Brisk Wind walks into a dimly lit, all concrete hallway with Andromeda and another mare that is leading them. They approach a cell at the end of the hallway where a single, blank flank mare lies huddled in the corner, eyes wide and constantly darting around the room, whimpering and trembling.

“Is this her?” asks Brisk Wind.

“Yes ma’am,” says the escort. “She was picked up shortly after the Vigilante apprehended her gang. The Night Guards caught her flying around after curfew near the scene of the crime, so they took her in. It took us a while, but we found out she was the daughter of Nimbus Cloud and ran his narcotics business under the guidance of her brother, Sunshine Cloud. That is why we contacted you.”

“Why are we here, exactly, Director?” asks Andromeda.

Brisk Wind smirks and steps towards the cage, lightly tapping it with her hoof. “Scarlet Cloud, I am Director Brisk Wind and this is my associate, Lieutenant Andromeda Cluster. We are here to check up on you.”

Andromeda casts Brisk Wind a skeptical glance, but quickly resumes staring at Scarlet.

“I don’t believe you,” says Scarlet weakly.

“Why not?” asks Brisk Wind, ruffling her feathers slightly.

“These are your ponies. They follow your orders.”

“Oh, interrogations. That is nothing personal. They are just one of the ways we protect this fine nation. But while our methods may seem cruel, we are also generous to those who assist us.”

Scarlet looks at Brisk Wind, skepticism mixing with her fear. “What more could I give you? I already told all I knew about my family business and Gilda.”

“There is more you can do for us. Tell me, Scarlet, have you heard of the Rehabilitation Program?”

Scarlet nods hesitantly.

“Well, I can put you in that program since we have released more questionable ponies than you under it,” says Brisk Wind. “I can put you in that program under the guidance of my most faithful associate, Andromeda, and if you do me a favor I can not only give you freedom, but absolute freedom. All charges dropped. Squeaky clean record and maybe some starting cash if you do well enough.”

Scarlet sits up, ears perked and cuffed wings flexing, but Andromeda scowls and taps the EIB director on the shoulder and quietly asks to have a word with her. The two walk a good distance away from the cell before Andromeda speaks.

“Director, what are you doing?” asks Andromeda.

“Taking care of business,” replies Brisk Wind. “There's a lot of work to be done here and abroad, so we need to act quickly if we are to avoid another crisis.”

“Okay, but why are you saying I will be a convict's babysitter when I’m supposed to lead the tactical squads of the EIB?”

“Because, Andromeda, the task I need done requires tactic and dirty hooves. You have both. Plus, what needs to be done needs to be done off the books since Celestia has me suspended. You are the only pony I can trust to get this done.”

“What are you talking about?”

Brisk Wind’s smile broadens and she heads back to Scarlet’s cell with Andromeda following close behind. When they are at the cell again, Scarlet’s skepticism has returned, which only seems to grow when Brisk Wind orders the cage to be opened and she steps inside. Scarlet has to take a couple of steps back to allow Brisk Wind in, and her gaze falls to the floor when she sees Andromeda quietly staring at her in a less than friendly way.

“Scarlet, how would you like to go to Bernese?” asks Brisk Wind.

Quill Pen steps into her abode, glad to be home after being locked up, interrogated by Shining Armor, and then paying the doctor a visit to get her bandaged. While she is dead tired and wants to do nothing but sleep, she can’t because of the next article she has to write. Normally she wouldn’t worry about getting it done, but a whole day wasted with a case of the jitters to mix with her barely started article does not bode well for quality.

Quill Pen sighs heavily and goes to her kitchen, deciding that if she’s going to catch up she will need to do it with a full stomach. She rummages through the fridge and pulls out a bag of chopped flowers, then she goes to her pantry and grabs some diced hay. After making a small salad she carries her food to her work station.

Unlike the rest of her loft, which is kept nice and tidy in just about every aspect, her work space is a disaster zone. Scrap paper carpets the floor with empty delivery containers, stacks of folders bulging with drafts make towers in the most random of places, and her four garbage bins are overflowing with empty ink cartridges and whatever pieces of garbage she had decided to toss in.

In fact, the only area that is clean is her desk, which is mostly taken up by the behemoth machine known as the typewriter. That, and what little space is left is taken up by a basket and stacks of fresh paper and notebooks.

Upon entering her room, Quill Pen turns on the ceiling fan and her radio, which is resting on the floor, brushes loose garbage from her chair and brings a folding table to her. When that is all done, she relaxes in her seat and prepares to work.

“Sorry about being late, kiddos,” says DJ-Pon3, sounding tired. “I just lost track of time after talking with some buddies and having some fun at Klumsy K’s. I gotta hand to our armored ponies. They sure know how to party.”

Quill Pen takes out her notebooks and flips through the pages, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling crawling up her spine.

“But party stories will come later because we have a lot to talk about and music to listen to,” continues the DJ. “First off, everypony’s favorite griffin crime lord supposedly died today in the hospital when R and D failed at a procedure that would have saved her life. My thoughts? Good riddance. That what you get for screwing with the Vigilante and all us good folks!”

Quill Pen glances at the radio for a second before tossing aside her worthless notebooks in search of the one she needs, mumbling about needing better organization skills.

“I’ll talk more about it later when I actually have more info,” says Vinyl Scratch. “But the next subject I find to be very interesting. The Education Equality Act, a bill being pushed through the council, will make it so the Royal Government takes control of the educational system completely! You thought Luna was mad about nationalizing the media? Well, my little ponies, just wait until she accuses you of corrupting knowledge. Which reminds me, Luna has renounced her title as Princess. Did I already tell you that? I honestly forgot since my notes suck donkey nuts like no other.”

Quill Pen shuts off and resumes her work her silence. She spends a couple of minutes studying her notes and making a rough outline of what she’s going to write before something catches her eye. Her blinds are closed. They are never closed.

Quill Pen cocks her head quizzically and gets up to inspect the odd scene, but after she is a few steps away from her seat she feels a pair of hoofs go around her face and neck, and then one swift twist later and everything goes dark.

A unicorn stallion wearing a painter’s full body jumpsuit with a breathing mask and tinted goggles stands over Quill Pen's limp body. Her head is twisted at an unnatural angle and the stallion's horn glows in a barely seen dim light as he pulls out a little plastic bag from a pocket. He tips the bag over and from it falls a single strand of blue hair that slowly falls next to Quill Pen. After that, the stallion leaves the room and locks the door on his way out.

Author's Notes:

Added on 11 May 2016