Sveti laid the booklet down on the coffee table before leaning back on the couch with a contemplative look on her face. “I don't think I'd feel so badly if it wasn't so good.”

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, staring down at the bottom of my cup of orange juice. “I mean... I've heard of this Encore Revue guy, and part of me wants to believe that he's the one who did the hard work, but... there's a lot of heart in that play.”

She sat quietly for a moment, looking out the window at the city, bathed in lamplight and moonlight. “I don't feel ready to forgive Wheel,” she said quietly, “but... I'm not sure I can hate him anymore.” She glanced back at me. “Big Top is a cruel scumbag, but you were spared a lot of what he could do.”

“I remember you telling me how good he was at intimidation and persuasion.”

“Yeah. He was... maybe better at 'keeping me in line' than I'd like to admit, and not just by hanging my father's fate over my head. And you saw what he did to that minotaur, Cobalt.”

I shuddered a little at the memory. “Yeah. He was just... gone. The lights were on but nobody was home. Twilight told me that his body had shown signs of years of abuse.”

“And minotaurs are exceptionally tough, mentally as well as physically. So whatever it is Big Top did to Cobalt, it had to have been severe.” She took a long drink from her apple soda. “So now I'm wondering what he did to the ponies who worked for him.”

“Can that excuse them just letting us rot in cages?”

“I'm not looking to excuse them, just... understand them.”

I sighed again. “...yeah,” I murmured, running my fingers through my hair. “What do you think?”

“Remember me telling you that I was working with Wisk when you were first in the hospital?” she asked; I nodded. “Ancestors, I hated her at that point, but thinking back on it... she stuck with it even through my hostility and her abject fear of Princess Twilight. I think I actually threatened to kill her at one point... but she still stayed on.” She let out a slow breath through her nares. “So, right, I guess 'what I think' is that I don't know what I think. You?”

I needed a moment to organize my thoughts. “I guess... maybe we can at least give them a chance. If nothing else, I don't want to go to my grave hating someone who wants redemption without offering a shot at it.” I saw the look that came over her face, and I immediately reached over to hold her claw. “I'm just saying- facing my mortality makes me want to look past myself, think about the world around me. So... maybe we can't forgive them right now, but we can be a bit more open to them, at least.” I squeezed her claw. “But I know what you've lost because of them... your feelings are what matter most to me.”

Sveti closed her eyes for a moment. “I'm thinking of what Dad would tell me now. He was never a believer in revenge, and he always tried to see the best in others. I think maybe that's how he ended up with a pony... he wouldn't let that stop him from loving someone.” She leaned against me as I put my arm around her. “I think you're right. We can give them a chance. A careful one, of course, but... I think Dad would say that someone who's truly sorry for what they've done should be given the chance to make it right.” She chuckled quietly. “Now I know why Dad hated reading me typical bedtime stories when I was a cub. Life really isn't nearly as black-and-white as they make it out to be.”

I nodded, before catching myself starting to yawn. “Speaking of bedtime stories....”

She snickered, falling in beside me to walk me to my quarters. “Right, I forgot how early you were up this morning. Let's talk about this more tomorrow... and maybe we can find out why Farris gave us a copy of his play with what looks like his own personal notes written inside. Besides that, we should-” She stopped abruptly, tilting her head. “...did you hear that?” she asked quietly.

I went still as well. “...no, but your hearing is better than mine.”

“I thought I heard a door close or something downstairs. I suppose Niche is back.”

“Kind of late for her to be getting in. I hope she had a good night.” I grinned; the young mare had seemed excited about her date. “It's hard not to tease her a little... she's almost like a little sister.”

“You know, I feel the same way.” She chuckled. “Well, we'll ask her how everything went tomorrow.” We stopped in front of my door. “In the meantime, good night, Peter.”

“G'night, Sveti. See you tomorrow.” I headed into my quarters, changing out of my clothes and into my usual sleeping attire before quickly getting under the warm covers. “Can't wait for spring,” I murmured as I laid my head on the pillows, settling in for sleep.

I was just dropping into sleep when I just barely heard something odd outside the room- a brief thud, and what almost sounded like the squawk of a bird. I almost dismissed it as my imagination, but something at the back of my mind started to ring an alarm bell, and after about ten minutes of lying there waiting for sleep to come I found myself lumbering back out of bed, throwing a robe on, and going back out into the hallway. “Sveti?” I called out softly. “Everything okay? I thought I heard something.”

All I heard was silence. It could have easily meant that she'd gone to bed herself, or had headed downstairs for a snack... but there was still that faint but insistent feeling that something was wrong, so I headed for the lounge. “Sveti, are you in here?” I asked. “I thought I heard-”

The sight of the gryphon lying on the couch, tied up securely and staring at me with a look of panic as she tried to call out to me through a beak tied shut with a strip of cloth, greeted my eyes. My brain had just registered what it was that I was seeing when I caught a hint of motion to my left, reflexively turned to look-

thwipCRACK splat-

-and my world became pain.

(-)

“I remember telling the four of you to let me know when you were heading out somewhere.”

Wheel let out an exasperated sigh. “York, it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing! It's a twelve-block walk through one of the nicest neighborhoods in Canterlot.”

“I don't recall a nice neighborhood keeping you from getting pelted with eggs two weeks ago.” York shook her head. “Look, I'm not trying to be your nanny, but I need you to work with me. That's all.”

“Wheel, go easy. The mare's just trying to do her job.” Wisk shot the stallion a glance. “And she wouldn't need to be out here with us at this hour if you hadn't gone and given Peter the master copy of your play.”

Again, Wheel sighed. “Like I said, it was spur-of-the-moment. I was in a rush and I didn't notice I'd grabbed that copy to give to him. And I wouldn't be bothering them about it now, but I need to bring it to Mister Revue first thing in the morning; it's got the final revisions in it. If they're upset about me coming this late, I'll apologize.”

Wisk glanced over at him with a peculiar expression. “Am I talkin' to the same Farris Wheel who would've bolted if either of them had said 'boo' not too long ago?” she wondered.

“Yeah, just like I'm talking to the same Silver Wisk who's tagging along because she's got nothing better to do.” He stuck his tongue out at her, getting a chortle in reply. “It's different now, Wisk. It isn't just about me anymore.”

Wisk gave him a warm smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Most of the windows of the embassy were dark when they arrived, but there were still a few lights on. “Great, maybe somepony's still awake,” Wheel said, picking up his pace. “I'll just ask whoever answers to swap my master copy with this regular one and we'll be back home in ten minutes. If I'm lucky I might not even need to bother Peter or Sveti.”

York watched as the young stallion trotted up the stairs and tugged at the doorbell rope... and almost immediately frowned. “That's weird,” he said.

York raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“The other time I rang the bell, the string pulled back and I could hear the bell from out here. Now....” He motioned towards the pull rope, a small length of which hung limply out of the ornate steel box that housed it. “And I didn't hear anything.”

Wisk sighed. “Hay of a time for it to break,” she muttered, heading up the steps as well. “Buck it, we ain't got all night... I'll knock.”

Despite her words, the mare seemed somewhat hesitant to follow up, needing a moment before rapping her hoof against the thick door. The three of them waited for a good two minutes before York let out a quiet groan. “I don't want to be out here until midnight or something,” she said, turning to her left. “You two stay here in case somepony comes out; I'm going to take a quick flight around the building to see if there's another entrance with a bell, or a good window to knock on, or something.”

She lifted off the ground, flying about a pony's height above the cobblestone at a somewhat sedate pace as she began a circuit around the embassy's perimeter. The only other door she could find- a service entrance, most likely- was closed, with no visible bell or other way to call for somepony. She spent a moment gazing at a new-looking dent in the frame, wondering how it might have gotten there, before she shrugged and gave up the job as hopeless, deciding to return to the main entrance and the two ponies waiting there...

...except that they weren't.

“Oh, for buck's sake.” York's hooves clopped against the staircase as she landed. “They couldn't wait for me?”

She waited on the stairs for a minute, fluttering her wings impatiently- she was starting to need to visit the little filly's room- before realizing that the door was now just slightly open. “Ugh,” she murmured. “Okay, it's practically a breach of general orders, but I'm not technically on-duty at the moment... I'm going to go see if I can use their bathroom.”

She pushed the door open to let herself in, closing it against the cold air outside, listening as the metallic click of the latch echoed through the foyer. “Hello?” she called out. “Wheel? Wisk? Anypony?”

There was a rustling sound of some sort around a near corner, and York reflexively went to look. She only realized her mistake when a face she'd only previously seen on wanted posters greeted her- followed quickly by the business end of a crossbow.

“I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come upstairs,” Big Top said.

(-)

Sveti's quiet groan at seeing Big Top lead in yet another pony at crossbowpoint was muffled by the gag tied around her beak. This time the pony was Sergeant York, the mare who'd gone running off after being yelled at by Aircolt Wind; the guard looked somewhere between bewildered and angry, gazing around at her fellow prisoners as Top quickly bound her wings and hobbled her legs with strips of curtain fabric. So much for the cavalry, the griffin thought morosely. If Top hadn't taken my alarm-triggering charm....

Across the room, Wheel and Wisk stood next to Peter, the stallion staring at Top with a mix of terror and hatred while the mare carefully did her best to bandage Peter's destroyed eye with the cloth napkin and strips of tablecloth she'd scrounged; the human was literally sitting on his heels, his hands bound behind his back and tied to another strip of cloth around his ankles, with part of a blanket tethering him to a wall fixture so that he couldn't get more than halfway to the door or window. Wheel had been proactive enough to try to kick the door open while Top had gone back downstairs, but between the unicorn's spellwork and the door's reinforced frame- the building was built to withstand a siege- he'd been completely unsuccessful, as had his attempt to throw a table through the window. What was worse was that, with the soundproofing enchantments in place, no one outside would have heard a thing. If only Top hadn't been able to tie Peter up, she thought, he could've broken Top's spell and gotten us out. But Top knows his knots even just using his hooves, and Wisk couldn't get any of them loose.

“This little gathering has gotten larger than I expected,” Top said once he'd finished binding the guard's limbs. “But I'll do my best to be a gracious host.”

“What you want?” Peter's voice was tinged with pain, and Sveti found herself struggling against her bonds yet again in a reflexive effort to run over to him; she could only be thankful that Wisk had gotten the bleeding under control.

York craned her neck to get a better look at the human, and let out a sharp gasp, visibly shocked by the streak of blood that ran down his shirt and pants leg. “Sweet Celestia! What did you do to him?!” she demanded.

“I just returned a favor.” Top's horn glowed, and his glass eye popped out of the socket, spinning in midair briefly before he slid it back in. “I'll admit that I've been anticipating that for a while... and yet I'm surprised at just how good it felt.”

Sveti couldn't quite understand whatever it was that Peter muttered in English, but it certainly sounded profane. “You've got a lot of nerve,” York growled. “Do you seriously think you're walking out of this situation a free stallion?”

“The fun is in finding that out.”

Top's seemingly unflappable confidence had the griffin's stomach twisting in knots in worry. Just what are you planning, you plucking maniac?! she wondered.

Top lifted a crystal jug of water off of the table, threw the lid aside and took a long drink from it. “You know,” he said as he returned the jug to its spot, “I should just get this over and done with. I know better than to hang around here. But now that I've finally got you here in front of me, Mister Collins... the desire to redress some wrongs committed against me is almost overwhelming.”

“Oh, you want blame me.” Peter snorted.

“Shouldn't I? You took my eye, you cost me my show... because of you, I became a wanted fugitive.”

“Because of me. Right. Nothing to do with you being psychopath.”

Top's eyes narrowed. “You should be a little more careful of whom you call names, Mister Collins. You're in a poor position here.” He levitated his whip into the air. “You aren't the only one here I could demonstrate my displeasure upon; you would do well to keep that in mind.”

The human gave Sveti an almost imperceptible glance and went quiet, though he didn't bother to disguise his anger. York, however, apparently found it safe to continue the conversation. “Don't be a fool, Top,” she said. “This whole scheme of yours is falling apart; you're not going to get out of this city. Do you think any of your little helpers are going to sacrifice themselves to save you?” She snorted. “Turn yourself in now and you might at least see a tiny bit of mercy from the courts, even if you don't deserve it.”

Top scoffed, giving the guard a condescending glare. “You must think me an idiot. If I unleashed Tirek onto a kindergarten field trip and threw the Crystal Heart into Tartarus, I don't think it'd make a difference in any sentencing at this point.” He paused a moment, looking her over. “But you do seem rather well-informed,” he said. “Royal Guard, I presume?”

“Air Sergeant Peppermint York of the 21st Canterlot Pegasus Wing. And I am ordering you to release us and surrender yourself to the authorities immediately.”

Top burst into laughter. “That's rich!” he guffawed. “You actually sounded like you expected me to untie you right here on the spot!”

“No, actually, I didn't.” York's gaze hardened. “I'm just required by protocol to say something like that. Now I'm free and clear to beat the psychopathy out of you.”

“Oh, goodness. That's a bit of a violent streak you have in you, my dear Sergeant. What would the Princesses say?” The stallion's tone was mocking, then switched to something much more smooth, almost seductive. “Now come on, Sergeant. Is this monster worth your life? Think of all the grief he's caused the ponies of Equestria. Think of that guard he nearly killed. And now because of him, you're here, tied up with your life in the balance. This world would be much better off without him, wouldn't it?”

Sveti watched with growing horror as York's eyes seemed to lose their focus, her pupils shrinking as Top talked. Peter didn't seem to know what was going on- but somepony else did. “Sergeant!” Wheel shouted. “Snap out of it! He's trying to get into your head!”

The exclamation seemed to be enough, and the pegasus shook her head rapidly. “...what the buck...?” she murmured.

“Colt, you are seriously trying my patience lately,” Top growled, pointing the crossbow towards the sea-green stallion for a moment, before letting out a sigh and lowering the weapon. “But I suppose trying to convince the Sergeant is useless anyway; she'd simply complicate things. I have a better plan in mind.”

Sveti struggled against her bonds, trying to get at a strip of cloth that hung from the makeshift rope restraining her wings, but wasn't quite able to get her talons on it. Peter spoke up. “What you do with rest of staff?” he demanded.

“Three of them are sealed in their rooms, probably still fast asleep. As for little Niche... well, it seems she hit her head on something and had to lie down for a while.” Sveti tensed, a low growl escaping her throat. “Unfortunately for her,” Top continued, “she's just a little too inconvenient to my plan for me to simply leave her around.”

Wheel paled. “Top, you... you can't be talking about....”

“Killing her?” The complete lack of change in Top's expression terrified Sveti; he might as well have been talking about the weather. “Well, you see, it'll be the two of you who have sunk to that level.”

A confused look crossed the younger stallion's face. “...what are you talking about?”

“Nopony will know just what set Farris Wheel and Silver Wisk off- maybe an argument, maybe just the wrong word at the wrong time. But with your natural earth pony strength, you overpowered your hosts and the Sergeant here, and murdered them. Then poor little Niche stumbled across you when she returned from her date, and in your rage you pushed her down the steps; the fall proved fatal for the young mare.”

Wisk stared at him incredulously. “...you think the Guard will actually believe that?!”

“Well, it's the only story they'll have. Unless you think they'll believe that one lone unicorn got around their surveillance, managed to catch all of you by surprise, and systematically slaughtered everyone but his former employees.” Top chuckled. “Even I have a hard time believing that.”

“Seriously?” York snorted. “After everything you've put together for all this-”

She was cut off by Top's uproarious laughter. “Put together?!” he managed to get out between guffaws. “Oh, my dear, flattery will get you nowhere!”

“But....” The guard seemed baffled. “Everything that's been going on... the protests, the maneuverings in parliament....”

Top broke out in a fresh bout of laughter. “Sergeant, if I could manage that level of coordination with everything I've had to work with, my plot would be seated firmly on the Golden Dais right now.” He waved a hoof. “This isn't some grand scheme that I painstakingly assembled and guided step-by-step; I'm not some omnipotent storybook villain, tugging strings everywhere.”

“Then how...?”

The stallion put a hoof to his chest. “My dear, I am simply a storyteller. All I did was make suggestions, give advice, and convince ponies to do what it was they were itching to do anyway, whether it was depose an upstart Princess or get rid of a dangerous creature. And maybe I made up a rumor or two from whole cloth... but I imagine you've seen how eager ponies are to believe those.” He shrugged. “All I did was point ponies towards their goals. They're the ones who made them come about.”

“You controlled ponies' minds! You tried to control my mind!”

“I did nothing of the sort. If I could manage that trick, I could just command you to kill everyone else here.” He chuckled. “All I do is work with a pony's latent emotions. If I really made you want to get rid of our two-legged friend there, it's because somewhere deep in your heart, that's what you want.”

A look of horror crossed York's face, followed quickly by shame, then anger. “And to think, for all that time, I thought he was the monster,” she murmured, casting a glance at Peter. “I was so obsessed with protecting ponies from him. I should've been protecting him from ponies.”

“Well, you know what they say about hindsight.” Top glanced back as the clock on top of the mantleplace chimed. “Ahh, half-past. And this room faces East Amble Avenue, which suits the next part of my plan....” His horn lit up, and the window facing the street opened- and then Top's magical field surrounded Sveti, and she let out a horrified squawk as his magical field lifted her off of the couch. “Farewell, Sveti Windwhisper,” he said. “Give your father my regards.”

“No, stop-” Peter shouted.

And then everything was moving, air rushing past her as she was thrown through the window. She screamed in terror into her gagged beak as she tumbled about, everything a blur around her; she heard fabric tearing, the bonds around her wings pulling hard enough to crack bone-

-and then there was impact, and then nothingness.

(-)

I stared at the window for a moment before turning my gaze towards the stallion who'd just flung the female I loved out through it. I didn't even flinch as I heard a dull thud from outside, or at the smug grin Top gave as he closed the window. “Like father, like daughter,” he said with a casual air, turning back towards us. “And, I suppose, like father's lover too.”

I would've expected to be in a state of rage, to be straining at my bindings so that I could twist the damned pony's head off like a bottlecap. But what I'd just seen pushed me past even that- I'd hit a state of tranquil fury, the rage filling my heart but leaving my head full of cold logic- even the pain in the open hole that once was my left eye barely mattered. Big Top needed to die, before he had a chance to kill anyone else, but that wasn't possible as things were; I had to stall for time, wait for an opening of some sort. Wheel and Wisk were too terrified of Top- or too conditioned by him- to make a move, and York was just as immobile as I was. I kept working at the cloth tied around my wrists, my mind working as well, and not just on escape plans.

Wheel, to his credit, wasn't so cowed as to hide his anger. “You... you killed her!” he shouted. “You killed Sveti! How could you-”

He flinched as Top pointed his crossbow at him. “Remember your place, colt,” the unicorn said quietly, his voice laced with threat. “I'm only leaving the two of you around for my own purposes.”

Wisk laid her foreleg over Wheel's neck, both of them glaring at Top. I realized that I couldn't depend on them to keep Top talking, and gave York a subtle glance; she seemed to catch on. “What... what did you do to her father's lover?” she demanded.

“Black Quill? Well, I might have been the one to convince her to leave Canterlot for a few weeks to 'give him some room to grieve for his daughter'.” Top chuckled. “And I might have mailed her the issue of Equestria Daily with her lover's death on the front page. Three days after that, they fished her body out of the river not far from Companion Bridge... I suppose she couldn't handle the idea of being responsible for her lover's death.”

The stallion turned to the floor mirror at the far end of the room, and his horn lit up; the color of his coat shifted, and he trotted around in a circle, peering at the mirror intently. After a few moments, his horn flared once more, and the color changed back. “Is... is that magic-sensitive dye?” Wheel ventured.

“A classic stage technique. Helps a pony play multiple roles, disguise himself for a date... or avoid notice from the Royal Guard.” He turned away from the mirror with a frown. “It hardly seems like a challenge, sometimes. You know, Mister Collins... we may have our differences, but I imagine you understand what I mean when I say that ponies are complete and utter idiots.” He looked at me for a moment as if waiting for a response, one which I couldn't come up with at that moment; he pressed on regardless. “Like I said before, if I'd been running my little gambit with the control Sergeant York here apparently believes I had, we wouldn't be having this conversation- you'd either be in a dungeon or a grave. But that being said, it was easy to point ponies in your general direction and 'let them loose', so to say.”

“You're pretty quick to insult your own species,” I replied.

“I wouldn't if they didn't deserve it.” Top turned away from the mirror to look at me. “Be honest with me, Mister Collins. A survivor like you, unafraid to employ violence when needed... don't you feel like a timberwolf in a cage full of foals? Of course, they don't trust you- you're the 'other', which means they fear you instinctively. I have the advantage of being part of the herd, implicitly trusted.” He sighed again. “In a way, I'm almost sad that our little game of cat-and-mouse is over. For all the trouble you've caused me, you're also the only real challenge I've had in a very long time.”

I wasn't having any luck loosening my bonds- I should have figured that a pony with a history in traveling entertainment would know how to tie knots- so I racked my brain for more questions to stall for time. “Did you actually sabotage Twilight's experiment?” I asked.

“Mmh-hmm. Risky, I know. A wanted pony walks into the seat of power, right under the noses of hundreds of ponies who'd like nothing more than to lock him up and throw away the dungeon?” Top's smile grew. “Luna's teats, I hadn't felt so alive in years. One of the guards was close to catching on; I had to think on my hooves for a story that would allay his suspicions.” He broke out of his reminiscent trance to look back at me. “Entirely worth it, I think. After all, letting you just trot on back home without punishing you for what you'd done to me? Unacceptable.”

“And you put thousands of lives at risk just to get at me?”

He snorted derisively. “In Canterlot? Nothing of value would've been lost.”

I had to shut myself up in order not to tell him just what I thought of his priorities; York seemed about as disgusted, but picked up the slack nonetheless. “Just what is your special talent supposed to be?” she asked. “Nopony ought to have abilities like yours.”

“Like I said, I'm a storyteller. My stories make ponies feel things. My parents pushed me into being an entertainer, but I decided that it was more fun to play with ponies than play for them. Of course, it was all bargain-store meaningless tripe until I found myself in Canterlot, where the first time I saw....” He trailed off for a moment. “Ah, but that would be telling, wouldn't it? Let's just say I made a few 'friends' in high towers.”

York snorted. “And then... what? You left it all to go from town to town in a traveling sideshow?”

“Heh. Not by choice, at first; my first exodus from Canterlot wasn't what I'd call 'amicable'. But once I got the show going, I started to like being a big fish in a small pond. I made sure to keep tabs on a few contacts in the big city, though... much more useful than I'd expected. Now that I'm back in my old stomping grounds, I think I'll hang around a while, see what sort of opportunities are open to me now.” He glanced at the clock again. “And don't think that I don't know what you've been doing. You think you've kept me talking to buy time; I've just been enjoying myself watching you two squirm around trying to get loose- and I'll admit, it's been cathartic to be able to tell somepony just what I've been doing since our last time together. But if the guard schedule my 'friend' acquired for me is accurate, then it's time for me to move on to the next step.” He brought his crossbow to bear on me.

I glared at him. “What are you going to do, throw me out the window as well?”

“If only I could. But no... somehow one of the Everfree Yeti's former tormentors managed to get their hooves on a crossbow, and fired it at Mister Collins. Unfortunately for him, the shot hit him in the belly, condemning him to a slow and painful death.”

Wisk quailed. “Top, no. Don't do this! Just... just trot away!”

“Sorry, my dear, but I'm committed now. Just ask the street pancake that used to be a griffin.”

Wheel took a step forward. “You can't do this, Top! I can't let you!”

“I don't know where you found that spine, colt, but I suggest you put it away before it gets you killed.”

I pulled as hard as I could against the fabric binding my hands, to no avail.

“You're going to end up a lawn ornament, Top,” York practically snarled. “Maybe in Discord's old spot, even!”

“Keep talking, Sergeant. You're up after him, you know.”

Tears streamed down Wisk's cheeks. “Top! No! Please, no! For Celestia's sake!”

“I've enjoyed our time together, Mister Collins, but alas, it must come to an end.” Top brought the crossbow up before his face, looking through its sights. “I do hope your last thoughts are of how much I enjoyed all of this.”

I wracked my brain for some heroic maneuver, some last-ditch escape... and came up empty. I'm sorry, Sveti. Looks like this world is going to kill me even sooner than I thought.

Top's magical field crept onto the crossbow's trigger.

“No!”A sea-green blur filled my vision.

thwipTHUNK

I felt an impact against my body- not from the sharp end of a crossbow quarrel, but from a pony's back. I looked down to see Wheel half-sprawled against me, the quarrel buried in his chest, bright red blood streaming from the wound, and I realized with a cold feeling that it had gone into his heart.

The young stallion stared down at his wound for a moment, then back up at his murderer. “Y- you're a... bad p-pony, Top....” he wheezed, one forehoof reaching towards the bolt... but before it even made it there, Wheel's body began to slide down towards the floor, collapsing onto his side, his eyes wide and glassy.

“Wheelie?! Wheelie!” Wisk rushed to the stricken pony's side, cradling him gently in her forelegs. “Oh sweet Celestia, no! Wheelie! Please, talk to me!”

“Wheel?!” York stared in horror at the scene. “He....”

“Damn it all to Tartarus.” Top was loading another quarrel into his crossbow when I looked up at him. “This completely ruins my scenario.”

Wisk's head practically snapped towards him. “You... you don't even care! Wheelie was with you almost from the start; he gave you the best years of his life, and... and you murdered him and you don't even care! Peter was right- you are a psychopath, you miserable little-”

THWACK

Wisk went down like a sack of rocks from the impact of the crossbow's butt against her temple, the blow delivered with enough force to crack the weapon's stock. “Shut up,” Top growled. “I'm trying to think.”

I found myself reflexively trying to reach out towards the two ponies on the floor- one dead, the other half-unconscious and bleeding from the head- despite my still-bound hands. Next to me, York looked like she was trying to kill Top through sheer force of hate; she'd given up struggling, though, and I could see she'd made no more progress on her bindings than I had on mine. Impotent rage shot through my mind, though I still made every effort not to show it. I glanced around for anything that could help us, some kind of miracle-

-and saw in the mirror that the door was very slowly opening, just far enough to reveal a single golden eye... and a glimpse of grey metal.

Somehow, through self-control I never knew I had, I managed to hide any physical reaction. Big Top was positioned between me and the mirror, my body blocking his view of the door, which meant he hadn't seen what I had- and I only needed a moment to come up with a plan. “You know, Big Top,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as I could, “there's a saying where I'm from that applies to this.”

“Oh, is that so.” The stallion's tone couldn't be more disinterested. “I'll humor you. What is it?”

I replied in English, “I'm going to fall to my right at the end of my next sentence.”

He turned to me with a quizzical expression on his face. “And just what does that mean?”

“It means 'goodbye, Big Top'.”

thwump

I flung myself to my right as hard as I could, my momentum more than enough to knock York out of the way as well. An instant later, the door swung open, revealing the gryphon in the hallway beyond, rearing back on her haunches with something clutched in her claws.

BANG

My Taurus sounded like a cannon in the small room, immediately setting my ears to ringing as I rolled over onto my back. Top had sprouted a red hole in his side that was already leaking blood; he staggered unsteadily, dropping his crossbow- but he didn't go down, his shocked expression quickly twisting into anger and his horn beginning to glow with a flickering light, his magical field reappearing on the stock of his own weapon.

click

click

I turned to shout instructions to Sveti- to find that she was ahead of me, one claw yanking back on the slide to eject the dud round- exactly like we practiced; I am so damn proud of you- before returning to the grip, and a talon sliding back into the trigger well.

BANG BANG

Two more holes opened in Big Top's chest, and he stumbled back to collapse in a heap, his spell dissipating into sparks of magic and the crossbow once more clattering to the floor. His expression of shock turned into terrified realization, and his mouth worked as if he were trying to speak- but the only thing that came out from it was a stream of blood, and after a moment his head dropped to the floor, his eyes rolling back and his movements stopping.

Sveti carefully limped her way to me on three limbs, keeping the weapon pointed away from anyone still living, until she got to my side and put it on the floor next to me- and then flung her forelegs around me in a weak but heartfelt hug. “How... how did you...? I thought....” I babbled, not even sure I could believe my own eye.

“I'll tell you later. Let me get you loose.” The way she winced when she reached behind me to cut my bindings told me that her escape from certain death hadn't left her unharmed, and the way her left wing hung limp against her side worried me, but her injuries didn't keep her from cutting my bonds with her talons. I had to resist the urge to throw my arms around her in the tightest hug I could manage out of fear that I'd aggravate whatever injuries she'd suffered; I was just getting to my feet when I heard a sharp gasp from her. “Oh, ancestors....” she breathed.

Wisk had recovered from her blow and was weeping silently into Wheel's mane, her forelegs cradling his head. As much as I'd hated them, seeing them covered in their own blood, Wheel's eyes staring sightlessly into nothingness, I couldn't help but feel a lump in my throat. I stayed quiet as I helped Sveti untie York, and the pegasus staggered to her hooves. “I'll... bring the Guard,” she said quietly, gazing at the carnage around her for a moment before turning towards the door, stopping for a moment to look over her shoulder. “Miss Windwhisper, does the Guard have your consent to enter the building?” When Sveti nodded, York immediately cantered out of the room, followed quickly by the sound of rustling feathers as she took flight.

Wisk looked up at me despairingly as Sveti and I approached. “He... he only wanted to make things right,” she sobbed, tears mixing in with the blood that coated the side of her face.

I knelt down in front of her, looking at the fallen stallion; after a moment, I reached out and closed his eyes with my fingertips. “He did,” I said quietly. “Sveti, Wisk, stay here; I'll go get the medical supplies.”

It only took me a few minutes to retrieve our first-aid kit and bring it back, needing to be careful because of my loss of depth perception and dizziness from onsetting shock, and while I treated Sveti and Wisk, the gryphon told me how she'd survived her fall- part of the cord of fabric that had been binding her wings had gotten caught in the second-floor eaves as she'd fallen, slowing her descent and diverting her fall into the first-floor wall instead of the ground. She hadn't escaped unscathed; her wing was broken, as were at least two ribs, and there was some spectacular bruising under her fur- but she'd found that the servant's entrance hadn't closed properly because of a cracked frame, letting her make her way back inside and head to the study where we'd hidden my weapon. "You don't know how surprised I was to be alive when I came to," she said, before she gazed sadly at Wheel's body for a moment. “...I'm sorry I didn't get back in time to save him,” she quietly told Wisk.

Wisk shook her head. “There's only one pony that deserves blame. And....” She glanced back at Top's corpse. “And you did what needed to be done.”

It was only a couple of minutes later when the Guard arrived, at least a dozen heavily-armored ponies swarming into the building and taking charge of the situation. Following them were a quartet of medics who immediately went to tend to Sveti, Wisk and I; all of us were deemed emergency cases, and stretchers were rolled in to bring us to the hospital. As we left the embassy, we saw Neat Niche's still-unconscious form being brought out on a stretcher as well. “How is she?” I asked the medic who was wheeling her along.

“She should be alright,” came the reply from the white-robed stallion. “She took a nasty blow to the head, but earth ponies are tough; she's stable, and she'll probably just need a few days of medicinal potions and healing magic to get her back on her hooves.”

I let out a sigh of relief and laid my head back down on the extra-large stretcher they'd brought out for me, and began the long and arduous process of coming to terms with everything that had just happened.

(-)

“I've said all I'm going to say, Captain.”

Silver Star stared at the guardspony across the table from him, while his lawyer sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps a break is in order, Captain Armor,” Judicata said. “We've been at this for hours.”

“Maybe you're right.” Captain Armor got up from his seat, fixing Silver with a stern glare. “You can wait here while we're gone,” he told him. “If you need something, knock on the door and a guard will attend to you.”

With that, the other two ponies went towards the door of the interview room. “Judy,” Silver called out.

The lawyer stopped and turned. “Yes, Mister Star?”

“I pay you a lot of money for results. I expect a return on my investment.”

“...yes, sir.” Silver could just hear her mutter “Mom was right; I should've been a judge” as she trotted out, with the Captain right behind her; the door clicked shut, leaving him alone at a cheap table facing what looked like a mirror- but he'd read enough guard-procedural pulp novels to know one-way glass when he saw it. He studied his reflection for a moment, noting his tired eyes, the bags underneath them, his unkempt mane, the bright pink pony standing right behind him-

“Gah!” He nearly fell out of the chair as he spun around, finding the almost offensively pink mare standing in the room where she hadn't been a moment ago.

“Hi!” she said. “I'm Pinkie Pie! And you must be Silver Star!”

“Wha- what are you doing in here?!” he demanded, putting a hoof to his chest in an attempt to slow his speeding heart.

“Well, I just sorta wanted to talk to you! You see, Peter Collins and Sveti Windwhisper are my friends, and as their friend I want to do everything I can to make things okay for them!” Her bright smile fell. “And I heard that you were one of the ponies that was doing a lot to make them unhappy, and I wanted to ask you to please try to make things better so that they can be happy again.”

He stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment. “...is this a bucking joke?”

“Well, no! I mean, I do like to tell lots of jokes, but this isn't one! My friends are really important to me, and I'd never joke about things that are this important!” She reached up and pressed her hooves against his cheeks. “So can't you be a nice pony and tell the truth about all those meanie meanie-pants ponies who were making my friends so sad?”

He roughly pushed her away. “I think it's pretty low of Captain Armor to rope one of the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony into trying to guilt-trip me into a confession, and I will be notifying my lawyer of this blatant- and likely illegal- maneuver.”

“But... but Mister Star....” She seemed much more confused than offended. “I really don't think you understand. Sveti and Peter are nice ponies- well, not ponies; I dunno why we use the word 'ponies' like that anyway, it doesn't seem very inclusive....” She trailed off for a moment, then shook her head violently; Star could have sworn he heard the faint sound of a cowbell. “But like I was saying, they're really nice! They've had a whole lot of bad things happen to them, and some of it was because of other ponies, and that makes me really sad because ponies are supposed to bring joy and happiness into the lives of others. I mean, that's what Harmony is all about!” She gave him a brilliant smile. “So just think how wonderful it would feel if you went back out onto that stand and told everypony the truth, so that Petey and Sveti could get back to being happy and not have to worry about more mean ponies trying to make them sad.”

Ordinarily he would have at least tried to use some sort of tact in dealing with a celebrity, even one as low-profile as Pinkie Pie, but the pink pony's sickeningly saccharine demeanor was rubbing him entirely the wrong way, and between that and the proceedings earlier in the day he found his manners to have been worn threadbare. “Miss Pie, I am going to tell you this slowly and carefully, so that even the cotton candy between your ears can readily comprehend,” he said, locking his eyes onto hers. “I. Do. Not. Care.”

She froze in place for a moment- literally; not even a hair of her mane moved. “I... I don't understand,” she said quietly.

“I deal with a great number of things, Miss Pie, most of them far too large and complex for a mare of your... limited capacities to grasp. Many of these things are important to the security and economy of this great principality. If in the course of serving this great country of ours, circumstances should arise to where some random griffin or misplaced yeti suffer temporary setbacks... well, the needs of the many do outweigh the needs of the few.”

An unidenfitiable expression flashed across her face for an instant, so quickly that he decided that it must've been his imagination. “But... but they almost died...."

“But they didn't. And I'm sure that they'll come through all the stronger for it, or whatever other pithy phrase applies. They may conduct their own affairs, and I will conduct mine." He turned away from her, returning his gaze to the one-way window and their reflections in it. “And as for you, Miss Pie... you can show yourself out the same way you came in.”

A peculiar look of sadness crossed her face- as if she was feeling sorry for him instead of herself. “Are you suuuuuuure that's what you want?” she asked.

“Quite sure. Goodbye, Miss Pie.”

“Well, okie-dokie, Loki! But there's just one teeny-tiny problem....”

The overhead light flickered for just a fraction of a second, and it took him a moment to realize that the reflection in front of him had changed. The mare's impossibly poofy mane had dropped down to hang limply against the side of her head, and her bright blue eyes had turned as hard and cold as a Stalliongrad winter. She leaned forward to whisper into his ear, her voice menacing and low.

“...you're talking to the wrong Miss Pie.”

(-)

“Sir! I think you'd better return to the interview room immediately.”

Shining looked up from his cup of coffee. “What is it, Private?”

“The suspect is calling for you.” The junior guard shifted uncomfortably. “Or, err... crying, really.”

“Crying?” He slid out of his seat, being sure to bring his coffee with him; he had a feeling he was going to need it. “Alright, let's go.”

It turned out that the private hadn't been exaggerating in the least. Silver Star was curled up in a corner of the interview room, tears streaming down his face as he glanced around in what looked like utter fear; his lawyer stood a short distance away, confusion evident in her expression. “What happened?” he asked as he trotted closer.

The lawyer opened her mouth to reply- only to be cut off by her client. “Captain! I'll talk! I'll talk!” he practically wailed. “Anything you want to know, I'll tell you! Just keep that pink maniac away from me!”

Shining stopped short. “...that what?”

The lawyer shook her head. “Mister Star, I strongly advise against this. Just give me a few minutes to-”

The noble's head swung to face her. “Judy, you're fired. Get out.”

Judicata stood there for a moment in stunned surprise, before tossing her head disdainfully and trotting for the exit. “That's it, I'm going to go visit my brother Punch,” she muttered. “Maybe entertainment is the career path for me.”

Once she'd left, Shining turned towards the other stallion. “You're sure about this?”

“Yes! I'll testify, I'll sign a confession, I'll wrestle a timberwolf if it'll keep that mare away from me!”

“Very well....” Shining understood absolutely nothing of what was going on, but he was not one to question good fortune; he went back to the door of the interview room and the guard at her station next to it. “Corporal, summon Lieutenant Arrow to this room; have him bring a deposition kit.”

The corporal complied, returning a few moments later with Lieutenant Straight Arrow, who was levitating a pad, quill and inkpot- as well as another small, colorful object. “Captain, I brought you one of the cupcakes from Brass Bolt's birthday party,” he said. “Angel cake with rainbow sprinkles!”

“...cupcakes...?” Silver Star froze for a moment- and then there was the sound of liquid on tile, and an acrid odor.

Shining groaned. “Corporal,” he called, “summon the janitor.”

(-)

“Hi, Twilight!”

Twilight smiled at the cheery pony on the other side of the counter. “Hello, Pinkie,” she replied.

“How is everyone over in Canterlot? Is there any new news? Because if it was old news, then it'd be olds, not news.”

“I haven't found out anything new since yesterday, Pinkie. I only know that all three of them are in stable condition.”

“Oh. Okay. That's good, at least. I hope they get my get-well-soon cards soon! Because if the pony who's getting well gets well before the card gets there, then they can't know you wanted them to get well when they were still getting well!" There was a moment of silence between them before Pinkie spoke again. "So did you want a snack? We've got some great brownies today!”

“No thanks; I just had lunch. I actually stopped by to ask you something.”

“Oh, oh, I know! 42! The answer is 42!”

Twilight blinked in confusion, then chuckled. “What question is that supposed to be an answer to?”

A puzzled look came over the pink mare's face for a moment before she shrugged. “I dunno. I'll have to get back to you on that.”

“Heh heh. Okay, Pinkie.” She let her smile fade after a moment. “Pinkie, I just had a meeting with my brother a few minutes ago. He says somepony in Canterlot is accusing you of telling him horrible stories in order to get him to testify about something.”

“In Canterlot? Well, that's silly, Twilight! I've been here at the counter all day! Well, except for my break, but how could a pony get from here to Canterlot in fifteen minutes aside from teleporting?”

“Well, I've seen you do some inexplicable things, Pinkie... but the reason I have a hard time believing it is that it just sounds completely unlike you.”

“You're right! It does! How could Ponyville's premiere party pony petrify a perpetrator with scary stories?” Pinkie shrugged. “I think that Mister Star just had an attack of conscience, and his mind made up something to justify his change of heart.”

It was a surprisingly insightful thought from the normally silly pony, and Twilight let it roll around in her brain for a moment before smiling and nodding. “Well, it does seem impossible that you even could do something like that, let alone would,” she said. “Still, in the interest of fairness- can other ponies verify that you've been here all day?”

“Sure! We've had plenty of customers, and Mr. and Mrs. Cake have been working around the store all day too.”

“That should be good enough, then. I'll ask around town for statements from a few of the townsponies just for incontrovertible proof to debunk that nonsense. Thanks, Pinkie.” Twilight trotted back out of Sugarcube Corner, but something was nagging at her mind; it was five minutes later when she realized what it was.

When did I tell her Silver Star's name?