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

Cloak sighed, lifting his glass for the fifteenth time without taking a drink. In truth, he was anxious about today. Many wonderful stories had been told on this front step, and Cloak had felt wonderful telling them to a new generation. Even through some of the darker stories, Cloak was able to draw some semblance of strength, remembering how the crew had pulled through tight scrapes. But… Nightshade...

How did you explain how a pony like Nightshade seized control in so short a time? How did you even explain Nightshade? Even to this day, many psychiatrists had tried and failed to explain what exactly made her into what she was during the War. Only one pony had successfully broken through, and that had been the legendary Iron Horse himself, during his final stand against her. Admittedly, analyzing her after the War wasn’t an option, so any who hoped to explain the war criminal had their work cut out for them. What hope did he, a simple mercenary on the outside of Nightshade’s inner circle, have when ponies who studied for years in that field had failed?

Cloak shook the thoughts from his mind as a large group of foals approached. It didn’t matter. He had to try. He was one of the few left who could possibly begin to do so. Most of her commanders were dead or in hiding. Shadowbolt and Renegade veterans kept their pasts hidden for the most part, given the aftermath of the war. So who else would tell the story?

“Afternoon, kids,” grinned Cloak. “I see that my stories have continued to be popular?”

“That they have, Cloak,” smirked Daring. “Your grandson has actually been writing down what you’ve shared so far just to help newcomers catch up.”

“Oh really now?” chuckled Cloak. “I wondered how these sessions kept getting larger and larger.”

“So, Mr Broadcloth-” asked one of the newer foals.

“Please, call me Cloak,” smiled Cloak gently.

“When does Nightshade show up in all of this?” asked the foal.

And with that, Cloak’s heart sank into his gut. Hearing the question out loud didn’t make it any easier. Memories of that horrible day drifted in his head, filling his mind like smoke. The flashes of fear before eyes went glassy was the most haunting part of those memories. Honestly, there weren’t that many screams to remember. At least, not from enemies…

“Nightshade…” sighed Cloak. “She was always around, to be sure… We’d hear stories about her and what she was up to, but we never directly interacted with her much.”

“Why?” asked Kingfisher. “She seems like a pretty big part of Shadowbolt history. Heck, one of her closest associates trained your leader!”

“I wish I could tell you,” replied Cloak. “Honestly, we never really understood why she seemed to avoid us before she took power.”

“How did she take power?” asked Cold Snap. “Why would the Shadowbolts let someone like her take control?”

“Because of one bad day, ‘Snap,” grimaced Cloak. “One horrible, horrible day where everything went wrong, even though that week started so well...

Las Pegasus, Shiro’s Palace, Equestria
6 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Rat sighed in contentment. The past year had been pretty damn near perfect. Contracts came in smoothly and steadily, making a name for the “Rat Pack”, as the rest of the Shadowbolts called them. The work was good, and the pay was even better. Rat was happy. Hell, the crew made sure that he took breaks. Granted, it wasn’t too difficult to convince him, as of late…

“Hey, look who’s awake,” a familiar voice cooed softly.

Rat turned to smile at his companion next to him in the bed. Lining up schedules with a renowned archaeologist and author was certainly not easy, but somehow he and Daring made it work. From Esponya to Saigo Harbor, the two had found quiet moments in the chaos of their lives. Somehow, they managed to keep these rendezvous secret from their comrades, even though there were suspicions. Still, it was worth it.

“Morning, your Ladyship,” chuckled Rat, leaning in to kiss the mare. “I think a good breakfast is in order, no?”

“After last night?” smirked Daring. “I’d be pissed if you weren’t hungry. Let me grab a shower first, and I’ll join you in the kitchen.”

Rat smiled and moved to the kitchen area of the suite while Daring left for the bathroom. Rat moved in a well-practiced routine, developed over several such mornings. Eggs sizzled in the pan. The coffee pot boiled steadily. Toast popped out of the toaster. The table was set carefully. Rat leaned back in his chair just as he heard the shower turn off. Life seemed perfect.

“Looks good, as always,” chuckled Daring as she dried her mane with a towel. “I swear, if I ever settle down, one of my requirements for my spouse is being able to make a damn good breakfast.”

“So the way to your heart is through your stomach?” smirked Rat. “Good to know I’m on the right track.”

“Shush, or you’ll end up with egg on your face…” threatened Daring playfully.

“Yes, ma’am!” saluted Rat, forcing a laugh out of Daring.

The two ate quietly, enjoying each other’s company. It was exhilarating, honestly. Rat felt as though nothing could ruin this moment.

“Sir, I just wanted to-AUGH!” piped up a familiar voice.

Rat groaned inwardly, smiling in spite of himself. Well, that didn’t take long.

“I’m sorry, sir!” apologized the young stallion. “I didn’t see anything, sir!”

“Wasp, relax,” chided Rat. “I was just discussing today’s mission with our informant, Daring Do.”

“Nice to meet ya, kid,” grinned Daring.

“Oh… So you weren’t-” began Wasp.

“I assure you, Wasp, the only things that you interrupted were eggs on toast and an intel briefing,” smiled Rat. “Now, what did you need?”

“Hoxton wanted me to tell you that the crew is waiting in the briefing room,” explained Wasp.

“Understood,” replied Rat. “Wait for me down in the lobby. I’ll be with you shortly.”

“Yes sir,” chirped Wasp stiffly before nodding briefly at Daring. “Ma’am.”

Rat sighed and chuckled as his apprentice moved with purpose down the hall. Daring smirked.

“Nice save,” chuckled Daring. “Hate for the rookie to let our secret slip.”

“You mean the worst-kept secret in my organization?” smirked Rat. “No, Wasp will keep his mouth shut. He’s loyal like that.”

“He’s certainly cute, in that skittish way,” teased Daring. “He must’ve picked that up from his mentor.”

“Oh?” laughed Rat. “Are you implying that I lack confidence? Have you forgotten last night already, or are you simply goading me into ‘reminding’ you?”

“As much as I would love for a reminder,” Daring whispered in Rat’s ear, “it will have to wait.”

“As you wish,” teased Rat, kissing the pegasus mare gently before leaving the room.

Rat smoothed out his mane, placing his earpiece in. The Pack was ready. It was time to get to work.

The Cirrus, Briefing Room, Equestria
6 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“Nice of you to join us, Boss,” chuckled Cloak. “Have a fun time last night with Miss Adventure herself?”

Rat rolled his eyes as the crew chuckled briefly. Wasp took his seat near the front, giving his mentor an apologetic look. Rat stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat, as he’d done countless times before.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” sniffed Rat dismissively. “I was simply speaking with our good friend and informant over breakfast about an important aspect of today’s mission.”

“Unless ‘breakfast’ is suddenly code for ‘scrambling her eggs’ and ‘hiding the sausage’, I highly doubt that’s all that was going on, Boss,” smirked Hawk.

“They actually were having breakfast, sir,” murmured Wasp.

“Oh, really?” laughed Hawk.

“Yes sir,” replied Wasp. “Eggs over easy on toast.”

“Alright, let’s get to the mission, shall we?” interjected Rat.

“Sure, Boss,” smirked Cloak. “Sooner we get done with this, the better.”

“Got a hot date, brother?” asked Dagger, leaning against Arclight with a smirk. “Perhaps with a sweet little mobster?”

“You mean the mare I’m going to propose to?” grinned Cloak, lifting a ring box from his flight suit. “Oh yeah, definitely not going to miss that.”

“Congrats, Cloak,” congratulated Rat. “Still, save it for after the mission.”

“Right, sorry,” murmured Cloak, putting the ring away.

“So, anonymous contractor for this one,” began Rat. “The Lone Digger Casino is holding, besides the literal mountains of bits, a very valuable object. The contractor was mum as to what was being held there, but they provided us with very detailed intel on the Digger’s security measures.”

“Alright, so we slip in through the back and breach the vault-” began Hawk.

“Nope, can’t do that,” smirked Rat. “There’s a complication.”

“What, seriously?” snarled Hawk. “What are we talking? HTB? JSS?”

“Four full squads of Wonderbolts with recruit squads,” replied Rat, grinning.

At this, the room grew quiet. Janus Security and Hekate were one thing, but dancing hoof to hoof with the Wonderbolts was just asking for trouble. To the group’s knowledge, no team had ever attempted it before, and for good reason. Dante said that the death of the Shadowbolts would be either at the hooves of the Princess herself or the Wonderbolts. Finally, Cloak spoke up.

“I’m guessing your little birdy on the inside shared that with you, didn’t she?” replied Cloak.

“That she did, Cloak,” replied Rat. “That she did.”

“So how are we going to do this, sir?” asked Wasp. “Clearly you have some sort of plan, since we took the contract.”

“Yeah, how are we evading the Blunderdolts?” asked Hawk. “Sewer pipes? Air ducts? Skylight?”

“None of the above,” smirked Rat. “We’ll be walking in the front door…”

Las Pegasus, The Lone Digger, Equestria
6 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Rat straightened the tie on his suit, stepping out of the carriage and sweeping the crowd. So many ponies tonight. Little did they know that something of incalculable value and danger waited beneath their hooves.

“Comm che-” began Rat.

“Yeah, yeah, we can hear you,” snarked Hawk. “You took your time spacing out your arrival.”

“You’re just mad you lost five thousand bits,” quipped Cloak.

“Shaddup.”

Rat sighed. It honestly was a pretty clever plan, but there were still obstacles to work around. Staggering their entrances to the casino by walking through the front door in civilian clothing had been clever, but it meant that some members would be sitting idle for a time. Of course, this wasn’t a problem for some members of the crew...

“Damn, check out the Wonderbolt mares in Squad Three!” whistled Hawk. “I can see why the Boss likes his little Reservist so much. Wonderbolt mares are toned!”

“Hawk, ease up there,” chuckled Rat. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves by you getting landed with a sexual harassment charge.”

“Oh, like Security is going to single me out amongst all the other stallions drooling over The Silver Streak?” countered Hawk, rolling his eyes.

“Knowing your luck?” quipped Cloak.

“Alright, lay off of him,” chided Rat. “Let’s stick to the plan.”

“Right, moving to get the Pit Boss’s Key,” murmured Cloak.

“Retrieving blueprints from the archives,” chimed in Wasp.

“Checking the Locker Room for the Security Chief’s Key,” reported Dagger.

“Breaking into the Manager’s Office,” reported Clover.

“Acknowledged,” replied Rat. “Everyone else standby.”

The plan was fairly simple. According to the contractor, the security room of the Lone Digger shared an air vent with one of the guest rooms. Coincidentally, access to the vault was contained within the security room itself, locked behind an electronic lock with a three-digit code. The code was changed daily, and the digits were divided amongst three ponies: the manager, the Pit Boss, and the Security Chief. So, all the crew needed was to get today’s vault code, pump sleeping gas into the security room, open the vault, and then clean out the joint. So simple, even-

“Heeeeeey, pretty birdie,” slurred a very drunken voice. “Don’t suppose you know tall, ripped, and dreamy over there, do ya?”

Rat turned, his heart sinking into his gut. He looked over, and sure enough, Lieutenant Fleetfoot of Squad Three was wobbling next to him with a flushed face, making intense bedroom eyes at a highly oblivious Tank. Of course, there were complications to being in civilian clothes. Such as pretending to be civilians, just to name an example…

“You won’t have a whole lot of luck there, ma’am,” sighed Rat. “He’s not looking for anything like that.”

“Awww,” pouted Fleetfoot. “That’s no fun. And he was a real cutie, too!”

“It’s unfortunate, to be sure,” shifted Rat uncomfortably.

“Guess I’ll have to pick up the broken pieces of my heart and mend them up in my room,” slurred Fleetfoot with a saucy grin. “Mind lending a hoof with that?”

“Sorry, ma’am, but I’m afraid I’m busy this evening,” replied Rat. “I’ll make sure you get to your room safely, though.”

“Aw, you’re just a sweetheart, aren’t ya?” cooed Fleetfoot. “Bet’cha have one hell of a honey back home waiting for ya.”

“W-what?” stuttered Rat.

“Well, ya don’t seem to be into stallions, but you’re pretty damn well immune to me,” smirked Fleetfoot. “Just don’t stay out too late. She’ll put you on the couch if you aren’t careful.”

Rat swore he could hear Daring laughing in his mind as he helped Fleet into the arms of a white mare with a blue-streaked grey mane.

“Help her back to her room and make sure she stays there,” pleaded Rat.

“Yes sir,” replied the mare. “What Squad are you again?”

“Well…” murmured Rat. “Not a part of a squad, actually.”

“Oh, you must be a Reservist like Sergeant Yearling,” replied the mare.

“Something like that,” muttered Rat.

“Gotcha,” replied the mare. “Starbolt, of Recruit Squad Alpha.”

“Call me Charger,” replied Rat easily. “Carry on.”

Rat walked away from the mare, confident that the inebriated lieutenant would receive the care she needed.

“So, I guess this means you have a thing for Miss Yearling, Boss?” chuckled Hawk. “I mean, you turned down the Silver Streak.”

“You know that doesn’t mean anything, Hawk,” smirked Rat. “I could just be saving myself for you…”

“Uh… what?” asked Hawk in confusion.

“Exactly, get back to work,” snapped Rat good-naturedly. “Hox, you got the ID on that guest yet?”

“According to my intel and the blueprints, we’re looking for room 271, held by a Miss Merryweather and a Miss Bright Spark,” replied Hoxton.

“Descriptions?” asked Rat briskly.

“Well, don’t bother finding Miss Merryweather since she’s across town at Shiro’s Palace,” chuckled Hoxton. “As for Miss Spark, you’ll be looking for a yellow pegasus with a blue and white mane. See if you can find Rapidfire from Squad Three. She’s a huge fan-filly.”

“I see her,” murmured Rat. “No need for Plan A. I’ve got this. Hawk, go retrieve the gas and meet me at the room.”

It had been years since Rat had picked a pocket of a live pony, but he’d kept up with his techniques as best as he could on the Cirrus. Moving through the crowd smoothly, Rat pretended to stumble into the mare, nearly knocking over a waiter in the process.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am!” apologized Rat, swiftly lifting the mare’s keycard out of her purse and subtly tucking it up his sleeve. “I didn’t spill your drink, did I?”

“Oh, no, you’re fine-” began the mare, before being cut off.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, shrimp-dick!” snarled Rapidfire. “And don’t be so hoovesy with my mare!”

“Sir, I just turned down your squadmate for a very good reason, and I assure you it wasn’t to interfere with you,” replied Rat, deadpan.

“Seriously?!” growled Rapidfire, raising a hoof to throw a punch. “I oughta-”

“-tell me more about how you’re able to shape those trails like you do in the show!” chimed in Bright, stepping between the two stallions with a nervous grin. “And maybe somewhere quieter as well… It is a bit noisy down here…”

“Alright, babe…” smirked Rapidfire, instantly forgetting Rat with the promise of getting the beautiful mare alone. “Let’s head upstairs.”

“Great! My roommate is out for the evening, so we can head to my room…” chirped Bright eagerly.

As they left, the orange pegasus shoulder-checked Rat.

“Have fun with your hoof tonight, dick-breath,” hissed Rapidfire.

Rat merely rolled his eyes and turned away from the two, mind drifting back to the task at hoof.

“You get all of that, Hawk?” murmured Rat.

“Yeah, I copy,” muttered Hawk. “I’ll be careful. ‘Kids these days’, right?”

“Right,” chuckled Rat. “Status check?”

“Cloak, with the others in the Manager’s Office, waiting on Clover to crack the safe,” quipped Cloak.

“Wait, seriously?” asked Rat in confusion.

“Yep,” chuckled Dagger. “You’d think we’re professionals or something.”

“Alright, knock it off you two,” grinned Rat, making his way up the stairs.

As he reached the top, Rat barely had time to duck into an alcove before Bright Spark and Rapidfire entered the staircase, on their way to the next floor.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t find my key!” apologized Bright emphatically. “I swear it was in my purse, but I must have locked it in the room or something. Gods, this is so embarrassing-”

“Hey, hey, relax babe, it’s all cool,” crooned Rapidfire. “It’s probably for the best anyhow. My suite is much more comfortable than the regular rooms below. Plus, there’s a hot tub on the balcony with a fantastic view of the city…”

Rat rolled his eyes as Bright giggled excitedly. Rapidfire was the worst kind of celebrity, shallow and self-serving, but there was an edge to him that sickened him. It was almost like he was a younger version of Pitch. Moving quickly, Rat made his way to Room 271, where Hawk was waiting with the sleeping gas canister.

“Took the scenic route?” quipped Hawk.

“Had to dodge the happy couple,” grunted Rat, unlocking the door.

“I get the feeling that with a couple decades of booze and cheap mares that RapidDouche would turn out just like Pitch the Bitch,” snorted Hawk, attaching the canister to the air vent. “I’ll keep an eye on things here. You go handle the vault with the others.”

Rat nodded and strolled through the casino to the back room. He smirked as he walked past the crowd of patrons being legally robbed blind by the rigged games. They’d never know the small revenge that they’d be reaping tonight as the Rat Pack looted the Lone Digger dry of their ill-gotten gains. The crew gathered outside of the security room, waiting as the gas took its toll. Gas masks were put on, and the crew breached the security room.

“Check them,” barked Rat. “We don’t want them waking up anytime soon. Cloak, Dagger, Clover? Go open up the vault. Let’s get what we came for and head home. Tank, we’ll need a hoof with the bags.”

“On it, Boss,” replied Cloak.

Tank grunted softly. Cloak moved down to the vault keypad, tapping in the combination rapidly.

“Four… two… SIX!” exclaimed Cloak quietly as the vault door rotated open.

Rat almost felt his jaw unhinge at the sight, the sounds of a victorious orchestral finale in his ears. The vault was opulently plated in gold from floor to ceiling, while large bags of bits were stacked high behind security cages. A large locked door immediately drew Clover’s attention. Rat bolted toward the back of the vault, ascending the stairs to what had to be the counting room. Large stacks of bits covered the counting tables while bags of counted bits rested by the counting machines. Staring in shock, Rat swore that he could hear the triumphant orchestra playing louder and louder-

“Turn it off, Cloak…” sighed Rat as he facehoofed with a smile.

“What?” protested Cloak. “The ‘812 Overture’ is perfect for this moment!”

“Yes, but we’re short on time,” smirked Rat. “Get the cages open and these bags out to the carriage. I’ll handle the target with Clover.”

“Already open, Boss, but there’s a problem,” quipped Clover.

“What?” asked Rat, before sighing.

The room was fairly small, with a stand within an alcove. However, there was a thaumatic energy grid between them and the supposed target. A single touch would trigger all kinds of alarms. Rat rolled his eyes before diving through the gaps in the grid. A small black and red amulet depicting an alicorn rested on a raised pedestal in the alcove. Rat raised an eyebrow as he lifted the target and tumbled back through the gaps.

“Alright, who bet ‘ancient and dangerous artifact’?” asked Rat.

Everyone looked over at Wasp, who was shouldering a humongous bag of bits. Wasp looked around in shock.

“Wait, I won?!” exclaimed the young stallion, prompting a chuckle from those present.

“Congrats, kid,” chuckled Cloak. “First time out, too. That’ll be a nice bonus for your first cut.”

“Alright, enough chatter. Let’s get going,” began Rat. “Hawk, make your way to the loading dock. Tank, the bags, if you please?”

“Heh, heh, heh…” chuckled Tank as the crew strapped numerous bags to the giant’s body before he took off and glided up the stairway to the back. Cloak lifted his bag and quickly followed, joined by Clover and Dagger. Rat grinned at his apprentice before walking up the stairs. This heist might go off without a hitch.

They reached the loading dock with haste, piling the bags of bits into the back of the cart. Rat allowed himself to relax An earth pony stallion walked out of the bathroom in the hall and stared in shock at the Pack. For a long moment, no one dared to move, as though time had stopped. The guard suddenly flinched, running to the alarm box. He was inches away before stumbling.

Wasp sprang forward, striking with his hooves outstretched. The guard stopped the clumsy attack with ease, slamming the young stallion into the ground. Wasp gasped as the air was forced violently from his lungs. The stallion sneered as he prepared to raise the alarm and crush the young Shadowbolt’s neck. There would be no way for Rat to reach him in time.

There was a sickening crunch as Hawk, appearing from the hall, crushed the guard’s vocal chords and snapping his neck in a single smooth motion. The body fell to the floor with a dull thud. Wasp stared in shock at the stallion that nearly took him down before his eyes filled with shame. An opponent like this should have been foal’s play for even the lowest novice.

“S-sir…” stammered Wasp. “I’m-”

“We’ll deal with it later, Wasp,” sighed Rat, tossing his bag of bits into the cart. “Hawk, bag the body. Dagger, see about cleanup. Everypony else get on the cart. We’re out in five.”

The Cirrus, The Pit, Equestria
6 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“Gods dammit, that was too close!” swore Rat, kicking a nearby workbench.

“Watch it!!!” squeaked Patch frantically as she dove past him to keep a precariously perched canister from tipping its contents across the countertop.

“...Sorry,” sighed Rat, collapsing onto a storage crate. “I’m just… That should not have gotten out of hoof as much as it did.”

Checking the container’s lid and giving it another twist to ensure its secure closure, Patch returned to her current project before she responded to Rat. “Well… No harm done, right? In either case, right?”

“Wasp managed to get away without a scratch, and thankfully Hox had a cleaner nearby, but I’m really worried now, Patch,” replied Rat, raking a hoof through his mane. “Wasp has been going on missions with the Pack for a few months now, and if he’s failed to pick up what I’ve taught him about combat, he’s going to get himself or somepony else killed!”

“Not everypony is skilled in the field you know,” stated Patch, arching an eyebrow at him over her poniquin.

“I know, I know,” sighed Rat, massaging his temples. “But this is different, Patch. I’ve seen him in the training room, and he’s fine. This- Gods, I don’t even know what this was! He just froze when that guard came at him! If Hawk hadn’t been there…”

“Again, not all of us have sterling field records, Rat,” commented Patch dryly. “Hell’s bells, I bolted my first time out… Razor was decidedly less than pleased since it nearly made the whole job go tits up, and I think we were all glad when Cross insisted I stay with him onboard.”

Rat sighed again. “Is this what it’s like to be a parent, you think?” asked Rat, leaning forward. “Trying to guide them as best as you can while having no clue what you’re doing yourself?”

Patch could only shrug as she fussed with attaching a piece of armor to a flight suit on the poniquin, and suggested, “Teach them what you know? Hope it helps them… Some skills turn out more useful than others… Sounds about right.”

“Yeah, my father never really taught me anything huge,” sighed Rat. “Only to trust my instincts and always watch my back. If only that advice could have saved him and my mom…”

“At least it might’ve,” scoffed Patch as she finished attaching the piece and stepped back. “Sewing is useless when you get pneumonia…” She sighed as well. “Still useful, but… Did my mom no good.”

“Well, same could be said for my mom and dad,” shrugged Rat. “Instincts do you no good when danger is all around you. Same with watching your back all the time. Most of what I learned was on the streets of Saddle Arabia, or here in the Cirrus.”

Patch smiled wryly. “Mostly same here. Just swap out Saddle Arabia for the streets of Haiphong,” she agreed. “But… Sewing gave me an edge… And because of it, I was able to pick up some basic first aid. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have even made it here.”

“Only way cloth ever helped me was this,” smirked Rat, drawing his signature knife and presenting it to Patch. “That’s the last scrap of the foal blanket that my mother made me, and the shard of armor belonged to my father back during the war. I learned quickly how to move undetected and fast when I needed to. Best medicine for me was preventative.”

She eyed the blade for a long moment before she looked away, her gaze dark and unfocused. “At least you have that much of them…” replied Patch, her tone bitter.

“Mom didn’t leave anything behind?” asked Rat, concern in his eyes.

“If she did, I didn’t get it,” retorted Patch, her words turning sharp.

“Well, if you want the Pack to find your deadbeat father and beat the everloving-” began Rat.

“He wasn’t my father,” interrupted Patch, glaring at Rat with cold green eyes. “He made that abundantly plain when he left me on the street.”

“Well, the offer still stands for him and the asshole who left you and your mother with him,” reassured Rat. “We look out for our own, Patch.”

“Whoever my father was, he’s already dead,” shrugged Patch. “My mom said we were lucky that she found a stallion who’d take care of both of us… Little did she know that deal was for only as long as she was around… She was barely cold before my step-father packed everything up and left. Said I wasn’t his problem any more… So fuck him. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I cared when he clearly never cared about me.”

“Well, I’ve told you, Patch,” replied Rat. “We look out for our own. Cross one of our own, and you’ve made mortal enemies. So give us the word, and we’ll go rip his brain out through his-”

The clatter of tools on the metal catwalk nearly made Rat jump out of his skin. He looked behind and noticed that a large toolbox had fallen from the crate it rested on. Rat frowned slightly at Patch.

“Patch, you haven’t been doing late night projects again, have you?” interrogated Rat.

“No!” replied Patch, a little too quickly before grimacing. “Okay… Well… No more than I usually do…” She peered intently at the offending toolbox, a confused and pensive expression on her face. “How did that get there?”

“Well, it should be mounted in its magnetic housing,” chided Rat gently. “You know what could happen if the Cirrus fell out of the sky.”

“Yes, I know that,” snapped Patch, even as she went to right the toolbox and put it in its proper place, muttering almost incomprehensible oaths in her native Vietmanese. “The question is more because I didn’t use that box today, and I always put everything back.”

“I don’t suppose that Hox would have done anything,” mused Rat. “Your sparring has pretty much only been verbal recently, and I dare say much more pleasant than in the past.”

“If he’s been mucking about with my tools, he’s getting more than that,” growled Patch as she completed reorganizing the box and putting it away.

“HAVEN’T TOUCHED YOUR TOOLS, GIRL,” called out Hoxton from the other room. “THOUGHT YOU WERE LATE NIGHT CRAFTING AGAIN!”

"THE ONLY 'LATE NIGHT CRAFTING' I'LL BE DOING IS WELDING YOUR DOOR SHUT, YA OLD PERVERT!" shouted Patch back. “AND WHY THE HELL ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME ANYWAYS, CREEPER???”

“DON’T BLAME ME FOR THE FACT THAT THIS SHIP IS BASICALLY A GIANT AMPLIFYING DISH!” yelled Hoxton. “IT’S HARD TO SLEEP WITH ALL THE CLANKING AND WHIRRING I HEAR FROM YOUR SIDE OF THE PIT! SERIOUSLY, ARE YOU BUILDING AN ARMY OVER THERE?!”

“HAVE TO HAVE SOMETHING TO COMPETE WITH YOUR DAMNED TOYS, DON’T I?!”

“ADMIT IT, YOU THINK THEY’RE CUTE! LIKE BASEBALLS WITH WINGS!”

“THE DAY I ADMIT THAT IS THE DAY I HIT A HOME RUN THROUGH YOUR SKULL!!!”

“OR THE DAY THAT I KISS YOU!” laughed Hoxton.

Patch shuddered violently at that retort and grunted in disgust, turning her attention back to Rat. “Please start talking again before the urge to murder my neighbor comes back…”

“Well he’s not wrong, is he?” chuckled Rat, glancing pointedly at Patch. “Still, I do worry about Wasp, to go back to our original topic. He just… I don’t know, he doesn’t seem ready for anything more than stealth missions.”

“I suppose being hurled into the deep end like we were wouldn’t pan out well for your contracts,” suggested Patch with an amused smirk as she went about absently putting her worktop in some strange semblance of order that only the armorer could understand the logic of. “But really, if he’s going to learn anything else, then he has to be in those situations.”

“Thankfully, our contracts are usually stealth missions,” replied Rat. “It’s just… I don’t know. I just can’t help but feel something is going to go wrong…”

“He’ll be fine, Rat,” interjected Hoxton from the doorway, vial of graphene in his hoof. “Hey, the old grump unpacked the shipment again and swapped the crates around. Thought you’d want your half back.”

Growling, she stomped over to Hoxton and snatched the vial from him. “Fine. You gave it back. Now out,” snapped Patch even as she turned to put it away. “And he’s not an old grump. You are.”

“Ask him what he calls himself, and I guarantee the first words out of his mouth will be ‘old grump’,” chuckled Rat. “Besides, he’s already long past the mandatory retirement age for the Wonderbolts.”

“And if I’m an old grump, doesn’t that make you a middle-aged mare?” quipped Hoxton with a laugh and he retreated to his workshop.

With an inarticulate scream of frustrated anger, Patch hurled a wrench at Hoxton’s back, hitting the door with a clang as it swung closed behind him. She huffed angrily at the closed door before she returned her attention to her visitor. “Much as I hate to admit it, he’s probably right… AND IF YOU TELL ANYONE I SAID THAT, I WILL KILL YOU, YOU LILLY-LIVERED EUNUCH!!!”

“WHO WOULD BELIEVE ME?!” laughed Hoxton. “I’D SOONER BELIEVE DESCENT AS A DOTING FATHER THAN YOU SAYING THAT IF I HADN’T HEARD IT MYSELF!”

“Heh, Razor might be right after all,” murmured Rat with a smile.

“What did you just say?!” demanded Patch, whirling on him.

“I said, ‘You better play nice before you wake up fourth deck… again…’” replied Rat innocently.

Patch peered at Rat through narrowed eyes before sighing heavily. “Believe it or not, I do know how you feel, Rat…”

“How so?” asked Rat, frowning in confusion.

Patch bit her lip with a thoughtful look in the distance just over Rat’s shoulder. “Here, I can at least ensure through my work that the ponies I care about come back safe… But I… I can't do that for my half-sister. I worry about her a lot… I wish I could protect the last vestige of my mom…”

Rat didn’t say a word. The Shadowbolt simply stepped forward and embraced Patch in a comforting hug.

“Look, I can’t promise anything now since Dante is sending us out immediately again. Some contract he called ‘top priority’ or something like that. After we get back from whatever he wants us to run, the Pack will take some time off and look for her,” stated Rat decisively.

“It'll take longer than some shore leave to track down wherever they went…” sighed Patch. “But thank you.”

Rat chuckled. “You underestimate how much shore leave the Pack’s racked up…” quipped Rat with a wink. “Don’t worry about it, Patch. You’re one of us, and we’ll give our last breath to help, even though we solve problems long before that point.”

With that, Rat stood up, making his way back up the stairs without another word. Personal work was important, but contracts came first. Despite the positive emotions he had felt for over a year now, Rat couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen. Something that would change the lives of everyone aboard the Cirrus, in a way that could never be reversed, and it was impossible to stop it.

To Be Continued….

Author's Notes:

So...
Oh lordy... It's the beginning of the darktimes, folks.
Thanks to Witchy and Syl for lending characters.
No clue when the next chapter will be out, but as a warning, I will be working on 14 and 15 at the same time (trust me, you'll thank me later... )