbed friends start lobbing firebombs, Spitfire and the RPD show up and and arrest you … and me, and that unicorn over there. Crescent Sunrise." She pointed at Crescent, then shrugged in Cloudbuilder's direction. "I mean, I guess you may have so much experience getting arrested that it's all a blur to you, but for me it was kinda' memorable."

Cloudbuilder tried to remember back to that day. What he remembered most was the sheer devastation. However, his mind dredged up faint memories of a stallion with the same colorings as Crescent. He remembered how Mirror had insulted him, causing him to shift away from the rest of the group. So he had actually met Crescent beforehoof.

"You seemed really certain of your cause back then," the unicorn remarked. "Sitting and saying how this was going to be the liberation of the pegasi. I guess you had a change of mind since then, turning on them and freeing their ace card."
“You know nothing of me, or what I’ve been through since then.”

"I didn't claim to either," Crescent snapped back.

“That’s enough!” Spitfire snapped, glaring at the two stallions. “If you’re going to hoof point like foals, do it on your own time.”

Cloudbuilder glared at Crescent, but didn’t say anything. Spitfire was right, this wasn’t the time for such things.

"Sooo, why don't we just listen as I exhaust my absolutely tiny store of knowledge, and then we can go back to rearranging deck-chairs on the Titanic."

Not waiting for a response she wheeled on the orange and red pegasus. "There's a replacement Police Captain, he's a plot-head–"

"Tell me where Soarin’ is," Spitfire cut in.

Mirror took a deep breath. "S-so you already know–" the former captain of the wonderbolts remained implacable. "Ri-ight. Soarin. He's um…" the white mare realized her mind had suddenly gone blank. Secret base? Sure, right at the corner of 'I dunno' and 'Aphasia' street. "Uh, I've got it written down here somewhere, I swear…" she began digging through piles of notes desperately.

Somewhere in the depths of the tiny kitchen a bell rang. The pale pegasus paused, her head first snapping to the source of the sound, then slowly turning back to grouping in the living room area. "Uhh, hold that thought. Coffee is ready. Can I get everypony a mug?" She paused, considering the matter. "Um, if anypony like, doesn't drink coffee, I think I might have some tea? Somewhere?"

“I’ll take a cup,” Crescent said, raising a hoof. “Black please, staying up all night did a bigger number on me than I first thought.”

“I’ll have a cup as well,” Cloudbuilder said. “With sugar, and without the poison, please.”

“A glass of water will do fine, thank you,” Spitfire sighed, sitting down on the couch and rubbing her forehead with a hoof.
Mirror rattled a few cabinets, "Hmm, you're in luck, I'm all out of poison. I've got some of that horrible artificial sweetener if you'd like." She pulled out a sugar bowl, making a show of adding a spoonful to her own mug first.

“I suppose that will do,” he replied.

The white pegasus paused,'Wait, is that a thing? Was he being serious?',

"Um, I was being sarcastic. I really do have sugar, you just annoyed me with the 'don't poison my coffee, please' thing. Sorry, if you've actually been having to check your food, I wasn't trying to … um."

“Oh. Well then, sugar will be fine.” He paused a moment. “And no, I haven’t had to check my food, that was just a pathetic attempt at humor. Thought considering who I’ve pissed off, I might have to start...”

Two coffees and a water later, Mirror self-consciously noticed she was the only pony taking cream. 'Buck it, it's my darn coffee.' She inhaled the steam, took a sip, and opened her eyes again. There it was, on top of the most recent pile of things she had no other pile to put things in.

Mirror silently offered the note to Spitfire. A carefully drawn diagram of streets was shown, with a scribbled name at the bottom that could only be Soarin's chicken-scratch of a signature.

Spitfire took the slip of paper. There wasn’t much there, typical Soarin’ work. The streets were drawn with precision born of a perfectionist, the details on the little house squares around it were cute too. But, along the lines of actual directions, there was only a line. If it wasn’t for the distinguishing features of the diagram, Spitfire would have not been able to make heads or tails of the map with no words.

“What is it, Spitfire?” Cloudbuilder asked. He couldn’t see the paper, but based on the way she was frowning at it, it had to be important to something.

“It’s a map, Cloudbuilder,” Spitfire deadpanned, turning her frown to the stallion. “As uninformative as it is, I think we can find Soarin’ from here. It looks like he’s right next to what’s left of the  town hall. Not exactly hiding,” she finished, directing the last to Mirror.

Mirror nodded. "Um, yeah. Actually publicity is what he's counting on for protection… I think?" She hadn't exactly had much time to speak to Soarin' since things had started moving. "If… if a bunch of well-trained and in some cases well armed ponies suddenly fell off the map, there's nothing to stop the RPD from just labelling them another terrorist group." She was ad-libbing a little, but she really, really hoped the thought had crossed the former Wonderbolt turned resistance-resistance fighter's mind.

Spitfire shook her head. “Soarin’ probably never even had that cross his mind. He’s too righteous for his own good.

“No,” she continued, glancing at Crescent. “He’s just out there, making a big mess in the name of justice and freedom or some such idealistic campaign. Regardless of his good intentions, this is not going to fix anything, I need to go see him, right now.”

'I think she just described this Soarin as you, big justice fighter,' the voice in the unicorn's head taunted but he didn’t answer it.

She turned towards the door, but paused and glanced back at Mirror. “Do you have any more relevant news that I should know?”

The albino looked up, "Um, not… really? I'm still 'in' at the Police Precinct… for now. But you kinda' already know that." Mirror took a look at the orange mare. "You, uh… did you want to get clean before you go to a doctor?" She braced herself for the inevitable outburst… this was the pegasus who had to be ordered by her subordinates to get adequate bedrest, after all.

The fiery pegasus hesitated, but eventually shook her head. “Not now, I’ve got to make every second count if I’m going to have any chance at taking this situation by surprise.”

Mirror grit her teeth, 'Well, what have I got to lose at this point?' "Yeah, they're sure going to be surprised by a smelly mare with a broken leg and bags under her eyes. Surprised you can still stand, that is."

“That’s the idea,” Spitfire retorted, giving the white pegasus a dark look.

The white pegasus shrugged. She'd said all she could, without becoming the focus of the issue.

“So we know where to go next,” Cloudbuilder said.

Spitfire promptly spun and hobbled outside with Cloudbuilder following. She turned back to Mirror, predictably perched in the doorway. “Thank you, I’ll keep in touch. All hell is probably going to break loose in a day or two.”

'Hey, maybe then you can finally fight someone and actually win, that would be a nice change of pace.' Crescent continued to ignore the whispering voice in his head.

Mirror Shine nodded, waiting until the duo were out of sight before deflating onto the couch.

Cloudbuilder spread his wings, taking off with Spitfire. She grit her teeth as they ascended, but did not stop. It was obvious each flap was causing her pain, and the leg wasn’t any better, but the mare refused to rest. If she kept this up, there wouldn’t be a Spitfire left to be captain.

As soon as they were above the rooftops and away from that crazy mare’s place, he spoke up. “Listen Spitfire. You need to see a doctor. Just looking at you, I can see that flying is painful to you. Walking? More so.”

“I’m fine, Cloudbuilder,” Spitfire gritted, continuing to propel herself forward. “There’s more important things to deal with right now.”

“No,” he said. “At this rate, you’re gonna collapse before the day is over. If you even make it to Soarin’s place, it will be a miracle. You’re going to a doctor.” He crossed his forehooves over his chest. She could barely fly, much less walk. She might be a stubborn mare, but even she had limits.

Spitfire pulled up and hovered, putting her face in Cloudbuilder’s. “That’s enough!” she barked. “Seeing to my needs is not near as important as making sure open war doesn’t break out on the streets! Or, did you decide you don’t care about this city anymore?”

“Tell me, Spitfire. How are you going to be helping the city when you can’t even walk, much less fly?” Cloudbuilder shoved his muzzle right in Spitfire’s face, standing up to her. His knees were shaking, but it wasn’t visible since they weren’t standing on the ground.

“I am more than capable of both, as it is obviously apparent!”

“Bullshit!” he yelled to her. “Did you forget I’m a pegasus same as you are? I can see how much it hurts you to fly, to walk. I can tell how much pain you’re in, regardless of how you try and hide it. Spitfire, you are about to collapse.”

He shook his head, taking a deep breath. “Listen, Spitfire. I cared for you for two weeks. I protected you. I bandaged you. I healed you. Just because we’re on the surface doesn’t mean that I just stop doing that. I know how much pain you’re in. Now, you will see a doctor.”

“Don’t even think about bringing that into this,” Spitfire growled, jabbing a hoof at Cloudbuilder’s chest. “In case you forgot, it’s your fault we, I, am in this predicament. I don’t have any more time to waste on myself. Any minute I could be recognized and any chance of me taking back the RPD smoothy will be toast.

“If anything, you should be damn grateful I’ve not ditched you already to PRF on one side and RPD on the other.” Spitfire clenched her jaw and pushed Cloudbuilder back. “Now, you can either help me clean your shit up, or get out of my way.”

“No,” he said again. “I don’t care what you say. You owe me your life, regardless of who got you in there in the first place. I admit, it was me. But I rescued you. I’m the one responsible for your current state, which means that I’m responsible for your healing.

“Spitfire, don’t make me drag you there.... I respect you too much for that.”

“-Don’t you understand?” Spitfire shouted. “I’m well aware of my physical state, but the lives of other ponies takes precedence!”

Cloudbuilder pulsed his wings, sending a strong gust of air at Spitfire. She swore as she tried to remain steady, but any response from her was cut short as he shouted back. “That day of the bombing, you out-flew me. But that day, we were both at our primes. Right now, you are weak, can barely fly. Whereas I am not quite at my best, but close. Spitfire, I will tackle you and drag you to a doctor. And right now, you can’t stop me.”

The mare’s blood ran cold at his ultimatum. She didn’t even have to think for a second to know what he said was true. Yet, she still retained her dark scowl as she responded. “So, this is how it is then? Another kidnapping?”

“Call it what you will,” he said, taking pride in the fact that his voice didn’t waver. “But you’re not the only one with contacts. I know a doctor here in the Admin Hex, he did work for Pegasi injured on the job. He heals first, asks questions later. You either follow me to his office, or I drag you there. Your choice.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying desperately to disguise his trepidation. Spitfire was an enemy that he didn’t want. If she harbored resentment for this after she regained her strength, then he was in big trouble. Right now, she was his only light.

She looked away and closed her eyes with a sigh, although it turned into more of a pained groan. “We can go right after I find and talk to Soarin’.”

He shook his head. “No. We go now.” He indicated her wings, trying desperately to keep her aloft. “You won’t make it to Soarin’s place. The Doctor can set your wing far better than I could. He can check on your leg, make sure it’s set properly.”

“Celestia damn it, Cloudbuilder! If you screw up my opportunities, I will never forgive you. Got it?” Spitfire growled, giving the stallion another scowl.

“Soarin’ has been doing this for days now. He can wait another couple hours to see you.” His eyes glared at hers. “Now, are you going to follow me? Or am I going to drag you?”

Spitfire glared, but aligned herself slightly behind Cloudbuilder. “Not like I have much choice. Hurry up and move your ass.”

Cloudbuilder spread his wings, taking off towards the Doc. The Doc might be odd, but he could be trusted to not ask questions, or speak about what, or who, he saw. And truth be told, he was glad Spitfire agreed. While he was certain he could take her in her current state, he knew that she would turn him over to the RPD in a heartbeat if he was wrong..

Mirror groaned, not bothering to either get up or shift into a more comfortable position. "Ugh, I think I'm gonna throw up."

Crescent took another sip of coffee. 'Well? Make your move now, or geld yourself and get it over with.' He was fairly certain that was the not-Moontwirl talking.

"Ehm, w-well at least things are finally moving forward, right?" Horrible attempt on small talk.

"I guess?" the pegasus struggled into some approximation of a sitting position. "But… I mean, what the hay was that?" She swept a hoof toward her mostly closed front door. She rolled over on her stomach, occupying 80% of the couch, grumbling into the cushions. "Well, to be fair, I guess I really am a just a third string walk-on."

"Don't say that," he said, putting away his own coffee. "I know it seems like they did a hit-and-dash with the info to Soarin' but wasn't that was this was all about, this meeting? I thought they would stay a while longer but the city is in danger after all."

"Don't you get it? She already knew, that means she stopped in with an informant on her way here… and there wasn't anything I ran across in a week of skulking around, risking arrest for the third time, that she didn't already know." The white pony hopped off the couch, still unable to find a comfortable way to flop.

"She's half-dead and still a hundred times more effective at this stuff." '...and pretty obviously doesn't want any interference by amateurs.' She huffed, "Nevermind."

'Come on now, show her some of that Sunrise-charm,' the voice teased. It was really getting on his nerves now and he couldn't undermine that it showed a little.

"I do mind Mirror, I- I don't like seeing you beat yourself up about some mare not having the decency to say 'thanks for the help'. You have done good things and it's a real shame no pony else sees it."

"I–" She bit back her first response, something about 'not looking for pity'. "...Thank you, Cresent, that's very kind of you to say." Mirror's mind began to spin on its wheels. 'I mean, it's not like I could just quit now in any case. So I'm in a supporting role? So be it.'

He swallowed the ball of fear in his throat, took out his lucky coin and held it out for Mirror. "Here, flip this coin."

Curiosity won out over inertia, and Mirror accepted the coin into her upturned hoof. 'What the hay, why not?' The coin flashed as she tossed it into the air. "Um, do I need to call it or anything?"

"No, I'm just too scared to flip it myself and it's more for what I will say next."

The mare raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. "Mmmhmm?", she put her forehooves on the back of the couch and set her chin atop them. Her left ear flicked a few times.

The coin clinked as it hit the table, spun around before falling over and showing the scratched side.

"The scratched side," he sighed. "Means that I have to tell you about my scratch then."

Mirror rotated her her head to the side, "Well, okay, but only because you sound so enthusiastic."

"There has been this... problem I've been dealing with, a very personal thing which I probably should have told you about earlier."

The pegasus straightened up, recognizing 'serious business' when she heard it. "Mmhmm?"

"I guess I just didn't wanted anyone to think I was any less reliable because of it but I also understand that keeping the ponies that put their trust in me in the dark about it is just as bad."

"Att, chtt, you're stalling. Tell me the part you don't want to say."

"Right, sorry." He pulled himself together. "Lately I have... I've heard the voice of my deceased earlier marefriend, posing as my conscience." He got ready for her to laugh or throw him out.

Mirror put a hoof over her mouth. Every joke about 'tragic pasts' and 'dark heroics' she'd made came back. Her ears fell flat on her head. "I… I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

Crescent blinked. "S-sorry? You haven't done anything."

She briefly debated listing all the times she teased him, but decided that would be more self-indulgent than penitent. "Um… sorry that something like that happened to you. So, they must really have gotten under your skin–"
She winced. "Um, your old friends. I mean, for you to be stuck carrying something like this around..." 'Ok, stop there–' "In your head, I mean." 'Damnit me!'

"Oh, well yeah, we had had some tough scrapes together and I think the way she passed was the thing that really struck me hardest."

Mirror nodded, though her expression was dubious. "Aaand how long ago was that?"

"Two years ago," he said maybe a bit too quickly. "I mean, I'm pretty sure it was two years ago."

'Huh, so being right is even less fun than being wrong. "Right. Well, I don't really understand what you must have gone through, but I have two thoughts that are really different sides of the same coin: The dead have earned the right to rest, and if she loved you she wouldn't want you to be suffering now, would she?"

"Well I don't believe she's haunting me, I think it’s more that I must have a hard time letting her go even though I neither blame myself anymore for her passing or the one who killed her, though it kinda helps that I did him off. Beside, her voice didn’t appear in my head until recently."

The pegasus realized she was still nodding and made an effort to keep her head still. "That's… huh." She wrinkled her muzzle considering the matter. "Um… oh!" she clapped one hoof off another, "Pony Hamlet, again. How many fewer ponies would have died if he hadn't listened to the ghost of his…" Mirror frowned, "Uh, no, because his uncle was a psychotic murdering bastard in the end… but." She shrugged, "Sorry, I thought I had a point there…"

"Wait, I'm making some dumb assumptions, aren't I?" The mare didn't pause for an answer. "This voice you hear, is it a problem?"

"Uhm, well," he scratched the back of his head. "She can be yeah, as I said she says she's my conscious so she kinda tries to guide me but she has actually contradicted herself from time to time."

"Hold on, 'she says'?" Mirror rubbed her temples. "You… have a voice, in your head, that claims to be something you don't think it is…" 'Steady, Princess Twilight says there aren't any such things as ghosts, just spirits, anima, elementals, wraiths… I don't get the difference.' "Um, have you had anyone look into whether… uh. What the hay do you do if you think there's an outside voice in your head?"

“Well I actually have tried to get rid of it with a remedy but it only dazed her for a day or so before she came back the next morning. The point is, I felt you needed to know this seeing how you’ve been so open with me and even shared your home so at least I could be the same to you.”

‘Not open enough to tell her how you really feel though, I bet that would have turned out to be quite the show. Then again, she seems more fascinated with you now that you’ve told her that you’re not right in the head, only she doesn’t have some pony from her past whispering in her ear which puts you higher on the crazy-list.’ A twitch slid across Crescent's face as he tried to shove the offending voice into the recesses of his mind.

Mirror recognized somepony lost in thought, and lightly tapped the unicorn on the shoulder. "Well, I don't really know what I think about any of this - but thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about it." The words sounded inadequate to the pegasus. "If… well, I'll try to help you if there's anything I can do."

Her eyes darted to the shower… 'Spitfire isn't the only one who could do with a wash.' She bit her lip for a moment before continuing. "But, um, unless there's something urgent I kinda think I should get ready for work."

Mirror paused, somehow that just didn't seem like a good enough exit line. "And… well, I'd never tell you to try to forget your old friends, but don't forget that you have friends here and now." She gave him a quick hug before ducking into the bathroom. She smiled 'There, that makes things much simpler.'

"Yeah, friends...' Crescent mumbled to himself.

'Sweet, mercifully Celestia, this is getting painful to watch,' Moontwirl's voice echoed in his head. 'It's like reading a novel with a completely incompetent stallion trying to get a mare- oh wait, that's what's happening!'

"Shut up," he called out,  seemingly to his horn. "I'm trying my best here but your constant bickering isn't helping anything. I just need time, time and the right moment."

He could almost feel the voice rolling its eyes, if it had any. 'Oh yeah, the heartwarming scenario that is fighting and scheming to survive a rebellion of pegasi on a floating prison, really puts mares in the mood for cuddling and kissing.'

"Get off my bucking back already, I will tell her just not right now!"

The voice chuckled. 'Yeah that will be the day.'


When the going gets tough, the tough get DarkPhoenix. When the tough get going, they head for Sasha Nein's secret lab. When it's tough going, notMurphy calls in sick. These are the ponies I deal with… tis a fun bunch!