“[I can assure you that no one will threaten our security! Not the Altains. Not the Equestrians. Not the Roamans. Not even the filth that pretend to be our citizens will bring us down! Bernese will outlive every nation, and those who wish us destroyed will be dealt with with the utmost prejudice. That is my promise. Luna bless Bernese!]”

Shining Armor shakes hooves with yet another guest that wanted to thank him for saving Canterlot from the changeling invasion. His hoof feels numb, and it hurts to keep his smile up, and not only that, he feels like he can only say: “You’re welcome” or “No problem”. After his fiftieth thanks, he finally gets enough time to breath and move from his spot. He practically runs straight towards Cadence, who seems to be enjoying listening to Twilight sing. Shining Armor finds himself enjoying the song, too, and when her song ends, there is a thunderous ovation, and he throws in an approving whistle. He’s glad to see Twilight having a good time after all the things that had happened, and he’s also glad that she hasn’t danced the entire night.

Twilight does a little bow, and then goes to Princess Celestia’s side. Shining Armor looks around and watches Soarin and Rainbow Dash dancing, Pinkie Pie doing an amazing job stacking donuts, leaving Donut Joe speechless, and Rarity striking up a light conversation with Fancypants and Fleur. He also spots Applejack selling apple products to the stuck ups. Where she got the supplies or how she found the time to make them eludes him. And finally, his eyes fall on Fluttershy, who is hiding behind her large mane as an incredibly drunk Filthy Rich is uncomfortably close to her, no doubt trying to pick her up. Thankfully Rarity saves Fluttershy, leaving Filthy Rich to go after another pegasus mare to fill up his quota.

Shining Armor stretches, eyes widening when he gets an unexpected pop in his back. “Oh wow, I was not expecting that.”

“Expecting what?” asks Cadence.

“My back popped.”

“Hmm, it sounds like you need a massage.”

Shining Armor raises an eyebrow. “I am not going to one of those spas. I have an image to keep.”

Cadence giggles, hooks her hoof around his neck and brings him in until their bodies are squished together. “No, silly, I can give you one.” Then in a low, erotic whisper right in his ear. “A really good one.”

The combination of her tone and the warm breath tickling his ear makes Shining Armor’s face flare and his whole body stiffens. He turns to his wife, his tongue is numb and his mind is at a loss for words, so all he can do is smile with adorable awkwardness and nod his head. He finds himself more like putty in her hooves when her sensual smile spreads. Then he wraps his hoof around her body and brings her in for a hug while pecking her nose lovingly.

“Well, Mi Amor-”

“Save it for the bedroom!” blurts Vinyl Scratch, suddenly behind the two. The two gasp and reel back, and the DJ snickers as she snatches some snacks off of their table. This gesture is not met well with either of them, especially Shining Armor.

“Vinyl, what are you doing?” asks Shining Armor sourly.

Vinyl Scratch pops an apple slice in her mouth. “Two things, Big Guy. One, I’m waiting for a thank you for doing this thing at half off for you. And two, I’m waiting for Pinkie to stop” -to Pinkie Pie- “making donut towers!”

Shining Armor looks back at Pinkie Pie and is surprised to find the party animal standing on her hind legs on Joe’s back with minimal difficulty as she stacks more donuts on top of each other. She is biting her tongue in deep concentration, and he is using his magic to hand her donuts, longjohns, and other pastries.

“That is pretty impressive,” says Cadence when Pinkie Pie manages to place little cake toys of the newlyweds on the top.

“I’ll say,” says Shining Armor, his shocked tone mimicking Cadence’s. Then he looks at Vinyl Scratch, trying to look stern again, but with what he just saw regarding Pinkie Pie and the tower of donuts, he’s finding it very hard to do so. “Vinyl, thank you for the party, now can you please give us some privacy?”

“Privacy in a party? What world are you living in?” laughs Vinyl Scratch.

“A different one from yours, apparently.”

Vinyl Scratch’s smile fades. “Okay, I guess I already got my thank you, so I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” She looks at Cadence, trying to mask her mixed feelings, and does a quick bow. “Congrats, Princess, you got yourself a real keeper, here.”

Vinyl Scratch then turns to Shining Armor, flashes a quick smile magnifying her mixed feelings before trotting off, calling after Pinkie Pie. Cadence frowns sadly while watching the DJ, all while Shining Armor has to deal with yet another thank you from a happy citizen.

“I think we just hurt her feelings,” says Cadence regretfully.

Shining Armor forces himself to smile as he waves farewell to the leaving patron before looking at Cadence, face now really hurting from all the fake smiles he had to do.

“Vinyl will be fine,” assures Shining Armor. “She-”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Shining Armor jerks awake in his cell, then he growls painfully and squeezes his eyes shut while pressing his hoof against the bandage covering his shoulder. He hears the guard say something, but he doesn’t understand a single word he said, so all he can do is glare at the ibex. Next to the guard are four other guards, and another ibex that isn’t wearing armor, but looks at home with them. The unarmored one is wearing a large, tan overcoat with a gray suit underneath. The ibex is also pretty old, his dark gray coat is fading around his eyes, which give his crows feet more definition, and his silvery hair is long and combed back.

“Are you my lawyer?” jokes Shining Armor sourly.

“No, I am Inspector Shekel Gruber, and you and I are going to have some words, Captain Shining Armor Sparkle,” says the old ibex in perfect Equestrian, albeit with a heavy accent.

Shining Armor stares at Shekel, perplexed. He doesn’t know if he is more shocked that the ibex spoke Equestrian fluently, or the fact that he knew his name. Shining Armor swiftly picks Choice A to be his “shocked about” since he figures that an inspector would be able to determine who he is with a quick peek at the newspaper.

The guard opens the door and one of the four guards clamps a chained leash around Shining Armor’s neck with a thick steel collar while the others aim their weapons at him. For extra protection on their part, they clamped a horn cuff to him when he arrived so he wouldn’t be able to use his magic. So now he is just a big stallion with a potential shanking tool on his head.

As the guards escort him down the hall, Shining Armor notices that Shekel has a slight limp in his walk and makes a barely noticeable wince with each step on his left forehoof. Shining Armor decides not to probe on the issue, and they continue walking in silence. He tries to keep his eyes forward, but every now and then they would move on their own accord to get a quick peek at the dirty, crowded cells, the heavily armed guards patrolling the grounds, or escorting prisoners dragging carts of books.

After about fifteen minutes of snaking through the concrete labyrinth, Shining Armor is brought into a dimly lit room with a one way window, weak light bulbs on every corner, and an old heater. Almost as if it was planned, upon entering the room, the heater roared to life and started making odd clanking noises and shake a bit. Shining Armor glances at it and Shekel grumbles to himself and shuts it off while a couple of guards set bagged evidence on the table in front of Shining Armor.

Once the heater shuts off, the room drops to a noticeably chillier level, making Shining Armor shiver slightly and Shekel adjust his coat. Shekel walks to the other side of the table and points at the cushion by Shining Armor, telling him to have a seat. He silently complies and continues staring at the ibex.

“I have to say, it is strange seeing someone of your prestige in such a position,” states Shekel calmly as his hoof skims over the bags, as if wondering which ones he wants to use first.

Shining Armor shrugs. “Well, you know its just one of those things where you want to take a vacation with a couple of friends and end up in a car chase and shot.”

“Cute.” Shekel sits down and lightly taps his hooves on the table. “But in case you have not realized, Captain, now is not the time for jokes. Why are you in Bernese?”

“Classified information, Inspector.”

Shekel slides his hooves off of the table. “You must think of me as an idiot, Captain.”

Shining Armor arches an eyebrow, not entirely sure what Shekel is getting at. Technically he was on a mission, and no one else knew about the mission due to the crazy circumstances around it, therefore it was another form of classified. However, when Shining Armor sees some EIB documents bagged up, his expressions shifts to that of resentment for all the hell that Brisk Wind put him through. Shekel’s hoof goes over the paper and he slides it towards Shining Armor, his expression hard and demanding.

“We found this in the hotel where Pixie Fountain and her husband, Monte Fountain, were staying. There was a shootout there, then at the Bernese Bank, and then there was the chase. Retrieved evidence from the bodies showed them to be EIB or working with the EIB.”

Shining Armor drags the paper towards him and reads it over, scowling at how much Brisk Wind was willing pay to ensure Monte be captured, and probably executed somewhere. Shekel’s body relaxes on his cushion, but he still holds his stern expression.

“It is no secret that the you and the EIB have a feud, and you are on the run for a murder of a huge supporter of the EIB.”

Shining Armor glares at Shekel, swallowing the urge to scream about his innocence.

“The EIB is here. You’re here. And both of you made a mess of things,” continues Shekel. “Now I want answers.”

“About what?”

“Everything. How you got here. How you found Pixie Fountain -even though I doubt that to be her real name. And why you think you can bring your war to my home and get away with it.”

Shining Armor leans forward, eyes narrowing on the old ibex, and in a near growl, he says: “First off, I already stated that the mission was classified, and secondly, I did not bring anything to anypony-”

“‘Anyone’.”

“The EIB brought it and I am trying to end it.”

Shekel snorts. “That is not what your friends, Kicker and Jerkins, said.” Shining Armors ears perk, and Shekel stands up and approaches his side and looks at him. Despite Shining Armor sitting, he is still a head taller than Shekel, thus forcing the older ibex to look up. “They said that no one knew about the mission because it was -how did Kicker say it?- ‘On the fly’? Yes, that sounds right.”

Shining Armor stares straight ahead, swearing to Celestia that he’s going to punch Colt in the face for what he said. Shekel, meanwhile, moves to the other side.

“And Jerkins said you were unrecognizable during your chase. Even going as far as aiming your weapon at Kicker’s head and ordering him to pursue an ‘Andromeda’, even when you had a dying passenger.”

Shining Armor’s head snaps to Shekel. “Trixie wanted me to save Monte!”

“So her name is not Pixie? That confirms my suspicion.” Shining Armor glares straight ahead at his reflection, mentally kicking himself for the slipup. “You are lucky that we were able to stabilize her when we caught you, but you picked the wrong country to have your war in.”

Shining Armor watches Shekel intently as he rounds the table, and when he sits down, he rubs his aching hoof while Shining Armor keeps his glare on him. Shekel looks up, still trying to comfort his aching hoof, and returns the glare.

“You can start talking anytime now,” says Shekel sternly.

“Do I get my lawyer?”

Shekel arches an eyebrow. “Why would we waste precious resources on a foreigner? Especially a foreigner that destroyed much of Buchtseite?”

“That sounds like a ‘No’ to me.”

Shekel shakes his head and walks towards his seat. Once sitting down, he folds his hooves on the table and leans towards Shining Armor, his stare becoming more intense by the dim lighting.

“Captain, I am going to be honest with you. Your accomplices have already spoken, and we have already picked up numerous others you came in contact with. I am piecing this puzzle together, but the beauty of puzzles is that you do not need all the pieces to see the picture. I can figure out what happened just by putting the reports together, so what does that leave you? Nothing. You are nothing, and I do not deal with nothings.”

Shining Armor’s hardened expression doesn’t falter, but inside, the words stung him down to the core. He still stares at Shekel, though, not sure what to do. If he talks, then there is a good chance that everyone will get prison time, but if he doesn’t talk then they will get prison time as terrorists. The more he thinks, the more he realizes that he has lost. Shekel was right, his carelessness nearly cost Trixie her life, and had she died, her last request would’ve gone unanswered because Monte was still taken by Andromeda and more than likely executed. Add in that Andromeda had the goldmine that would put Brisk Wind away for life -or even better, turned to stone- and that was most likely destroyed, given her undying loyalty to the EIB. And now he is here, in a foreign nation, being interrogated and awaiting his sentence. Everything had gone wrong, and everyone is suffering because of it.

Shining Armor’s ears droop and his body deflates as he releases a long, depressing sigh.

“Well... are you going to be a nothing or something useful?”

“Where do you want me to begin?” asks Shining Armor quietly.

“How you got here.”

Shining Armor huffs and takes a couple of seconds to collect his thoughts.

We landed at the Buchtseite zeppelin port at around midday. We took the express flight that a friend had set up to catch up with other friends.

“By ‘other friends’, do you mean the Fountain’s?”

Yes, they left earlier than we did and the circumstances dictated that me, Colt, and L. Roy take an express to catch up with their ferry. We knew where they were going to go to the Bank of Bernese.

“Based on what?”

Nothing, really, just word on the street.

“In my experience, the word of the street’s validity is very fluid. How did you know this rumor was accurate?”

I didn’t, but what choice did I have? Brisk Wind ruined everything I stood for, and turned me into a public enemy. Any chance there was of taking her down I would take, and this was my best chance.

“I see. Well, carry on.”

As soon as we got off the zeppelin we were greeted by an ibex who claimed that his brother was killed by the EIB.

“Silver Well. Like I said, Captain, I already interrogated your associates, and we have already gathered those you came in contact with. So there is no need to play mysterious.”

Silver Well ran a wagon rental shop, and he loaned us one under the counter. He also told us that his uncle, Gold Bit, recently spoke with Monte and that he forgot his password. Honestly, I was glad that he did because that meant that the evidence was still safe. We checked out a rundown hotel room close to the Bank of Bernese, and I had L. Roy keep watch in case Monte came back.

“Yes, Jerkins mentioned that you bought some binoculars at a gift shop to help him.”

Yeah, they were overpriced but did their job.

“And you and Kicker went to ‘Lucky Star’s Verteidigung Speichern’ for some weapons, yes?”

Yeah, we got our weapons from there, and you probably got him in your custody right now.

“What do you think?”

I’m just going to say “Yes”. Anyway, Lucky Star was at first reluctant to help us since he apparently had fought tooth and hoof for his citizenship here, but when we told him that we were told by Silver Well and Vinyl that he could help us take down Brisk Wind, his whole attitude changed. He never said what Brisk Wind did to him, but gave us what we wanted for half off and said if we needed anything else, we were free to ask him.

When we left his shop, we had to hide our weapons in flower boxes since we weren’t supposed to have them for at least a week. And when we were heading back to our hotel, I saw Andromeda scoping out the Bank, too. She was pretending to be a tourist, and me and Colt hid and watched her. I don’t know how long we were there, probably twenty minutes, before someone met her. He was an ibex, and she gave him some papers and an envelope and he left. I knew that this guy was important, and I tried to trail him, but I lost him in the crowd. Besides, Andromeda was heading towards us. She was like a living radar, she did not blink at all when she searched for us. And when she found me and Colt, she started walking towards us without taking her eyes off. She barely moved her head when she was going through the crowd. She was absolutely determined to get us.

Me and Colt had to go into alley and hide. I even had to put my hoof over Colt’s mouth to keep him quiet when she walked into the alley. She almost found me and Colt, but one of her associates distracted her, and we took that moment to slip in through a kitchen. The chefs were mad, but we ignored them and sped walked out of there and into a fancy restaurant. We got some stares and Colt thought it was a good idea to smile and wave.

We got out of the restaurant, and I swear to Celestia Andromeda followed us. We barely got on a trolley when she got out of the restaurant, hopped on the back and went after us. This little game of cat and mouse went on for nearly an hour before we finally managed to lose her in a bazaar. She got swarmed by some Saddle Arabians who wanted to sell her dresses or something, and me and Colt had to fight our way out of there, too, because those vendors were desperate for customers.

When we finally got back to our hotel, L. Roy had told us that the same vehicles passed the Bank multiple times. He had great descriptions of them, and when the Bank closed we each took turns keeping watch in two hour shifts, just to make sure nothing happened, and so we can know when the Bank opened.

The night was long, and boring, but necessary. And the next morning, I kept watch while Colt and L. Roy went to pick up breakfast. We went back to the same routine of keeping watch, and Colt said that L. Roy ran into Andromeda when he went to grab coffee. I was worried at first, but when he told me that he and her hit it off, I was confused and pissed. I was confused because I found it hard to believe that L. Roy could actually charm a mare, and I was pissed because off all the mares out there, it just had to be one of Brisk Wind’s lieutenants.

Colt said that he carried the conversation, and actually smiled and laughed with her. Again, something I found hard to believe. I told L. Roy about Andromeda and how she stalked me and Colt yesterday. In fact, Colt said that the only reason that he wasn’t caught was because he had to use the bathroom, then pretended to be a depressed patron. Andromeda didn’t see him because his back was to her and L. Roy was keeping her distracted.

At first L. Roy was skeptical, but that changed when we saw Andromeda go inside the bank with Monte and a small group of others later on in the day. I could tell he was mad, but I didn’t give him the chance to mope or fuss because I rushed him and Colt out. We ran to our rental, and tried to get to the bank quickly, but traffic was horrible and there was a guard vehicle next to us so we couldn’t do anything to make our trip easier. When we finally got there, we saw Trixie pull up on a motorcycle, and we tried to find a way to get to the Bank parking lot, but it was being guarded by a mini-train. We couldn’t find a safe way in since the only way in was being guarded by EIB agents and hired guns. It wasn’t blatant, but I could still see them. But the weird thing was, after Trixie went in, the ponies in the mini-train started arguing and whatever happened, the driver sped inside and the pony yelling at her just started shooting up the place!

Colt drove to cover and me and L. Roy loaded our weapons as quickly as we could.

“Why were they not loaded earlier?”

We would’ve loaded them on the trip over, but with the congested traffic and the guard vehicle next to us, somepony-

“‘Someone’.”

Was bound to see us, and we didn’t want unnecessary attention. The shooting was over in seconds, and when the convoy left, I ordered Colt to follow them, and he gave me lip. He called me crazy for wanting to take on a convoy in a rental, and I was ready to smack Colt on the back of his head, but when Trixie zoomed out of the parking lot, I was surprised, happy, and mad at all the same time. Surprised because nopony should’ve survived all those bullets; happy because she was alive; and mad because she was being an idiot and going after Andromeda’s convoy in a motorcycle. I screamed at Colt to follow her, and I think I hurt his ears because he winced and didn’t try to talk his way out of it. We went after her, but were forced to keep our distance when a group of guard vehicles went after her. It was hard keeping track of her, but Colt managed to keep up, despite nearly losing her in the alleys. And we almost lost her for good when there was a crash in the tunnel.

We pulled over after getting out of the tunnel, argued about the next course of action. I wanted to continue searching for Trixie since she was a key witness to the EIB’s corruption, and L. Roy suggested that we try to find Andromeda. Colt wanted to call it a day and go home. Especially when we saw the explosion.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing when I saw Trixie going after the convoy again. She was in her “super form”, as they say, and had a small electric storm from Tartarus around her with a shield of lightning. It was crazy, and Colt almost got out and left right then and there, but me and L. Roy convinced him to stay with a combination of harsh words and threats of being left behind in Bernese.

So we chased after Trixie by following the trail of destruction she left behind, and I admit I was getting nervous by what I was seeing. I mean, I know that a unicorn's power is influenced by emotion as well as training, and what I saw was not only a complete lack of magical control, but some anger issues as well. But we still kept going after her, and when her bike exploded, I saw her fly dozens of feet in the air and after she landed I thought she died.

Then she got back up.

Colt stopped the vehicle and we just stared at her, too stunned for words. Even L. Roy was surprised. But when I saw the mini-train speeding towards her, and saw her collapse, I knew she was dead unless I did something. So I got out and ran towards her while charging my horn. I knew I had to get it just right, and right when the mini-train was about to hit her, I put up a shield around her from underneath the train, and it flew off at an angle. When it landed I had to put up a shield around myself to keep myself from being injured by the debris that flew all over when it landed.

I picked up Trixie, and she was scared at first, but when she found out it was me, she didn’t try to attack me. She told me I had to save Monte, and that Is when I saw Andromeda’s vehicle driving away. Or, at least I was positive it was Andromeda’s vehicle.

“You didn’t know whether or not the vehicle belonged to Andromeda, and yet you still pursued it?”

I really had no evidence, just faith that it was Andromeda that was driving away with the key to Brisk Wind’s prosecution. And honestly, I would’ve taken Trixie to the hospital and have her rehabilitated, but I didn’t know if she would live or not, so it was kind of like a dying wish. Something the Royal Guard take seriously.

“I see.”

The occupants of the mini-train survived, sort of. One seemed well enough to shoot at me, but I still had my shield up so the bullet was worthless. I shot her and went to check the other occupant. There was no saving her. She was impaled with a piece of wood and quickly bled out on the side of the road. After she died, I went back to my wagon with Trixie on my back and went after Andromeda with you guys chasing us.

“And you threatened Colt, yes?”

Yes. But like I said, I wanted to take her to a hospital, but I didn’t know if she would live and her dying wish was for me to save Monte. Monte was with Andromeda, and Andromeda had the box. If Trixie had died and I didn’t have the box or Monte, it would’ve been over for me and her last wish would go unanswered. Not that it matters anyway since we’re stuck here and Andromeda has the evidence and Monte. He’s probably dead in a ditch while all the evidence is burned.

Shining Armor sighs heavily, trying to ignore the fog puffing from his mouth, and Shekel taps his hoof lightly against the table. A moment of silence later, and the old ibex walks towards the one way mirror and taps against it three time while keeping his eyes on Shining Armor.

“You’re right, Captain, you will be here for a while. While you may be of importance in Equestria, you hold no prestige here.”

The door opens up and the guards return and shackle Shining Armor without him protesting. Shining Armor stands up and is quietly escorted out of the room. He keeps his head held high and eyes straight ahead, and ignores the scrutinizing eyes of the ibexes in the area.

When he is returned to his cell, he lays down on his cot and watches the guards leave. The steel door slams shut and he pulls his undersized, ratty blanket over him and whimpers quietly into his pillow.

“...[In other news, Herr Shniztel’s newest invention will soon be on display at the National Science Museum. According to Herr Shniztel and his research team, the device has the capabilities of grinding just about anything to powder.]”

Shekel is now sitting in his office, massaging his aching hoof while listening to the radio with halfhearted interest. He is also skimming over the reports of the Buchtseite Incident and the testimonies gathered from Shining Armor’s group and from the ones they contacted. As he reads the reports, he barely reaches out for a mug of hot chocolate using his sore hoof, but he doesn’t grab it. Rather his hoof glows slightly and the mug floats towards his lips. He takes a small sip from it before setting it down, grumbling when he gets a twinge of pain in the hoof he used. He then sighs quietly and looks at a framed newspaper clipping titled: “[Bomb At Market Kills 10, Injures Dozens More!]”, with a picture of guards trying to quarantine the area as medics carry away bloodied civilians.

Shekel scowls and looks away from the photo of the gruesome scene. He extends his injured hoof again and guides his drink to him, but then there is a sudden knock on the door and Shekel jumps in his seat, spilling his drink all over his lap, making him yelp and jump out of his seat.

“[Inspector, we have something that you need to see],” says the guard outside urgently. “[It's from Inspector Doodle, sir.]”

“[Goddess-damn it],” grumbles Shekel furiously. He uses his miniscule magic to grab a box of tissue, wincing in the process, and uses them liberally to clean up his mess. “[I’m busy! Slide whatever it is under the door!]”

“[The file is too big, sir.]”

Shekel swears and throws the wads of tissue away before manually yanking open the door. The young guard shrinks back from the horrifying glare that his superior is giving him, and when Shekel holds out his good hoof, the guard gives it to him without hesitation.

Shekel lifts up the file so he can grab it with his mouth, then he walks inside his office. He is expecting another set of hooves to follow him, but when he hears the hoofsteps retreating, he turns around and sees the guard leaving. He is about to order the guard to get back to his office, but quickly realizes that he really has nothing to say to the rookie since he already knows what the "gift" is about. If anything, he really wants to chew out Doodle for being lazy, and then politely inform the Chief that he does not appreciate being a dumping ground for cases. Especially when he has a huge case to do.

Shekel closes the door and tosses the file on his desk, then he carefully flips through it. Each passing page fuels his curiosity and scowl. The case is interesting, but it is also a mess, and he knows he cannot do an effective job on it.

Shekel grumbles to himself and pulls out a phone and quickly dials the number to the Chief’s office. It take a few seconds of ringing before someone answers on the other end.

“[Chief Leuchten’s offic],” says a female with a silky voice on the other end.

“[It’s Inspector Gruber.]”

“...[Just a moment.]”

When Chief Leuchten finally picked up the line, the moment had turned into two minutes, but Shekel was determined not to hang up.

“[Are you still on?]” asks an energetic voice on the other end. “[Luna’s plot, I kept you on hold for two minutes. Don’t you have anything better to do other than bug me about something stupid?]”

“[It is not something stupid, sir],” snaps Shekel. “[I just want to know why you gave me two cases.]”

“[Your case is also being handled by a dozen other investigators and the Republican Guard, so that really gives you a light load. So, in the spirit of teamwork and workplace love, I am ordering you to give Doodle a hoof in his case.]”

“[How did you know-]”

“[I know everything. Now get off my line. I’m busy.]”

Shekel doesn’t hang up at first, but when he hears Leuchten’s headphones drop on the other end and some feminine giggling and flirtatious whispering, he sighs irritably and hangs up. Shekel runs his hoof through his hair and stares off into space, listening to the ticking clock, contemplating on what he should do next. The more he thinks, the more he goes back to the copy of Doodle’s case, and when he reads where the main subject is located, he pulls out his copy of the Buchtseite Incident. Specifically where Trixie is being kept.

“[I better be getting a bonus],” grumbles Shekel while dialing another number.

The phone on the other end rings, and rings, and continues ringing, and Shekel is forced to try again three more times before getting an answer.

“[Inspector Doodle of the Buchtseite Guard. How may I help you today?]” says a male with a disgustingly cheerful voice.

Shekel rubs his brow, trying to keep his irritated growl in check. “[Doodle, it’s Gruber. Pack up your saddle, we’re going on a trip.]”

“[We are?]”

Shekel hangs up.

Pinkie Pie bursts into her childhood home, eyes wide and panting and covered with a layer of frost that slowly melts away from the warmth of Laughter’s necklace. The howling snowstorm outside blows piercing cold wind and flakes into the house, covering the worn floor in a thin layer of frost and snow. Pinkie Pie slams the door shut with both of her forehooves and stays there, head bowed and hyperventilating. Some of the snow manages to slide underneath the door and cake her hooves in frost, but Pinkie Pie doesn’t move. She stares at the door, legs and lips trembling, and soon she slides to the floor and sobs. Her cries overtake the creaking from the aged house and the terrifying wind, and not even Laughter’s warmth is saving her. Pinkie Pie presses her back against the door, not caring that her puffy tail is being weighed down by the flakes building up on it, or the shiver she’s getting from the cold.

Pinkie Pie sniffles, yanks off her necklace and holds it in front of her eyes. “Why did you pick me? You know what I am and still you picked me!”

When all she gets is silence, she grits her teeth and throws it into across the room. It bounces a couple of times and lands in the fireplace, kicking up a cloud of soot upon impact, and Pinkie Pie clambers to her feet. She knows the Elements are alive! She’s seen and felt Laughter’s comfort, and yet it still refuses to speak!

“I know you’re alive!” screams Pinkie Pie tearfully as she points at the necklace. “So why me! Why did you pick me! Why not Cloud Kicker! She’s always happy and isn’t bucking possessed!”

No answer.

Pinkie Pie slumps to the floor, releasing a tormented groan. “Is it because I was with Twilight on our first adventure? I was only doing what I had to do to welcome her! I could tell she was lonely.”

Pinkie Pie stares at the necklace, still hoping that she will get an answer from it. An answer in the form of a deep, manly voice, or a kind, motherly one. Something, anything, will do! When there is no response, yet again, she sighs and lays down on the floor, poking at one of the firewood logs stacked near the mantel.

“Just like Flutters and Dashie... and Spike and AJ... and-” she tries to scowl, but ends up squeezing tears out of her eyes and has to take a breath to break a wet bubble in her throat “-Rarity.”

“Yeah, yeah, the meanies were lonely, blah blah blah,” says Pinkamena rudely from behind, and accompanying her is the potent scent of kerosene oil.

Pinkie Pie’s ears perk and her whole body tenses as she slowly stands up, and when she hears a liquid slosh around and splash on the upholstery, she turns around and stares, horrified by what she’s seeing. Pinkamena is liberally splashing the floor, walls, and furniture with the semi-clear fluid. Pinkie Pie scrunches up her nose as she puts her hoof over it while Pinkamena’s twisted grin grows larger, and it practically takes up her whole face when she splashes the family photo on the wall with a generous amount of the flammable fluid.

“What are you doing!” cries Pinkie Pie as she fumbles to put Laughter around her neck.

“I am watching out for you, as I have always done, silly,” says Pinkamena, snickering and commenting on how she’s always hated that “stupid chair” when she splashes some oil on her father’s ratty recliner. When the container of oil is empty, she carelessly tosses it aside and grins at Pinkie Pie. “And now, looky here, I am about to burn down a big block of our misery!”

“Are you insane!” yells Pinkie Pie, even more horrified now.

“No, but you are. Do you want to sing?”

“No, I don’t want to sing!”

“Why not? Laughter always wants to sing and dance with everypony.” Pinkamena huffs and lowers her head for second. “Oh well, I guess you weren't meant to be Laughter after all.” Then her head snaps up, grinning and eyes getting a shade of green. “But I want to sing! I just feel so happy right now!”

Pinkamena bounces past Pinkie Pie, singing cheerfully:

While Pinkamena sings, Pinkie Pie watches, backing up slowly against the wall until her rump is against it, and even then she continues backing up until she is squished against it. Her ears droop and she whimpers while placing her hoof protectively over Laughter’s necklace. She hears Pinkamena sing in the kitchen as she rummages through the cupboards and drawers carelessly.

Pinkie Pie shakes her head and holds up her hoof, begging Pinkamena not to burn the house when her twisted clone skillfully dances out of the kitchen on her hind legs with a lit kerosene lamp in her forehoof. She giggles madly, even though the smoke rising off of her hoof shows that the lamp is burning her, and her shadows dance along the wall as if the demons of Hell are dancing in cadence to her number.

Pinkamena curls her arm and aims the lamp at the family photo.

Pinkie Pie scrambles to her hooves and charges Pinkamena, screaming for her to stop, but everything seems to go in slow motion. Her hooves feel heavy and she finds it hard to breathe as Pinkamena cackles and throws the lamp. It spins slowly in the air, barely out of Pinkie Pie’s reach, and when it hits Octavia’s face, the glass shatters and oily fire spreads wildly all over, engulfing the picture in seconds.

Pinkie Pie lands on the floor and lifts her head up and watches in horror as the fire spreads along the wall in thick hellish fingers. The pictures and wallpaper curl and peel away in ashy flakes, shrouding the room in lung burning darkness. Pinkie Pie coughs and covers her mouth with her hoof, and her tears clean off trails of soot that is clinging to her coat. But Pinkamena, on the other hand, continues with her demented theatrics, now bucking and smashing things to add to her musical number.

Pinkamena knocks over a bookcase, and Pinkie Pie shields herself from the heat wave it pushed towards her, covering her in more soot. The books are nearly engulfed in an instant.

Pinkamena then grabs a poker and bats a gravy boat off of a table; it sails through the air, barely missing Pinkie Pie’s head, and flies straight through the window and disappears in the freezing storm.

Pinkie Pie scrambles towards the front door, narrowly avoiding a burning beam that crumbles to flaming splinters when it crashes into the floor. Pinkie Pie rams her shoulder against the door, and she breaks through with unexpected ease. She sails through the air with large splinters of the door around her, and a fireball rolls out from the new opening and breaks through the windows, sending hellish smoke into the dark sky. After landing, Pinkie Pie’s lungs have the air pushed out, and she coughs and frantically feels the necklace to make sure it is still on her. She breathes a sigh of relief when she finds it still on, but she forces herself to turn around, when Pinkamena’s song flows smoothly out from the fire.

Pinkie Pie steps back as Pinkamena marches out of the fire, looking proud at what she’s done, and her pink coat and flat mane seemingly unaffected by the heat and ashy cloud around her. The shadows from the fire stretch towards Pinkie Pie, and no matter how far she backs up, the shadows still reach her, with Pinkamena’s shadow covering her. Pinkie Pie whimpers and looks at the shadows, becoming more terrified when she sees red eyes and taunting smiles. The closer Pinkamena gets to Pinkie Pie, the more menacing her appearance becomes. The fire behind her bathes her in an ominous glow and it almost appears that she has the full support of all the evil in the world behind her.

Pinkamena does a quick, sporadic jig while mimicking a trumpet.

Pinkamena stands up on her hind legs and bows theatrically as Pinkie Pie’s childhood home collapses on itself in a raging inferno. When the roof collapses, a ball of fire shoots into the sky, sending random bits of debris shooting off in different directions like fireworks. The world is bathed in the fire’s hue and the surrounding area is affected by the uncomfortable heat radiating from the cabin, and Pinkie Pie can’t help but think that she saw a skull in the rising flames.

Pinkamena drops to her four legs and grins maniacally at Pinkie Pie, but her smile is soon replaced with a pout. Pinkie Pie falls on her haunches and gapes at the fire eating away at her home. It wasn’t a pleasant place, but it was still her home. She covers her mouth her hoof and her shoulders buckle as she sobs into her hoof.

“What? No applause?” asks Pinkamena in phony disappointment.

Pinkie Pie’s sobbing turns into wails and she collapses to the ground, curling up in a ball and bringing her tail to her chest in a feeble attempt to give her comfort. A comfort that she is being denied. Over the crackling fire, she can hear the gravel crunch under Pinkamena’s hooves, and she can feel her eyes on her, too. Pinkie Pie wishes for Spike to show up and save her from the menace, to take her away to another place that isn’t a frozen wasteland. A place like the Sugarcube Corner, where she can enjoy all the pastries and milkshakes and umbrella hats she wants.

“You know, it is very difficult carrying a tune when you have a sudden musical number,” comments Pinkamena casually.

“You burned it down,” sobs Pinkie Pie.

“Well, duh. What’d you want me to do? Repaint it? Puh-leeze, you and me both hated that place.”

Pinkie Pie looks at Pinkamena, shivering and eyes hurting from how hard she is crying, and she shrinks further into her ball, unable to look at her clone, when her eyes shift to green. Pinkamena lowers herself and grabs Pinkie Pie’s cheeks and jerks her head towards her so that she is forced to look in her eyes. Pinkie Pie whimpers and her eyes drift up towards the ash choked clouds that are blocking her view of Celestia’s sun.

“Why have you left me?” whimpers Pinkie Pie in a near impossible to hear tone.

Pinkamena flashes a sharp, toothy grin and hoists Pinkie Pie up. She puts up no resistance whatsoever, she is like a ragdoll in Pinkamena’s grip.

“Oh you silly filly, Celestia was never with you,” coos Pinkamena sinisterly, her eyes now emerald. “You’ve been alone ever since you were a cute little baby. But, hey, at least you got a friend like me!”

“I don’t want you!” screams Pinkie Pie.

“Don’t want who?”

Pinkie Pie opens her tear soaked eyes and sees an old ibex and a chubby donkey in front of her. The ibex introduces himself as Inspector Shekel Gruber and the donkey to be Inspector Snicker Doodle, but Pinkie Pie doesn’t pay much attention to them. She is more concerned about being tied up in a straight jacket and sitting in a corner of a white room with cushions as walls and a bright light shining down on her.

Pinkie Pie sniffles and wipes her cheek on her shoulder, trying to dry her coat from the tears that wet it.

“Where am I?” she asks wearily.

“You are in the Sommer Tal Geistig Institution, Ms. Pie,” says Shekel.

“How long have I been here?”

“Not even a day.”

“Oh, so not that long, then.” Pinkie Pie then sighs and looks at the padded floor. “So, are you guys here to ask about what happened at Iron Will’s place?”

Shekel nods. “That is correct.”

“Thought so.”

Then there is silence. Pinkie Pie stares at Shekel, and he stares back, both of them don’t say a word or move their lips, or show any signs of having anything on their mind. If the situation wasn’t so bleak, then Pinkie Pie would’ve thought that she had just became part of a spontaneous staring contest.

“You blinked,” says Pinkie Pie.

“And you’re point?” remarks Shekel.

“No point, I just felt like saying it.”

“Ms. Pie, I really don’t feel like playing any games, so you can do one of two things: Talk or go to sleep. The choice is yours.”

“I slept enough, I think. I’m not really sure if I’ve been asleep or awake. I mean, I must’ve done something pretty bad to be locked up in here.”

“You slaughtered a bunch of ponies at Iron Will’s, and when you were brought in the station for questioning you had a burst of violence that left many of our guards injured. And you were singing, too.”

Pinkie Pie looks down at the floor, shaken up by what she was told. “Yeah, that was not me. That was Pinkamena. My evil side. She has a way of ruining things.”

Pinkie Pie’s whole body sulks at the familiarity of her words regarding Twilight, which then makes her think that the League got to her and roughed the information out. Just thinking about what the League did to Twilight sends shivers down to her bone and brings tears to her eyes, knowing that she was the link.

Pinkie Pie awkwardly wipes her eyes on her shoulders.

“I shouldn’t have dragged her into this,” mutters Pinkie Pie quietly.

“Dragged who?” asks Shekel.

“Twilight, a... an acquaintance that is kinda like a friend again, but not really. I think we got a mutual understanding of our, um, problem...”

“I see. Well, Ms. Pie, we will not be talking about your friends or acquaintances, we will be talking about what happened at Iron Will’s residence. We found very few, and two of them don’t know the end and the other is still in shock of what happened.”

“And you’re asking a pony in a straight jacket? Seriously? Doesn’t that seem, I don’t know, kinda dumb?”

Shekel nods. “Yes, I do not like it, but only you know the whole story of that night. And the quicker you tell your story, the quicker you can enjoy your cell in peace.”

Pinkie Pie forces herself to smile. “Buddy, I would love to enjoy anything, but I can’t since I got a certain somepony-”

“Someone.”

“In my head making a mess of things. But I’ll still talk, it’s supposed to be good for the nerves or psychological issues or something like that.”

As soon as Pinkie Pie finishes her sentence, her stomach growls. She smiles apologetically at Shekel when she notices his arched brow.

“Would it be alright if you guys brought me a snack?” Her stomach growls again, this time louder, and her ears droop when Doodle glances at Shekel questionably. “Please.”

Shekel turns to Doodle and orders him to get her a snack, and once he leaves, Pinkie Pie smiles gratefully at him.

“Thanks, it’s been a while since I ate, and I got a high metabolism so I have to eat a lot,” says Pinkie Pie. “By the way, you speak Equestrian really, really good. Did you use to live in Equestria?”

“That is none of your concern,” replies Shekel coldly.

Pinkie Pie cringes slightly from his tone, then she looks at his injured hoof. “So, what happened to your hoof?” He scowls and she once again smiles, only this time nervously. “I mean, I noticed that it is not really... um... covered right with the fur. In fact, it kinda reminds me of Golden Harvest’s hoof. She has ‘earth pony magic’ and it causes some balding in her hoof since it is not natural for an earth pony to have magic.”

Shekel’s scowl deepens. “We are not here to talk about me, we are here to talk about you.”

“Sorry, I just had a rough dream and I’m trying to keep my mind busy so I don’t think about it. But it just seems like the more I try not to think about it, the more I think about it. Does that make sense?”

Shekel’s only response is a cold stare, and Pinkie Pie’s ears droop and she looks down, knowing that Shekel is not in a talking mood. The minutes of boredom tick by, and the only noise in the room is from Pinkie Pie’s grumbling stomach. But when Doodle walk back in, she beams and straightens up in her seat while Shekel mutters something that almost sounds like a thanks. However, Pinkie Pie’s smile fades when she sees that the donkey brought her something that can only be described as a disgusting. Granted, Pinkie Pie isn’t one to turn down food in most occasions, but whatever the snack is, it is truly too nasty to describe, and she wouldn’t even touch it if she weren’t starving. She reluctantly opens her mouth and lets Doodle stuff it in, and when she actually eats it, she has to suppress her gag reflex and urge to cry from how horrible it tasted. Thankfully he also brought her water to wash the vile taste away.

After Pinkie Pie has her fill, she smacks her lips and wipes her tongue against her teeth, and despite the abomination’s taste, it filled her up nicely. Her stomach is at peace and she is ready to talk. She adjusts herself so that she is sitting in the corner, and presses herself against the soft walls for the best comfort she can give her back.

“I’m guessing you guys want this from the top,” says Pinkie Pie.

Shekel says something to Doodle before nodding to Pinkie Pie and motioning her to speak. Pinkie Pie takes a moment to collect her thoughts.

When I landed at the zeppelin port I was disguised as a gypsy. But it really wasn’t that good, and I think the only reason why nopony figured out who I was, was because I was sitting in the very back by the window, and I also don’t look as good as I used to. During the trip I wanted to sleep and eat, but all I got was one of those stupid little bowls of peanuts and a small glass of water. And I couldn’t sleep because I was too scared too.

“What do you mean?”

Well, put it this way, I have a sixth sense, I call it my Pinkie Sense, and it alerts me whenever danger is around the corner. I usually get specific twitches, but I have just been feeling sick a lot lately. Like I can’t eat or drink as much because I’m too busy worrying.

“Maybe you are just sick.”

No, I know my body, and I know when I’m sick. I’m not sick -physically speaking- it is my Pinkie Senses going on overdrive. And the closer I got to Bernese, the more sick I got. When I landed, I had to run to the bathroom because I thought I was going to puke. I didn’t puke though, but it did make me feel weird. You know that weird feeling you get when you try to puke but you can’t? Yeah, that’s what I got.

So when I left the bathroom, I tried to get something to eat at a cafe at the zeppelin port. I ordered the biggest meal they got, but couldn’t finish it, which was odd and annoying since I could eat an entire triple decker chocolate cake all by myself. With frosting and little strawberries on it, too. I couldn’t even take a to-go box because that place didn’t have any, and I was hoping to at least have a snack afterward, but nope, they were too cheap to have to-go boxes! I mean, seriously, what zeppelin port eating place doesn’t have to-go boxes when basically everypony-

“Everyone.”

Everyone there is on the move?

“I do not know, but why don’t you tell me what you did next.”

After I left, I had to change my disguise from the gypsy to my greatest disguise ever. My Fluttershy suit.

“Your what?”

My Fluttershy suit. It is a perfect replica of Fluttershy. From her cutie mark, all the way down to the individual strands making up her adorable mane and tail. It was expensive, but when I showed up at the Nightmare Night’s costume party, the reactions were priceless! I mean, Rarity actually thought I was Fluttershy and-

“We are not here to talk about costume parties, Ms. Pie. We are here to talk about what happened at Iron Will’s.”

Do you want me to fast forward to Iron Will’s place?

“Is there anything relevant in between?”

You are asking a mare who is locked up in an insane asylum if she has anything relevant to say? Everything relevant to me would be irrelevant to you because I love talking and I haven’t talked as much as I used to talk because I didn’t feel like talking, and now I get a chance to talk about anything I want to talk about everything regarding the anything, but most of what I think would be relevant to talk about would be irrelevant to you since you aren’t a talker and most likely a loner in desperate need of a hug.

“Feel better?”

...

Yeah, a little bit. That was a mouthful. Twilight would chew me out for improper use of grammar or the fact that I refused to breathe for that moment. Speaking of Twilight, I should’ve made a Twilight suit. That would’ve been even better than the-

“Tell me about what happened at Iron Will’s home.”

Oh, alright.

It took me a little while, but I managed to make it to Iron Will’s place after taking a train and a nice long walk. When I arrived at his town, Fluttershy was very popular since I kept getting stopped and asked to autograph pictures from her short lived modeling career. I even autographed someone’s juice box, which was pretty dang hard.

“So you forged your friend’s signature?”

I... I guess I can call Fluttershy a friend. She wasn’t a jerk to me when things got bad. And I didn’t forge her signature, I used my regular mouth writing, only I put “Fluttershy” instead of “Pinkie Pie”. I know I ruined some dreams, but I was in a rush, and last time I tried forging, I got grounded for a week, and missed out on a fieldtrip to Canterlot. Which would’ve-

“Why don’t we continue with your story about your visit to Iron Will’s?”

Okay, back to the swing of things.

There I was, shocked about how big and nice his place was. I could tell he took care of his property. I couldn’t see any sign of dead grass, the statues were clean of poop and polished, and his paint looked like it had a fresh coat. And the funny thing is, when I got up to the gate, I was let in automatically and greeted like an esteemed guest. Granted I had no idea what the gatekeepers were saying, but they seemed to be okay with a smile and nod. I was confused at first, but I soon found out why I was treated with such manners.

So, I approached the house, carefully, because I am weirded out by all of the politeness going on towards me, and I had to take a moment to catch my breath because my Pinkie Senses were really getting the best of me at that point.

When I reached the door I raised my hoof, ready to knock holes in the door. But then I remembered I was disguised as Fluttershy, and nopony can hear her knock. Not even Celestia heard her knock when she was visiting Twilight, and she’s got a great set of ears. So I did the only reasonable thing: I knocked very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very-

“Okay, I get it.”

Very quietly. Naturally, nobody came, so I did the next best thing: I rang the doorbell. Next thing I know, I hear thundering hoofsteps, someone shouting in your angry language cheerfully about something, and the door is yanked open, and there he is: Iron Will. I admit, I was a bit nervous and surprised to see him, since last time I saw him he turned Fluttershy into a jerk. But I was surprised because he had painted himself with the colors and symbol of some sports team. He was even wearing a tie that had the same symbols on it. I think that day was game day.

When he saw me, his smile changed to a confused look, cocked head and raised eyebrow and all.

Then he scratched his head and said: “That was fast.”

I was confused, so I said: “What was fast?” in my best Fluttershy impression, which was apparently super amazing because he answered immediately.

“Getting the soda,” he said. “Where is the soda? And why did you ring? Did you lose the keys again?”

Then it dawned on me. The reason why I was being treated with such respect and being asked about soda and keys is because I -I mean Fluttershy- lived with Iron Will! Talk about awkward.

“As if disguising yourself as one of your friends isn’t awkward enough.”

Like you’ve never wanted to disguise yourself as a friend for a joke.

“I haven’t.”

Oh... well, okay then. I guess I can-

“Continue with your story.”

...Yeah.

So, there I was, shaking in my skin and heart racing and sweating like a pig in a desert, and struggling to think of a way out of the mess I just put myself in. But before I could even do anything, Iron Will scooped me up and hugged me. Tight. Very tight. Like tight enough to squeeze the air out of my lungs and make me sound like a squeaky toy. Then he started nuzzling me! And on top of that, my back started to hurt and I felt like I was being crushed to death! I tried to get him to let go, but I couldn’t because I was having trouble breathing, and he was talking over me.

While he was hugging the life outta me, he said: “I knew it! I’ve been working you too hard, and you’re suffering because of it!”

As I am sitting there, trying to get away, he tightens his grip, making it harder for me to breathe and speak, and he goes on to saying: “You said you could handle it, but I should’ve known you were only trying to make me happy!”

Yeah, I’m not kidding, I think he and Fluttershy had a thing going on, and he was the overprotective-coltfriend-who-worries-about-his-mare-when-she-is-not-in-his-line-of-sight kind of person. I kinda felt bad for Big Mac, since I tried hooking them up and -wait! Don’t say anything, I’m getting back on track.

Okay... But praise Celestia, I was saved by the very pony I was impersonating. Fluttershy arrived not a second too late!

She was all like: “Um... Iron Will, what are you doing?”

Iron Will stopped hugging and nuzzling me, giving me a chance to be able to breathe, and the first thing I did is look over my shoulder. I saw Fluttershy standing there, looking confused and carrying bottles of soda and juice boxes and boxes of frozen pizza in her saddlebags. It took Iron Will a few seconds to realize what he was seeing, but even then, he was still confused. So he held me away at arm’s length with the greatest confused look ever. I wish I had a picture, because it was truly priceless. But when my fake wing fell off, his jaw dropped and I thought he was going to have a heart attack. All I really could do at that point is wave and say “Hi” in my normal voice. And that’s exactly what I did.

Long story short: Iron Will freaked out, Fluttershy gave me the Stare, I became paralyzed, and they brought me inside. You see, Fluttershy hated that Fluttershy suit, and I kinda told her I destroyed it. Her living with Iron Will definitely changed her, because she was all yelling and screaming at me in third pony about how I lied to her, scared her, and a bunch of other stuff.

“Fluttershy... yelling and screaming... Are we thinking of the same pegasus?”

Okay, she wasn’t yelling-yelling, but she was scolding me, and it still wasn’t pretty. It takes a lot, but when you get Fluttershy mad, she will tear you a new one and then shove something sharp and spiky up it.

“Interesting visual.”

I thought so, too. Anyway, when everyone calmed down, I showed Iron Will the money and he brought me to the basement where the suit was. I was starting to feel super sick now, and had to use Fluttershy for support so she could take me to the bathroom so I could go through another round of thinking-but-not-having-to-puke. Iron Will offered to give me some medicine, but I knew it would be worthless. We argued a little bit, but I convinced them to let me see the suit.

“The suit you were wearing when we found you, yes?”

Correctomundo, buddy.

“I am not your buddy.”

Yeah, you definitely need a hug.

“You need to tell what happened next.”

Alright. I don’t think Fluttershy knew of Iron Will’s side business because when we were heading towards the suit, her expressions spoke for her as we went past destroyed targets and pinned up blueprints of suits and weapons. She was confused, surprised, scared, angry, and worried, and all that went up in a snap when we got to the room where the suit was being held. It looked beautiful sitting on the pedestal with the light shining down on it like Celestia had blessed it herself. I was honestly too happy at the moment to care about my Pinkie Senses. Finally, after all the weeks of trouble and near death experiences, I finally got the suit. But then I got a sudden sadness.

The suit was made for Trixie so she could stand a fighting chance against Roar Shock, but Trixie had died when we were betrayed by the EIB. My sister died the same night... she tried to kill me, but Rainbow Dash killed her first. And the thing is, she thought I was somepony else, and wanted to avenge my death. It reminded me of what Celestia had told me. She told me that I would get Trixie killed for my actions, just like I got Spike killed. Those little memories, and my Pinkie Senses on constant alarm, I could only wonder what bad thing would happen next... like who was going to die that night...?

I tried to play it cool, but Fluttershy knew something was wrong. She kept giving me those looks she always gave me and my... friends when she felt something was wrong. She kept asking: “Pinkie, are you okay?”, “Are you sure you’re okay?”, “You don’t look well, do you want me to get you a room prepared so you can rest?”

Honestly, it got annoying, but I knew she was only trying to help, and my Pinkie Senses constantly giving me the shivers is what was really grinding my gears. Eventually I had to be just a tad bit firm with her to get her to stop pestering me, and she stopped after apologizing and hiding behind her mane.

When we finally got around to me actually putting on the suit, I was twitching all over and I had to try super hard not to let my twitches show. Fluttershy was getting more worried at that point because I think she saw me twitching, or at least trying not to twitch, and Iron Will was too busy fitting me with the suit. The suit was actually looser than I thought, though. I mean, I knew Trixie was big and butch, but I didn’t realize how big and butch she had become until I actually put the suit on. I mean, with that suit on, and the voice disguiser, anypony could easily mistake her for a guy.

“So the suit was for Trixie?”’

Yeah.

“And how much was she going to pay?”

Oh... well, um, kind of a funny story, actually. You see, Trixie would be paying with money from her inheritance that turned out to be confiscated by an obscure law I have never heard of, but she wouldn’t have known because I would’ve taken the three hundred grand and given it to Iron Will.

“Wait, Trixie didn’t know?”

...No... No, she didn’t. But I would’ve paid her back!

“How did you convince her to let you measure her for the suit if she did not know?”

She didn’t know anything! It would’ve been a big surprise for her! She didn’t even know that I measured her because I measured her in her sleep!

“You measured her in her sleep?”

Yeah.

“And that did not seem the slightest bit strange to you? Or even-?”

Pervy? C’mon, you’re asking a mare tied up in a straight jacket if she thought that it was strange or pervy to measure somepony in their sleep. But, yes, it felt weird, and at first I was really ridiculously careful. So careful that I sweat buckets whenever I touched her because she got very nasty when she thought somepony was feeling her up. But then I found out that she was not only a very heavy sleeper, but she also snored louder than any normal pony, and she drooled a lot. I didn’t tell her, though, because she was very sensitive, kinda like a toddler. On the outside, she was mean, had some serious ego problems, and got very dangerous when she felt threatened. But on the inside, she was caring and a child at heart who just wanted friends, like me. Only, I wasn’t scared to ask for them and could sing pretty well, whereas Trixie had some serious trust issues and couldn’t sing even if the survival of time and space depended on it. But I know I only made her trusting problems worse, and I wish I could’ve fixed it before she died...

“Ms. Pie, we aren’t here to talk about Trixie, we are here to talk about you and what happened at Iron Will’s residence.”

Right, because nobody wants to hear about how much she changed-

“Ignore her, and tell me what happened-”

Because that would be- Ignore her!? Are you serious!? You want me to stop talking about one of my only true friends after all the crap I’ve been through? Are you- are you serious!? Please tell me you’re joking because that joke is not funny! And I know funny because I am the Element of Laughter!

“You were the Element of Laughter,” snaps Shekel. “The Elements of Harmony are no more because you decided to play dead.”

Pinkie Pie glares at Shekel, and Doodle eyes both of them nervously while his reluctant partner towers above the cuffed mare.

“I’m still Laughter,” says Pinkie Pie softly as tears stream down her cheeks. “I was chosen to be Laughter. Me. I-I-I am Laughter... I want to be Laughter.” Pinkie Pie looks down, her trapped shoulders buckling while sobbing. “I wanted to make others happy, but it cost me everything! I don’t have a family anymore. My friends are gone, and not even Celestia likes me anymore!”

Pinkie Pie starts shaking her head and mumbling incoherently, but to Shekel, it kind of sounds like she’s arguing with herself. While Shekel watches, Doodle carefully approaches him and nudges him on the shoulder, saying something that makes Shekel scowl at him.

Pinkie Pie looks up at Shekel, glaring and sniffling. “Just go,” she says in a low, threatening tone. “Auntie Pinkie wants to be alone right now.”

It is just then that the door opens and a nurse wearing the traditional white scrub with the blocky hat storms in, furiously shouting at the two inspectors. She steps in front of them and continues yelling at them until they leave. Pinkie Pie watches the two leave, her glare unwavering, and when Shekel turns to give her one last look, her eyes narrow and the nurse shouts at him while waving her hoof theatrically. Shekel leaves and the nurse kneels next to Pinkie Pie and hugs her close while rocking her and shushing her gently. Pinkie Pie closes her eyes and cries softly into the nurses chest.

In the hallway, Shekel and Doodle silently pass other nurses and doctors, but Doodle keeps glancing at Shekel out of the corner of his eye while the ibex keeps his focus straight ahead.

“[So],” begins Doodle nervously, “[you mind telling me what happened in there?]”

“[Your suspect is a nut],” says Shekel sharply.

“[Well, she seemed okay until you said something to her. What did you say?]”

Shekel stops and glares at Doodle, and the donkey shrinks back slightly.

“[I told her the truth, and she didn’t like it],” growls the ibex.

Doodle cocks head head slightly. “[What was the truth?]”

Shekel sighs and starts walking again, this time with his head down and voice quiet. “[She shouldn’t cling to those she thinks dead.]” Then in a louder tone. “[Tell the Chief that I won’t be doing any more double cases. I have too much work to do.]”

Trixie’s eyes slowly open, and she after a minute of laying on a surprisingly comfortable cot, she looks around to assess her situation. She is in a bare, white room, covered in strap, IVs connected to bloodbags and medication, and a dozen other wires that seemingly serve no purpose. She stares off into space, listening to the machinery and the quiet conversations of the passing doctors. The longer Trixie sits there, the more her mind wanders towards the dreaded interrogation regarding her explosive chase in the middle of the city. As she waits, she wonders how she will be interrogated. Will they strap her down and inject her with poison, like what Brisk Wind did? Or will they lock her in a dungeon and play screeching music while keeping bright lights shining on her face? The possibilities of torture are limitless!

The longer Trixie waits, the more she plots her escape. She tries tugging on the straps, but her hooves barely move, and when she tries again, this time straining her muscles to the limit, she is forced to go limp because the IVs in her started shifting around, and that alone is a painfully uncomfortable. Trixie then attempts to use her magic, but once her horn sparks, she gets the electric punch to the forehead signaling a magic backlash. For a normal unicorn, a magic backlash would be something that would bring them to tears from the pain and emotional shock of their horn betraying them. However, Trixie has felt worse things, both physically and emotionally, than magical backlash, so all she really does is mentally fold her hooves across her chest and glare at the ceiling resentfully with some tears in her eyes. That goes without saying that her little attempt at magic made the machines she is strapped to spike.

“Great,” mutters Trixie.

She hears a set of hooves approach her room, and she thinks nothing of it until the door opens. Trixie squeezes her eyes shut and pretends to be sleeping, even going as far as throwing in a soft snore. She can hear the visitor approach her bed, and figures its a doctor when they stop by her bed. But when she hears the visitor pull up a chair, her suspicions spike.

“Your snore is too soft for you to be sleeping,” says a familiar voice.

Trixie’s eyes gradually open and she looks to her side, scowling. But when she sees who’s next to her, she jolts up in her bed, or tries to at least. The straps keep her locked down good and tight, and the IVs in her make the sudden movement excruciating. She yelps and crashes down in her bed, trying to hold back her tears by squeezing her eyes shut. She can just picture the visitor shaking his head.

“You always had your moments,” he says with a barely noticeable smirk. Trixie looks to her side again, this time her scowl replaced with painful confusion as Gray Muffin puts his hat on Trixie’s bed. “But with your moments of stupidity, you always had a moment of admirance to counter it.”

“You’re dead... They said that you were dead,” says Trixie, too weak and tired from the medications and blood loss to express her shock effectively at the moment.

Gray Muffin arches an eyebrow. “You believe the words of liars and murderers?”

Trixie frowns. “Aren’t we all murderers?”

“No. We may kill, but we kill those who harm the innocent. That does not make us murderers, it makes us the Agents of Justice.”

Trixie slouches in her bed and stares at a discoloration on the ceiling that strangely looks like an “M”.

“Wow, you sure know how twist words,” she says with a hint of annoyance.

Trixie waits for Gray Muffin to make a comeback or rebuke her words, but he is silent. All he really does is stare at her. His eyes scan the hospital equipment strapped to her, and the straps holding her down. Trixie watches him more intently, and gets more and more uneasy as he continues his silent exploration.

“Can you say something? You’re creeping me out,” says Trixie sharply.

“I was admiring you for how far you have gone with every little training,” says Gray Muffin, then his lips curl to a frown. “And yet, I am also pitying you. If I had not rushed you, then you would not be broken and confused.”

“Confused? Confused about what?” says Trixie angrily. “Confused about why the League trying to kill me after I tried to uphold your values? Or confused about why I’m always getting the short end of the stick? Because if you have answers for that, I would love to hear them!”

Gray Muffin stares at Trixie regretfully, and she glares back at him in such a way she wouldn’t dare to do in what seems like a lifetime ago. But she doesn’t care if she’s glaring daggers at her mentor, even though she is strapped to a hospital bed. The two ponies stare at each other for a little while, with the only noise being a hypnotic ticking of the clock and the whirs and clicks from the medical equipment. Finally, after nearly a minute of pregnant silence, Gray Muffin releases a deep sigh and shakes his head sadly.

“I do not know why you get the worst of things, that is something beyond our perception. That is a question for the Divine Powers.”

Trixie scoffs and turns her focus to the “M” on the ceiling again. “Yeah, pray about it, since they are so eager to make everypony’s life easier. Maybe I can ask them why that stupid number keeps showing up while I’m at it.”

“As for your first question,” continues Gray Muffin with a burst of sternness, “you have not been upholding our values.”

Trixie’s head snaps to Gray Muffin, and she makes a whiney screaming mix as she screams: “What!”

“You went on to fight as an Agent of Justice, which I commemorate you for, but you have not saved Canterlot by showing mercy towards the wicked. You only made it worse for yourself and for those around you.”

Trixie’s jaw drops. “I did not!”

“Everything has a reaction, and you leaving survivors puts you, and those you care about, and everypony else around you, at risk for retaliation by these monsters. Many innocents were hurt and killed at your apartment and the griffin enclave because of your unwillingness to take a life. And your lack of control nearly leveled Buchtseite, killing more innocent. Just like with Ponyville.”

Trixie lowers her eyes, and finds it hard to breath with the wet lump in her throat.

Gray Muffin also looks down shamefully. “But the blame is on my shoulders as well. You do not know how to control your magic, and I never trained you properly. And for that, the terrible things that have happened are my fault more than yours.”

Gray Muffin looks at the clock hanging on the wall, mutters about not having enough time and needing to finish the conversation. This confuses Trixie, but she guesses that he’s on some kind of secret mission, which makes her wonder why he is not killing her on the spot right now since she’s on the League’s hit list.

Gray Muffin looks back at Trixie solemnly. “I am truly sorry you have been marked, Trixie, but the things that happen are necessary for the survival of Justice. And until the day comes where Equestria is free from corruption and where no pony lives in fear of scum, the League will remain in the shadows as the guardians of the innocent.”

Trixie strains her neck as she looks at Gray Muffin while he puts on his hat.

“Gray Muffin, before you go, can you please answer a question?” asks Trixie, worried about what she might hear.

Gray Muffin ignores her as he walks towards the exit, but when Trixie calls for him again, he stops, and he turns his head slightly so he can see her out of the corner of his eye.

Trixie lowers her eyes, trying control her nerves. “I know Roar Shock killed my father, so...” Trixie looks at Gray Muffin, begging for an answer, “why did he let me in?”

Gray Muffin looks down. “I do not know. There are somethings not even Roar Shock will tell me. I’m sorry.”

With that, he leaves the room without uttering another word, and the door quietly clicks as it closes. Once the door shuts, Trixie closes her eyes, slumps in her bed and lets out a loud, disappointing whimper.

“Don't fret, darlin', ya should be proud of yerself,” says Sunshine.

Trixie's eyes snap open and she shrieks and tries to break free from her straps as Sunshine looms over her, licking his lips like a dog eagerly awaiting its treat. But despite her best efforts, the only thing that happens is her straps tighten and the machines beep and ding wildly.

Sunshine chuckles and hops on top of Trixie, tail flicking and wing expanded, and he presses himself down on her, thus trapping her between him and the bed. When Trixie tries to scream for Gray Muffin, he places his nasty hoof over her mouth while shushing her. She trembles and sobs, and though Sunshine has his hoof over her mouth, filling her nose and mouth with the scent and taste of poorly kept soil, she still screams for help.

“Relax, darlin',” says Sunshine in a whisper as he gently removes her IVs, “it's just you and me here. Together. Alone, for celebration of your new direction. Be proud of your sins-” he leans in closer and gradually removes his hoof from her lips, she is still trembling, but is now sobbing quietly “-for your sins have saved you.”

Sunshine presses his muzzle against Trixie's, and her scream is muffled as his thick, slimy tongue bullies its way past her lips and into her mouth. And when Trixie feels Sunshine press his lower body against hers and start grinding she-

Screams awake, causing the nurse next to her jump and swear in her native language. Trixie pants and looks around the room she is in as the nurse speed walks out of the room, calling for somebody. It is a standard, white hospital room with minimal decorations, and she is also strapped up to machines and IVs while being help down by very sturdy straps. Just like in her dream. She really wants to wipe the sweat off of her face since it is making her itch, but the straps prevent her from doing so and she knows for a fact that her horn is cuffed, leaving her only one option. Shake her head and hope for the best. And that is exactly what she does, and she swears when she gets nauseous from her actions.

Her ears flick and scowls when two old ibexes loom over her, one in a white lab coat and the other looking like he belongs in a noir flick. The doctor has a clipboard and a stethoscope draped around his neck, and the noir looking ibex has a fancy badge hanging off of his neck too.

“Mrs. Fountain, I am Dr. Stain, and this is Inspector Gruber,” says the ibex in the lab coat, pointing at the respected subjects with a graceful motion of his hoof. “How are you feeling?”

Trixie glares at the two, and when it becomes apparent that she is not in the talking mood, the doctor's face falls and he lifts up the clipboard so he can see the data. Trixie tunes him out when he begins listing her near fatal collection of injuries. Something about a dozen broken bones, fractures left and right, internal bleeding, and road rash taking up an insane percentage of her body. Luckily for her, the doctors were nice enough to put her in emergency care and she is now on the path to rehabilitation.

“You should be fully recovered in six to eighteen months, depending on your... activities,” finishes Dr. Stain with a thin smile tugging at his lips.

Trixie's glare deepens, and Shekel also looks at Dr. Stain with a deadpanned look. Then the inspector says something to the doctor in his native language, which sparks a conversation between the two that leaves Trixie absolutely clueless as to what is going on. All she really knows is that she is in deep trouble and can't speak the ibex tongue, leaving her in deeper trouble.

The conversation finishes when the two ibexes look at Trixie, exchange a few more words, and then the doctor leaves while Shekel pulls up the chair that Gray Muffin had used in the dream. And he sits exactly where her mentor had sat, too. This weirds out Trixie a little bit, and she tries not to let it show, but she knows that she is not exactly the most subtle when it comes to hiding feelings. He then starts flipping through a folder he pulled out of his saddle, and Trixie tries to see what he’s reading by craning her neck. She has no luck in reading it, only pain from the IVs tugging against her. She winces and slumps back in her seat, hoping that she isn’t ruining her veins with her constant shifting.

“Mrs. Fountain, with the extent of your injuries, you better be thanking Luna you are alive,” says Shekel with a slight hint of malice in his tone. “You are Mrs. Trixie Fountain, correct?”

Trixie says nothing, and Shekel leans closer to her, making her scrunch her nose from the potent smell of cheap cigar in his breath. He searches her face, and she continues to glare at him, wishing he would go away so she could sleep in peace.

“Mrs. Fountain, when you were brought in, you had left dozens injured and dealt millions in property damage. That does not even include the ones you killed in cold blood.”

“It was defense,” growls Trixie. “I killed those EIB assholes to protect Monte.”

Shekel pulls out a pad from his saddle. “And what about the safety deposit box?”

Trixie shifts uneasily in her seat, her defiant glare now switched with a nervous stare. “Well, yeah, that, too. But mostly Monte since he was a big player in the whole EIB-Griffin team up and was going to testify.”

Shekel nods and scribbles something on his pad. While he does that, Trixie slouches in her bed and closes her eyes. Even with all the medication she is on, her body still feels sore and broken. She feels bloodied and beaten, and as much as she wants to think about the positive, she can't. All she can think about is Andromeda putting a bullet in Monte's skull and Brisk Wind celebrating her victory with a glass of expensive champagne.

“What do you know about Pinkie Pie?” asks Shekel suddenly.

Trixie’s brain stops working for a moment at the mentioning of an old friend, and when her mind decides to start working again, it races to figure out what Shekel would want to know about Pinkie Pie.

“Um... well, she's nice, I guess,” says Trixie uneasily. She shudders when she she remembers Pinkie Pie's demented smile and what she did to the agents and griffins at their apartment.

“You don’t sound so sure about your answer, Mrs. Fountain. If that is even your real last name.”

“Well, um, I know she is a great baker and a bit... crazy. What does this have to do with me?”

“Everything. You and your group of friends have turned Bernese into a battleground. You destroy my home, terrorize the Grand Hotel, and made one of our most beloved citizens a target for a calculated attack.”

Trixie tries to hold her hoof up to silence Shekel, but the damn straps keeps it down. “Wait, Pinkie is here?”

“Yes, and she kept referring you in past tense.”

Trixie's eyebrow raises quizzically. “Why?”

“Because she thinks you are dead. Now why would she think that?”

Trixie tries to shrug. “I don’t know. It is kind of a long story, but we kinda got separated. Can I see her?”

“No.”

“Why not!”

“It is for your own good.”

“Oh, bullshit! Let me see her! We need to talk!”

“She is in no condition to talk, and since Ms. Pie thinks you are dead, she bought herself an advanced suit that was meant for you. Care to explain?”

Trixie stares at Shekel, seething at his refusal, but she does remember how Pinkie Pie made the first Mare-Do-Well suit for her in secret, and with the mention of another one, Trixie could only guess at the design's superiority. But suit aside, even if she wanted to -which she doesn’t- she would find it hard to explain to him the events leading up to her decision to become a vigilante, never the less the kind that would require a strong, comic book type suit. There is also the aspect behind her brief, intense training with a terrorist organization with a twisted sense of justice that would no doubt come up should she divulge on the matter.

Trixie eventually comes to the conclusion that it is best not to get into such things, and so she turns her head from Shekel so she can look at the beautiful paint job of pure white. But when she sees the wall, she thinks of the time Pinkie Pie was Minty Sprinkles, and how she complimented how well painted the white wall was at Fancy Entertainment. This brings a small smile to her face.

“Who are you trying to be, Mrs. Fountain?” says Shekel sternly, completely ruining her moment of peace.

Trixie still doesn’t look at Shekel, she wants to continue staring at the wall and forget for just a moment that she is a prisoner in a foreign country.

Her ears twitch when Shekel clears his throat, and her eyes widen when a photo of the Hotel crime scene floats in front of her face. She looks to her side, expecting to see a unicorn next to Shekel, but when she sees his hoof extended slightly and glowing faintly, she scrunches in her bed. The photo drops on her lap, and more photos float out of his saddle and fall on her bed, each passing photo making Trixie flinch and the old ibex wince slightly and caste a worried glance at the door. When all the photos are on the bed, Trixie looks at Shekel’s glowing hoof, but before she can get a good look at it, he lowers it from view and locks eyes with her.

“Who are you trying to be?” repeats Shekel.

“I’m not trying to be anypony anymore,” says Trixie sadly as she lowers her eyes. “I’m too dangerous to be a hero.”

“Yes, you are quite dangerous, and I am glad you think so,” says Shekel. “Which is why we are putting you away, so you do not harm anybody else. But answer me this, why did you call yourself a hero?”

Trixie swallows her spit as her eyes lower to the paper thin blanket draped over her body. And she continues to stare at it, lost in the memories of the events leading up to her drastic change in direction. From her outperforming and ruining her competitions, to her downfall fueled by her desire to prove her superiority over Twilight, and all the way up to Barnville, Sunshine, and Gray Muffin and the League of Justice. As she thinks, her ears flick slightly in tune with the ticking clock and the tears trailing her cheeks leave an itching feeling that she really wants to scratch, but obviously can't due to the circumstances.

“Mrs. Fountain.” Trixie looks at Shekel, sniffling, and he adjusts his seat so he is closer to her. “Why did you call yourself a hero?”

Trixie takes a deep breath to break a bubble in her throat, then she looks down at the blanket again for a few moments before gathering the courage to explain herself to Shekel.

“You ever feel like you are on top of the world, like nothing could go wrong?” begins Trixie quietly; she sees Shekel barely nod out of her peripheral vision and lifts her head so she can see him. “Then you watch it all just go away in a single night? And you walk aimlessly through areas you used to go to, but now no pony wants to do anything with you, and you spend your nights crying yourself to sleep, blaming somepony else even though deep down you know it is your fault? You wanted to feel valuable, wanted to feel loved and for once in your own miserable existence have things go your way. Then when you thought you found a way, that way wasn’t good enough because one little lie destroyed it. One lie, and you realized how unloved you truly were, how worthless you were made, and how Celestia’s tests are just games to see how naive you are to believe in good things. One. Little. Lie. And you know the truth of how the world really is. Conditional.”

Shekel looks at Trixie, and with the sudden appearance of unmistakable sadness in his eyes, Trixie is sure that she hit a sore spot with him somewhere. Trixie looks down again, swallowing her tears and wishing the ibex could just go away.

“And what does this have to do with you wanting to be a hero?” asks Shekel after a moment’s pause.

Trixie hesitates, not really comfortable with the idea of talking about what happened, but Shekel’s gaze isn’t breaking, and she really wants him to leave so she can sleep.

“Mrs. Fountain, the longer you are quiet, the longer I stay here,” says Shekel, almost as if he had read Trixie’s mind.

Trixie swallows again, but that doesn't stop the tears from swelling up in her eyes.

“One night I was-” Trixie swallows again and blinks a wave of tears from her eyes as the memory of Sunshine floods back. She has to gasp for air and fight to formulate a sentence, and she tries to get Shekel to drop the subject, but he persists under the guise of investigation purposes. “One night I went to this place on the outskirts of Equestria. I was starving, dirty, nowhere to go and no bits to buy food with. I was low, and the idea of killing myself became... stronger. And then I met Sunshine. He was ugly and deformed, but he took me in, fed me, washed me... then he tried to rape me.”

Shekel’s gaze breaks just so he can scribble down what Trixie is saying.

“He poisoned me, locked me in a room, and no matter how hard I fought, he was still stronger, and every night I always think about how if it wasn’t for Gray Muffin, I would be his toy.”

Shekel looks up, pen in mouth. “And who is Gray Muffin.”

Trixie sniffles and gets a faint smile. “He is the one who saved me from Sunshine, and he is the one who trained me.”

Shekel snorts, obviously unimpressed by Gray Muffin’s work, but Trixie doesn’t care at the moment.

“When he trained me, he was tough, but always helped me. He always gave me advice and reasons for his methods.” Trixie frowns. “But he was also bitter. I could see the anger and sadness in him, and he was passionate about justice. When he saved me, I wanted him to train me so that I wouldn’t be abused like that ever again, but I think I really wanted to become an Agent of Justice when I realized how passionate he was for protecting the innocent. But I can't be him, I hurt everypony whereas he only hurt those who deserve it.”

Shekel stops writing for just a moment, and Trixie gets concerned when he underlines something on his pad. She tries to take a peek, but he spots her not so sly movement and pushes the pad to his chest. Then the door opens and Dr. Stain walks in with a clipboard around his neck and he addresses Shekel in a professional manner. The two speak for a little bit, and when they are done, Shekel turns to Trixie and more nurses come in with fresh bags of medication.

“We will have to continue our discussion at another time, Mrs. Fountain,” says Shekel as he puts his stuff in the saddlebags. “Hopefully when we meet again you will be well enough to walk.”

Trixie nods and slumps in her seat, eyes closed and welcoming the comfort of her cot and the fresh dosage of medication.

In the hallway, Shekel sits down at a bench and pulls out his pad and flips to his notes on Trixie. He stares at “Agent of Justice”, which is underlined in thick pen strokes. He thinks for a moment before he walks up an unoccupied phone room. He pays the small fee and dials the number he wants, and when he hears a familiar donkey on the other end, he adjusts himself so he can get a better look at his pad.

“[Doodle, it’s Gruber, I have a quick question.]”

“[Okay, what is it?]”

“[You remember how you talked about the Equestrian that was picked up from Iron Will’s when we were going to Pinkie Pie? The one who was in shock?]”

“[Yeah, what about her?]”

“[What did she call herself?]”

“[Lyra... Heartstrings? Yeah, Lyra Heartstrings. She’s some quality eye candy, too, if you know what I mean.]”

Shekel rubs his brow, sighing irritably. He can just picture the stupid smile that Doodle is getting from his fantasy.

“[Doodle, that is not what I’m talking about. What was her title?]”

“[Oh. Psh, I don’t know. I think she called herself an ‘Agent of Justice’, or something cheesy like that. Why?]”

Shekel hangs up and hurries out of the room.