It had taken several hours to get from Manehattan to Ponyville. During that time, I had wanted to use to catch up on some much needed rest, but despite my best efforts, sleep was just something my body refused. Instead, I spent two hours staring out the window before deciding to do something more “productive”. I levitated my saddlebags from their compartments and rummaged through them. After about five minutes, I found what I was looking for: a comic book I wisely had packed for the trip. It was about time I caught up on the newest issue of “The Adventures of Captain Baseball Bat Boy”, an import graphic novel from the Federation, and still my favorite graphic novel since foalhood. It mostly dealt with a hyperactive human kid that solved his problems by cracking heads with his baseball bat, though the perspective did shift between various characters. In this month’s issue, Captain Baseball Bat Boy was up against his most dangerous nemesis; the nefarious Maxwell’s Demon and his army, The Freaking Demons from Outer Space.

It was good – if somewhat childish – entertainment that made the last leg of the trip bearable. Still, the issue wasn’t that long – about 80 pages – so I finished the book in about a half an hour, maybe forty five minutes. It was a guilty pleasure, and one that at least kept my head away from undesirable thoughts, like the fact that I had been sent on this mission in the middle of the night, right after a shootout. I wondered how Haggar was faring. He had to take care of the bodies and any further retaliation by the Cultist. Part of me felt worried for the old Kirin; he had used a powerful teleportation spell to get me to the station, one that in all likelihood severely depleted his magic reserves. If he was attacked in that state, he would be vulnerable. Regardless, Haggar was a sturdy son of a bitch; tough as they come.

I spent the rest of my time looking at a map of Equestria conveniently placed on the wall in front of me. My eyes settled on my destination first - Ponyville - and then the rest of the country later. Ponyville was a medium-to-large-sized town located right in the middle of the Equestrian countryside. It had train routes going through it to nearly all corners of the nation and beyond. To say it was a hub of transportation and commerce was an understatement.

More west than north of Ponyville lay Canterlot: Equestria’s largest city and capital. Canterlot was mostly known for its ancient palace built ages before Celestia and Luna's rule. If knowledge served me correctly, the palace had been constructed right after the founding of Equestria, and had seen the first ever Grand Galloping Gala to commemorate such an event. Matter of fact, The Gala itself was a commemoration of Equestria’s founding.

The other reason Canterlot was well known was for its massive airports commissioned by Luna herself. Added to the cliff sides of the city, they facilitated airships travel and commerce. Ships docked day and night, constantly loading and unloading, bringing goods from all over the world. At the same time, Canterlot served as the gateway to other nations. All ships had to pass by its airport before being given clearance to leave the country’s borders. I myself had undocked in the city when I first arrived.

To the southwest of Ponyville was an expanse of near-impenetrable woodlands known as the Everfree Forest. It’s been said to be the dwelling place of both monstrosities and secrets from ages long forgotten stretching back to the reign of the Zeborites; a once powerful race of stags that had lived almost ten thousand years ago before being wiped out by an unknown catastrophe. Their descendants scattered across the world, presumably mixing in with then other “lesser” races. The Everfree Forest was a place where even the bravest dared not tread without good reason. The few that braved it on a daily basis were either Monster Hunters; individuals who made a living killing the monstrosities that would otherwise run unchecked for profit and materials, or Alchemists in search of rare ingredients.

Due south of Ponyville was Hoofington, a small town roughly the size of Cloudsdale - which itself laid northwest of Ponyville and served as the headquarters for dense cloud creation. I didn't know much about Hoofington other than it was home to some of the world's best magicians and illusionists, as well as several great detectives. It had what in human terms is known as a “thick English atmosphere.” From what I've read, the town was the birthplace of Trixie Solaris, adoptive daughter of Luna. What became of her has never been resolved as she vanished alongside the Princesses and another of Celestia's closest aides: a young unicorn named Twilight Sparkle.

To the northwest lay Stalliongrad, a frozen waste of depravity and corruption. Once the home of the fair Rosalinos, it is now completely run by a merciless Syndicate called The Stopped Necromancers. Though the Regulators did have a garrison in the city to keep the order, the poor bastards often opted to keep their heads low lest they lose them. From what I’ve heard, the only equine brave enough to stand up to the Necromancers in plain sight was a pony by the name of Ebony, a cloaked and hooded avenger. He or she fought the Necromancers at every possible turn.

Finally, to the west of Ponyville lay Manehattan, my home town... for the time being. It was the big rotten apple itself. It may look shiny on the outside, but deep down, it’s full of worms slowly eating away at its core. There wasn’t much say other than keep your distance.

I lowered my head and sighed. The sun was rising over the horizon. I looked at the clock posted over my seat. I still had about an hour before arrival. I lay my head down and closed my eyes. I wasn’t going to fall sleep, but at the very least, I could force myself to rest.

The station was called through the rather ancient loudspeakers as the train slowed down. I looked out the window at the quickly approaching town, feeling both relieved and on edge. Now that the sun was out, I could clearly see the mountains and the hills surrounding Ponyville. It was quite the view because the surroundings were still pristine and untouched.

I gathered up my belongings and waited for the train to stop completely. It wasn’t long before the vista was covered by a large structure. I could see many other trains parked nearby, all waiting to be boarded. In the far left, near the back of the building was a steam train, likely there as a display of what transportation was like in the old days before gauss magnetic rail technology became widespread.

The train slowly and silently came to a stop. I stepped towards the door to my compartment and walked down the hall. There were plenty of other ponies around, but they were kind enough to make way for me. I kept telling myself that I was no longer in Manehattan, so I didn’t have to worry about ponies shoving their way out. I looked at my watch; it was a little past six in the morning. I took a deep breath and prepared to disembark. The conductor game me a smile and led the way. I had my saddlebags tightly strapped to my sides and Deckard’s case tightly fastened in my back. My duster was closed tight, ensuring that the only signs of my Regulator’s armor would be my hind legs. To the average citizen, I would look like nothing more than some travelling musician. Not the exact image I wished to portray, but one I welcomed nonetheless.

I walked around the station in an attempt to get my bearings on the new scenery. Soon as I exited the building, I was struck by how bright the sun shone here. It was so different than Manehattan.

Manehattan was located near one of the great lakes of Equestria, far west of both Ponyville and Canterlot. Despite being located to the west, the lake was frigid year-round. This transferred to the city itself. Half of the year, murky shades of black dominated the sky; dark gold during the day, dark blood red during the night. While the foggy lake provided half the darkness, the other half was solely to be blamed on leftover pollution. During the war, the city had served as one of the Regime’s foremost centers of industry: tanks, ships, armor, weapons; they were all rolled out day and night. Though many of the canals now run dry, they had at one point served to move molten metal from factory to factory, lighting up the night with liquid fire.

The other half of the year it snowed, hard. The blizzards darkened the sky, bringing about six months of near total darkness. The sun was a stranger during the winter, and the only warmth came from lit petroleum barrels. So strong were the blizzards that few left their homes for anything other than work. Only place that was worse during winter was Stalliongrad, which was snowbound year-round.

Ponyville, in comparison to Manehattan, was devoid of darkness and leftover pollution. The sky was blue, the trees green, and the clouds white as snow. The sun shone uninstructed by murk, bringing down warmth on my coat that was almost alien. I was almost tempted to stand still, baking in the warm rays. The houses were rustic yet inviting in design. The streets were made up of small neatly placed stones that lined up perfectly to the point that it was impossible to feel them. Every pony walked about, the few vehicles I could spot were powered by magic or solar power instead of some type of combustible fuel.

Ponyville... It is a lot more colorful than I expected... I found myself thinking. So used I was to murk and shadows; to tall buildings and alleyways; to wide streets and ruined neighborhoods that the town seemed almost dreamlike, as if I had stepped into some kind of children's television show and was now part of the story…

Instantly, I noticed the town was almost entirely made up of mares and fillies, with very few stallions in plain sights. I saw a few other species as well, mostly griffins and zebras, but again, the grand majority was female, though I could have been wrong; griffin gender was a tad difficult to discern from a distance, but having led a few back in my Regime days, I knew what to look for: slimmer body structure, brighter plumage around the eyes and neck, and a somewhat taller stature.

As I walked down the road from the train station, the townsfolk started eying me with a mix of curiosity and excitement. Every gaze seemed to study me from head to hoof, diligently taking in every detail. It made me feel odd; I wasn’t a fan of being stared at and studied. Growing up as an outcast in human society had been enough to imprint that in me. I unbuckled Negotiator’s holster and prepped her for any unsavory encounters.

She was an old beast, Negotiator. Not the most advanced revolver on the market, nor the most powerful, but as far as side arms went, she was reliable and rugged. Combine that with her above-average accuracy, .44 caliber rounds and a Magiteck ammunition replenisher and Negotiator was easily one of the best pistol I had ever used, only outclassed by Gauss pistols, which cost quite the pretty bit.

I shook the unease of being watched, and just kept on walking, mind settling on more pressing matters: the reason I had come to Ponyville in the first place. My “assignment” was quite clear: find “Raize” aka Caleb Armitage and ensure his safety. I wasn’t sure if I had beaten the Cultist to the town, but from the sights I was witnessing, I was almost ready to say the Crux Nado had yet to show up. Then again, members of the Crux Nado were quite proficient at keeping a low profile when needed.

I sighed, closing my eyes for just a second to try and come up with a feasible solution. Perhaps I could play it safe and change into something unassuming; play the tourist card long enough to get a feel for the town. No, that would take too long. I need to act quickly. First things first; I need some base of operations, a temporary headquarters. A hotel room would do fine. Unpack, change appearance, blend in; that was the plan for now. I turned to head down the street when I suddenly bumped into somepony, knocking us both to the ground.

I landed face first, eating some dirt in the process. I shook my head, looking up at the culprit. I was ready to utter some rather nasty words, but stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the pony.

She was a pink earth pony that smelled of pastries and sarsaparilla. Her mane and tail were puffs of magenta that looked more like cotton candy than hair. She was young - no older than seventeen or eighteen. Her cutie mark had two blue party balloons and one yellow one. The pink pony - who appeared unharmed - quickly recovered from her fall, hopping on her hooves before I could even say a word. She shook her head and smiled, taking one long look at me, her smile seeming to grow and her cyan eyes widening to proportions I hadn’t thought possible for any living creature. Suddenly, she jumped up in the air, gasped loudly for what seemed like a minute straight, and zoomed away at an impossibly fast pace - not once touching the ground - until she was completely out of sight.

I lay there, shaking my head in an attempt to make sense of what I had just seen.

“That… was weird...” I found myself whispering. I was in a state of shock, completely forgetting where I was. I didn’t even think about standing back up, instead lying around like some idiot.

“Are you alright darling?” a soft feminine voice suddenly asked out of nowhere.

My hairs stood on end as I drew hasty conclusions. I shifted my body around to face the source of the voice, mental image set on something nasty. Instead, I was met with a pair of concerned eyes. After laying eyes on the owner of those words, I felt my heart skip a beat.

The unicorn mare was a creamy off-white color with an indigo mane carefully fashioned into curls. On her rump was a cutie mark of three shining diamonds. She… she was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. Her mane was radiant with a life all its own, her eyes seemed capable of peering into one's soul, her lips were rosy and fresh, her coat vibrant and clearly well taken care of, radiating both youth and regal beauty.

“Um… Darling, are you-- are you well?” the unicorn asked again, this time with more concern. I snapped myself out of my self-imposed trance. I nodded at her request.

She smiled, bring a hoof to me. I grabbed it with my own and stood up. As I did, I grunted slightly. I looked at my outfit, which was now stained with mud and grass. I tried to shake it clean, but the mud wouldn't come off. Thankfully, magic worked better than shaking, but some of the mud was now caked over the duster.

“Looks like you took quite a nasty fall darling,” the unicorn said, “glad to see you’re at least unhurt.”

“Fall? Yes; nasty? Not quite. I was merely caught off guard.”

“What happened?” the unicorn asked, suddenly filled with curiosity.

I shook my head, managing a rather sincere smiled. “To be honest with you, I’m not even sure myself.”

“Oh,” the unicorn said, “well, at least you seem to be okay now so--” she laid eyes on my duster, and suddenly, her expression changed. “Look at you!” she suddenly bellowed, prompting me to take a step back, “So filthy and unkempt…” she eyed my getup with a scowl on her face. “…that duster - so ancient and worn…” she looked at my riot gear next and that armor… are-- are those bullet holes? And-- and is that blood?!” she pointed at several small stains that, while dry and ancient, were indeed composed of blood. The unicorn let out a loud, overtly-dramatic gasp, placing a hoof on her forehead. She quickly recovered however, and gave me a stern look. “The armor you are wearing is not only dreadful, but far too light to offer adequate protection”

“Yeah but--”

The unicorn suddenly grabbed me by the neck of my duster. “You’re coming with me darling! There is so much that needs to be done about that getup!”

“Wha-- what?” I managed to utter before I found myself being dragged by the mare; she was surprisingly strong considering her size.

The mare dragged me down the road for what felt like fifteen minutes, right past a large plaza filled to the brim with fillies and mares. Beyond that was what I could only assume was some type of shopping district, for the location was absolutely swarming with citizens of all ages. Shop after shop met my gaze, some known - like brand name supermarkets and cafes - some unknown - like a small-yet-popular furniture shop by the name of Devonport’s Sofas and Quills.

The mare dragged past all this, into a small out of the way location with a few high-end houses and shops. Next to some large foliage was what appeared to be a carousel - a large, purple and blue carousel-like building complete with ebony and azure pony figures, gilded purple bars that connected the shop’s three levels together, golden decorations that shone in the sun, and several tent-like extensions around the wooded area, all connected by a large fence that also seemed to have been made of ebony and azure marble. Compared to the other shops, the carousel seemed somewhat out of place, but the aesthetics of the building spoke a different message altogether. It said “joy” and “happiness”, which I personally found rather unsettling. Why I found it unsettling was a different topic altogether, but it had to do with depraved sexual predators that used similar imagery to lull victims into a false sense of security; I had shot enough scumbags to know.

The mare magically opened the door to what I was now sure was her boutique, and stopped dragging me the moment we were inside. I took a look around as soon as I could. I was met with hundreds of pieces of clothing, all neatly arranged in various rows, all either in the process of completion or altogether finished. The clothes on display were quite diverse.

“Alright darling,” the pony said in a soft manner, “welcome to my shop. Now, if you would be so kind as to remove your duster and armor.”

“Wait, what?” I asked in shock, "Why?”

“How else am I supposed to fit you with a new suit you silly foal!” she motioned coyly.

“New suit?” I asked, “While I appreciate the gesture, I like what I’m wearing.”

“Oh no, it just won't do darling! Even a Regulator such as yourself needs to look his best every once in a while!” the unicorn used her magic to forcefully take off my duster, which upon closer inspection, was indeed starting to fade in certain places. “I'm sure your line of work leaves little time to go window shopping, but that's no excuse to be sporting such a dreadful piece! And that armor has quite definitely seen better days.” she lifted me in the air using her magic and removed my armor as well, spinning me in the air several times before I fell on the ground, leaving me in nothing more than my natural, charcoal black coat.

“How do you know about armor?” I managed to ask, “Better question: how did you know I’m a Regulator…?” I asked, eyeing the unicorn with mistrust. I charged my magic; near invisible energy wrapped itself around Negotiator. A precaution I told myself, but I knew well it was paranoia slowly taking over. I could feel sweat beads form in my brow, my heart quicken its beating. How could this mare know what I was? Had she been following me? Was she a Cultist? No, she couldn’t be; she looked too well kept, to formal and innocent…

Then how did she know?

I looked at her, desperately attempting to read her expression. I could almost see myself drawing Negotiator, bullet in barrel, ready to fire…

The unicorn gave me a look of sudden understanding. At first, she seemed to tense up, then her eyes filled with sudden realization as she smiled at me. She pointed at my duster, towards an outer pocket I had somehow neglected to close. “Part of your badge is showing darling,” she said in a peppy manner.

Sure enough, the small leather wallet that held my badge was flipped open, showing a small bit of the shield-like emblem with the letters LATOR in plain view.

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

“Right,” I said, clearing my throat, and reaching over to shove the badge deeper into my pocket. I secretly let out a sigh of relief, discharging my magic and relaxing; the unicorn wasn’t some enemy agent.

I turned to look at her, expression somewhat hardening. “Who do you think you are? Telling me what to do?”

“Oh,” the unicorn suddenly exclaimed, a look of great shock flashed on her face, “where are my manners? My name is Rarity Diamant; I am this town's most prolific fashion designer. I work with it all, including armor. As a matter of fact, most of the orders I get are from rich Canterlotians who wish to have their suits reinforced with all matter of bulletproof materials.”

“Canterlot?” I asked, “That’s the capital. Security in Canterlot’s supposed to be extremely tight. If they’re having trouble then...”

“Then what darling?” Rarity asked, curious as to what I was going to say.

“...Nothing.” I said with a dismissive shake of my hoof.

“Well,” the unicorn went on, “I hear criminals are becoming bolder and more hostile. Many of my clients feel the need to enhance their personal safety.” She sighed, “No one is safe from those--” she stopped suddenly as she shook her hoof in the air with fury. “Scum!” she yelled out in rage. Her use of the word “scum” completely caught me off guard; I had expected her to use a more “refined” word like ruffian.

“Yes, I can't think of a more fitting term for them than scum.” she looked at me almost guiltily. “…Oh dear, there I am going off again…” she levitated my duster into the air, carefully inspecting it. “I can have this duster all primed and prepped in a few hours, maybe less. I’ll even make sure to reinforce it with something light but sturdy.” she levitated my armor next. “Now this: this is a travesty; a crime against both fashion and personal defense. I don’t even need to test its protective rating to know that this suit wouldn’t even stop the lowest caliber handgun round. It should be a crime to wear such a thing in public.”

I scowled. “Now listen here; that armor’s been with me for quite the long time. It’s saved my ass more times than I can count, plus, it’s enchanted; rune’s make sure bullets don’t penetrate.”

“This armor is falling apart at the seams!” Rarity exclaimed, “It’s outdated and a threat to its user!” she shook her head, smiling with what looked like… excitement?

“It’s been years since the last time I gave my skills a test. This right here,” she spun the suit in the air once before setting it down over a pony shaped mannequin, “this is just the kind of challenge I’ve been yearning for. It just screams ‘fix me; I’m poor and outdated.’” The unicorn giggled as she pranced towards a closet. She used her magic to pop it open and float out all sorts of materials ranging from simple fabrics to hefty looking metals. She turned back to face me with a wide grin. “I shall rebuild your armor! I’ll make it better, more resistant, more durable, and above all else, I’ll make it fashionable!”

“Now hold on just one second here,” I said in a stern tone, “I haven’t agreed to any of this. I don’t have the time; I’ve got important business elsewhere.”

“That’s fine!” Rarity said in a cheery manner, “You can go about your business as usual! I work best when I’m alone you know.”

“That’s not the point!” I almost yelled, “The point is that you can’t just go around plucking strangers off the street and dragging them into your business just because of how they are dressed; that’s borderline pony napping. I have half a mind to place you under arrest.”

“I’m so sorry officer…” she stopped, motioning at me with her hoof.

I sighed in reply. “Bogart.” I said unceremoniously, “Sergeant Bogart Maltese.”

“Bogart Maltese you say? That’s quite the lovely name darling,” the unicorn smiled as she placed a hoof on her chin, “a tad human in nature, but still quite a lovely name.”

“Sounds human because it is human;” I replied rather quickly, “I’m from the Federation.”

“The Federation?!” the unicorn said with a gasp, “That’s quite a long way away! How did you end up here in Equestria darling?”

“Well…” I started, but then I shut my mouth close, letting out a rather bitter sounding sigh. “That’s a long story; one I’m not willing to divulge to any stranger who asks.” I closed my eyes as memories came flooding into me, many bitter. “It’s… unique.”

While it’s true that I was born in Federation soil, where and when was a total mystery to me; I had no memory of who my parents were or what happened to them. Far as my recollection went, all I could recall was being a street urchin, running around with a gang of mixed races; other outcasts that, like me, had banded together to stay alive in the harsh, unforgiving streets.

My life as an outcast however, soon came to a swift end the day the authorities got fed up of our kind. By mandate of some politician, the federation troopers started eradicating gangs. Many died. I was among the lucky ones; I was rounded up and tossed into a youth rehabilitation program in the hopes of, well, being “rehabilitated.”

I would spend the next seven years in this program. I guess I was eleven when this happened.

I can’t recall my early years in this place however; the only clear image is of me laying down facing some white ceiling and a number: 5675. Perhaps that was my assigned numerical name? I’m not entirely sure. Regardless, I was eventually set “free.”

“I understand darling.” Rarity said with sympathetic eyes. “What brought you over to Equestria?” she then asked me.

“I came looking for my roots.” I answered truthfully.When I was seventeen, I was finally given my freedom after being deemed “rehabilitated.” I was truthfully different; no longer was I attracted to a life of crime, but instead harbored a strong hatred for it. In retrospect, this was when I first developed my moral code, one I still follow to this day.After earning my “freedom” I decided to seek out my roots.

“But you said you were born in the Federation. Wouldn’t your roots be there?” Rarity asked.

“Being an equine, I was certain to find records of who I was here in Equestria.” I bitterly chuckled, shaking my head. “I got caught up in a lot of bullshit because of it; ended up in fighting in the war.”

I shook my head. “Civil Protection,” I replied, “I joined before the Regime came to power. I then served through the war under their mandate; worked my way up the ranks and got my own unit. Then, we lost the war…” Had my own men turn their backs on me and nearly kill me… I thought to myself. “Thankfully, I was accepted into the Regulators due to my history in the war. I’m still serving to this day, mostly to clear my conscious of unsavory acts...”

“I see…” Rarity said with a tone that suddenly sounded sad. At the same time, her voice showed doubt over my story. I wasn’t entirely sure, but part of me told me that she was on to the fact that I was covering some of my own history…

“Well, what brings you to Ponyville?” Rarity suddenly asked, switching gears almost instantly from suspect to lively. “You mentioned you had a task at hoof?”

“Yes,” I replied, “the majority of that task is classified, but I guess I do need the help. I need to locate the town’s Citizen Records office, but, well… I’m lost on your town’s layout.” I rubbed the back of my head, all the while looking lost. “Damn; this town is unlike anything I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Town’s quite the diamond in the rough, isn’t it?” Rarity said, “Lovely and safe from all those scumbags that like to tear down civilized order at every possible opportunity.”

“Yeah…” I said, looking out the window and into the pristine blue sky. Ponyville was, by all accounts, a paradise. Last time I saw the clear sky was when Celestia and Luna still led the country.

“Oh, there I go again with my outbursts. I am really sorry you have to hear me like this. It’s just that, I really wish I could do something about all those ruffians running amok; makes me feel so helpless.”

“It really wouldn’t make much a difference. Only way this country’s going back to the way it once was is if it gets hit with a mega-spell.” I chuckled at this statement. Mega-spells were the answer to Man’s Anti-Matter Bombs, the evolution of what they had once called the Atom Bomb.

“Now, isn’t that a bit too jaded on your part?” Rarity asked, giving me a look of concern.

“Believe me; when you’ve lived through what I’ve lived through, coming out of with any feelings at all is an accomplishment worthy of medals and achievements.”

“…I guess--” Rarity started, sighing and looking a tad miserable all of a sudden. She then shook her head in a rather quick manner. “Never mind,” she quickly said, changing her composure and feigning a smile. “Getting back on track; you said you needed help finding your way around town? No problem!” she walked up to her desk and opened a drawer. She then charged her horn with purple energy and levitated out all of its contents. Papers, parchments, and books floated all round Rarity in a circle. As this happened, she seemed to inspect each piece with a careful eye, as if hoping to spot something of importance.

“The citizen’s records office was recently moved to Town Hall darling,” Rarity said as she looked over the papers and parchments, “which is itself located north of here, in the business district. By hoof, it would take you about four hours to get there, but you’re in luck; there’s a subway that runs directly there.” She suddenly smiled as she singled out a yellow and green pamphlet. “There you are!” she carefully floated the rest of her drawer’s contents back into the drawer all the while levitating the pamphlet towards me. “This is a map of the subway system. It will tell you exactly where you need to go and what sub to take.”

“Thanks, uh, Miss Diamant is it?” I asked. While I could just call her by her first name, that would be rather impolite towards her. Part of me wanted to come off as civil, especially after the way I had acted towards her earlier. I half smiled as I looked her in the eye. “I can call you that right? Just calling you by first name feels wrong.”

“Rarity will do Darling.” The unicorn replied with a smile and a pair of big bright eyes.

“Right,” I myself said as I took a step back from the mare. “Now, about my stuff,” I said, quickly changing the subject. “Be honest with me: are my outfits really in that need of repairs?” I asked, feeling somewhat concerned over my armor and duster.

“Yes,” Rarity said with a wave of her hoof. “To be blunt with you darling; sending you on your way wearing that deathtrap of a suit of armor is the equivalent of me personally shooting you.” she looked me in the eye, somewhat worried over her words. She took stock of my reaction. I of course, showed no emotion over her words. She notices this and relaxed. She shook her head and walked towards my two outfits, which were now over a pair of white pony mannequins. “I’m sorry, but that is something I cannot allow.”

“Okay…” I said, somewhat taken back by the Rarity’s sudden show of determination over outfit matters. I could see a fire burn in her eyes, feel a sort of energy flowing from her very being; a flame that burned bright and hot.

I set this out of my mind for a moment as something else dawned on me: the price this was going to run me. My Credstick had access to about twenty thousand Bits; money I had rounded up over the course of five months. I wasn’t a big spender, I got by with the bare necessities - food, electricity, and some entertainment - and that was it. My pay as Regulator - coupled with money from small jobs here and there, mostly security detail - served to further add to my pool of funds. By spending so little, I rounded up quite a small fortune, of which I kept several hundred bits in a small bag just for such occasions as this. I looked Rarity in the eye, putting on my best shrewd salesman’s face. “How many bits are we talking about here?

Rarity laughed in a soft and gracious manner. She shook her head and smiled. “My sister’s going to kill me for this, but I’ll do it for free; the suit and the Duster.” she walked up my two outfits and let out another laugh. “Yup, she’s going to give me the talk of the century…”

I looked at her with some concern, but then another thing entered my mind. She had mentioned having a sister and I was somewhat curious to know who she was referring to. “Sister?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Rarity replied, “my younger sibling: Sweetie Belle. Quite the lovely filly, but she can be quite… assertive, especially when it comes to money.”

“How old is she?” I asked out of curiosity.

“She’s sixteen.” Rarity replied.

Sixteen… I said to myself. My mind suddenly and unwittingly started recalling how the scum of Equestria had a thing for young fillies. Bastards took pleasure in ravaging youth and innocence, raping the very future of this country. My face turned white as the horrid images played in my mind…

I shook my head and looked at Rarity’s eyes. “Keep her safe...” I said in a surprisingly commanding tone, one that stemmed from experience rather than precaution.

“I will.” Rarity replied with a somewhat confused look. I smiled at her, and she smiled back as the meaning of my words dawned on her. At that, I felt a strange link to her, almost as if she somehow understood me clearly. It was something I hadn’t experienced since…

Her…

Two years have passed, and the pain’s still as fresh as if it had happened only yesterday. For the longest time, that very pain had driven me forward; the desire to vindicate her death, to make the bastards pay, being the fire that gave me purpose.

Eventually, reason took over my mind and reminded me of who I was; what I was. Vindication was still coming, but it no longer was due to some desire to extract revenge, but to ensure no such tragedy befell others.

Still, every so often, I would recall her death, and the feelings of rage would fill me, drive me…

Revenge was alive and well in me, slowly poisoning me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I had some pressing matters at hand.

I opened my eyes and faced Rarity with a rather neutral face. “You mentioned you would do the work for free?” I asked.

“Yes.” Rarity quickly replied.

“Free?” I asked again, this time showing signs of disbelief. “Are you sure? I can pay good bits.” I said, reaching for my credstick.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Rarity replied, placing a hoof on my forelimb and lowering it. “It’s not every day that I get to work my magic on something that desperately needs it. I can tell both the suit and duster have a history. Besides, I need to do my part to make sure the streets are safe.”

“And what does fixing my suit have to do with keeping the streets safe?” I asked, raising my eyebrow in the process.

“You are a Regulator; keeping you alive is enough to guarantee the streets will be safe.” Rarity replied, smiling soon as she finished her words.

“Yeah…” I said. “At any rate,” I continued, “I better get going.”

“Good luck!” Rarity chirped. She walked up to her desk, magicked several pieces of paper, lifted a fancy quill and started drafting suit designs. “Check in later today, I might have your duster ready,” she said without looking back at me.

“Fine by me,” I said in reply. I picked up my saddlebags and strapped them around my waist and back. Now that I was without a duster, the bags made me look like some hiker about to embark on a long journey.

I picked up Deckard’s case, with my hoof, but it slipped, hitting the floor rather loudly. Rarity turned back to see what the commotion was, at which point she laid eyes on me. “Is that your luggage?” she asked in a somewhat concerned tone. She pointed towards my saddlebags first, then down to Deckard’s case. Upon seeing it, she smiled rather broadly. “I didn’t know you played the violin,” she remarked with excitement.

“I know it looks like a violin case, but believe me when I say that what’s inside is quite the deadly little instrument.” I said with a rather devious smile.

Rarity loss some of her smile at my words, laughing a bit nervously. I wasn’t entirely sure if she got my meaning, or had instead come up with something completely different.

“Yeah…” Rarity said as she rolled her eyes. Suddenly, her expression changed. “Oh darling,” she suddenly remarked, “you don't need to drag your things around town like some kind of vagrant. You can leave them here. They'll be quite safe I can assure you.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but I’d rather have my things with me.” I replied.

“Are you sure?” Rarity asked, “Ponyville is a rather large town.”

“That’s fine, really,” I lied. “I’ll just carry all my stuff around like a good soldier.”

“Do you have a place to stay at least?” she suddenly asked.

“Well…”

“You don’t have a place to stay the night, do you?” Rarity interrupted me, sounding dead serious.

I shook my head in reply.

“If that’s the case, then I will have to insist you stay the night as my guest.” Rarity said with a smile.

“Wait, what?” I suddenly retorted, somewhat dumbfounded by Rarity’s words.

“You heard correct; you are staying the night as my guest.”

“No,” I said in a rather bothered tone, “That’s not necessary. I’ll rent a room, a--”

“Darling!” Rarity interrupted, looking at me with a slightly angry glare, “You are staying the night as my guest; end of story,” she said sternly before going back to her work.

“Fine...” I said with some resentfulness, feeling as if I was being treated like a foal rather than a stallion. This Mare, she was so assertive, so strong in both voice and will. She really did remind me of her…

Putting all four of my saddlebags on the floor again, I took out a smaller pouch that I could tie around my neck and a small nondescript white dress shirt and tie. I grabbed Negotiator and its holster, a medium sized notepad to write on and my badge, and stuffed all of it into the pouch before turning back to Rarity one more time. I was scowling already. Free board and outfit repairs, all without so much as a single bit paid... either this mare is quite generous, or this is going to end up costing far more...

I made my way out of the boutique. As I walked down the road leading from Rarity's home and shop, I began to feel strange about her attitude. She and I…we were kind of alike, but her attitude was so much closer to my dead partner’s. Either fate was playing with me, or...

No, it couldn't be; it was just a bunch of extremely convenient coincidences; yeah, coincidences.

Then again, in my line of work, coincidences don’t happen that often…

Maybe I was over thinking things - it wouldn’t be the first or last time either. Still, something about Rarity struck me as odd, and it wasn't her personality… It was something else, something more meaningful. She seemed so familiar yet so unknown. I wasn’t a Canterlotian, so I couldn’t verify if she was indeed a famous designer there, though by the looks of her home and shop, she had to have fair revenue. What struck me as almost sinister was how familiar she appeared. Her voice, her looks; all of it came off as eerily known, like some faded memory…

I set off to the nearest subway station, mind still attempting to put this puzzle together.

Pass the needle trough that loop, make sure it goes through that grove there... Just a little more... there! Now just one last pass... Almost got it... there! Perfection!

Raising the now fully-stitched duster up to the light, I smiled with glee at my accomplishment. It might have taken two hours to finish, and I might have gone just a little bit overboard by dying it black after the original coloring came off as dreadfully faded, but none of that mattered one bit. This was what I lived for: the art of the dress!

“Bogart is sure to say a thing or two about the color, but once he hears what went into it, he'll be groveling at my feet in gratitude, and I haven't even started on his armor yet! Oh how he'll worship me after this is over!”

Now Rarity, keep calm and don't get overly excited before the job is done! The duster took two hours, and that was a simple “patch job.” The armor is damaged and quite worn out; you'll have to replace almost all its components.

Now, let’s see here… what kind of plating should I use? Something light yet durable, flexible yet robust, warm yet cool. Steel’s out of the question; too heavy and restrictive. Titanium would be a good choice, but that wouldn’t stop a gauss round. I need something more damage resistant yet light as a feather. Dragon skin would make nice light strong-yet-light armor, but that would mean killing a feral dragon and hiring a hunter would take far too long a time, not to mention the expenses it would call for: weapons, supplies, insurance; all a bit out of reach at the moment.

But of course, Mithril! Why didn’t I think of it earlier? Mithril is light, flexible, night indestructible, and above all else, easy to come by thanks to my suppliers. One call and I can have half a ton delivered in an hour tops. Problem now is that Mithril would take hours to smelt properly. Not sure if Bogart’s willing to stay that long. Oh, but he’s staying the night, of course! I invited him over. I can leave the mithril melting overnight and forge the suit first thing in the morning. Then, I can work all day and have it ready by nightfall. Besides, Bogart’s going to have to stick around to get his armor back; no harm in ensuring he stays put for a little longer.

My thoughts turned to Bogart’s persona as a whole. True, I didn’t know much about the unicorn, but even so, something about him came off as odd; I couldn’t help but feel something unique about him overall. It couldn’t be his looks; he was charcoal black, nothing unique about that. There was the matter of his cutie mark, but he could have had it dyed or something. It couldn’t be his accent; he spoke like your average city pony, rudeness and all. Maybe it was the fact that he’s from out of town? Possible, but that wasn’t it. Could it be that he hailed from Federation soil? No, that wasn’t it either. There was something else, something I couldn’t place my hoof on. He reminds me of a certain someone, from the war…

Oh, I’m just wasting time, time I could be using to start on Bogart’s armor!

But wait; what if he runs into trouble? What if he has to go into the Everfree? The place is a deathtrap; he wouldn’t last more than a few minutes without armor. He’ll need something to wear…

I could always give him my old armor…

“I could do that…” I found myself saying out loud, “I have no further use for it now that the war's long over. But I don't think he'll like it much… I mean, it has Civil Protection's logo on it, and not many people like to remember what they did. Then again, he served with them as well…” I placed a hoof over my chin. “Wonder if that’s why he seems so familiar? He mentioned he had led a squad of soldiers; could that be it?” I shook my head. “Oh Rarity; the past is the past!” I smiled at first, but that quickly devolved as I caught sight of my own image. As I did, I couldn’t help but see the young mare responsible for so much death. “Yeah… the past IS the past… a terrible past; a damned past…” I slowly lowered my head, sighing with sudden sorrow. I could feel tears building up in my eyes.

Dammit Rarity! How many times must you keep going over this; it wasn’t your fault! Yes, ponies died. Yes, ponies suffered; but it wasn’t your fault. You did not pull the trigger; you didn’t kill a soul.

“But I made the guns that did kill.” I sighed, “I was just as responsible as any other soldier.” I looked myself in the mirror and bitterly chuckled. “So much for absolution…” I sighed, slumping on the table.

Five years ago, I had dedicated myself to forging weapons of war. It hadn’t really been a choice, but it did save me from fighting in the front lines.

Making weapons hadn’t been difficult at all, and forging armor was virtually the same as creating dresses, except the materials were a tad more difficult to work with. Overall, working for Civil Protection had netted both myself and Sweetie Belle recognition and fame. But neither of those could change the fact that my weapons had been used to slaughter the innocent while the murderers hid behind my armor. To this day, my reputation still precedes me; a reputation that I am bitterly divided over.

On the one hoof, my name was quite well known in all the upper circles. The rich and influential come to me for protection, and I have delivered every single time.

On the other hoof, my work carries the stigma of the war. I no longer make weapons, but when I did they were greedily sought after; the quality of my “instruments of protection” spoke volumes - more than I could have predicted.

No, I was getting worked up over trivialities. The past is past. I no longer make weapons, and I hoped to never have to touch my gunsmithing tools.

I looked at Bogart's armor and made up my mind. This armor represented my past; cracked, soiled, weak. With my tools and my skill, I would make it whole, clean, and strong.

I picked up my quill and started drafting designs all the while prepping the materials.

The trip took longer than expected; about an hour’s wait for the subway, followed by thirty minutes of travel, and then another thirty of walking.

For the most part, Town Hall looked like one giant library complex, complete with several outlining buildings and a small park, upon which rested a several statues. I recognized several of the monuments as rulers from ages past, there we also several statues dedicated to the founders of Equestria: Commander Hurricane, Chancellor Puddinghead, and Princess Platinum. In the middle of the large park stood one large statue above all others. I immediately recognized her as the first Alicorn to rule the land, Princess Helia, or as the religious nuts at the Church of the dawn call her, Saint Helia. In the same location, a few pegs down, were the statues of Celestia and Luna, both of whom looked up to Saint Helia, as if seeking guidance. Made sense considering Helia had been the pair’s mother.

My gaze left the statues and instead focused on the main doors. I wasn’t sure where the citizen’s records office was located in the Town Hall complex, so my best bet was to ask the receptionist. I took a step forward when I suddenly heard the flapping of wings, followed by rushing wind. Then, I was suddenly struck in the head with something rather heavy.

I let out a groan, closing my eyes and furiously rubbing the spot that had been struck. Within seconds, I clearly heard a soft, almost squeak-like “Oh no!” emanate from somewhere. I looked up at the source of the voice.

Hovering a few feet above me was a gray Pegasus mare. Her mane was a lively blond color; her coat and wings were lightly faded, likely due to a combination of sunlight and exposure. Her eyes were a golden hue, a little lighter than her mane. While she was indeed looking at me, one of her eyes seemed to be wandering about, as if it had a life of its own. I would have loved to say that was her most striking feature, but I would be lying. That honor belonged to her cutie mark; or rather what would have been her cutie mark if there hadn’t been gnarled scar tissue covering most of her flank. I could just barely make out what had once been a trio of bubbles on the very edge of the large patch of scarred skin; my hunch told me that this pegasus had either tried to remove her own cutie mark or somepony else had tried to do it for her. I wasn’t sure which possibility disturbed me the most…

“I’m so sorry mister!” the gray Pegasus said in a soft tone, “I was flying like a bird, about to drop off my delivery when I accidentally dropped it on your head! Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said in a somewhat annoyed tone, rubbing my head right in the spot the package had drooped on. “I’ll live.”

“Oh, that’s swell!” the Pegasus said in a cheery tone. Had she been standing on the ground, she would have likely skipped. She lowered her altitude and landed rather gracefully next to me. I used my magic to pick up her package, which I levitated towards her. She grabbed the box in her hooves and smiled appreciatively. She then reached for her saddlebags – blue bags with the emblem of the local courier company: a winged parcel – and slipped the box in. She then turned to me with a broad smile. “Thank you kindly!” She said as she reached into her right saddlebag and pulled out a rather big muffin. “For you!”

“Thank you…” I said in a somewhat taken back manner. I took the baked good out of politeness and smiled.

I hadn’t noticed it until now, but judging from the sun’s position, it was getting late, and I still hadn’t eaten any breakfast. I was starting to get quite hungry. My stomach suddenly growled, prompting me to start eating the muffin without a second thought.

“You sure are hungry mister! I can’t blame you; muffins are delicious!”

“Yeah, that was a damn good muffin,” I said after taking the last bite. “Where can a colt like me get more?”

“Oh, that’s real easy,” the Pegasus said with a wide smile, “I get all my pastries – especially muffins – from Sugarcube Corner, the best bakery in this or any town!” she pointed westward. “Follow that road, go through the shopping district, and finally make a left. You’ll get to the shop; a building made to look like a gingerbread house. You can’t miss it mister!”

“I see,” I said. I took out my notepad and wrote down the directions. I made a note to double check the directions once I got a hold of a proper map. At the same time, I made a small note to investigate who this Pegasus was, and why her rump was so scarred.

I closed my notepad and turned to face the gray Pegasus. “Thanks for the info. I’ll be sure to drop by for some grub.”

“No problem mister!” the gray Pegasus said with a cheery smile. She then flapped her wings and took to the air. “Now, I need to finish this delivery as fast as lighting! It was nice talking to you mister, and sorry about the package.”

“No harm done.” I said in a surprisingly cheery manner. She then took off to the north, going through some low laying clouds, disappearing from sight.

I looked on for a few more seconds before turning back to face Town Hall’s stairs. I cracked my neck and started walking up towards the large double doors. In my mind, I formulated my goals: find the info I need, get a map, and if possible, get a guide.

Sounds easy enough… so why did I have this feeling in my gut?

Generosity is nothing else than a craze to possess. All which I abandon, all which I give, I enjoy in a higher manner through the fact that I give it away. To give is to enjoy possessively the object which one gives.

-Jean-Paul Sartre