“Hello, my little ponies, what's crack-a-lackin' in the Big Palace?” Vinyl Scratch chuckles. “Sorry, couldn't resist trying that silly gansta talk. But on to some news since that is what my little itty bitty station is now. Seriously, how screwed up are we to where you guys come to me for news rather than those big ole diamond dogs? Before you call and give me all the answers I crave, just hear me out on what's going down and then you can shower me with praise.”

Vinyl Scratch clears her throat in such a way that it sounds like a cough and some papers rustle close to the microphone, creating an odd, scratchy noise.

“First, Sapphire Shores has compared the Lunar Society to the League of Justice by calling them one and the same in a recent interview. I don't know where she got that idea from, but, whatever, it's a free country. But only if you agree with the mass media and government. Did I over step that? Of course I did! Where's the fun in understepping?”

Some more paper is brought to the microphone and rustled obnoxiously like Vinyl Scratch is trying to hide her sickly cough.

“Secondly... Secondly... Secondly, that situation in Bernese regarding the massive shootout and explosions and stuff in their tourist hotspot has left the Bernese government fuming and blaming Equestria for it. Probably because Shining Armor and the EIB were there. More on that later, though. How about something cheerful now? Sweetie Belle and Three Barns Up are doing a joint charity concert to promote awareness for horn cancer. Sweetie Belle has pledged to donate a whopping sixty percent of her profits to the Equestrian Cancer Foundation whereas TBU has offered twenty percent. So, buy your tickets and listen for the cure. Now for something completely messed up. Twilight Sparkle was found outside the Royal Canterlot Hospital with one of her eyes cut out! Not much detail on that, but long story short, Twilight's missing an eye, Celestia is furious, and whoever did that to our favorite adorkable unicorn better hope she or he is dead before Celestia gets her hooves on her or him.”

There is a moment of tense silence as Vinyl Scratch gives her audience time to soak up the news about what had happened to Twilight.

“Now for some music!”

Orchestra music plays softly in Brisk Wind's office, but the director is not paying attention to it. Rather her interest lies in the book she is reading. Her head is resting on her hoof as she reads passages from the Shining Path, hoping that it will bring some sense of calm to the horrible day that she's had. She wiggles a bit in the cuffs holding her wings down and the chains they are attached to clink together as they shift their position.

Once comfortable, the pegasus turns the page to read the next chapter. The pages make a small, crinkling noise when she turns them, but she finds the noise relaxing. After finishing the chapter she is on, she takes a sip from her cup and looks longingly at a photo of her and Lock when they were college hooligans. She gets a sad smile, and stares at it for another minute, wishing he were still alive to give her the comfort she needs before she resumes her reading.

Brisk Wind stood outside of Celestia's throne room, staring dreadfully at the intricate designs that marked the door. At first Brisk Wind didn't realize what was bugging her about the door -or the rest of the palace for that matter- since it appeared different, but when she realized what was wrong, she knew that Celestia was breaking. The moon had been replaced with a full sun, and any references to the night have been removed from the palace. She even found the patriotic music echoing throughout the halls to be eerie, and it didn't help that the Royal Guards were still and expressionless like cold stone.

Brisk Wind rubbed the finely healed scratches that Gilda had given her before taking a nervous breath and-

The doors suddenly swung open, making Brisk Wind snap to attention. She dared not blink when she saw Celestia sitting on her throne, staring at her. For some reason the throne room seemed darker despite it being in the middle of the afternoon.

The two stared at each other, and unlike Brisk Wind, who was terrified to the core and gulping back frightened tears, Celestia was tense and vengeful. Despite the guards' best attempts, even they looked terrified of Celestia's current state.

Brisk Wind took another breath and stepped in. The clip clop from her hooves echoed in the chamber, and the guards' eyes refused to trail her, just like ones in the halls. When Brisk Wind was a good ten paces away from the decorated throne, Celestia ordered her to stop. Brisk Wind froze and the Sun Goddess ordered her guards to leave. They all turned in unison, bowed, and marched out. Once the doors shut Brisk Wind cringed, and now that she was closer to Celestia, she saw just how damaging her work really was.

Never before had Brisk Wind seen the Sun Goddess so furious or ill before. Her grandeur looks that have made her the subject of many lustful thoughts have taken a turn for the worst. Her normally vibrant, free flowing mane is limp and fading to a faint pink from her mane’s roots, and not even her eye shadow is enough to hide the large bags under her eyes. They only succeeded in fueling the intensity of the literal fire pulsating in her eyes.

Brisk Wind gulped as she stood in front of Celestia, her legs trembled and her sweat sent freezing trails down her neck and face as she fought to keep her proud pegasus look. Celestia stared back at Brisk Wind, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. Brisk Wind could see Celestia's irises pulsate as she fought to keep her temper under control, but the icy blue pegasus knew that Celestia was barely in control and would have to tread very carefully about the situation.

“Brisk Wind,” began Celestia, her tone even, yet consumed with malice, “how long have you been in my services?”

“Ten years,” said Brisk Wind meekly.

“Ten. Years. Ten years, and I have put much trust and faith in you and your propositions to save Equestria from this disorder.”

Brisk Wind fought with every fiber in her body to keep her eyes on the princess, but when Celestia rose from her throne and expanded her wings, Brisk Wind had to look away. The Sun Goddess's wingtips flared with fire and every step she took left smoke rising from hoof shaped sears in the lavish carpet.

“Ten years, and I thought of you as an adviser. As a friend. Somepony who came to me in my darkest hour with a plan to save this kingdom from its own people. But rather than it getting better-” Celestia's fire tipped wings flared and her hooves ejected a burst of flames that left the floor peeling “-it got worse!”

Celestia stomped the floor, and Brisk Wind backpedaled, whimpering, as the flames licked up around her. Brisk Wind cowered under Celestia as she towered over her, eyes glowing and fire now tracing along the tiles and climbing up the pillars.

“But that wasn't all, was it, Brisk Wind?” snarled Celestia, using her magic to grab the pegasus and hoist her up so that they are eye level. “You betrayed me as Luna did, didn't you?”

“I don't-”

Brisk Wind silenced herself when Celestia summoned Gilda's safety deposit box, and then her whole body tensed up and her blood went cold from fear as the safe hidden in her office appeared as well. Brisk Wind stammered unintelligibly as she tried in vain to explain herself in such a way that wouldn't mean her getting cooked.

Celestia threw Brisk Wind across the throne room like she was but a rag doll, and when she slid to a stop, her back burned and her head throbbed. However, that wasn't the least of her worries. Celestia was now approaching her, literally setting fire to everything she passed.

“You played me like a fool!” screamed Celestia. “I trusted you and you betrayed me with your INSOLENCE!”

Brisk Wind was lifted off of the ground, and she screamed in pain as she felt her feathers and coat burn, her eyes dry out, and her skin boil under the intense heat radiating from Celestia. And right when she thought that it would all end for her, the door opened and Fuller galloped in, skidding to a halt in front of Celestia.

“Your Majesty, wait!” he screamed with an extended hoof.

Celestia glared at Fuller, and Brisk Wind was surprised to see him arrive and raise his voice for that matter. The heat was still there, though, and she felt flakes of her burnt coat and feathers fall off. Fuller straightened himself out and bowed, trembling slightly in the presence of Equestria’s ruler.

“Princess, if you kill Brisk Wind we might never find out who the Painter is,” said Fuller in a respectful, yet clearly desperate, tone. Then his eyes lifted up to Celestia. “Let her stand trial, but we need her alive to uncover the truth behind what is going on.”

Celestia's growl was like a low rumbling thunder as she glared at Fuller, then she brought her wrathful gaze to Brisk Wind. Celestia's body slowly went back to normal as the fire around her simmered into haze, and she carelessly let Brisk Wind fall to the floor as she turned to mope back to her throne.

“Get her out of my sight,” growled Celestia.

Brisk Wind was helped up by Fuller, and she can't help but hug him as she cried into his neck, thanking him for saving her. Fuller, however, didn't return the affection. He pushed her off of him and gruffly ordered some guards to take her away.

Brisk Wind's train of thought is interrupted when her ear twitches in response to a faint floor creak. A tingly feeling runs up her spine and her mane crawls as she cautiously turns around. When she sees who's standing in her doorway, she jumps out of her seat. She quickly tries to look fierce by ruffling her bound feathers and snarling, but her intruder's utter calmness is unnerving in every way possible. She briefly wonders where the agents that were keeping an eye on her are, but with him there, she is quick to figure out that their lives ended badly.

Brisk Wind is blasted into the wall by a burst of energy, leaving a large indent in it. She bounces off of her desk and lands on her stomach, coughing and gasping for air with smoke rising off of her. When she hears her intruder approaching, she looks up, trembling and crying from fear as the stallion in a full-body painter outfit towers above her.

Brisk Wind holds up her trembling hoof and begs him not to kill her when from a pouch he draws a metal rod with a gem on the top that is surrounded by small, Tesla coil like fingers. Ignoring her pleas, he jabs the device directly on her spine, and she screams in pain as the electric surge ripples throughout her body and short-circuits her nerves, leaving her paralyzed and smoking.

Brisk Wind lungs feel like they are stuffed with cotton and her maw uselessly snaps for air as her limbs shift weakly on the carpet. She tries to flap her wings, but they barely move in their bondage.

“Why?” whimpers Brisk Wind hoarsely.

“You compromised enough,” says the stallion, his voice deep and muffled from the mask. Then he waves his hoof, and Brisk Wind's heart races and she tries in vain to crawl away when three griffins walk in. One is scrawny and armed with a mini-Gatling gun, and the other is big and armed with a fat shotgun, but the last looks like a freak whose own body is a weapon. “She's all yours.”

The stallion leaves without another word and the living weapon orders the largest of her guards, Grim, to “take care of the others” and orders the scrawny one, Nasty Hick, to keep watch outside the office. The two comply without hesitation and she marches towards Brisk Wind.

Brisk Wind trembles and begs through whimpers as the griffin's imposing figure gets closer. The griffin looks as though she had been through Hell and back. Her disfigured wings are being reinforced by an intricate network of metal rods, pistons, and gears, which connect to a pack on her back. The pack looks as though it is a battery crossed with air tanks that have gems outlying them, and they connect to a breathing apparatus strapped to her face. But what terrifies Brisk Wind more than anything else is the mechanical reinforcement on one of her talon hands, which has a rock embedded directly into her palm.

“Do you remember me?” wheezes the griffin, the pack clicking and hissing a second after. Before Brisk Wind can answer, she is grabbed by her neck by the griffin's natural hand and hoisted off of the ground. Brisk Wind flails weakly as she gasps for air, and when she is brought to the griffin's mask, she can't help but stare into the griffin's unnaturally green eyes, despite how much they terrify her. “I told you I was coming for you.”

Gilda breaks the lock to the shackle, and the metal bonds fall to the ground with a metallic thump. Brisk Wind's wings droop lazily and one of Gilda's mechanical fingers gently tours Brisk Wind's limp wing. Brisk Wind shudders from the tingly sensation and whimpers when the mechanized talon stops at the base of her wing. Brisk Wind gulps when she sees Gilda smile behind her breathing mask. Then the griffin's grasp tightens around the base of Brisk Wind's wing, and she starts twisting, making Brisk Wind cry out in pain. Her crying and begging becomes more desperate and intense when she feels her skin break from the splinters of bone poking out. A green mist pours out of the rock in Gilda’s palm when the blood touches it.

“And now here we are.”

Gilda gives one swift motion of a twist and tug against Brisk Wind's wing. Brisk Wind agonizing howl echoes from the house as her wing is torn clean off, spraying Gilda, herself, and the floor with blood as powerful blasts of gunfire echo from downstairs.

What sounds like a powerful gunshot is actually Trixie's hooves slamming on a recycled oak desk in front of her. The force she used was enough to knock over a mug of pencils and a framed photograph.

“What do you mean you won’t book!” screams Trixie furiously, her stage hat and cape now faded and torn on the edges, and stained with mud and other unknown substances.

The mare in front of her, a unicorn with a blue coat and a sloppy, gray mane, shrinks back in her seat. The tag on her desk says: “Blue Bonnet”.

“Trixie, I’m sorry, but Sapphire Shores doesn’t want you near here. Or any other place she owns for that matter,” stammers Blue Bonnet apologetically as she frantically tries to clean up the mess with her magic.

“Why? What did Trixie ever to do her!?”

Blue Bonnet manages a nervous shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t like the fact that you turned one of her favorite fashion supplier’s mane’s into a rat’s nest.”

Trixie groans furiously and plants her face in her hoof, swearing and believing that the whole Rarity incident at Ponyville will haunt her for the rest of her days. She then sulks over to the overused, velvety couch and lays flat on it, burrowing her face in her hooves.

“Why does everypony say that?” whines Trixie. “It was not a rat’s nest, it was mint weed!”

Blue Bonnet arches an eyebrow. “Mint weed?”

Trixie wipes her nose. “Trixie was hungry and forgot to buy some apples before the show because of preparation.”

Blue Bonnet sighs. “Look, Trixie, I know you're in a bit of a tough spot right now, but there is nothing I can do for you. Sapphire Shores is my boss, and what she says goes. And she says not to give you anything and to call the guards if you show up. I haven't called the guards yet, but I will if you don't leave.”

Trixie looks at Blue Bonnet worryingly, and when she realizes the unicorn is not joking about what it is she had been ordered to do, she hops off of the couch and drops to her haunches with her forehooves pressed together.

“Please don't call the guards,” begs Trixie. “I-Trixie can't go to the dungeons! My reputation-”

“Is already ruined. And there is nothing I can do to help. I'm sorry.”

Blue Bonnet approaches the door and holds it open for Trixie while giving her a stern glare. Or trying to at least, but it is betrayed by the unmistakable sadness in her eyes. Trixie stares back at Blue Bonnet, lips trembling and vision blurring from her tears.

“Please, just five minutes,” whimpers Trixie pathetically.

Blue Bonnet sighs. “Trixie, I can't. You know that.”

Trixie looks at Blue Bonnet for a few more seconds, with her tears cleaning trails of dirt off of her cheeks, before she looks down in defeat. Her whole body sulks and she can barely lift her hooves as she walks out with the burden of shame on her shoulders. When she reaches the stairs, she looks over her shoulder and sees Blue Bonnet staring back at her, painfully stern. Trixie continues her walk with her head down, barely acknowledging the squeals and laughter of foals enjoying a show from a cheap clown.

She stops when a group of foals rush past her legs with an obviously overworked mother trying to keep them under control. The mother briefly apologizes to Trixie for bumping into her, but that is as far as the acknowledgment goes. To her, Trixie is just another face. Another sad, dirty face left to wander the false utopia for the rest of her miserable life.

Trixie looks down as the memories of her first gigs as a performer for the day care center flood her. She wants to stay and watch, and she almost succeeds since she takes a spot in the back and watches with a sad smile as the clown makes a balloon animal. The kids love it and descend on it like a pack of love starved changelings when the clown tosses it to them. But her moment of solitude is ruined when Blue Bonnet clears her throat next to Trixie, making the former Great and Powerful jump in her spot. She looks at Blue Bonnet, pleading with her eyes to let her stay, but when the blue unicorn uses her magic to hold the door open and points towards the outside world, Trixie leaves. And nobody notices.

Once Trixie is standing outside on the sidewalk, she looks both ways down the street, trying to determine which path she should take on her aimless wandering. After deciding the path, she lets her hooves do their work without much thought. Although she is partially inclined to go to a tent where the Flim Flam Brothers are displaying their newest invention, the motorized wagon, just to keep her mind distracted from the misery for at least an hour. But all that goes down the tubes when-

“Banish the Ursa!”

A stuffed animal of an Ursa Major hits Trixie on the side of the face like a well-pitched baseball, making her lose her footing for a bit. And when she turns, seething with a red spot on her cheek, she sees two of the biggest brats in the world: Diamond Tiara and her nerdy friend, Silver Spoon. The two are pointing and laughing at her, and she feels her eye twitch as the fires of hate burn through her veins. She grits her teeth and marches towards them, purposefully stepping on the stuffed animal. When she is front of the two, they are still laughing like hyenas and having to use each other for support to keep themselves up from how hard they are laughing. She glares at them, and eventually they stop laughing, albeit with some difficulty breathing now.

Diamond Tiara wipes tears from her eyes. “What are you going to do, Great and Powerful Loser? Cast a spell on us?”

The two start laughing again, and Trixie’s eyes narrow and her horn sparks dangerously. But as much as she wants to zap them and see them scamper away with their tails between their legs the urge to teach them a harsher lesson reigns supreme.

If one were to blink they would miss Trixie’s hoof connecting with Diamond Tiara’s mouth with a loud crack. The brat falls to the ground, shrieking in pain and kicking her legs wildly while pressing her free hoof against her bloody mouth. Her tooth clatters through a sewer grate and disappears into the darkness of the murky water.

Silver Spoon instantly stops laughing and pales as her friend rolls on the ground, sobbing with blood flowing past her lips and hooves.

“You’re next,” growls Trixie as she points at the gray mare.

Silver Spoon backpedals into a brick wall, whimpering and trembling as Trixie descends on her, practically foaming at the mouth as her lust for vengeance takes over. When Trixie is towering over Silver Spoon, the terrified mare shrieks for help and Trixie makes an attempt to sock her in the jaw just like what she did to her friend, but her hoof is enveloped in a dark purple mist and she’s tugged back. Trixie yelps and momentarily loses focuses when her head cracks against the ground. Then she thrashes violently, screaming and swearing viciously as she is dragged down the road, into the custody of an all too familiar featureless unicorn. Before she can say anything, Custos levitates Trixie off of the ground and throws her in a caged wagon.

Trixie runs up to the barred door and bangs her hoof against it, provoking it to give her a massive shock that leaves her on her back with her heart racing and light smoke rising from her hoof. She groans and rolls to her feet, only to find herself in a grungy prison with only a small pocket of sunlight illuminating the floating dust.

Trixie jumps to her feet and tries to find a way out, whimpering and holding back tears. But she quickly finds out with a hard tug that her hind leg is cuffed to a chain built directly into the rusted concrete wall. Trixie pales at the sight of the chain, and her hoof slides up to her horn, dreading what she will feel. When her hoof brushes against the horn cuff, she screams in a mix of rage and fear and slams her hoof on the ground, ignoring the pain that rippled through it.

“Why!” screams Trixie towards the ceiling, face red and soaked in tears. “Why do you have to do this to me?”

“You did this to yourself,” states Custos. Trixie’s head snaps towards the shadowy pony as he materializes out of his hiding spot. Even though he is without a face, Trixie knows he is upset from his tone. “You built your own prison.”

“Ooh, how deep and thoughtful of you, Mr. Faceless Stalker,” snarls Trixie.

Custos steps closer and Trixie steps back, still holding her glare.

“It was not meant to be deep, nor meant to be thoughtful, it was meant to be blunt and to the point,” says Custos sternly.

Trixie snorts. “It’s this thing we like to call ‘sarcasm’.”

Custos stops in front of Trixie. “I want to help you, Trixie. I want to save you from yourself, but I can’t do that if you are afraid to help yourself.”

Trixie scoffs and walks towards a pile of hay, contemplating on whether or not she should eat it or lie down in it since the cell doesn’t have a cot. Trixie pokes at the hay, grimacing when a roach scurries out and runs towards the other side of the room.

“You know, when I try to help myself I get screwed over. I lost my father's love when I got into show business. I lost my reputation when Twilight pulled a fast one. And now I can't even help anypony because I'm a ticking bomb!”

“Because you can’t control yourself. Do you think Twilight became as powerful as she did because she trained herself?”

“She had a freaking goddess training her! What did I get? Stupid teachers and-“

“Excuses.”

Trixie glares at Custos. “No,” she sneers, “I was going to say do-it-yourself books.”

“Regardless, you refused to let anypony help you become Great and Powerful because you had something to prove to those ‘mules’ at the academy, to your father, and to yourself. You wanted to prove how great you were, and for you greatness meant self-reliance, forbidding friendship and the inability to forgive others. And we all know that that did not work well in your favor in the end.”

Trixie looks down, swallowing a lump in her throat as the stallion’s words pierce her heart like an ice stake.

“Trixie, Twilight didn’t become the Bearer of Magic because she was trained by a goddess. She became powerful because she was eager to learn from others and accept help and help others.”

“Enough with the preaching,” growls Trixie.

“You can’t do this to yourself,” continues Custos. Trixie closes her eyes and shakes her head as she presses her hooves over her ears. “The hate you have inside is consuming you, and what happened when you tried to save Monte is just the beginning if you do not get your demons under control.”

“I SAID SHUT UP!” screams Trixie, an electric shock wave shoots out from under her and burns and cracks the cell, and she collapses in a heap, sobbing in her hooves. “Please, just stop this,” she whimpers pathetically.

There is silence. The seconds are marked by the constant, hypnotic water droplets falling loose from the pipes and splashing on the floor. Though Trixie’s eyes are squeezed tight, she can still feel Custos staring at her, like a parent who is angry and sad at the same time about what their child has done. She continues sobbing in her hooves until they are soaked in her tears. Her lungs and throat hurt from her crying and she is afraid to open her eyes. She just wants to disappear. She knows Monte is dead and that Brisk Wind has the files now, and now there will be no stopping her. She has failed. Again.

Trixie flinches slightly when she feels Custos put his hoof on her shoulder. Unlike Sunshine’s touch, which is freezing and sucks all that is good into an abyss, Custos’s touch is warm and welcoming.

“All I know how to do is fail,” sniffles Trixie. “I’m not a good daughter. I’m not a good magician. I’m not a hero. I’m a murderer... Murderers can’t be heroes.”

“We all make mistakes, and all you can do is try to make up for them,” says Custos gently as he strokes her mane. “But I know of two ponies you saved. And a third if you give her a chance.”

Custos holds Trixie at hoof length and with his other hoof, he lifts her chin up so she can look at him. She really wishes that the mysterious creature had a face, or at least a pair of eyes, just so she can get an idea of what he's thinking. But even with his claim, she doesn't know who he is talking about, and she sniffles and nods her head anyway, figuring that he knows what he's talking about.

“You are already a hero, Trixie, you just have yet to realize it. And when the time comes, the world will realize it, too.”

Custos hugs her again, and Trixie wraps her hooves around him. His hug giving her a sense of closure and a place she can be protected from the Hell that taken over. However, the weight of her sins slowly return to her shoulders, and she finds herself buckling under her quiet sobs.

“I murdered them,” sobs Trixie, “I lost control. How can I be a hero when I can't control myself?”

Custos hugs Trixie tighter. “Let your friends help you, Trixie, and you won’t have to worry about losing control.”

Trixie feels warmth wash over her, and she looks up with bloodshot eyes and sees the featureless unicorn's horn glowing.

“It's time for you to wake up now.”

Trixie wakes up to the all too familiar hospital room, still strapped to the machines via IVs and sensors. She looks at the machines spewing vital sign reports and other stuff she is sure is there just to stroke the doctors' egos. She lifts her hooves up, or tries to at least, and finds that they are still strapped down. Trixie frowns and tries again, wincing when the IVs shift around. She slumps and bangs her head against her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut and swearing between gritted teeth.

Trixie takes another deep breath before deflating at the hopelessness of her situation. Then her eyes snap open on the realization of something critically flawed with the straps. She raises her hooves and they tighten. And when she relaxes, they loosen. Trixie grins for a flicker of a moment as she cranes her neck as if by doing so she'll see invisible doctors watching her. When her quick search shows that nobody is going to be seeing her, she relaxes in her bed and starts shifting her right hoof. It takes a minute, but once she is able to pull it back gently, she smiles and feels her heart soar with the prospect of freedom. But her smile turns to a wince when the stupid IVs dig into her veins.

Then the door opens.

Trixie snaps to attention and stares at Dr. Stain as he strolls in with a broad smile and a clipboard dangling around his neck.

“Good morning, Mrs. Fountain,” chirps Dr. Stain. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” grumbles Trixie. She winces again when her hoof slides free, and since Dr. Stain is distracted with checking the machines he doesn't see her press her free hoof against her body. “Am I well enough to walk?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

Trixie shrugs. “No reason. Just that Inspector Gruber said we were going to have another talk when I was well enough to walk.” Trixie smiles wryly. “I was hoping it would be longer since he's not exactly the nicest guy around.”

Dr. Stain nods as he looks at the machines. “Yes, Inspector Gruber is a hard nose, no denying that.” He notices a little bit of blood oozing out from where her IVs meet her skin. He leans down to get a closer look. “Have you been moving a lot?”

Trixie bangs her free hoof against the back of the doctor's head and he crumbles to the ground, unconscious. Trixie's right hoof had freed itself from the IVs with such a drastic motion, too, so blood is dripping from the small openings they left behind. Trixie cringes from pain and a surge of panic as she looks at the door, hoping to Celestia that nobody comes in. She stares at the door, unblinking, as she frees her left hoof in achingly slow motions, and once that hoof is free, she undoes the IVs and pulls off her thin blanket. She then uses a combination of hoof and teeth to free her hind legs. During which she also glanced up at the door, still silently praying that nobody would come in. But with the way her heart is racing, and how loud it is thumping in her chest, she is certain that someone would at least be curious about the sudden beating drums.

Trixie carefully climbs out of her bed and drags Dr. Stain out of view, using her teeth to grab his collar. Her muscles ached under the sudden strenuous activity, but that only slowed her down at a minuscule level. Once the doctor is slumped against the corner, Trixie takes a moment to take a breather. She wipes her sweaty mane out of her eyes, longing for the day when she can get the proper curl for it, and quietly approaches the door. She presses her ear against it and listens to the noise outside.

At first all she hears is the chatter of doctors and nurses going about their daily business, but her heart skips a beat when she hears two males really close to her door suddenly strike a conversation. One of them chuckles and says something to make his partner laugh. Trixie gulps and quietly approaches the window. Only to find it barred on the outside.

She swears under her breath and looks back at the door, gulping and shivering from the pain and fear induced sweat soaking her coat.

“This is a bad idea,” she says to herself.

Then she taps on the door.

The talking stops and Trixie steps aside so that she is hidden by the door when it opens. It takes the guards a couple of seconds, but when they do enter, she pushes herself against the wall, relieved that the door stops before it can hit her. Trixie takes a deep breath, puts on a confident smile and closes the door. Seeing the two guards' expressions when they turn around from inspecting Dr. Stain is absolutely priceless.

Trixie waves at them. “Hi there.”

The two guards rush towards her and-

She strolls out of the room a minute later with the sheets draped over her like a niqab and the remains of Dr. Stain's white jacket tied tightly around her forelegs like a bandage with his key in her mouth. She casually closes and locks the door, and then breaks the key off while it is still in the hole. Once that is done she adjusts her makeshift niqab and looks around to make sure no one had noticed, then goes on to walking away as fast as her sore legs could carry her. She has a noticeable limp in her walk that makes her wince quietly with each step, but being that she's in a hospital, most pay no mind to her.

She tries to play it cool as she hobbles through the crowded hospital halls, trying not to focus on the patients, their visitors, and the doctors and nurses. She stops, though, when she sees a mother rocking her injured foal that Trixie recognizes as part of the group that taunted her when she tried to use the exit as an entrance at the hotel. The foal is wrapped in a cast and has some ointment put over a burnt scar on her face. The child looks to be nearly asleep, but when she sees Trixie, she stares at her, like she knows what her crime is. Then the mother looks at Trixie, distraught and hugging her daughter tighter.

Trixie swallows air to break a wet lump in her throat and walks away with her head down, blinking tears out of her eyes.

As soon as Trixie steps outside, she holds her hoof up to her eyes to shield them from the afternoon sun's blinding rays. Once her eyes adjust, she lowers her hoof and notices two things. One, an all too familiar ibex is stepping out of a motorized wagon with a couple of guards waiting for him. Two, there is a group of ponies dressed similar to her walking in the opposite direction, talking in a language foreign to Bernese and Equestria. She coolly walks towards the other side of the group and uses them as a living shield as they chat obliviously in her presence.

Shekel briskly walks up to Trixie's room, room five-oh-five, with the guards he met outside and a doctor escorting him. He is not very pleased with what he has been finding revolving around Trixie and her affiliates. In most cases he would find more answers than questions, but he is experiencing one of those cases where the exact opposite happens. And now he is feeling like a cheap character in a cheap story with all the stuff he has been finding in the past few hours

“[Normally Dr. Stain is easy to reach],” says the doctor nervously, “[I don't know why he hasn't answered your calls. Or ours.]”

Shekel notices that the two guards he had stationed aren't there, his gut clenches as his years of experience tell him something isn't right. He tries to open the door, but finds that the door refuses to budge. His eyes narrow and his suspicions spike through the roof. The doctor starts spewing out a line of excuses to explain the door, but Shekel knows that something is gravely wrong.

He takes a few steps back, then head butts the door open and stomps inside, leaving the doctor outside staring with his jaw to the floor, shocked by what the old ibex did with minimal space. Shekel immediately spots his two guards lying on the ground with broken radios and Dr. Stain in a corner. All three are unconscious, but the worst part of it is that Trixie's bed is empty.

Shekel storms out of the room and his guards follow him down the hall with some difficulty keeping up. “[Get every available guard to find an injured azure unicorn mare! And tell them she is extremely dangerous!]”

Six blocks away from the hospital Trixie has abandoned the group she snuck off with, and is still wearing her makeshift outfit. Her heart beats like a hummingbird whenever a guard vehicle passes, and she's careful to avoid guards that are getting into in depth conversations with passing civilians. It is no doubt that they are looking for her, and the last thing she needs is a guard to approach her and her if she has seen herself.

She picks up the pace, wincing and releasing a tiny whimper as her rapid hobbling sends unpleasant feelings rippling up her hooves. At first it wasn’t much of a problem since she was doped up on pain killers, but now that she is disconnected from the medication her abused body feels like is threatening to fall apart with each passing step. As Trixie hobbles through the crowded market, she ignores the vendors, ibexes asking for charity and street side preachers that strangely resemble the Luna’s Witnesses that popped up all over the place after her return. Whenever Trixie is approached by one of the three, she waves them off while pretending to speak a foreign language, which is really just a bunch of gibberish that sounds like what the group she left with was saying. That seems to work just fine, though, since they move on to someone else to bug. Soon, though, Trixie is forced to lean against walls to keep herself standing as she takes deep breathes to sooth her pain. Even if the soothing is miniscule she still finds the moments peaceful. The sun bathes her in warmth and the excited chatter she is seeing from the conversing populace has a relaxing edge to it.

Trixie closes her eyes and slumps to the ground, her sweat now drenching her cheap garb. A moment later, she looks up with glistening, tired eyes to find the source of some music accompanied by a beautiful voice. Across the street she sees a street band of young ibexes playing a heartfelt tune. She also notices Sunshine across the street, smiling and tapping at the international pharmaceutical sign. Trixie just glares at him, and Sunshine's smile gradually fades to an annoyed frown and soon he trots across the street. Trixie stares up at him when he stands in front of her.

“You don't look so good, darlin',” says Sunshine. “Why don'tcha grab some pills?”

Trixie frowns. “Only if there's anti-hallucinogens.”

Sunshine chuckles. “Big words for ya there. But ya know, if ya really want t' know whether or not there are those anti-halucanagems then why not go inside? Besides, I'm sure the guards will catch ya in no time unless ya pop some of those little pills in yer mouth. Even if it just ta ease yer pain.”

When Trixie doesn't move Sunshine sighs explosively, moves next to her and slides his muzzle underneath her rump and pushes her up, making her yelp and jump away from him as his freezing nose touches a place where no nose should go.

Trixie glares at Sunshine while tucking her tail protectively against her privates, her tears and angry-embarrassed blush hidden behind the cloth covering much of her face. “What is wrong with you? Just go away!”

Sunshine grins, his nasty teeth grinding against each other and his horrid breath seeping through his parted lips. “You know that won't happen fer a while darlin'. Now why not see if ya can find somethin' to keep ya up? You know you won't last long without something to help keep yer hooves steady anyway.”

Trixie glares at Sunshine for another few seconds before a defeated sigh escapes her while reluctantly turning towards the pharmacy, knowing that Sunshine has a point.

The bell above the pharmacy door jingles an obnoxiously cheerful tune when Trixie walks inside. She looks up at a circular mirror, expecting to see Sunshine standing behind her, but when she sees the specter is nowhere to be found, she sighs with relief and continues to limp into the store. The clerk, a young female ibex, pays no mind to her since she is busy stacking boxes on the shelves. Trixie walks past her without much thought, too, but when she finds that absolutely nothing is in Equestrian she sighs heavily and hobbles towards the clerk.

Trixie clears her throat and the clerk looks at her nervously. “Do you speak Equestrian?”

The clerk nods.

“I need the strongest pain killers you have,” says Trixie, her harsh tone completely unintentional. “And anti-hallucinogens if you got them.”

“We no have that. Pain killers, yes, on back wall, under red,” says the clerk quickly in broken Equestrian.

Trixie heads towards the back wall and skims the red section for what she needs. She notices how the numbers get bigger in size, stopping at ten, and the pictures are stupidly simple with overly complex names. After scoping what she needs, Trixie limps towards the front and casually grabs a mouth basket and is about to go back to the wall when she notices something she hasn’t had in a while. Mint gum. And from the looks of it, the package is fresh from the wagon. Trixie looks at the ibex and when she sees that she is still busy stacking boxes, she slides the whole container, and all of its delicious thirty gum packets, into her basket and limps towards the wall. Once there, she sloppily rummages through the tens, ignoring the quizzical look the clerk is now giving her.

Trixie takes as many of the ones with bones, joints, and muscles on them as her basket can carry and right as the clerk is about to approach her, another ibex walks in, speaking in their native tongue. He is sounding furious, like when Monte and G. Bit argued in the bank kind of furious, and the clerk instantly turns to him to try to calm him down while simultaneously trying to watch Trixie. But when Trixie makes a mad dash for the door, wincing and biting harder down on the basket in response to the spike of pain, the clerk practically knocks the customer to the ground as she chases after her.

Trixie skids around the corner in an alley and when the clerk rounds the corner as well, she sticks out her hoof and the ibex collides with it, face first. The ibex falls down limp with a bloody nose and tongue hanging out, and Trixie winces and mutters an apology before speed limping down the alley.

Trixie doesn’t know how long it has been since she robbed the pharmacy of a dozen of its medications. All she knows is that the sun is now setting and the guards are still patrolling the streets en mass. Her only sanctuary is in an old, abandoned building that she could only guess was once an apartment. It was relatively easy getting in, not so easy finding a good place to rest.

The hallways of the derelict structure are spooky to say the least; they are narrow, the dimness turns to darkness easily, and each step Trixie takes makes worry that the floor will cave in on her. She pauses occasionally to take a breather and pop in a three course meal of pain killers, something she has been doing all day. And just like before, the taste of dry pills prove to be unpleasant and make the former showmare cough and hack violently as her throat closes up to stop the pills from going through, but she forces them down.

Once swallowing them, Trixie collapses to the ground, coughing and wheezing to the point of tears in her hoof. After her coughing fit ceases, she takes a deep breath, blinks the blurriness out of her vision and pushes herself to her feet and continues her walk down the hall. She remembers how Vinyl Scratch gave her some of those magnificently powerful pain killers the morning she took the fight to Gilda. She also remembers how she was called a dumbass for taking them dry.

A small smile curls Trixie’s lips, and she quietly says: “Yeah, I’m a dumbass.”

She stops suddenly when she hears a bell toll, and she looks into an apartment missing the front door and sees the pointy tower of a midnight blue steeple with a full moon on the tip. Or that is what Trixie is guessing it is supposed to be, given that it is just a circle and Bernese’s major religion revolves around Luna.

Each time the bell rings, her ear twitches slightly and she watches in mild fascination as a flock of birds speed past the tower poetically.

Then fatigue washes over her and her legs give out, forcing her on her rump. Trixie groans weakly and her heavy eyes drift shut for what seems like a moment with the bells acting like soothing background noise. But when she jolts herself away, the sun is farther down and the city is quieter.

Trixie reaches for her mint gum, and after some difficulty using her hoof and mouth, and questioning how earth ponies or Pegasi can do anything, she is able to pop the treat in her mouth. She shudders from bliss and gets a weak smile as the tasty cool flavor of mint treats her tongue to a long deserved treat.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you.” Trixie says happily to the gum.

Then, like a switch being flicked, her smile disappears and her hoof glides up to the horn cuff. She gently rubs it and winces when it bites her hoof with magical backlash. Her hoof recoils and she huffs and slides towards the wall. The wall’s cool surface provides an excellent contrast to her hot back, and Trixie sighs and rubs her tired eyes. Each blink seems to take minutes to complete and she finds herself drifting off to sleep again.

“Stupid cuff,” mutters Trixie drowsily as she sways in her spot, her eyes drifting open and shut and the numbness making her feel as though she is about to collapse in a puddle.

Trixie collapses to the floor, yawning and her hoof drifts back to the cuff. A few seconds of some soft stroking passes before she gets another zap, only her hoof falls down with a lazy thump rather than a sharp recoil. She stares at her hoof’s injuries, noting how her fur is slightly singed from the electric shock and how her IV stunt has left a layer of scabs clinging to her like gory glue. And she continues staring at the scab, thinking back to when she wiggled her way out of the constraints. It was uncomfortable, but it meant freedom in the end and she did it and escaped in light of all the crap that has happened in the past couple of days.

Trixie brings her hoof up again, biting her lip in anticipation of the pain, and when her hoof stays on the cuff too long, she gets another zap. Only this time she does not let go, she fights to keep her hoof on there and bites her lip until it bleeds in response to the pain. Soon, though, she feels her skin peeling from the hostile magical energy and she pulls away, whimpering and rubbing her hoof to comfort it. However, during her little test, she felt the cuff move slightly under her rubbing. Trixie smiles weakly and forces herself to stand up and explore the apartment.

A few minutes later, she is back by the wall with a piece of wood in her mouth, panting nervously and hooves moving and retracting to and fro from the device on her horn, like they can’t decide what they want to do. She knows she will be in a world of hurt if she does this, and there is no telling if her crazy idea will actually work. But she also knows that if she doesn’t try, the guards will catch her and she will be in another world of hurt. One side of the coin has the chance of freedom, the other is life imprisonment. The choice is clear.

Trixie whimpers through the slab of wood in her mouth as she pushes against the horn cuff. Tears fill her eyes and she can feel her teeth crack the wood underneath as the cuff's energy slithers around and bites her hooves. She is now screaming as she strains her abused muscles to the limit to push the cuff up. The light from the cuff is bright and the stench of burnt fur and skin leave an unpleasant odor in her nostrils. But she ignores them. Or tries to at least.

Trixie collapses to the ground, panting and dripping with sweat with the block of wood in front of her, her teeth marks visible, as smoke rises from her huddled figure. She whimpers as the burning pain in her horn and hooves dominates all aspects of her world, and she squeezes her eyes shut while curling on the ground, her whimpering turning into a soft cry.

But her crying soon subsides when she looks out the window at the setting sun and the city preparing to sleep. She knows that Pinkie Pie is out there somewhere, as well as Shining Armor.

Trixie hobbles towards the window, being sure to stay just far enough away so no one in the street would see her, but close enough to get a good view. As she looks at the city, she thinks about what Gray Muffin told her when they unlocked her true potential in the Citadel. To Roar Shock, she was just a weapon to be used for whatever plan he had in mind, but now that the players have changed, she is but a dog that needs to be put down. She doesn't know what he has in mind, but her gut is telling her that with what had happened to the Citadel he would want it to be big. And if Roar Shock is the diva she believes him to be, then he would want his grand performance to be biblical so the world could see what his idea of true justice is. He would tackle the heart of those responsible for his loss. Canterlot. The Royal Government. Shining Armor and Celestia. It is as Gray Muffin had said, Celestia endorses the Gray Area Logic and the Royal Government has become more incompetent over time, thus leaving them with the burden of blame of Equestria’s plight. Canterlot is the hub of Celestia’s power and where her influence is unshaken. And Shining Armor is not only one of her most trusted associates, but was also the one responsible for the Citadel’s sacking. Attacking Canterlot will be Roar Shock’s greatest act of retaliation against injustice.

Trixie slumps to the floor, with her back to the wall and bangs her head against it as her eyes shut. She just wants the nightmare to end. She has no idea what Roar Shock plans on doing, all she knows is that he'll be going on a rampage and if he finds out that she is still alive then he'll come after her again. Maybe next time with a small army and himself instead of Adanz and a death squad. And if he finds out that Pinkie Pie is alive, then he would probably do the same for her.

She also knows that she is being hunted by Bernese and if she were to be captured again they would make sure it would be impossible for her to escape and stop the insane terrorist-vigilante. They would overestimate her next time rather than underestimate, and she can't let that happen. She won't.

Trixie takes a deep breath and ignores all of her tired body's protests as she straightens herself out. She grabs the wooden bar she was biting down on earlier, sticks it back in her mouth and takes a couple more deep breaths and squeezes her eyes shut as she pushes her hooves up against the magical cuff.

It is just like before with nothing happening for the first few seconds, but then the sparks start coming. Like clockwork the charge increases after every few seconds, and this time Trixie refuses to remove her hooves. Her eyelids squeeze tighter as her muffled painful shouts escape through the wood. She pushes until her muscles feel like they are about to snap, and she pushes some more. The stench of burnt flesh and fur and evaporated sweat and tears sting her nose. She knows her body wants to quit since it seems like her forehooves are trying to disobey her brain and her back is having trouble keeping her upright. But she keeps going, willing herself to continue. She tells herself that if she doesn't do this then more people will die. That and Brisk Wind's torture was worse.

Small, red electric bolts slither in and out of the cuff and bite at her hooves like ravenous snakes. Each bite makes Trixie yelp and sob harder, and soon she can see the red light through her eyelids and hear the crackling and zapping and chunks of plaster fall from the ceiling and walls. Trixie screams in pain and determination, and her tongue tries to reel away from the splinters her teeth are forcing up. Then her hooves suddenly shoot up, and something that sounds like a sonic boom mixes with the chaotic sounds of glass shattering and wood splintering. There is a flash of bright red light to accompany them, but that's all it is, a flash, before darkness engulfs Trixie.

Trixie wakes up moments later on her stomach, her body smoking and shining with sweat in the light of the sinking sun, and dust is clinging to her because of it. She looks around in a daze, not really comprehending what is going on. She sees the windows are shattered and the walls and ceiling have been stripped of their covering, revealing severed wires, mangled pipes and splintering support beams. She hears a thumping beat over her own ragged breathing and a ringing in her ears, and when she lazily turns her head towards the source she sees the cuff not too far from her. Sparking. Each spark it makes sets off a small flash of red light and a thumping noise.

A small, proud smile stretches across her face and she extends her hoof in a trance like state, wanting to poke the arcane object just to see what it will do. But her body mutiny's against her brain. Her hoof stretches just a little bit before it flops to the ground and her head drops against the cold floor. Her eyes drift shut as the cuffs pulses for the last time. Darkness comes and the last thing she sees is a hazy figure galloping up to her.

Shekel stares straight ahead in his office, eyes scorned and lips curled to a tight frown as the moon's light mixes with the dim light from his lamp. On his desk is Trixie's horn cuff with the evidence tag on it and a file on her is next to it with “Fountain” scratched off and “Lulamoon” written above it. Sitting in front of him is Doodle, a look of uneasiness plaguing his expressions and his eyes having difficulty staying off of the floor.

“[What are we going to do, Gruber?]” asks Doodle nervously.

“[There is only one thing we can do. Let her come to us using Pinkamena as bait],” replies Shekel coldly.

“[Is that why you ‘strongly recommended’ her to be transferred here?]”

Shekel ignores Doodle’s unpleasant tone as his eyes drift back to the cuff, amazed that Trixie was able to take it off and deducing that she had help since it would be impossible for her to run, much less walk, in her condition. Especially after forcing a horn cuff off without any of the proper tools.

“[She will come for your suspect. No doubt try to free her and do more damage],” says the old ibex with ice cold confidence. “[And when she comes, she will have to deal with a whole station, and then I can finally get some answers about her affiliates and why they are here.]”

“[Look, I spoke with Pinkamena, and Trixie is not with the LoJ. She doesn’t even know that Trixie is alive!]” says Doodle anxiously. “[The LoJ are going after my suspect, and from what I was told and from what you gathered, you’re putting everybody here at risk.]”

“[Would you rather I keep her at the psych ward?]” remarks Shekel coldly. “[She will be better protected here from the LoJ than a simple hospital.]”

“[I’m saying to use your experience to find out what the hell is going on! Why would Equestrian intelligence and their top military official be here? Why would the Equestrians be trying to kill whoever the hell this Monte Fountain guy is? And more importantly, why would a terrorist-turned-vigilante and the Captain of the Equestrian Royal Guard fight against their own intelligence agency? Maybe they aren’t terrorists maybe they are-]”

Shekel releases a low grumble and tunes Doodle’s idiotic defense rant. He wishes he could chew out Doodle for being a dumbass and making excuses for terrorists. Just like the new breed of politicians and bleeding hearts. But he knows that the minute he opens his mouth there will be no turning back. He will say something and do something that will cost him dearly. And he's already got enough problems and nightmares to deal with. He doesn't need another. Besides, there was no reason for them to level a chunk of a tourist hotspot in a motor chase, regardless what anyone says.

To lower the temptation of speaking what he knows to be the truth, Shekel looks away from the wrongly placed donkey. He can't really blame Doodle or the new breeds anyway for their lack of knowledge pertaining to the animals that claim to be people. They never had to see their wife disappear in flash of light or watch their daughter sail in the air with pieces of furniture, goods and parts of innocent ibexes. They never had to spend their nights in the hospital, praying to Luna to spare their daughter and watch her life be contained to a wheelchair and constant psychiatrist visits. To Doodle and the bleeding heart generation, a terrorist is just a misunderstood person who needs to be reached out to. But Shekel knows the truth. He knows what they are. They are not people. They are animals. And Shekel knows that their defenders ignore the truth, in spite of all the evidence thrown at them. So until Bernese gets a wakeup call, he will be just another survivor labeled as a bigot.

“[Shekel.]” Shekel looks at Doodle, masking his surprise of his first name being used very well. “[I know you don’t like me, but believe me when I say Luna help us should your bait work better than you planned.]”

“[What are you talking about?]”

Doodle pulls out a folder from his saddle, labeled [Lyra Heartstrings: Interrogation Transcript #3]. He opens the folder, turns it towards Shekel and slides it towards him. “[Well, let's just say that this could very well be one of those things where you might get more than you bargained for.]”