Green Pastures, Cloak’s Front Porch, Equestria
50 Years After the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Cloak sighed and took a sip from his glass of lemonade. Dagger stared at her brother indignantly.

“You never told me about that file folder!” snapped Dagger indignantly.

“You never asked,” smirked Cloak.

“But this was before you and I made that stupid bet!” howled Dagger.

“Great Auntie Daring, you told Great Uncle Leaf-” complained a little earth pony filly.

“Relax, little Evening,” interrupted Daring. “I’m here to set the record straight on this once and for all. And I’ll explain it as soon as it becomes directly relevant to Cloak’s story.”

“Aw, come on, DD,” whined Cloak. “I’ve got thirty bits riding on this fifty-seven year old bet!”

“Sorry, flyboy,” teased Daring. “I ain’t one to kiss and tell before it’s time. Besides, as a fellow storyteller, you should know the importance of pacing.”

“Fine,” huffed Cloak. “I guess I can wait another hour or two.”

“We’re getting off the topic,” reminded Kingfisher.

“That we are, Kingfisher,” replied Cloak with a smile. “That we are.”

“So, what did you do after that?” asked Cold Snap.

“Well, immediately following that little incident, we went through a bit of a dry spell,” explained Cloak. “Contracts were thin on the ground, and we didn’t have very many options.”

“So, what changed?” asked Flare Glider impatiently.

Cloak looked up darkly. “We made a deal with a devil,” sighed Cloak. “A deal that we would never make again.”

The Cirrus, Mess Hall, Equestria
7 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“And so, I’ve determined that the crystalline engine prototype you found could potentially work with synthetically-developed crystals!” concluded Hoxton proudly.

The reaction at the table was mixed, understandably based solely on those present. Clover stared with rapt attention, listening to every word. Cloak was snoring face-first in his plate of mashed potatoes while Arclight piled peas on the sleeping stallion’s head, at which Dagger gave a small smirk. Hawk was placing his utensils on Cloak’s head like antennae of an insect, to which Tank chuckled. Rat was listening carefully, but he was also surveying the room, keeping an eye out for trouble.

“And this is significant?” asked Razor politely.

“Absolutely,” confirmed Hoxton. “This could revolutionize heavier-than-air travel and re-expand crystalline engines back into common usage again!”

“Nopony cares, Looney,” snored Cloak.

Hawk snickered as Clover dumped her cranberry juice over Cloak’s unsuspecting head. Rat chuckled lightly at his crew’s antics. Admittedly, the past week had been incredibly slow, considering that Dante had put them all under “temporary leave” for a few days as a group for the exposure risk Rat had presented. While Rat did feel poorly for getting the others punished for his “mistake”, they all had assured him that there was no ill will felt. Afterwards, contracts had been fairly light that week, meaning that the group had even more downtime on their hooves.

“Good work, Hoxton,” acknowledged Rat. “I just wish we were as productive as you’ve been this past week.”

“Looks like productivity might be going up,” smirked Cloak, wiping his face clean with his napkin.

Rat turned to look at where Cloak had indicated to find a very agitated Pitch moving toward their table. The older stallion was clearly frustrated, grimacing heavily and carrying a number of papers under one arm. The Rat Pack said nothing as he approached, merely watching as the stallion marched up to face Rat. There was a brief moment of silence before Rat cleared his throat.

“Can we help you with something, Pitch?” asked Rat politely.

“Alright look, I ain’t happy about this either, so let’s drop pretenses here,” snapped Pitch. “I’ve got a line on a really sweet job, but there’s no way in hell I can plan it out. For some reason, Dante thinks highly enough of you to overlook your major screw-up, so there has to be something to the stories I’ve heard about your planning ability. You have a crew that’s currently in need of work, but jobs are thin on the ground at the moment. So here’s my offer: You help me pull this job off, and I give you an equal share of the profit.”

“I think this might be a good time for me to leave,” commented Razor, rising from the table.

The older stallion walked calmly from the mess hall, allowing Pitch to take the now vacant seat. Tank grumbled slightly, but Rat merely raised a wing to reassure him. Pitch opened his mouth to speak, but Rat interrupted him.

“Alright, listen up,” began Rat. “You’ve probably heard the stories, but we operate differently than any other crew you’ve been a part of. We don’t kill. At all. We will uphold the code, but no civilian casualties. Do I make myself clear?”

“Guess Descent has mentioned stories about how I play?” smirked Pitch. “Alright, sure. Not like I have many options, otherwise.”

Pitch took a long draught from his flask, wiping his mouth and belching lightly.

“Alright, so have you ever heard of the Sunbeam Hotel?” began Pitch.

“In Canterlot?” confirmed Rat. “Yes, it’s one of the largest upscale hotels in the city. It has hundreds of suites as well as the largest conference center outside of Manehattan.”

“Well, your old friends at Janus Security are putting on a demonstration of their latest developments in vaults and safes, and to put their money where their mouth is, they’ve stored the entire payroll for the next three months inside those vaults,” explained Pitch, pulling out a stack of blueprints and design documents. “Now, thanks to a buddy of mine in Janus, I’ve gotten the specs for the safes and vaults ahead of time, but there’s no way to crack the locks that I can see. To complicate matters, the Sunbeam has thousands of guests each day, making virtually all breaching methods impossible.”

“Have you looked at the schedule for other events?” asked Rat, glancing over the documents.

“No, why should I?” asked Pitch, wrinkling his nose in contempt. “‘Keep your eyes on the prize’ is the Shadowbolt way.”

“‘Completing the mission’ is the Shadowbolt way,” corrected Rat. “If there’s an opportunity that can help complete the objective, go with it. Do you at least have the full schedule?”

“Yeah, sure, but I don’t see what good it’ll do,” groused Pitch as he passed the schedule to Rat. “The hotel is booked full of events while the JSS payroll is there, so there’s no way to get in when it isn’t swarming with ponies.”

Rat glanced over the papers briefly, letting his gift take over. Numerous scenarios were born and discarded within Rat’s mind as he explored options. As Pitch had said, the hotel was extremely busy during the time that JSS Exhibition was going on, and there seemed to be little opportunity to break in without hundreds of innocent ponies around. Suddenly, Rat had the solution, quickly checking to make sure all the elements were in place to implement it.

“Well, then we’ll have to go in when it’s busiest,” grinned Rat.

“And how the hell will that help us?” growled Pitch. “We’re supposed to ‘stay in the shadows’ or some shit, right?”

“And we will,” reassured Rat. “We’ll just hide in plain sight. You noted that there were a bunch of pyrotechnicians scheduled to come in, right?”

“Of course I did!” snapped Pitch. “There better be some point to this, Runt.”

“There is a point, and one that I can’t fault you for missing, given that it goes far off from our usual strategies for this kind of job,” explained Rat. “We generally don’t pay attention to why certain ponies are present, because that’s usually irrelevant to the job we wish to accomplish. However, in this case, we do have the perfect diversion on one night, and nopony will know what’s happening until it’s all over and we’re long gone.”

“Will you just cut to the frigging chase already?!” barked Pitch, taking a long swig from his flask.

“We’ll work under the cover of the Vinyl Scratch Concert,” replied Rat.

“Who the fuck is Vinyl Scratch, and why the hell do we care?” growled Pitch.

“Vinyl Scratch is an up-and-coming DJ and recording artist, known for a very signature style of pounding tracks with electronic rhythms,” explained Cloak without warning.

At this, every head turned to stare at Cloak in shock as the stallion continued to eat his cranberry juice-soaked mashed potatoes. Upon glancing up and seeing the looks he was being given, the Shadowbolt swallowed his food and gave an indignant huff.

“What?” sniffed Cloak. “Just because I’m usually oblivious to what’s going on, I can’t have some knowledge to myself?”

“Ok, so who had ‘Pop Music’ in the betting pool?” asked Hawk, pulling out a notepad. “Because they just won seven hundred bits.”

The Cirrus, Hoxton’s Workshop, Equestria
7 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“You do realize that if I can pull this off, the tech that you’re asking for could change our Equestrian way of life forever?” clarified Hoxton, staring stunned at Rat.

They had quickly made their way down to Hoxton’s workshop after their meeting with Pitch. This had been an idea that Rat had thought of years ago, but Hoxton had always been busy with other projects until now. The group waited patiently in Hoxton’s lab as Rat presented his idea to Hoxton properly.

“That’s not what I asked,” retorted Rat. “Can you do it?”

“Well, I’ve already developed some things for the Hummingbirds, but you’re asking me to miniaturize my speaker apparatus to a headset of some type in addition to the miniature microphone?” asked Hoxton.

“Yes, and the ability to receive and transmit to multiple headsets at once,” repeated Rat.

“All without the use of magic,” finished Hoxton. “Well, I-”

There was suddenly a very loud clatter as a very irate voice split through the sound of machines and engines.

"DAMMIT ALL HOX! WHERE BY ALL THAT'S DARK AND UNHOLY DID YOU PUT MY HALF OF THE SHIPMENT?!" howled the voice of a mare that Rat didn’t recognize.

“Oh for the love of-” muttered Hoxton, before bellowing back. "I DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH THE SHIPMENT YET, YA WITCH!"

“Who is-” began Rat, before Hawk explained.

“Patch, the new armorer,” stated Hawk. “She replaced Cross last year, and we’ve been able to hear the fights between her and Hox all the way from Third Deck.”

“Much to a certain engineer’s dismay…” teased Cloak, before Clover kicked him in the flank.

“Who brought her on?” asked Rat. “I don’t remember hearing anything about a new arrival.”

“Razor did,” explained Dagger. “Same year that he found me and Cloak.”

"I AM NOT CROSS! I WILL NOT PUT UP WITH YOUR BULLSHIT, YOU OLD GOAT!!!" shouted Patch.

"I AM ONLY FIVE YEARS OLDER THAN YOU, AND YOU KNOW IT, YA FRICKING NAG!" bellowed Hoxton.

“Geez, will you two get a room and hide the sausage already?” exclaimed Hawk, just as a wrench hit him in the face from the doorway. A voice called from just beyond the doorway outside of Rat’s field of view.

"I want as LITTLE to do with that waste of skin and air as possible!” hissed Patch from the doorway at Hawk before bellowing at Hoxton. “AND IF I EVER FIND MY GRAPHENE SUPPLY, YOU'RE NOT GETTING ONE OUNCE OF IT! YOU HEAR ME HOX?! NOT. ONE. OUNCE!"

"I DON'T EVEN CARE ABOUT YOUR BOBBINS AND RIBBONS, NAG!” bellowed Hoxton. “JUST LEAVE MY SPRINGS AND COGS ALONE!"

“Bet a certain engineer would love to get her hooves on Hox’s spring and cogs-” muttered Cloak, before Dagger spared him from another hoof to the stallionhood by interrupting him

“Quiet!” barked Dagger. “Something’s not right…”

There was only the sounds of the Cirrus around them, clanking and whirring and hissing, but somehow Rat found it more unnerving. Suddenly, the sounds of hooves heralded the arrival of a newcomer. A bright yellow pegasus mare, slightly smaller than Rat but not by much, burst through the doorway, hefting a crafting hammer in one hoof. Her brilliant emerald eyes blazed green fire behind her nonstandard goggles, and her fiery-red mane threatened to whip free from its braid by how violently the mare skidded into the room. In an instant, Hummingbirds deployed from their nests to swarm behind their maker.

“Oh fu-TAKE COVER!” shouted Cloak, covering his flank with a large steel bucket and his head with his front hooves.

"RIBBONS!? I'LL SHOW YOU RIBBONS! RIBBONS OF YOUR FLESH!!!" screeched the enraged armorer as she charged forward towards Hoxton.

“COME AT ME!” Hoxton snarled as he grabbed an oversized pipe wrench. “MY HUMMINGBIRDS WANT YOUR BLOOD!”

“For pity’s sake, will both of you calm down!” shouted Rat to no avail.

_{Art by Penny}

The fight commenced in a brutal fashion. Hummingbird after Hummingbird flew down in a rapid sequence at Patch, each one brandishing all sorts of nasty attachments. Patch battered each one to the ground with a single swift stroke of her hammer, slowly advancing toward the resident tinkerer. Hoxton moved swiftly to meet her, hefting his oversized wrench in bloody rage, ready to beat down the resident armorer in a single swing. Just as hammer and wrench prepared to clash in fiery steel, the hatch to Hoxton’s workshop swung open again.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF CELESTIA'S SAGGY LEFT EYELID IS GOING ON DOWN HERE?!?!" bellowed an all-too familiar voice.

Everyone froze at the sight of Razor entering the room, meteor hammer at his hip. The stallion took one look at the carnage around him before letting his head fall into his hooves with a exasperated sigh.

"Missing shipment, Patches?" groaned Razor.

"HE HAS IT! I KNOW IT!!!" bellowed Patch, swinging her hammer wildly at Hoxton.

"No, he doesn't, because I helped unload the shipment and personally unpacked it in your workshop!" barked Razor harshly, making Patch freeze mid-swing.

The silence in the room was painfully awkward as Patch shifted slightly, a guilty look on her face as she hesitantly lowered her hammer. Hoxton shuffled slightly closer, lifting his wrench slowly and subtly with one hoof, but Razor placed a hoof on the end of the wrench.

"Put the pipe wrench down, Hox" sighed Razor.

Grumbling and still obviously irate, Patch grabbed Razor’s arm and started to pull him out of Hoxton’s workshop and across the hall to her own. “Ngh… Show me where you put it please… Nnnnnngh sorry I fought with Hox… Nnngh again…” she mumbled, clearly unhappy and less sorry that she’d been fighting and more sorry that she’d been caught.

“You’re only sorry you got caught, girl,” chided Razor, not unkindly. “Still, I’m proud that you’ve been practicing since I’ve been away.”

The Rat Pack watched the two pegasi depart, completely stunned by Patch’s sudden shift from violent rage to cheerful chatter at Razor’s praise. Hoxton seemed to snap out of his stupor quickly.

“So, how many of these are you going to need?” asked Hoxton. “Because I think I can get about seven out to you right away, and another four within the next twenty-four hours.”

“What the hell was that?!” exclaimed Rat, finding his voice.

“What do you-” began Hoxton, before Rat interrupted.

“That!” shouted Rat, pointing at where Patch had just left. “You actually came to blows! She was out for blood! And you just shrug it off?!”

“Nothing too unusual for what I deal with every few weeks,” shrugged Hoxton. “So, how many?”

“Seven will be fine,” replied Rat reluctantly, wishing that Hoxton would give him a more definite answer. “We’ll also want some remote support from a couple of Hummingbirds, just in case things go south.”

“Of course,” replied Hoxton. “If you manage to pull off this job, a whole new range of contracts will now be considered.”

Rat nodded briefly. “Let us know when the gear is ready,” requested Rat, signalling to the rest of the Pack to move.

They left Hoxton to his work, careful to not step on the fallen Hummingbirds that lay twitching on the workshop floor. Cloak hurried to catch up to Rat.

“You know, the new supply shipment comes in every few weeks,” observed Cloak.

“I’m sure it’s just your imagination, Cloak,” replied Rat sarcastically.

“So, you gonna get in on the betting pool?” asked Hawk. “Winner takes all, and the current grand prize is over two thousand bits.”

“Betting pool?” inquired Rat.

“Yep, on what’s going to happen first,” explained Hawk. “Are they going to go at it like rabbits, rip each other’s guts out, or tie the knot and burn the wedding bed to the ground?”

Rat glared at Hawk as the stallion shrugged.

“You do realize that they’ll will gut you if they find out about this?” observed Rat.

“Which is why we have kept our bets hidden,” countered Razor as he stepped out of Patch’s workshop with a grin. “Come on, Rat. I’ve already got a bet on the two of them getting hitched in the next ten years.”

“Don’t you start!” warned Rat. “I’m already annoyed that you didn’t see fit to mention her back when you introduced me to Hox.”

“Well, you saw how mercurial her temperament is,” replied Razor with a grin. “I didn’t want you losing an eye when you tried to say ‘hello’.”

“Fine then,” conceded Rat. “Pack, get your gear together. We leave as soon as Hox is finished.”

“Rat, hold on a minute,” interrupted Razor. “You’re going on a mission with Pitch, right?”

“Yes, he’s the one who has the contract,” replied Rat. “Why do you ask?”

“Fair warning about Pitch,” began Razor. “He’s not exactly the paragon of virtue when it comes to following orders, and his alcoholism affects his judgement more than he’s willing to admit. Just be careful, and be prepared to deal with collateral damage.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” replied Rat.

Canterlot, The Sunbeam Hotel and Moonglow Conference Center, Equestria
7 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“Comm check, Rat,” whispered Rat into his new communication unit.

“Comm check, Cloak.”

“Comm check, Dagger.”

“Comm check, Clover.”

“...Phantasm...”

“Hello, what have we here? You in heat, baby? ‘Cause I- er... Comm check, Hawk.”

“Hawk, the field binoculars are for recon only, not for harassing mares,” sighed Hoxton over the line.

“Hey! This could be recon!” argued Hawk.

“Oh, please! The day you bed a mare will be the day that I tell foal stories!” jeered Cloak.

“You around foals is a scary thought,” muttered Dagger. “I’d sooner trust Tank with foals, and I’ve seen him rip limbs off of ponies.”

“Cut the chatter,” ordered Rat. “Pitch, sound off. ….Pitch!”

“Yeah, yeah, not so loud,” snarled the older stallion. “I’m here, and wearing this ridiculous contraption. I honestly don’t see what the point of it is, but I’ve got it.”

“Real-time status updates,” explained Rat. “Hox, did your infiltrator contact come through?”

“Prose is one of the best,” replied Hoxton. “However, you’ll have to hunt around for the supply closets where he’s left everything. There should be three of them.”

“Right,” acknowledged Rat. “We’ll split up into teams and-”

“I’ll clear the basement and make sure everything’s set,” interrupted Pitch. “I work better alone.”

Rat frowned slightly at the interruption, but didn’t say anything. He switched his comm unit to a private channel to Hox.

“Keep an eye on him, would you?” asked Rat. “I don’t like the fact that he’s sneaking off already.”

“One Hummingbird Mini on Pitch like the stench of alcohol and vomit, coming up!” quipped Hoxton.

Satisfied, Rat switched back to the group channel. “Go ahead, Pitch, but remember the order I gave you,” replied Rat. “Uphold the code without collateral damage.”

“Yeah, whatever,” sniffed Pitch, and the distinct gurgle of Pitch’s flask could be heard over his mic.

“Phantasm, stay on overwatch, just in case JSS gets tricky on us,” ordered Rat. “Cloak, you search the main floor for one of the closets. Dagger, you search the second floor. Clover, see about getting into the control booth.”

“What?!” jumped Clover. “How am I supposed to do that?!”

“You’re a pretty engineer,” quipped Hawk. “Talk nerdy to them, and they’ll practically set out the welcome mat for you.”

“Hawk, thank you for volunteering to lug the loot through the sewer to the street,” interrupted Rat. “Clover, I’ll have Cloak help you in once he’s finished retrieving the supplies.”

“Right, acknowledged,” replied Clover, ignoring Hawk’s quiet and colorful curses.

The Pack moved like a clockwork machine, dispersing amongst the crowd and into the shadowy corridors. The added advantage of the comm unit was beginning to show itself well. Rat moved through the corridors of the third floor with ease, making his way behind the concession stands, slipping past guards with ease. Finally, Rat located a supply closet marked with a small red “X”.

“Located the first supply drop,” whispered Rat. “Status check.”

“Cloak, staring at the next supply drop and waiting for the security guard to go take a dump.”

“Dagger, en route to the basement with the third supply drop.”

“...Phantasm… All’s quiet out here…”

“Clover, at the sound booth, trying to avoid the eyes of the sound technicians.”

“Hawk, knee-deep in sh-”

“Language,” chided Hoxton as he shut off Hawk’s feed remotely.

“Pitch, check in,” ordered Rat as he broke through the closet’s lock with ease. “Pitch!”

“Fucking hell, I’m here, dammit!” cursed Pitch, sounding slightly winded. “Basement’s clear.”

“Any problems?” enquired Rat.

“Ran into a few JSS goons that didn’t buy my drunk act or my cop act, so I had to ice them,” replied Pitch dismissively. “They’re properly bagged and tagged in the dumpster.”

“How many?” asked Rat.

“Celestia’s teat, only two!” exclaimed Razor. “Don’t get your suit in a wad! I’ll mark out where the vaults are on the ceiling.”

And with that, Pitch cut his line. Rat sighed and switched to the private channel.

“Hox, get the others in here,” ordered Rat.

“Will do,” acknowledged Hoxton.

“Can I just point out that Pitch’s curses can make a sailor blush, and yet I’m the one that’s being chided for ‘language’?” grumbled Hawk.

“Oh but Hawk, everyone knows that having a potty mouth is much worse than sailor talk!” snickered Cloak.

“...Cloak, first thing I’m doing when I get out of here is hugging you…”

“Cut the chatter,” barked Rat. “Hox, does Pitch’s story check out?”

“Well…” wavered Hoxton. “Technically, yes, but he left out a number of things.”

“What ‘things’?” pressed Rat.

“...Five hotel staff members.”

A dead silence fell over the channel. No one dared to speak.

“...Who?” choked Rat.

“Two maids, a waiter, a bellhop, and a mailmare,” murmured Hoxton. “The mailmare had a wedding band and appeared to be expecting, and the bellhop had just proposed to one of the maids.”

“Was it bad luck?”

“No, the drunkard blundered through like a Minotaur,” explained Hoxton. “He just didn’t give a damn.”

Another silence fell. Rat could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, but he remained silent. Finally, Hawk spoke up.

“Alright, let’s gut him,” suggested Hawk simply.

“No, that’s too obvious,” interjected Cloak. “We need him to die from an accident ‘with extreme prejudice’.”

“I could reshape one of the explosive charges,” added Clover. “Or have one of the cutters malfunction.”

“Let’s allow Rat to make the call,” countered Dagger.

“Well, what’s the play, Boss?” asked Cloak.

“...We carry out the mission…” sighed Rat.

“Excellent choice, Boss,” chuckled Cloak darkly. “One evisceration comi-wait, what?”

“We carry out the mission,” repeated Rat. “Stand down.”

“But he’s fucking scum!” snarled Hawk. “We should-”

“-Keep to the Code!” snapped Rat. “We have a contract, and we cannot jeopardize that with infighting! Do I make myself clear?”

“...Yes, Rat…” sighed Cloak.

“...Fine…” grumbled Hawk. “Friggin’ asshole needs a new asshole, but fine...”

“Understood, Rat,” acknowledged Dagger

“I’ll stay up in the booth, then,” explained Clover. “Not sure I could resist the temptation.”

“...Acknowledged…” replied Phantasm.

Rat sighed as he lifted the explosives and steel cutter from the box and placed them in his satchel. As much as he hated it, he had to live by the Code. The only thing that kept Rat from joining his Pack in ripping Pitch limb from limb was the Code. To some, they were just words. To Rat, they were his guiding principles. Equipment in hoof, Rat made his way down to the basement where Pitch was waiting. Cloak and Dagger were already there, duffel bags in their hooves. Cloak was glowering at Pitch slightly, but Dagger seemed to be able to keep her emotions in check.

“I’m going to help Clover infiltrate the booth,” stated Dagger.

Rat merely nodded as the mare dropped off her duffel bag and left, leaving Rat with Pitch and Cloak. Cloak was already planting the charges in the locations marked by Pitch. Each charge carried a small radio receiver that would activate once a transmitter in the booth sent the signal. If all was going to plan, Clover should have been wiring the transmitter up to the pyrotechnics control board.

“Status update on the transmitter?” asked Rat.

“Clover is in the booth, working her magic,” reported Dagger.

“I’ve had some problems here, since the wiring here is older than we expected,” explained Clover. “I’m trying to jerry-rig the system now, but it’s going to take some time.”

“...Clover, that may be time you don’t have,” interjected Dagger. “I’ve got eyes on the lead technician. He’s heading back to the booth.”

“Clover, get out of there,” ordered Rat. “We’ll have to find another way.”

“Almost… got it…” muttered Clover, not listening.

“Clover, get out of there!” barked Dagger. “He’s right on you!”

“Hey!” a stallion’s voice barked suddenly. “What the hell are you doing in here?!”

“Did you know that your latency is as high as over four hundred milliseconds?” asked Clover without hesitation.

“...I’m sorry?” asked the stallion.

“Your latency between the beats in the songs and the pyrotechnics,” explained Clover. “There are delays of an entire half second during the show. I’m guessing that some of the cables you’re using to trigger the effects are starting to show their age. Either that, or the control board itself is going.”

“...Holy shit, she might just pull this off,” murmured Cloak.

“Quiet,” muttered Rat.

“...Shit,” swore the stallion. “Just my frigging luck that this would happen when the Princess herself is here to see the show! Dammit to Tartarus-”

“It’s not an unsolvable problem,” reassured Clover. “All you need to do is set the signals forward about four hundred milliseconds and you should be able to get a much closer match. After the show, I’d recommend doing a full diagnostic on all the electronics to find the source of the problem.”

“Oh thank the Goddess herself,” sighed the technician with relief. “It’s bad enough that we had to swap out some of our effects halfway through this run, but now this-”

“Actually, that might be the issue right there,” interjected Clover. “Let me guess: budget cuts caused you to switch to a lower grade of fireworks and pyrotechnic effects?”

“Yeah, this pencil-pusher, Sven Wallop or Gallop or whatever, said that we needed to cut our expenses back, so we had to buy these cheap Kirin-made mortars and shit after the third show,” explained the stallion bitterly.

“There you go,” agreed Clover. “Kirin fireworks have a lower sulfur content, and so burn slower than Equestrian ones, so that would account for the delays if you didn’t adjust the timing sequence after the switch.”

“Jeez, you really know your stuff,” chuckled the stallion. “Did Corporate send you?”

“No, I’m just a fan of Miss Scratch’s work,” giggled Clover. “Plus I know a lot of this from my job, and I find it hard to leave a problem alone.”

“Well, either way, you’re a lifesaver, Miss…?”

“Pastures,” replied Clover without missing a beat. “Green Pastures.”

“She’s a natural at this,” observed Dagger approvingly.

“Told you,” smirked Hawk.

“Shush you,” quipped Cloak.

“Short Circuit,” replied the stallion. “Don’t suppose you’d be interested in a job in show business, Miss Pastures?”

“Sorry, but I’m not sure my current schedule would allow something permanent, and I don’t want to abandon my crew,” smiled Clover. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Absolutely,” replied Short Circuit. “Well if there’s any change, you’ll always have a job waiting here.”

“Thanks for that,” nodded Clover. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. In the meantime, I’d be more than happy to do consulting work if you ever really get into a bind.”

“Definitely,” grinned Circuit. “You’re welcome up in the booth anytime. I’ll get you approved by security after the show, so feel free to stop by whenever you’re not busy.”

“Hey, Circuit!” barked a crackling voice, as though it were through an intercom. “Put down the groupie and get your ass over to the intercom!”

“This ‘groupie’ just saved the show, Haywire, so show a little respect!” snapped Circuit.

“Oh?” Haywire shot back. “What, did she fix our wiring?”

“Actually, I solved your pyrotechnic latency issues, which were most likely caused by the use of low sulfur fireworks instead of the ones that the show was designed for,” replied Clover sweetly. “You should now have a maximum delay of one hundred fifty microseconds or less, give or take fifty microseconds.”

“...Circuit, you gotta be screwing with me,” replied Haywire. “She figured that all out?”

“Swear to Celestia she did,” affirmed Circuit. “Hell, I’m tempted to let her run the show from up here.”

“...Don’t let Gallop know,” murmured Haywire conspiratorially. “Miss, I don’t suppose you’re busy after the show-”

“I appreciate the thought, but my marefriend doesn’t like sharing,” quipped Clover.

“Oh…”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” grinned Clover. “Now, don’t we have a show to run?”

“Damn, she is good!” laughed Cloak. “Came up with a perfect cover story right on the spot!”

“Great work, Clover,” grinned Rat. “We’ll send Cloak to-”

“Better make that me, Boss,” interjected Dagger. “She said ‘marefriend’, remember?”

“...Hawk, I can hear your wings stiffening from here,” quipped Cloak.

“Shaddup,” groused Hawk.

“You’re clear, Dagger,” acknowledged Rat. “Just make sure you’re convincing.”

“Showtime, everypony,” interjected Hoxton. “Get to your places.”

“Acknowledged,” replied Rat, closing his eyes and mentally preparing himself for the job ahead.

The music pounded fast and hard. Rat had to admit that, as a musical artist, Vinyl Scratch had a lot of potential. Her rhythms, while daring, were still accessible to the average listener, and her melodies seemed to have some mild classical influences as well. Even from down in the basement of the convention center, Rat could clearly hear each song as the rhythms pounded steadily far above them.

“No way this mare will make it in the business,” snorted Pitch. “Hundred bits says she washes out within a year.”

“I’ll take that bet,” interjected Cloak. “Hell, let’s make it a thousand.”

“Deal, asshole,” sneered Pitch. “Easiest bits I’ll make next year.”

Cloak gritted his teeth, but Rat stopped him in his tracks with a single glare. Fortunately, Pitch didn’t notice, too busy taking a long draught from his flask. Cloak turned his back, sulking in the corner.

“First set of mortars in fifteen,” stated Hoxton. “Be ready with those cutters.”

“Acknowledged,” replied Rat. “Cloak, Pitch, stand by.”

The first set of charges detonated smoothly, exposing the underside of the first vault. Cloak and Pitch flew up with the steel cutters, mounting the devices beneath the vault and activating them. The circular blades whirred to life, slowly cutting sizeable holes into the steel of the vault. Upon completion, the cutter dropped the center section of steel, allowing bags of bits to drop to the floor below. Rat began moving these bags to the sewer entrance, where Hawk would hide them so that a team of Infiltrators would be able to retrieve them later.

There was another explosion as the second set of charges detonated, causing a fine powder to spread through the air. Cloak and Pitch moved with swift efficiency, restarting the process. Pitch seemed pleased by their progress, grinning as he took a long draught from his flask.

“Gotta say, seeing you guys first-hoof, the stories don’t do you justice,” smirked Pitch. “Probably the smoothest job I’ve ever pulled.”

Rat merely nodded, instead focusing on the work while white-hot rage seethed inside him. He took a moment to imagine pouring the contents of Pitch’s flask over him and igniting it, watching the stallion writhe and burn in his mind’s eye. While he intended to keep to the Code, Pitch’s actions would not go unanswered for. The mission came first, but the Rat Pack’s morals would not be abandoned.

The last set of charges detonated, allowing Pitch and Cloak to place the cutters for the last time. The music kept thumping above them as they moved the bags of bits to the sewer. Each thump of the bass mirrored the pounding of Rat’s pulse in his head. The sooner this job was done, the better.

“Last bag,” reported Cloak as he tossed a bag to Hawk.

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” ordered Rat. “Separate routes.”

“You got it, Boss,” acknowledged Cloak.

Rat slipped out of the basement and into the lobby, waiting until the crowd made their way to the exit. Rat joined them, walking calmly toward the exit. He watched as Pitch and Cloak made their way through the crowd as well, pushing toward the exit. A familiar voice broke over the comm.

“Come on, dear,” sighed Dagger in exasperation. “Once again, I’m so terribly sorry about my marefriend, Mr. Circuit. I swear she has no self-control.”

“Don’t worry about it, Miss Blade,” grinned Short Circuit. “Honestly, your marefriend really saved our flanks up here.”

“Oh, come on, Sharp,” cooed Clover. “You know how much I love tech! I promise I’ll make it up to you…”

There was the distinct sound of a pegasus’ wings unfolding rapidly, followed by a drawn-out sigh.

“...dammit,” swore Hawk.

“Enjoying yourself there, Hawk?” chuckled Hoxton.

“Shaddup, Looney,” snarled Hawk.

Eventually, they made their way to the street. Tank was waiting for them patiently, bending a parking meter to one side and watching as it bounced back into place while chuckling quietly. He looked up and saw the group, grinning as he followed them into the alley. Rat looked around at the group. They were all present, and they’d made it out without a scratch. Another job complete. Only one last piece of business remained unfinished.

“Are we in the clear, Cloak?” asked Rat plainly.

“Should be, Boss,” replied Cloak.

“Good,” affirmed Rat before decking Pitch with a blow right below his jaw.

The rest of the Rat Pack watched in pure shock as Rat continued to pummel the older stallion into submission, raining repeated strikes upon wherever he could reach. Rat used his talent in a way that he’d never considered prior to this day, identifying points to strike that would cause the greatest, longest-lasting pain with the least amount of physical damage. The older stallion wasn’t even able to fight back due to the sudden nature of the attack and the ferocity of Rat’s blows. After about a minute of pure violence, Rat stopped and caught his breath.

“Are you out of your goddamn-” began Pitch, but was cut off by Rat stepping on his windpipe.

“No talking,” hissed Rat. “Just listening. I gave you one order, and one order only. ‘No collateral damage’. That was all I required from you. I know you’re capable of it. We all are as Shadowbolts. You willfully disobeyed my order, several times. If it were anyone else, I’d kill them right here, right now, but you’re a friend to Descent, so I’ll spare you for now. But let’s get one thing straight: you no longer work with us. You get in our way, and I won’t show the same restraint. I will bring you down. Do you understand?”

“You fu-” choked Pitch, but Rat pressed his hoof in further.

“I said. No. Talking. Do you understand?” repeated Rat.

The older stallion was starting to turn blue in the face as he nodded frantically. Rat held his hoof steadily in place, applying just enough pressure to give Pitch the sensation of being choked out without actually letting him pass out. He counted down from ten slowly, taking his time. The rest of the Pack watched, slightly concerned for their boss’s mental well-being. After he reached the end of his counting, Rat released Pitch’s throat while simultaneously smashing the stallion’s head against the pavement.

“Let’s go,” said Rat. “Tank, toss this trash in the dumpster. We don’t want to litter, now do we?”

The Cirrus, Upper Deck, Equestria
7 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Rat stared out at the rising moon, feeling the wind in his mane as the Cirrus hummed gently beneath his hooves. They had turned the contract in to Dante a few hours ago, much to the older stallion’s surprise. Hoxton had been reasonably pleased with the success of his latest invention, but this victory was marred by the five ponies that he had to erase. Razor looked at Rat once and could instantly tell how the mission turned out, giving Rat the space he needed.

“Long day?” a familiar voice asked suddenly.

“I thought you were in Manehattan with Death Drop,” replied Rat.

“The mission concluded sooner than we expected,” explained Descent. “Death Drop is truly gifted in the art of elimination.”

“I’m glad to hear that your latest apprentice is meeting your standards,” sighed Rat.

“I heard your latest contract did not go the way that you wished it to,” probed Descent.

“What was your first clue?” snapped Rat. “The fact that I beat the ever-loving shit out of another Shadowbolt?”

“So that was you who did that?” asked Descent. “Pitch didn’t want to say. He slammed Sin into a wall for asking why he smelled even worse than usual.”

“You’re… very calm about this…” observed Rat.

“Honestly, I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever come across this aspect of the Shadowbolts,” admitted Descent.

“What ‘aspect’?” pressed Rat.

“Rat, I’ve described the Shadowbolts as a family to you, but there are other perspectives on the matter,” explained Descent. “There are a number of internal feuds and disputes that have created smaller ‘clans’ within our ranks. Groups of Shadowbolts that will refuse to work with any others. There were many who assumed that your little clan would be completely exclusive when it formed.”

“We are all Shadowbolts, united under one Code,” retorted Rat. “I cannot see it any other way. However, I know that if I ever see Pitch attempt the same thing he tried today, I’ll kill him myself.”

“And that is your choice,” nodded Descent. “Fortunately for you, Pitch is not well-liked among the Shadowbolts. I tolerate him because of his skill in combat and his ferocity, but he is a drunken slob and a disgrace.”

“Honestly, I spared him for your sake,” admitted Rat. “Had I known your actual opinion, I’d have ended him right then and there.”

“That doesn’t sound like the same colt that fretted over his first kill all those years ago,” mused Descent.

“That was murder,” protested Rat. “This would have been vengeance. There’s one thing that I’ve always held to: never harm the innocent.”

Descent said nothing. The older stallion simply stood with his former apprentice as they watched the clouds shine in the moonlight, taking in the cool night air. Even in such tranquility, Rat found no peace that night. He doubted that he would ever again...

To Be Continued...

Author's Notes:

And that's another chapter done...
I will admit, this was a bit of a hard one for me to write, given what Pitch does.
However, I am very happy with how the introduction to a brand new character turned out! Special thanks to Witching Hour for providing me with Patch, the Shadowbolt's Armorer.
Also, readers of other Expanded Wonderverse works might notice another little character Easter egg that I slipped in for the setup for Chapter 12...
Hopefully, Chapter 11 goes by just as fast as this one did, because we'll be having a very special cameo for that one...
Who could it be...