Open wounds. Viscous sanguine seeped through my black mane, a crimson stain like the mane of the Grey Arbitress. It congealed around my eye, clinging to my coat just as the smell of sweat and blood lingered around me. My vision darkened at the edges, threatening loss of consciousness before I completed the job, but the amount of adrenaline coursing through my veins kept me functioning. I knew his secondary form was a minotaur, but I'd still paid for it in blood.

I was in no state to continue fighting, but I was in better condition than Blackthorn, who had somehow retained the energy to speak between bloody coughs as he lay sprawled on the floor of his safehouse. Fortunate, because I still had questions, even if I did shoot before asking them.

“What're you waiting for, eh?” he said, spitting out a tooth. “Just finish it already.”

I found a roll of paper towels on the kitchen counter-top. I didn't bother ripping off a sheet, instead rubbing the whole roll around my eye. I dropped the knife.

“Tell me something first.” I said.

I think he tried to arch an eyebrow, but the pain was too great and winced instead. Oddly, he began laughing, a laugh interspersed with cries of pain.

“Why-” he said. “Why would I tell you anything?”

“Because if you want revenge, you'll help me.” I said. “You know why I came for you right?”

“'Cause of the transformation relic.” he said, spitting the sentence.

I nodded. “Let me tell you a story.”

I gave Blackthorn an account of my actions, how I followed and killed Shrike and Bouros, how I got captured, how I was forced into this work. I mentioned the Grey Arbitress and her deal, but left out the part about my own transformation relic. I expected him to die right in front of me at any moment, but he needed to understand. I needed him to believe me.

“We want the same thing, Blackthorn. We want all this to stop, we want that mare's head on a pike, we want to disappear into the shadows and live in peace.” I said. “If there's anything you know, beyond what I know, you have to tell me.”

When I finished my account, he was silent for a time, staring at the floor.

“That's-” he coughed. “You expect me to believe you? Fuck you. Besides, I won't care when I'm dead. If you're telling the truth, then you're on your own.”

I felt the stud in my ear. It burned. It wanted me to change. I would indulge it.

“What you're about to see, only two others have seen. One of them is dead.” I said.

I twisted the stud. I'd become more accustomed to the pain in the last week, but it still tore at me, like my soul was trying to escape this body, in search of another that might treat it with more care. The disorientation combined with the wounds I'd already sustained might've caused me to black out, but I kept it together, if only just.

Shell walked into the office first, making a beeline for his chair. Spyglass didn't think it was possible to sit down in an angry way, but Shell did it. The armrest was still broken.

Princess Twilight hadn't been able to add anything of consequence to the case file, and after a whole day of making exactly zero progress, Shell was at the end of his fuse. If it hadn't been for Spyglass placating him the whole way back, Shell might've been sectioned the moment he checked in at the front desk. On spyglass's desk was a letter.

Shell chewed on a pen, before flinging it across the room. “Fuck.” he said. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

“There'll be other opportunities to talk to the Apple family.” Spyglass said.

“I wanted to talk to 'em today!” Shell said. “Not at a later, as-yet-unspecified date.”

Spyglass took the letter and began opening it. “So what now?”

“I got the financial records on the 'hot stuff' casters. Turns out they all got payments from 'Das Kuicck'.” Shell said.

“So we're sure? 'Das Kuicck' is Python?” Spyglass said. “Useless information. That only confirms our suspic-”

Spyglass truncated his sentence when he read the contents of the letter. He narrowed his eyes at it.

“What?” Shell said.

“I have no idea.” Spyglass said after a time. He passed the letter to Shell, who began reading.

Agents,

I understand you're still looking for an individual connected with the killings in the crystal caverns i.e. me. Since you haven't found me yet, I'd guess you're running out of leads by now.

I intend to give you a chance to find me.

I am looking for someone, an individual I know as the Grey Arbitress. If I find her, I intend to kill her.

Now that you know this, your only chance at finding me is by getting to her first. Overleaf I have attached a description of the mare in question, all that I have learned of her.

Good luck, agents. I'll see you at the finish line.

unsub

Shell tossed the letter and envelope on his desk.

“You ever hear of anything like this happening before?” asked Shell.

“Never.”

“You're-”

“-one of you? Yeah.” I said, flexing my fingers. He didn't seem surprised at my human form. Perhaps he thought it inconsequential now the end of his life was within throwing distance.

“Why? You're hunting your own kind.” he said. “There's a special place in Tartarus for...things like you.”

“I don't have a choice.”

“There's always a choice.”

“Not for me.” I said. “But if you can tell me something, anything, that will change. I can beat them, but I need information.”

Blackthorn coughed up some more blood. Given that a lot of it was already painted around the safehouse, I didn't think he had much left to spare.

“Canterlot.” he said. “That's where they operate. There's a name too: Python. That's-” he spluttered. More blood and saliva. “-that's what they call themselves.”

Python, I thought, committing it to memory. I hadn't come across that name before, one that was worth running past my ECMB pursuers.

“How do you know all this?” I asked.

“They sent others.” he said. “They talked after I started cuttin' their eyelids off.”

“You'd have done the same to me?”

“Yeah.”

“Glad I came out on top.”

“I'm not.”

“At least we agree on that.”

“You'd better get somethin' done, though.”

“What if I don't?”

“Well.” he said, finding the strength to chuckle amidst his encroaching death. “See you on the other side.”

We shared a short silence, in which I had time to reflect on our situation. It could easily be me lying in a shallow pool of my own blood with Blackthorn towering over my broken body. Watching him now, he began to shiver. I could see his eyes becoming heavier – to shut them for longer than a moment would mean never opening them again. Even if I left now, he'd die. In the end, the peace, the cessation of pursuit and perpetual hiding, would come to him. The peace that comes to all things that wither and die. We are all guaranteed it. One might think it strange that all living beings should run from it.

“Did you know Zecora?” I asked.

“Everyone like us does.” he said. “She still kickin'?”

I shook my head. “I killed who did it though.”

“Really?”

“Made 'em suffer too.”

I suspected that Blackthorn tried to laugh, but instead he produced only shallow breaths.

“This road you're on-” he said. Every one of his words required herculean effort now. “Beings like you and me? We can't change-” he coughed. Precious energy wasted. “-our nature. Normal life,we don't know how to live it. Even if you win, you won't know what to do with what you've gained. I've lived it enough times to know.”

“I'll find a way.” I said. “I always do.”

Blackthorn's eyes were now closed. His chest no longer rising and falling. I thought him expired until he defied his death throes for a few more seconds.

“What's... your name?” he asked.

I couldn't hide my surprise, but he probably didn't notice. He put every last ounce of effort into his words.

“Anon.” I replied.

“Kill those fucks for me Anon... tell 'em I sent you.”

“As if I could refuse a dying wish.”

“Fuck-” he began, eventually completing his dying words. “-you.”

There was no death rattle, or sudden release of body fluids. It was like he just drifted off to sleep. I think that's the way I'd like to go, if I could choose. I imagined the truth was probably closer to that of Reed's death, but I quickly put the thought from my head. One death is enough for one day.

Following his passing, I took the liberty of using his bathroom, as he was no longer in need of it. I examined myself in the mirror, taking in the extent of the damage and trying to think of excuses to explain away the scars that would form.

With my face, mane and coat mostly clean, I set to work. Those agents needed to know their unsub was here.

I travelled back to Ponyville, planning my next move while I gazed out the window of the train. Summer descended upon Equestria a month and a half ago, meaning the solstice, or Summer Sun Festival, wasn't far off. My first summer since coming here. Before, I would have had a hard time believing so much change was possible in half a year.

Maddie was right – I do have a natural tendency to insert myself into dangerous situations. I thought about Blackthorn's final words. If there was any truth to them, I'd spend the rest of my life in danger, whatever form it took.

I hoped I'd made messages explicit enough for the agents to find. If not, another letter would be in order once I got back to my flat. Then there was the business of the Grey Arbitress. I'd need to hang out a dreamcatcher to deliver Blackthorn's transformation relic to her. I also owed the Apples a short visit, just to catch up and have an excuse to drink cider.

It had taken me an entire week to track down Blackthorn, the first of the names given to me. During that time, life in Ponyville had somehow returned to a steady state, as though someone was manipulating the status quo. Applebloom was now out of therapy, and doing fine. Applejack had forgiven me for sending them away, after convincing them everything was fine when exactly the opposite was true.

Big Mac had been less forgiving, saying I should have been the one to tell him rather than Applejack, and that anything involving his family also involved him. I ceded to his argument and apologised. I even went out of my way to lend a helping hoof at the farm, but he never quite forgave me. It was better that way, I imagined.

Twilight too had forgotten about my activities, or so it seemed. Either that, or she was very good at hiding her morbid fascination with my work. Spike, true to his word, had left untouched all the books and documents I deigned to remove from the library.

He could have put it all away weeks ago. Nothing contained in any book or public document made even the vaguest allusion to my mysterious mare, though it was worth trawling through them again in search of Python. I thought it strange that a single pegasus could tell me more in his final minutes than mountains of books could do in hours of reading.

Canterlot was my other useful piece of information. Blackthorn may have been lying to me, but he had little to gain by doing so, other than making my work harder. The notion may have been naïve, but I didn't peg him for a pony that would mislead me out of mere spite. He hadn't survived as long as he did by acting according to his emotions as and when they took him. He was a pragmatist, a survivor, and in the end, I don't think he hated me for killing him. Perhaps he wasn't too dissimilar from myself.

After all, they do say it takes one to know one. Perhaps that contributed to the Grey Arbitress's decision to make me work rather than kill me.

Rainbow Dash and I crossed paths outside the train station. She was wearing thigh-length black leggings, sweatbands and not much else, par for ponies. In my jacket, we must have looked like a strange pair to passers-by. I never did get out of the habit of wearing clothes.

It occurred to me that I never spoke to her following Zecora's death. Neither of us seemed too eager to talk about it, and since there was nothing else connecting us, it was natural we drifted apart. Fate decided we should talk more, so we agreed to catch up over lunch.

Most of the time, I only ate in two places: my flat, and the Settle Inn. Not because I loved my own cooking, or the slop Black Bean serves up, but because those were the places I spent most of my time. It's natural I would eat there.

My flat was not the ideal location for what I guessed was a lunch date, being that I made quite plain meals for myself. Rainbow Dash deserved a little better. The Settle Inn looks like the place where dignity goes to die, so that was also out of the question. My mind drew blanks after that, and I realised how little I knew of Ponyville. There was always Sugarcube Corner, but I didn't feel much like smiling, or seeing Pinkie Pie. She couldn't accept that I always look like I'm scowling. I blame the transformation relic for that particular facial expression.

Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, was eager to see her hyperactive friend. Not ever one to trample on other's feelings, I indulged her.

Pinkie Pie was as mad as I remembered. I wondered if she was born with her 'gift', or if she had to learn it. Exactly what that gift is, I couldn't place, but it annoyed me more than was reasonable. I wondered if anyone would tolerate her if she wasn't an element bearer.

“You don't have to think so hard about conversation.” Rainbow Dash said from across the table. I had my chin propped up on my hoof, staring at nothing in particular. My coffee was developing a frothy film having been untouched for a while. I was thinking hard, wondering if I should point out the elephant in the room. “Seriously, I'm nothing if not laid-back. I know you've got a reputation for always serious, all the time, but it doesn't bother me. Feel free to talk about your dark and mysterious past.”

I laughed. “No, actually, I think I need to be here right now. I need some time off. Get my head on straight. You know how it is.”

“Time off eh?” she said, munching on a muffin. “Well if you're in town for a while, you can come drinking with me and Soarin'.”

“An open invitation to get drunk with the coolest pegasus around?” I said, or mocked. “I'd be a fool not to.”

Rainbow Dash gave a wry smile. “Well, I'm taking a risk being seen with someone as deeply uncool as you. I've got a reputation to uphold.”

“So do I.”

“You have to work on that reputation? I thought it came naturally.”

“Hey I work damn hard.”

“And ponies still cross the street to avoid you. Must suck.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.”

She took on a gruff voice. “'I'm Anon. You better not mess with me. Look at all my badass scars.'”

“Oh yeah?” I laughed. I put on a falsetto. “'I'm Rainbow Dyke. Say I'm awesome or I'll get mad.”

“Fuck you.”

“Likewise.”

We chuckled and shared the ensuing silence. I made a start on my drink. Say what you like about Pinkie Pie, she's a good cook, and makes a fine coffee. I should know; I'm fuelled by the stuff.

I didn't expect Rainbow Dash to be easy to talk to, only if you fed her ego a little. If I took her up on her offer, I might have another to call a friend by the end of the week. God knows I could use more of them right now. God and Twilight.

“There's also the Summer Sun festival coming up.” she said, through a mouthful of muffin. “There are worse ways to spend your time than celebrating the longest day.”

“I was thinking about that on the train.” I said. “It'll be my first since coming here.”

“You've been missing out.” she said. “You've even got someone to go with.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Word on the street is-” she gulped some coffee. “-you and AJ are pretty friendly.”

“We've always been friendly.”

“You know what I mean. She's literally the only pony you spend time with out of choice. Dunno what she sees in you.”

“Hang the fuck on, do you think we're seeing each other?”

“Aren't you?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

I made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a cough. “'Why not?'. 'Why not?'. I-” I said. There were a million things I wanted to say, and I tried to say them all at once. “-I don't even know what to say. You're worse than Applebloom.”

“So Applebloom sees it as well.” she said. “You could do worse.”

“Is this your way of saying you're in the running?” I said. Rainbow Dash is headstrong, loyal, and a good flier. She's also quick to redden in the face of embarrassment.

“What? No. No!” she said. Pink stands out quite well against blue. I cheered inside.

“Jealous you can't have a dashing stallion like me all to yourself?” I said, trying out my best knowing smile.

“That's not it! I could have anyone!”

“Except you don't.”

“How would you know?”

“I'm a private eye, Rainbow Dash. I know everything.”

“Oh yeah?” she said. “What's my favourite book?”

“Daring Do and the Ring of Destiny.”

The conversation lulled. The calm before the storm. Then we chortled until our sides hurt. Pinkie Pie, never one to miss out on the fun, joined us in laughing. Her obliviousness to what just happened made Rainbow Dash and I laugh even harder. I think we went on for a whole minute.

“Ooh, that was funny.” Rainbow Dash said. “Y'know, you're not half as bad as ponies say.”

“That's-”

“-yeah! Anon just pretends to be a big old meanie when inside he's as sweet and gentle and caring like Fluttershy! Well maybe not quite as sweet and gentle and caring as Fluttershy but he's getting there! He just needs to laugh more, so I, doctor Pie, prescribe daily visits to Sugarcube Corner to take lessons in fun with Pinkie Pie! And then after that-”

“Pinkie!” Rainbow Dash said. “We get it.”

“Okie-dokie-lokie!” Pinkie said, sensing the fun was at an end and leaving.

“This is precisely why I almost never come here.” I said, Pinkie Pie out of earshot.

Rainbow Dash laughed again. One more bout and my sides might split.

“I'm flattered you think I'm good enough for AJ, but our relationship is nothing like that.”

She shrugged. “Maybe it should be.”

I shook my head, more out of exasperation than disagreement. It seemed there was no winning this argument, so I let it go.

We finished our food over some small talk and went our separate ways. There seemed to be a growing interest among others with my love life, which was interesting, because it didn't exist. In a way, it was helpful to my reputation. Rumours about my shady work might be crushed under more lucrative rumours about my mysterious love interests.

Haha, jokes on you, Rarity. Your gossipy nature might actually be useful for once.

I didn't get up to much for the rest of the day. I didn't hang a dreamcatcher in my window after lunch either. I felt there was much to be done tomorrow. They'd always come at night, use a spell to make me unconscious, and take me to their base of operations. I'd wake up in the same room in which Ferrite beat me to a near bloody pulp. Following the conclusion of my business, they'd knock me out again, and I'd wake up in bed the next day, feeling a little woozy.

At least I knew which city they were taking me to now. It also explained why they needed a whole day to have a conversation that only lasts twenty minutes – they've got to transport my heavy, unconscious body to Canterlot and back.

How they managed that without being seen was a mystery.

I spent the rest of the afternoon working out my next move. The agents would find my next message soon, if they hadn't already. What I needed now was manpower. Allies. Ponies I could rely on.

Only two names came to mind – Maddie and Twilight. Neither were ideal. Maddie because his only allegiance is to the bit, and Twilight because she'd ask too many questions. That said, with the money I'm about to receive for bagging Blackthorn, I could buy limitless hours of help from Maddie.

Not to mention he wormed his way into the Canterlot archives.

That was my next move. Twilight was right – I needed help. I don't think she had Maddie in mind though.

Spyglass strutted into the office. Shell was going through some filing cabinets, engaged in the endless act of cross-referencing information. Their case had made little progress, and they had yet to act on their unsub's letter.

They did read its contents, however. Their unsub gave a concise version of his activities. A deadly mare, blackmailing him to work, to kill. According to him, his targets are connected, and he would inform them by leaving messages at the crime scenes. What the connection was, however, he didn't write.

Their eventual visit to Sweet Apple Acres bore no fruit. Despite Spyglass's and Shell's skill in witness intimidation, they got no information that wasn't already available to them.

The letter still lay on Shell's table, half opened. It taunted them every day. Soon, Shell thought, he'd have no choice but to act on it. Their leads were exhausting themselves at a worrying rate.

“Anaylsis is back on the letter.” Spyglass said.

“Let's hear it.”

“The ink, well, they can't trace it. It's sold everywhere. The paper and envelope is interesting though. It's quality stuff, the same they use for royal correspondence. It's only sold in Canterlot, and only then from a couple of places.”

“So our unsub lives in Canterlot, or at least goes there frequently.”

“Did we find out how he knew we were tryin' to find him?” Spyglass asked.

“No. There's more than a few crooked agents and cops around. He could have paid off any one of 'em.” Shell said.

A silence permeated the air. Neither pony dared speak their mind, for fear of the other chastising them. Eventually, Shell spoke first.

“Should we make a start on his letter? If it's genuine, he's totally right. We gotta find this Grey Arbitress character before he does.”

“Fucked if I'm gonna do his work for him. Don't you see? He's playing us.” Spyglass said.

“Then we'll play him! What else can we do?”

It was about midday the next day when I disembarked from the train. Canterlot was in the midst of preparation for the Summer Sun festival. Bunting. Barriers had been erected. More royal guards on duty. The anticipation was palpable. I ignored it for the most part and walked a convoluted route south to the Bull & China, to throw off any stalkers. It was important that the Grey Arbitress knew nothing of my relationship with Maddie.

In the distance, I heard fighting.

I cantered towards the Bull & China, no longer taking a complex route. Rounding the corner, I saw the devastation. The windows were blown out and half the furnishings lay destroyed in the alley. The distinctive sound of a unicorn fight echoed around me. I didn't understand. Nobody touched Maddie. Nobody was that stupid.

I pressed myself up against the wall, peering in through the broken window. Three unicorns crouched behind several upturned tables were shooting spells through the saloon-style doors to the kitchen. They were all injured. Around them lay the lifeless bodies of Maddie's crew.

I couldn't let Maddie die. I needed him.

All three unicorns had their backs turned to me. If I were a unicorn myself, this would be an easy fight. I cursed the relic for morphing me into an earth pony as opposed to a unicorn.

I picked up a shard of glass in my teeth and moved through the window, only moving when the sound of the spells covered the sound of my hooves. Five meters, three meters. They hadn't noticed me yet.

I stepped on broken glass about two meters from my targets. Two continued their barrage into the kitchen, but one turned around. He began charging a spell, but it was too late. I lunged with the glass, burying it deep in his neck, and pulled it out in two swift motions.

It's an astonishing sight to puncture the carotid artery. There's enough pressure that close to the heart to make the blood spurt out like a bloody fountain. It painted the ceiling, me, and the two other unicorns.

I swung my head around to the unicorn on my left, who had just noticed me. Like his now-dead brethren, he began charging a spell.

Spells. Powerful, but slow.

The glass made a long, deep cut across his throat. His hooves went to stem the deadly flow of blood from his neck. Maybe five seconds of life left in him.

I turned to the last unicorn just in time to receive his spell. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't so painful. A thin, orange beam tore through my front left leg, leaving a half-inch hole. I cried in pain, dropping the glass and stumbling backward. I fell on my side, cradling my injured leg.

“I won't miss this time.” my attacker said. His horn glowed again. I shut my eyes.

When I opened them again, he was still stood there. His horn no longer glowing. He was motionless for a time, just staring down at me. I didn't know what to do.

He slumped over, falling on his side. On the side of his head was a small, smoking hole.

“Wow.” I heard Maddie's voice. “That was a massacre.”

“Hey Maddie. A little help.” I said. I'd propped myself up against an upturned table.

“No fuckin' way.” he said. I heard his heavy hooffall come closer. He came around the side of the table and looked down at me. “Well if it ain't Anon. You sure came at a convenient time.”

“So did you.” I said.

“Ah, you can thank Stoke for that one. Gotta say, I think you'll look better without a hole in your head.”

“Well, I guess we're square then.”

“Guess we are.” he said. He shook his head and laughed. “Y'know, you are fucking insane for tryin' to take not one but three unicorns at once.”

“What can I say? I got a death wish.” I said. “I didn't do bad though. I stabbed two of 'em.”

“That you did.” he said. “Come on through to the kitchen, I'll get ya fixed up.”

Shell and Spyglass wouldn't be in Las Pegasus on a normal day. They already had a hard case on their hooves, no reason to take another.

Not unless they received a message.

The message came from local police. Shell and Spyglass received word from Las Pegasus PD that the crime was connected with them. The killer had written them a message. It was watermarked with the victim's blood.

The agents shuffled about the house in their hoof covers. On the floor of the kitchen lay their victim. A pegasus pony. In the bathroom there was a mirror. On the mirror, written in soap, lay the words 'Spyglass and Shell, P.T.O - unsub'. Next to the writing was a smiley face, drawn with the victims blood.

“This is a fuckin' weird week we're havin'.” Shell said. “What're we to think here? Our unsub came here, killed a pony, and left a message for us? Why didn't he send us a letter like before?”

“Maybe the victim is important.” Spyglass said.

“Who is he anyway?”

“His name is Blackthorn, according to his fliers license. We can check his background back at the office.” Spyglass said. He wanted to poke the body like a destructive foal with a stick.

“Did Seaddle PD find anything? Physical evidence?”

Spyglass shook his head.

“No. All they found were brush marks and bleach. Looks like our unsub was careful this time. No hoof marks, no hairs, no blood, no nothin'.”

“We're not findin' anything he didn't want us to find.” Shell said.

“Which would be?”

“I dunno.” Shell said. “I think we'll know when we've found it though.”

“The message on the mirror?” Spyglass said. “He wrote 'please turn over', like on a letter.”

“You can't turn a mirror like a piece of paper.” Shell said. “You'd have to, like, I dunno, take the mirror out of the wall and-”

Shell said nothing for a time. The cogs of his brain fell into place while Spyglass tried to get his attention.

“Hey, Shell, you there?”

“I fuckin' got it! We're some dumb fuckers, y'know?” Shell said, running to the bathroom.

“Speak for yourself.” Spyglass said, out of earshot.

When Spyglass caught up with Shell, he found him working away at the mirror in the bathroom. Running his hooves along the edges, almost caressing it. He told Spyglass to help him remove it.

With a lot of grunting and heaving, the mirror came free. They placed it on the floor and stood back. Attached to the back of the mirror was a note. Shell took it and started reading aloud.

Dear agents,

Congratulations on finding this note. I wondered if the message on the mirror was too cryptic.

I have more information for you:

The Grey Arbitress operates out of Canterlot. She heads an organisation known as 'Python', a name I'm sure you've already come across if you got anywhere with Shrike and Bouros. This is what Blackthorn told me. I am also in her employ, forcibly, not by choice. Blackthorn was the first the Grey Arbitress tasked me to find, there will be more.

Lots of love,

unsub

“Same paper and envelope.” Shell said. “I guess the original letter is genuine then.”

“I guess it is.”

“Interestin' that he says he works for Python.”

“I don't get it. If he works for Python, then why was he involved with the killing of Shrike and Bouros? Aren't they on the same side?”

“Maybe he wasn't even involved. Maybe he just walked in on their dead bodies.” Shell said. “Still doesn't explain how that filly got out alive.”

“It must've been the unsub. Who else?” Spyglass said. A deflated sigh escaped him. “Whatever. He's got what he wants now.”

“Which is?”

“Our interests. They align; that's what he wants.”

Shell sighed. “Let me get this clear in my head: Our unsub is looking for the Grey Arbitress. We're looking for him -and- the Grey Arbitress, because if we find her before he does, we have a good chance at catching him?”

“I think so.”

“So what do we do? Play his game?” Shell asked.

“I don't think we have a choice. We're out of leads.” Spyglass said.

Shell rubbed his face. “What does he even stand to gain from tellin' us this?”

“I don't know.” Spyglass shrugged. “Maybe he just hates this Grey Arbitress so much that he's willing to involve us in the hunt. The motive is there if what he wrote in the letter is true. What would you do if the only way out of your job was to kill your boss?”

Shell shrugged. “I don't got the guts.”

“Well.” Spyglass said. “He sure does.”

I couldn't help but wince as Maddie went through the medical motions. He's the antithesis of a doctor: poor bedside manner, and it doesn't take much to distract him. His first-aid skills were remarkable, however. I guessed he had a lot of practise sellotaping his grunts back together. Say what you like about Maddie, he's got it where it counts.

“So.” he said, still focusing on applying a dressing to my wound. “I doubt you heard the fightin' all the way over in Ponyville and sped on over to help, am I right? What're you doin' here?”

“I'm just a concerned citizen who heard the fracas and carried out my civic duty.” I said. “I'm not here. It's an illusion.”

“That so?” Maddie said. “Okay then, lemme ask you this. What're you not doing here?”

I smiled, though I might've grimaced due to pain. I wasn't sure.

“I need allies.” I said. “You sell those, right?”

Maddie finished covering my wound and searched the medical box. For bandages or a gauze, I hoped.

“That's a little, er, disconcerting, if I may say so.” he said.

“Why's that?”

He found a roll of gauze. I didn't know if they had a use-by date, but they looked past it. Maddie seemed to think so too. He found a nearby bottle of ethanol and began dousing it.

“Because.” he started. “ You always work alone. If you're asking for allies, of all ponies, then whatever your situation is, it's gotta be pretty bad.”

“One could say that.” I said. “You gonna help me then? You've helped me before, what's changed?”

“'Cause this time you ain't askin' for surveillance, or a patsy or whatever else.” he said. “I sell muscle, hired help, f'sure, but I don't sell allies. They're a whole 'nother kettle of fish. Dunno anywhere you can buy allies.”

I wanted to scowl, but this was just business for Maddie. His nature. To get angry would be like getting angry at trees for having roots.

“So you're saying you won't help.” I said.

He finished saturating the gauze and began wrapping the dressing. I shivered a little at the cold alcohol on my skin.

“Normally I'd send you packin'. Whatever you've got yourself mixed up in, I don't think I wanna be a part of it. Don't care how much you try to pay me.”

“But?”

“But-” he said. “-I do owe you a favour, since you helped us out back there.”

He finished his work and stuck a safety pin through the gauze. I flexed the leg a little, trying it out, before putting some weight on it. The hormones and endorphins had worn off, so it stung as I tried to walk on it. The important thing was that I was still mobile, but cantering was out of the question for a couple of months.

“Who were those ponies anyway?” I said, pacing up and down the kitchen like I was trying out new shoes. “Someone's gotta be crazy or stupid to come after you.”

Maddie shook his head. “They're from Foals of Intrigue. Remember them?”

Foals of Intrigue is another illicit intelligence service, similar to Maddie's business. He'd tussled with them before, about three months back over turf disagreements. It came to a peaceful conclusion, though only because of my interference.

It was the only time Maddie had ever come asking for my help. He wanted me to investigate the FoI boss, White Wisp, to find out everything and anything about him. How many hours he spent in his manor, how many guards he posted, the guard's shifts.

Maddie was intrigued when I found out he had a son in Whinnyapolis called Spirit Sight, a detail that I went to a lot of trouble to find. It took one letter from Maddie to White Wisp mentioning how proud he must be of his son, and that it would be an awful shame if he were found face-down in a ditch. After that, White Wisp backed off.

“I recall it only turned out like it did because of my efforts.” I said. “White Wisp didn't get the message then?”

“Oh no, he did. That pony was old though. Real old. He died a few weeks ago, so I hear.”

“So who's running things in his stead?”

“His son.” Maddie said. “I knew we should've just killed him. I just had to go and develop a conscience didn't I?”

“And so now his son wants what you have.” I said. “If he keeps pulling moves like this, you won't have to deal with him. Someone in FoI is gonna decide he's acting like a moron and kill him, and that'll be the end of your problems.”

Maddie shook his head. “Can't count on that. He'll see that things went bad for him today and he'll lay low for a while. Sooner or later though, he's gonna pop out again. Sure, maybe he'll get himself killed eventually, but that could be a while from now.”

I resisted the little worm Maddie was dangling in front of me. He'd have to ask for my help if he wanted it. I did my best to look uninterested.

“Damn it Anon, don't make me say it.” he said.

“Say what?”

“You fuckin' know what.”

I shrugged. “Not sure that I do.”

He exhaled and looked around the kitchen. Some interesting pots and pans caught his eye. He seemed adamant to look everywhere but at me.

“I need-” he said. “-your help.”

I laughed. He didn't.

He slammed his hoof on the metal worksurface. Rolls of gauze flew off the table along with the ethanol. His brow furrowed into that purse-looking arrangement, and I stopped laughing.

“Fuck you Anon.” he said, so quiet, as though he were in church. “The last pony to laugh at me wound up with a rebar through his head.”

I noticed the silence, not only between us, but also from the seating area outside the kitchen doors. Maddie's grunts were no longer moving, like they were playing a deadly game of musical statues, where Maddie drives a rebar through your head if you lose. I realised I too was playing right along with them.

“I'm sorry.” I said, frank as possible. “I'll help you, in return for two things.”

Maddie loosened up some, and his grunts went back to work, sensing the period of unrest was over. He nodded me to continue.

“One: I need info from the Canterlot Archives. That's what I ask in return for helping you today.” I said. “Two: I need to be able to count on you when the time comes.”

“By 'count on', you mean you want me as an ally?” he said. I nodded.

Maddie tapped his chin and looked down. I doubted he understood the gravity of my request. By his own admission, having me as an ally would put him in a dangerous position. I prayed he didn't remember saying so.

“Well, I can indulge your first request easy enough.” he said. “But about that second one. Whaddya expect out of me?”

“Help.” I said. “In any way you can. I don't know what I'm gonna need in the future, but I'm gonna need it, whatever it is.”

Maddie began pacing, feeling a little more comfortable now I'd shown my cards. Most of them, at least. He still didn't know why I wanted help, but I intended to give him a modified account of my agreement with the Grey Arbitress.

“You know what I'm gonna ask right?” he said. “Why? What's changed Anon? I need more than what you're givin' me.”

As planned, I filled him in on the details since the day I last saw him, leaving out everything alluding to my false identity as a pony. I told him what happened in the crystal caverns. I told him about the ponies I tried to follow. I told him about Ferrite, and the Grey Arbitress. I explained I was gathering allies, so when the final act began, I might have the scales tipped in my favour.

I told him that I'd made a deal with the devil, and she was a mare.

When I finished my tale, he began pacing again. I'd have paid anything to know what was going on inside his head.

After a few minutes of silence and consideration, he stopped and faced me, and leant against a stove.

“That's some pretty deep shit you're in.” he said following my speech. I didn't comment. “Why ain't I never heard of this 'Python' shit, or even the Grey Arbitress?”

I shrugged. “I hadn't either, until she told me.”

“The way you tell it, she's takin' a fuckin' big risk settin' you loose.” he said. “Even if she does think you're hot shit at your job.”

“Maybe she just expected me to roll over and take it lying down.” I said, shrugging again. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Nuh-uh. This Grey Arbitress character is smart, at least from your description.” he said. “There's a reason she's lettin' you charge around like this, and it ain't outta the kindness of her heart, lemme tell ya.”

“I couldn't do much investigating locked in a cell, or dead, or with one of her grunts following me.” I said. “She must know that.”

Maddie wrinkled his face, like he'd eaten something awful but was determined to keep it down. His concerns were valid. I felt a little ashamed, and kind of stupid for not considering it earlier. Why was she letting me run so far off my leash? My explanations for it weren't convincing in the slightest. The Grey Arbitress had more plans for me, and I didn't think I would like any of them.

I committed the thought to memory, extending the already large to-do list in my mind. Any more and I thought entries might start to get pushed off the bottom of the mental list like marbles in a tube.

“Lemme get this straight.” he said. “You want info on this Grey Arbitress mare and her organisation, and my help, when you need it, to take her down?”

“That's the long and short of it.” I said.

Maddie nodded. “In return:” he began. “Spirit Sight. I want him dead.”

“Why is that so hard for you to do?” I asked.

“Risk.” he said. “If the hit goes south, I can't have anythin' tyin' it to me. You get caught, you're on your own.”

“So, we have an accord?” I asked.

Maddie said, shaking his head and chuckling: “I get the feelin' I'm gonna regret this.”. He extended a hoof.

I watched his hoof hovering in the air for a moment. These are the kinds of moments that spawn parallel universes. I could shake his hoof, and events would turn out one way. If I didn't, they would turn out another. Perhaps I'd look back in a month's time and regret the decision I made, or maybe I'd look back, and see my first step to victory against the Grey Arbitress.

I was staring at the point of no return.

“Deal.” I said, as I extended my own hoof.

We let our hooves stay connected for a while, and watched each other. He was suppressing a bout of laughter, just as I was.

Here's to a long and productive alliance, hopefully.

We could contain our smirks no longer and started giggling like schoolchildren. I didn't even know why we were laughing. Perhaps it was because, in the face of adversity, we'd advanced our relationship a step.

“Holy shit Maddie.” I said. “Are we friends now?”

“Now don't you start that shit.” Maddie said. “You want friends? Go talk to the Princess of Friendship. She lives in your damn town for cryin' out loud.”

“I did. She doesn't like me.”

“That says a lot about you.”

“Do you like me?”

“Like you? I fuckin' hate you.”

“Good. Something's really wrong if you like me.”

We shared the silence for a moment. In the seating area, some of Maddie's crew worked to get the place back into a reasonable state of repair. Perhaps he'd get around to fixing those bulbs around the sign now.

I left Maddie to his business, but not before he pushed a grubby file into my hooves. It was everything he knew about Spirit Sight, which wasn't much if the thickness of the thing was a good indicator. I suspected he'd have more information for me in the coming days, if he wasn't bullshitting about Canterlot Archives.

I told him not to send me anything via post for fear of Python intercepting it, saying I'd come back in a few days to see what he'd unearthed. After that, I'd begin my own investigation into Spirit Sight.

I wasn't too pleased that Maddie reduced me to a hitpony. It wasn't my strong suit. I was good at following, investigating, sleuthing. When it came down to it, I could kill, but they were always messy kills. I almost walked out of the Bull & China still covered in the blood of three ponies, had Maddie not reminded me. That would have been a hard one to explain to the Royal Guard.

I spent the train ride back to Ponyville thinking about the best way to go about killing Spirit Sight. A close kill wasn't possible. The manor was too well guarded, with plenty of unicorns to boot. Pegasi circled the manor. White Wisp always kept a guard detail of five. Spirit Sight, if there was any of his father's sense in him, would be just as careful.

How do you kill someone without being in the same room? Or, even better, how do you kill someone without coming within a hundred meters of them?
Poison? Nope, his food must get checked. Spells? Nope, I'm not a unicorn, and there wasn't a unicorn worth hiring that would be stupid enough to try a hit on someone so well guarded. Besides, the ECMB would catch 'em easy, especially if Spyglass and Shell were on the case.

Explosives? Perhaps.

How about a machine? White Wisp had a weak heart, needed an artificial pacemaker. I thought I could embed an electromagnet in an article of his clothing when they went off for dry-cleaning. The magnetic field would be enough to turn the thing off completely. He'd die of cardiac arrest. No blood, no noise, no chance.

Could I do something similar with Spirit Sight?

When I got back to my flat, something strange greeted me. It was a letter, lying on the floor, waiting for me to read it. If the gaudiness of it was anything to go by, it was from Twilight. I thought it strange because I figured she wanted nothing more to do with me. Maybe that's what this letter was about to tell me. Perhaps she'd like to run me out of town with a pitchfork as well.

I picked it up and went to the kitchen area. I put the kettle to boil and opened it.

Anon,

I saw you bookmarked page 241 in your favourite book (also Rainbow Dash's favourite, you should talk to her more). I was about to tear it out and put it back in the library, but I thought you'd be annoyed. Come by and show me what books you're still using.

Princess Twilight Sparkle

I was a little confused. I shook the envelope, expecting something else to fall out, but there was nothing. A solitary letter of ambiguous context. The meaning wasn't clear. Following her heated words one week ago, I didn't think she had anything left to say to me.

Twilight wouldn't send me mail of such little consequence. Hell, I thought this was the only letter I'd ever received from her. There was hidden meaning.

Did I have a favourite book? I didn't think I did. Rainbow Dash did though. Daring Do and the Ring of Destiny I recalled. I had it on my bookshelf.

I skimmed through the various books. Mostly non-fiction, some of them to do with apple farming. I came upon the A.K Yearling book after some searching. I flicked through it. Page 237, 239, 241.

I read the words in my head. Daring Do came upon a pegasus knight, clad in smoke-coloured armour, guarding the doorway to an ancient tomb. She demanded he move aside.

When he would not, Daring Do cried: “ Who made you the great defender of the tomb? You're not even great, look at you! Your armour is all dirty, your spear is blunt. You're washed-up. A grey arbiter of a dusty tomb. It's sad, really.”

I downed my mug of tea and trotted as fast I could on my damaged leg to Twilight's castle.

It seemed she had some information for me.

The streets of Canterlot are winding. Ponies can live their entire lives in this city and still wouldn't know each dark crevice and narrow passage, the kinds of alleys the Royal Guard know better than to stick their noses into. A paradise for someone trying to disappear.

Shell and Spyglass navigated these places. Spyglass's history as a beat cop continued to serve him well as a field agent. The reputation of the law rested upon his shoulders. He let others know that the law was to be respected, even if it meant beating it into them. This is where Spyglass patrolled all those years ago. It was almost a second home to him.

The agents came up on another house. It was bland, devoid of distinguishing features if not for a hanging sign: '1408 Baker St. Master of Letters'. They went in.

No sound but their own hooves on floorboards. Rolls of paper were stored like carpets in pigeon holes mounted on the walls. Inks precariously balanced on shelves. Quills. It reminded Shell of paperwork. He hated paperwork, and by some strange extension, decided he hated this place too.

There was a single bell on the desk, which Spyglass rang. Hoofsteps came from a corridor beyond.

“Can I help you gentlecolts?” said a youthful pegasus as he appeared in the corridor. Turquoise coat, blue-grey mane. Shell, having envisaged a dry, old coffin-dodger, was rather surprised at the proprietor.

“If you could.” Spyglass said. “We're here in connection with a crime. We have reason to believe a pony of interest bought writing supplies from this store. We thought you might recall such a visitor.”

“May I see identification?” he asked. The agents obliged. The pony stared long and hard at the badges and pursed his lips. “What is this pony's description?”

“Grey coat, medium build, intelligent, young adult maybe.” Shell said. “Bought this kind of paper and envelope.”

Shell passed both of the unsub's letters to the turquoise pony, who rubbed his chin and narrowed his eyes and them. He lay them on the desk and reached for something to his right. It was another envelope, the same as the ones on the desk.

“I remember.” said the owner, running the envelope through his hooves. “A rather distinctive customer. Wore a jacket, couldn't see his cutie mark.”

“Do you recall the colour of his jacket?” Spyglass asked.

“I do not, but, his mane was brown as I recall.” he said. This detail pleased Shell. One more descriptive factor. “But he did leave me with a request. Paid rather a lot for it too. More than what he bought was worth. He asked me that, should I run into SAC Shell and SSA Spyglass, I was to give them this.”

He placed the envelope on the desk. The writing on the top read 'To my very special agents, love from unsub'.

Both Shell and Spyglass were almost picking their lower-jaw up from the floor. They blinked, a lot of times, as though they expected the letter to disappear if they blinked enough.

The pegasus said: “If it's any consolation, agents, I was confused as well.”

The agents looked at each other. “Fuckin' really?” Shell said.

“It's a message.” Spyglass said, hardly believing his eyes.

“Of course its a message you fuckin' dolt.” Shell said. “Lets read it.”

Dear agents,

Did you like my wild-goose chase? I wish I could be there to see the result. I might drop by and ask the nice pegasus how you reacted later on.

What percentage of mundane – as opposed to magic – crimes do you solve? I'm asking you to ask yourselves. Not many I would imagine, since I was able to lead you where I wanted with just some paper and an envelope. If I was really mean, I'd have gone to Saddle Arabia to buy the stationary, making you take a nice long train journey for absolutely nothing.

I digress. This is why I'm able to stay ahead of you, agents. You're good with your magic crime, I'll give you that, but conventional crime? Gryphonia doesn't have the problem of high conventional crime rate. It's a uniquely Equestrian problem. The reason? Magic has spoiled you, pure and simple. The Grey Arbitress knows this, and exploits it. I too am exploiting it.

I don't hate you, agents. I hope that you don't hate me. I recall a quote from my birthplace. 'In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him.'

Think about who your enemies are, agents.

unsub

“Asshole.” Shell whispered.

It was about eight in the evening when I got to Twilight's castle. My leg burned all the way, and I opened a couple of old wounds on my chest as I hobbled. The blood stained my coat hairs and jacket, gaining me some fearful glances from passers-by. Covered in bandages, out of breath, bloodied, torn clothes. I must have been quite the sight.

I hammered on the enormous doors. I didn't know why I was in such a hurry, but I wasn't about to stop and wonder why. My mind was dealing with a million fleeting thoughts at once, and Twilight occupied each one of them. I was careless. I gave her a name to work with. I gave her a brief glimpse into my world, a world in which ponies like her didn't belong. I couldn't let her become a part of it, but I wanted to know what she found out.

The door opened. Spike appeared.

“Twilight's expecting you.” he said, looking my body up and down.

“Yeah, I know what I look like.”

Spike shrugged and let me in. I figured that Twilight told him to ignore whatever I did, to suppress his curiosity. Good advice, I thought.

He led me through the corridors like before, the sound of uneven hoof clops ringing in the halls. We passed the study that I was using a couple of weeks ago. My books were still there, gathering dust as I gathered information. The smell is what I remembered best. The smell of parchment, of ink, of mahogany. There was something satisfying about it.

We came up on the door to the grand study. Spike knocked, and she invited us in.

“Anon's here.” Spike said.

Twilight was sitting at her desk, as usual. The giant stacks of government work had disappeared, replaced by what looked like books from her library. Some were open, some were closed. The closed ones had multicoloured tags in them. Bookmarks.

I'd grown used to a certain facial expression from Twilight. Something like a pitiful scowl, like she was talking with a bright student who was squandering their talents. As I saw her, she looked pained, even scared.

“You came.” she said, sitting up. “I was wondering if you would.”

I said nothing, and took the other seat, waiting for her to dismiss Spike. She did so with a wave of her hoof.

She looked at me like Spike did when we stood at the door. Unlike the average Joe, Twilight would ask questions, to which I had answers if she wanted to hear them. I wondered if she'd finally decided to take more than a passing interest in what I did. If my being here was a good indicator, she'd done just that.

“You're a mess.” Twilight said. I was a mess, in all senses of the word. “More than usual, at least.”

I shrugged. “Sorry, princess. I didn't have time to brush my mane before I came. I hope you don't mind.”

She waved her hoof again, like she was waving away a fly.

“Dispense with the pleasantries.” she said. “You're the only pony I know that can say 'princess' and make it sound like a racial slur.”

I rolled up a sleeve and rubbed an arm on my chest, trying to get rid of the blood. It just transferred from my chest to my arm, so I gave up. At least Maddie's gauze was holding up.

“If you like.” I said, shifting in my seat a little.

Twilight looked around the room while twirling a quill, in the way that smokers or people with high-stress jobs twirl pens. I was pretty good at that.

“You got my letter then?” she said after a time, tapping her quill on the desk.

I said: “I did. Though my favourite book is not Daring Do and the Ring of Destiny. I had a look at the page number. There was a particular paragraph that caught my eye.”

Twilight didn't speak for a while. She doodled on a piece of scrap paper. Little squiggly lines and circles. When the quill ran dry, she rested it on the desk and leant over, chest supported by her arms.

“Whatever you're doing, Anon...” she said. “...it's dangerous. You're running a real risk of death.”

“All the more reason for you to stay out of it.” I said. “Ponies die around me, Twilight. Very frequently. I'm not involving anyone I don't need to. That means you.”

“Don't try to tell me what I can and can't do.” she said. She didn't shout, despite my rudeness. She did give me permission to speak freely, however. “I decide my level of involvement in your life. Not you.”

“Do you understand what I'm fighting here? I guarantee that if you did, you wouldn't be so adamant about becoming a part of it.”

Twilight sighed and pulled a single document out of a desk drawer. It was another government file, stamped with princess Twilight's personal logo. I'd give an arm to read it.

“A name can tell you a lot these days. Especially if it's a name specific as 'Grey Arbitress', and if you have access to the kinds of documents I have access to.”

“All names are specific.” I said. Pony naming conventions had always confused me.

She ignored me. “After you left last time we met, I fought hard. I fought the urge to delve into your business, but I couldn't help myself. After a week of internal conflict, I gave up. I looked into the name you gave me.”

“My private library holds hundreds of duplicate documents. And that name? It came up once.”, she waved the document on her desk. “This is where I found it.”

“And you're gonna tell me what's in it?” I asked.

“No.”

I was puzzled. “No?”

“No.” she restated.

“Why not?”

She put the file back in her desk and leaned on it.

“I don't like you very much, Anon. I tolerate you like I tolerate Discord. Occasionally you do good things, and when you do, you remind me you're a good pony at heart. Most of the time, though, you're a pain in the ass. You know why I let Discord hang around? It's because he's got a special place in Fluttershy's heart, and to pluck him out of her life would be unfair to her.”

“How is this relevant?” I asked.

Twilight sighed. “The long and short of it is: I can't let you die. So, even though I'd rather not, I have to involve myself with you and your business. I'll only share with you what I know if you'll cooperate with me.”

I thought long, and hard. Harder and longer than I'd thought in a while. It would be a calculated risk to involve Twilight, and while my odds at success would skyrocket with her help, she'd also be in harm's way. I'd rather not have the death of the Princess of Friendship on my head.

“It's a rough world out there, Twilight.” I said. “I've seen and done things that would turn your mane white. You have to be ruthless. You can't hesitate. You have to do things that defy every moral fibre in your body. Can you really do that?”

She didn't say anything for a time. I wanted a drink, something alcoholic. My lips tasted dry and salty.

“Yes.” she said, giving a single nod. Her eyes were hard as she stared me in the face, determined to keep up a steely expression.

I tapped on the armrests. She had conviction, that much was sure, but you needed more to get by in the circles I tread. Something that only comes with time, experience, and not dying. That last part is important.

“Okay Twilight.” I said. “Then welcome to my world. Don't bother wiping your hooves at the door, the place is a mess anyway.”

“So, talk to me.” she said. She played with her mane a little and shifted in her seat, no doubt trying to get comfortable for what would be a long story. “Actually, we'll talk in the lounge, it's got a spirit cabinet. I get the feeling I'll need a stiff drink while I listen.”

I was a little surprised, but perhaps I shouldn't have been. How does a princess wind down for the day? Drinking is as good an answer as any.

“No complaints here.” I said.

It wasn't what I expected in a lounge. Someone says 'lounge', I think of my lounge back in my Earth flat. Mismatched furniture. A pile of DVD's in the corner. A rug to cover a stain that wouldn't come out, no matter how much carpet cleaner you used. Her lounge was none of that. It was tasteful. A lot of silk, but not too much. Enough gemstones to tell me that Rarity had a hoof in furnishing the place, but not too much of that either. The lighting was perfect, a bit like the Settle Inn.

In the corner was a small in-wall cupboard. Twilight walked to it while I took a seat on one of the two sofas. Opening it, she asked me if bourbon was okay. I said it was. She glugged a measure over some ice and brought two glasses over. I took one while she sat on the opposite sofa.

“Bourbon.” I said. “Not very marelike.”

She took a defiant sip. “You don't care.”

“No.”

“Then why bring it up?”

It was my turn to drink. I drank a little and perched it on the table. I didn't know the brand, but it didn't matter. It was good.

“Saying things out loud helps me think.”

“Well.” she said, drink in hoof. All she needed were thigh-length leggings, a seductive smile and a cigarette hanging out her mouth. After that, I wouldn't recognise her as prudent, studious Twilight Sparkle. She'd be like the mares I sometimes have the misfortune to meet, the kind that twist stallions into whatever they want. Mares like the Grey Arbitress. “Say some more things out loud.”

I picked up my drink and stared at it for a while, before putting it back down. Twilight slumped across the opposite sofa. She looked inattentive, but Twilight never was. Never an arbitrary thought in her head.

I said: “I've never seen this side of you. That said, I don't see much of you in the first place. I guess that's gonna change very soon.”

“Princesses need to unwind as well.” she said. “Celestia has her cake. Luna has her cups of tea. And I-” she swirled her drink. “-well, you know that part.”

“What does Cadence do to relax?” I asked.

“My brother.” she said. “Quite literally.”

I did my best to purge that image from my mind. If Twilight's furrowed brow was anything to go by, I guessed she did the same.

“Right, I've sated your curiosity.” she said. “Now it's time for you to return the favour.”

Another point of no return, I thought. I seemed to be running into a lot of those today. She twisted on the sofa, lying with her back against the armrest. She levitated her drink to her and sipped some. She was drinking faster than I was. It made me a little uncomfortable.

I leant back into the couch.

“It started with Applebloom.” I said.

What followed was a half-hour explanation of how I came to be in such trouble, Twilight only interrupting to clarify details. It wasn't dissimilar to what I told Maddie, but I was more forthcoming with details with Twilight. I told her about the newspaper article covering the killing of Shrike and Bouros. I admitted I told Applejack to leave town for a while. I told her I got caught by the ponies who came to her farm that night, and that I was being blackmailed into working for their boss. I told her I about the names they mailed me. I didn't tell her about Maddie, or what connected the ponies I was sent after. I left out anything to do with my humanity.

When I finshed talking, Twilight had already visited the spirit cabinet twice more. She was now coming back to the sofa with a fourth drink. As long as she was happy to keep serving, I was happy to keep drinking.

She flopped on the couch and set her drink on the coffee table. She stared at me for quite a long time before speaking.

“That's quite a predicament.” she said, now eyeing her bourbon. “I guess you're not planning on staying in her employ. What're you doing about it?”

“Gathering allies.” I said. “You were right, Twilight. This isn't something I can do on my own.”

“I said that a week ago, when I wasn't aware of your situation. Clearly, you missed the point when I told you to let someone share your troubles.”

“And now I am.”

“Your psychological troubles. Not these comparatively ephemeral ones. Even if by some miracle everything turns out okay, you'll still be broken inside.”

“I told you I don't like shrinks.”

“You don't like me anyway.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Oh Celestia, nevermind. We're losing the subject.” she said. “I promised you information, and I'll give it to you. Like I said earlier, I found nothing except one line on one scrap of paper. You should be thankful I decided to look into it, because now I know who you're fighting, and believe me, you don't stand a chance without me.”

“What did you find?” I asked, raising my glass to my lips. The ice cubs clacked a little.

“A newspaper article. Canterlot Herald, last year. Page three. It reported the then-director of the ECMB was resigning. In an interview, princess Celestia herself called her 'the grey arbitress of justice'.”

“Ashen Smoke?” I said, putting my glass down again.

Twilight nodded. Ashen Smoke, the ex-director of the ECMB. The only pony I've ever called a legend. If I ever had to choose a figure to look up to, it would be her. Now, she was my boss, and my greatest enemy.

“She disappeared soon after she resigned. Missing, presumed dead. It was a total mystery, until now, that is.” she said.

“Why would she disappear, and then turn up running an organisation like Python under the pseudonym 'Grey Arbitress'?”

Twilight shrugged. “Maybe she regretted resigning and wanted some way back into her old life.” she said. “Whatever. Let me focus on the past, the research, the story behind it all.”

“You already decided your role?”

“Yeah. I'm the intelligence officer and the analyst in this. I'll do what I can, when I can, to provide you with information. I can't be seen out in the field, it would raise too many questions.” she said. “Any objections, my little field agent?”

Spoken like a true leader, I thought. With a lot of luck, and some hard work, this might just work. With Twilight feeding me intel, and Maddie providing the muscle, I stood a real chance.

I smiled. “None ma'am.”

“Good. I wouldn't have cared if you had any.” she said. “Right, it's getting late. I've received a royal summons for tomorrow and I'd like to get up early.”

“Something to do with the Summer Sun festival?”

“Yes, not that it's any of your business.” she said. “Make time to attend it.”

“I'm not sure I'll have the time.”

“That's why I said 'make time'. Ever heard of occupational burnout? You're not married to the job Anon, and if you are, then file for divorce.” she said. “That's an order, by the way. Don't bother arguing, I'm too tired.”

“Yes princess.”

“And no more of that 'princess' shit.” she said. “Call me 'ma'am' from now on. All I hear when you say 'Yes princess' is 'Yes chump'. At least you can say 'ma'am' with a modicum of respect.”

The conversation, at least for tonight, was at an end. We both stood and wobbled through the castle, the drink having a little more effect now we weren't sitting down. She instructed me to relay all I knew of the Grey Arbitress to her once she finished her duties up in Canterlot.

Twilight turned a corner to her bedchambers and told me to see myself out. I was half-way back to my flat when I realised I'd forgotten to remind Twilight that Shell and Spyglass were still pursuing me. When the thought crossed my mind, I stopped walking, but resumed in less than a second. It was cold, the rain was spitting, and I wasn't very comfortable walking around late at night since I got nabbed by those five ponies. Thinking could be postponed until I was back in the dry and felt safe.

I threw my coat into a corner and boiled some water to make tea. I sat on my bed and thought some more about the agents. Because they hadn't found me, I figured they'd exhausted almost every avenue of investigation by now. All that was left was the letters, and I'd been careful not to include information that would lead them to me. I wondered if they'd found the letter I left in number 1408 Baker Street. I wrote that one because I was bored and wanted to ruffle their feathers a bit, more than anything else, but also to tell them that regular ECMB trickery wouldn't help them. They'd have to play my game if they wanted to get anywhere.

The kettle boiled and I made my tea. As I sat and sipped on it, I remembered there was one detail that would be more use to the agents than any other. They would be aware of the ridiculously high probability that the Apple family knew who their unsub was, which also meant there was a good chance their unsub lived in Ponyville.

Local police would be happy to accept the official story that Applebloom just turned up outside the door to Sweet Apple Acres that night. They like cases that you can tie up in a neat little bow and forget about as soon as they've been marked with a great big rubber stamp with the words 'closed' on it.

The agents were a little different. Not only were they intelligent, they also had drive. The official story and the truth are oftentimes different. Police like the official story. The agents like the truth, and I knew they'd be visiting Sweet Apple Acres more times in the future.

Applebloom was the sticking point in their case. They had to go back to Sweet Apple Acres if they wanted the truth.

I hung a dreamcatcher in my window, and tried to sleep. Rain pounded on my window as I stared at the ceiling.

A bolt of green lightning danced through the blackness. A humming noise rang in my head, growing in volume until I was sure my ears were bleeding.

I flung my arms out and tried to steady myself. Instead, I fell backwards in my chair and hit the back of my head on the floor. I rubbed my eyes, trying to get the gunk out of them.

“You're awake, finally.” a mare said. “You sleep like a log. It's a wonder you hear your alarm in the morning.”

I didn't say anything. I just rolled on my side and picked myself up. This spiel was quite familiar by now.

I was back in what I assumed was their interrogation room. The Grey Arbitress, or Ashen Smoke, was sat in a collapsible chair near the door. I looked around. They hadn't bothered to clean my blood off the floor from the last time I was here. It must have taken my body a while to replace all that Ferrite beat out of me. Even my tooth was still in the corner of the room.

I picked the chair back up and sat in it. I scratched at my back hooves to remove the gravel that accumulated in them, as a result of being dragged around.

She said: “Good work with Blackthorn.”

I frisked my pockets. The relic was no longer in there.

“Yeah, we took that for safe keeping.” she said. “Those wounds from him?”

I looked down and saw the dressing Maddie gave me was still holding. It had turned from acute stabbing to dull aching pain. It would be there for months.

“He stuck me with a rebar.” I lied.

“You didn't have to take him. Remember, if a target looks too tough, just tell us where they are.” she said. “How'd you find him then?”

“Every pony has a weakness.” I said. “Once you figure it out, catching them is easy enough.”

“Forgive me if I don't believe you. You found him in one week, no less, with minimal support from us.” she said. “I want to hear the story.”

I leaned back in the chair, almost falling backwards again, and began telling her.

Along with Blackthorn's name, the Grey Arbitress also supplied me with everything they knew about him. Mostly it was things that anyone could find out with a little bit of hoof-greasing and vigilance. But his spending records from before he stopped leaving a financial footprint were interesting. He would buy odd things for a pony of his description: scholarly texts which had no relation to his academic history, a monthly direct debit for 200 bits.

These things weren't for himself, they were for another. I also managed to find divorce papers with his name on them.

The only way I could make his past and spending habits add up was by adding a daughter or son to the mix. It explained the strange purchases and the direct debit, and was within the realm of possibility being that he was married at one point. A son or daughter in education.

With a little more digging, I found where his ex was living. I paid her a visit, masquerading as a National Monetary Bureau investigator. After I told her I was looking for him so he could explain some strange purchases, she said his spending history could be accounted for by his daughters requirements. I learned she was enrolled at Seaddle University, studying biology.

Viola, for that was her name, was rather more forthcoming with details than I had expected. She seemed more eager to talk about it than I was. She told me her marriage was a happy one, and that Blackthorn left her for no reason she could discern. She was almost in tears by the time I told her to stop thinking about it. She was so alone.

You can remove every object that reminds you of someone. Every photo, every article of clothing, you can even drink yourself blind to make you forget. You can make it like they were never there at all. But the heart is stubborn. The heart won't forget.

I left Viola's house feeling much worse than when I'd gone in.

“The daughter.” she said. “Is that what you meant about weakness?”

I nodded. “We all have at least one. You, me, even Celestia. Something that can be used against them.”

She played with her mane some. I could hear hoofsteps coming and going outside the door. I wondered how many ponies made up Python. I knew of seven. The five that caught me, the one who answered the door when I was brought in, and Ashen Smoke herself.

“What's mine?” she asked.

I thought for a bit. A simple question, but she wouldn't have asked me out of mere curiosity. There was something she wanted to hear, or not hear.

“Me.” I said.

She smirked and said: “You were saying something about Blackthorn's daughter?”

I lifted a picture of her from Viola's house. Her name was Lila Barb, but I didn't tell this to Ashen Smoke. After some more investigation, I found her home address, a little flat in the centre of Seaddle. 280 per month, plus utilities. She lived with another pegasus on her course. Classic student accommodation.

I watched her leave the house with her flatmate. I jemmied open the kitchen window, climbed in, and made myself at home. On a bookshelf in the lounge, I found a textbook about statistical testing. I sat down and read it for a bit before getting very bored. I took a walk around Lila's room. Nothing I hadn't predicted. A little mirror, a rug to cover a stain, a desk swamped in essays, both marked and unmarked. In many ways, it was like my flat while I was at university.

I went through her desk drawers. Among writing equipment, books and other various nik-naks, I found a stack of letters. I took them out. There must have been at least thirty of them, all from Blackthorn. You sure love your daughter, I thought. While admirable, it's also what makes you weak, exploitable. He should have cut ties with her as soon as he went into hiding.

I heard keys rattling in the door and made a quick return to the living room.

I stood behind the door to the lounge. She went into the kitchen and started shuffling around. I could hear cupboard doors being opened and closed.

I held a ceramic mug in my hooves. One strike to the back of the head would be enough to make someone sleep for at least half an hour. I didn't want her to be unconscious for long, which is why I brought along some smelling salt capsules I lifted from Ponyville hospital last time I was there.

The door to the lounge nudged open. She might have had time to register the subtle differences in the state of the lounge, before I swung the mug over her head. She collapsed immediately, out cold, but still breathing.

“You're very resourceful.” she said. “If you were a unicorn, you'd be a force to be reckoned with.”

I shrugged. “Imagination is enough. Besides, magic would make me lazy, not to mention the ECMB are pretty good about magic crimes.”

“I wouldn't know.” she said, or lied. I shrugged again. I wasn't about to tell her everything I knew about her.

“I once considered applying as a 'conventional crime consultant'.” I said. “Didn't have an employment history, though, so there was no point.”

She laughed. “Your skills would be wasted on those ponies. What we're doing, no, what you're doing is worthwhile, and there's no red tape, no inquiries, no fuss to get in the way. Things get done here.”

I couldn't argue with that, not that I wanted to. Historically, organisations like the ECMB have always been victims of their own success. They start out small, they solve a large number of cases, more ponies get recruited. The organisation gets larger, the chain of command becomes extended. Before you know it, it takes a whole week to push through a request as simple as a new chair for your office. Everything grinds to a disgusting halt.

Small organisations don't have these problems, but then they're not regulated to the same extent. In Python's case, there was no regulation. What Ashen Smoke says, goes. Therein lies the problem. Such authority and power at the whim of one individual is dangerous.

“I'm inclined to agree. To a point.” I said. “Anyway, I was about to interrogate-”

I caught myself. I was forming the 'l' when I reigned in my tongue. Ashen Smoke curled one corner of her mouth up. A little seductive flutter of the eyelids. She may as well have said 'roll over'.

“Oh yeah, that doesn't work on you.” she said, forming her usual expression of mild interest. “Your unique condition makes you immune to my charm.”

“You're about as charming as a snake.”

“Oh come now, we were being nice and civil, and now you've gone and ruined it.” she said. “You can make up for it by telling me the name of Blackthorn's daughter.”

“She has nothing to do with this.”

She sighed and said: “Didn't I say before that we only kill those who deserve it? Besides, if we want to find her, we can. With or without your help. So, you can tell me now, and stay in my good books, or you can sit there and say nothing while I bust a gut finding her, and piss me off quite severely. Nobody has a good time when I'm pissed. So, the name, if you please.”

I swallowed. “Lila Barb.”

She licked her lips and exhaled.

“So you can be reasonable.” she said, looking relieved. “Do continue.”

I laid Lila's body on the couch while I went foraging for supplies around the flat. Duct tape, a sock for a gag, some nylon thread. Everything you need to keep someone subdued for at least a little while.

I bound her legs and arms with tape and nylon. Then I crammed the sock in her muzzle and taping over that, making sure to keep the nostrils uncovered. The last thing was to break the smelling salts under her nose. She snorted loudly as the ammonia wafted in her nose and jolted back into the couch. She struggled against her bondage for a while, regarding me with wide eyes and extreme fear for a while.

I told her I wasn't going to hurt her, and she seemed to calm down. Calm being a very relative term in her circumstances.

“I'm looking for your dad.” I said. “I know you still talk to him. I want to talk to him as well. Tell me how, and I'll be gone very soon.”

I waited for an answer before realising her mouth was still taped up. I felt kind of stupid. The tape was only half removed when she sounded off like a jet engine. It was the loudest scream I'd ever heard, and it was right next to my ears. I slapped the tape back over in a second.

I sighed and ran a hoof through my mane, thinking of how I might get through to her on the subject.

“When I said I wouldn't hurt you, what I meant was 'I don't plan on hurting you'.” I said. “It doesn't sit well with me y'know, binding innocent young mares, hurting them. Ponies that hurt mares are the scum of Equestria. But I might have to break that rule today, and believe me, neither of us are gonna like that. So, I can go and take a kitchen knife and start drawing little smiley faces on your body until you talk, or we can skip all that and save a bunch of time and pain. Make your choice.”

I sat for a few seconds and waited for an affirmative nod. She looked like she was about to cry; and I wasn't far off doing the same. What I said was true, I hate making others feel this helpless, having myself been just as helpless at the hooves of Ashen Smoke. I hate more hurting others, especially mares, that don't deserve it. That doesn't mean that I won't. I'm a pragmatist.

She nodded and sniffed back the tears. When I removed the tape again, she didn't scream. She just talked in soft tones, peppered with wet and shallow sniffs.

“He-” she swallowed. “-a house, in Las Pegasus.”

“Mmhmm.” I said. “There are a lotta houses in Las Pegasus. Gonna need an address.”

“What're you-” she faltered. “What're you gonna do to him?”

I didn't have time for any talk beyond what I needed to know. Her flatmate could be back in minutes, or hours. I needed to be gone. I gave her an ambiguous answer.

“He has something that doesn't belong to him. I'm taking it back.” I said, in a tone that closed the subject. “Now, the address please.”

“A cabin.” she said. “Copse Cottage, that's what it's called. South edge of Las Pegasus.”

“The rest is history.”

She crossed her legs and looked at an interesting spot on the wall. My mouth was dry from talking and I was hungry. I couldn't wait to get home.

“You know, we're more alike than you'd care to admit. I see quite a lot of myself in you.”

“Get your eyes checked, we're nothing alike.” I said.

She laughed. “I'm not sure you believe that. You don't hate me because I'm blackmailing you. You hate me because you see too much of yourself in me, and it disturbs you. Tell me I'm wrong, go on. I don't think you will though.”

I said nothing. Maybe she was right, maybe she was wrong. I could hate her for a myriad of other reasons though.

“You don't have to answer that. One more thing before I send you packing.” she said. “I'm very confused as to why you chose to do what you do. Ponies – or is that humans – in your position, would do well to keep a low profile. You went and did the polar opposite. Why is that?”

I didn't have a good single answer for that question.

“It was a mixture of reasons. I'd spent three and a half years studying forensic science where I came from, so my skills already lay in that area. I saw a gap in the market, as it were, for private investigation. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to do something fulfilling. Not once did I spare a thought for my own wellbeing. Short answer: I don't know.”

“You're an odd one. Maybe that's why you're good at this.” she said. She glanced at her watch, and I tried to do the same, only to find it wasn't there. It was smart of them to take my watch. I didn't know how long it took them to haul my body to Canterlot. “Time to go. Oh, payment, before I forget. About twenty-five hours of your time? At your rate of 30 per hour that's...” she tapped her chin. “...7,500 exactly. A sum like that might take a few days to clear.”

That was a lot of money. I didn't know how I'd spend that. I thought I could give some to Applejack in the form of an innocuous gift. Nothing that would raise suspicion. If Rarity got wind of the news I'd spent even ten percent of that on Applejack, she'd be convinced I was about to propose or something, a rumour like that would spread like wildfire. She'd also be aghast knowing a shifty pony like myself had trumped her at her own element.

“G'night.” I said, waiting for her to zap me unconscious.

She smiled. “I think you've earned a week's leave. Try to enjoy the Summer Sun festival. You'll get the next name in a week. Night night.”

I closed my eyes and waited.

Author's Notes:

Apologies for not including Applejack like I thought I would.

Stay gold.