Green Pastures, Southern Residential Block, Equestria
50 Years after the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“Hold on a minute!” interrupted Kingfisher. “What does this have to do with the Shadowbolts being good? Why were they even there in the first place?”

Cloak frowned as he was brought back into the present. The conversation had moved into the sitting room, where they had been joined by Cold Snap’s parents, Muffin and Tradewind, as well as Kingfisher’s parents, Blenheim and Willow Wisp. The story had been interrupted previously for Willow Wisp to scold her son thoroughly for his actions, but it was a brief interruption that led to both families listening to Cloak’s story. Dagger smirked snarkily at her brother, shaking her head gently.

“He’s got a point, brother,” interjected Dagger. “You did do a pretty poor job of setting up our reasons for being there.”

“Oh, hush you,” rebuked Cloak. “I was getting to it. I just thought I’d put them straight to sleep if I immediately started in with a talk of politics and motivations of the time.”

“Grandpa, ‘Fisher and I are among the best students in our class,” interjected Cold Snap. “We wouldn’t have minded. The action was nice, but it didn’t really answer a lot of our questions.”

“I’ll get to it, no worries about that,” reassured Cloak.

“He probably didn’t start with that mission briefing because he slept through it,” observed Dagger, which brought about a round of laughter and a very pointed glare.

“If we’ve had enough jokes from the peanut gallery, I’ll continue,” growled Cloak in frustration.

As the laughter subsided, Cloak once again found his mind drifting to his early years as a Shadowbolt and the day he met one of the noblest Shadowbolts he’d ever know.

The Cirrus, West Corridor leading to the Briefing Room, en route to Equestria
16 Years before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Upon arriving on the landing platform, the group moved swiftly down the corridor towards what had to be the infirmary, where they dropped off the one called Hawk for proper treatment. The medic, who Runt learned was named Arclight, went with him to ensure that proper care was taken. With that, the group moved in silence down the corridor, with Runt growing more confused and frustrated with each step. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“WHO ARE YOU LUNATICS?!” bellowed Runt with all his might. “Why is there a city in the sky?! Why were you fighting Elysium?! And why in the name of the Goddess do you look like evil Wonderbolts?!”

Runt panted as his ranting ended abruptly as it started. The group stared at him in silence, expressions ranging from disinterest to irritation to amusement. Nightshade glanced over at Descent with a wry grin.

“Well, it seems we’ve reached the point of no return,” observed Nightshade enigmatically.

“Indeed,” replied Descent.

“So are you going to tell him now, or do you want to wait to damn him to this life?” asked Nightshade.

“He’s already chosen by following,” answered Descent. “Therefore, he has a right to know.”

The older stallion then turned to the colt, kneeling down to look him in the eye.

“We are the Shadowbolts,” replied Descent. “We are mercenaries of the highest caliber, and we always finish our contracts. For now, that knowledge will be sufficient. If you are accepted, you will learn more about what that means, but until then, remain calm and silent.”

The colt nodded, unhappy with the answer but unable to argue. Descent rose to his hooves and proceeded to lead the group to a large steel door. Beyond it was a well-organized and spacious briefing room. In the center of the room, a middle-aged stallion with a crimson coat and black mane liberally streaked with grey stood staring out the nearest window. He wore a purple and black flight suit that bore signs of repeated repairs, as though it had been punctured and torn countless times only to be restored and sent into the fray again. Two other stallions wearing the full flight suit and angular yellow goggles stood nearby as though they’d just finished meeting with the older stallion. The stallion turned to look at the three pegasi, his initial smile fading slightly as the group entered the room.

“Descent? Nightshade?” asked the crimson stallion in confusion. “Where are Stratus and Tumbler?”

“Dead, sir,” answered Nightshade. “There were… complications during the mission.”

“I presume that this young colt was among these ‘complications’?” asked the stallion, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes sir,” replied Nightshade. “Descent will be better suited to explain the complications, as I was incapacitated for most of the ordeal.”

“I see,” replied the stallion turning toward Descent. “I assume that this colt is here for similar reasons as the ones that brought you before me all those years ago?”

“Different circumstances, but the same purpose, yes,” replied Descent.

The stallion nodded before facing the colt. There seemed be a sort of aura of importance about the crimson stallion’s stance that clearly marked him as an authority figure.

“I am Dante, leader of the Shadowbolts,” stated the stallion. “Only a select group know that name. Let us hope that we can count you among them.”

Dante nodded to Descent to begin his report.

“Our progress was fairly straightforward upon our arrival to the colony,” began Descent. “Stratus began planning on how to best accomplish our objective, determining that the local working population could be used to utterly disrupt Elysium’s activities in the region. After a week, the local workers were ready for their uprising, while we focused on our own objective...”

Elysium Industrial Colony 001, Operations and Records Building, Saddle Arabia
3:35 AM Local Time, Twelve hours before the Executions

“So, why are we here, again?” asked Cloak.

Dagger could feel her eye sockets ache as she rolled her eyes at her brother for the forty-fifth time that night. Arclight tried to stifle his laughter with very little success, while Hawk actually hung his head in exasperation as he let out a frustrated sigh. If Stratus and Tumbler heard the exchange, they gave no sign of it, as Tumbler continued to pick the lock. Nightshade, however, was more vocal.

“There isn’t a lot going on up there, is there?” cooed Nightshade, lightly stroking the side of Cloak’s face.

“...Uh?” articulated Cloak, turning bright red beneath his flight suit.

“Pity,” replied Nightshade as she moved away. “I prefer my playthings to have a little more mind to break.”

Cloak stood like a statue before shuddering violently.

“There’s a fine line between kinky and creepy,” observed Cloak. “Nightshade uses it as a jump rope.”

“To answer your question, dear brother, we are here to undermine the Elysium Corporation’s operations here in Saddle Arabia,” answered Dagger curtly, ignoring her brother’s discomfort.

“To be more specific, we’re here to steal corporate files, sabotage equipment, and eliminate upper management,” clarified Arclight.

“And I suppose when you say ‘eliminate’, you don’t mean giving them a pink slip and a severance check?” replied Cloak flippantly.

“Enough,” came a deep voice from behind Cloak, causing the young stallion to jump. “We’re through.”

Descent and Starry Skies moved past Cloak toward Stratus, peering into the now open office building. Stratus turned to look at the group, his lined white face wrinkled in concentration.

“Descent, take Starry, Dagger and Tank and wait up on the ridge outside the compound,” ordered Stratus. “If the alarm sounds, you’ll clear a path for our escape. However, if it looks like we’re going to be overwhelmed before you can reach us, get out and complete the rest of the mission.”

“Understood, sir,” nodded Descent, before motioning with his wings for the others to follow.

“I want the rest of you with Tumbler and I to back us up in case things go sideways,” barked Stratus, addressing the others. “Keep close, and don’t be seen. Let’s move.”

The six pegasi entered the office building, following close behind Stratus. Not a word was spoken as they silently cleared the building floor by floor, eliminating anypony still within the building and hiding the bodies in storage closets and air ducts. Finally, the group reached the top floor of the building. Two night guards stood outside the large executive office. One of them turned his back to the other, leaving Cloak with a very silly grin on his face. The grey stallion broke into a silent run, punctuated only by a single sound.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAA!” exclaimed Cloak, kicking the guard in the head with a sickening crunch.

The other guard turned to face the source of the commotion, but came face to face with Nightshade. The mare proceeded to kiss the stallion sensuously for several seconds before breaking away, placing a hoof over the stallion’s lips. Nightshade smiled conspiratorially at the guard as she giggled ominously.

“Shhhh…” whispered Nightshade, as she proceeded to silence the guard permanently.

Before Cloak could protest, Stratus wordlessly ordered Cloak to stand watch with Arclight, signalling Nightshade, Tumbler, and Hawk to follow him. Inside the office was a safe, a desk, and two filing cabinets. Stratus assigned Nightshade and Hawk to the cabinets and Tumbler to the safe, while he set to searching the desk. A minute passed, and then Nightshade spoke up.

“I don’t like this,” said Nightshade.

“Hmm?” inquired Hawk.

“This was too easy,” elaborated Nightshade. “I expected at least some sort of competent fight from the security, but we moved without raising a single alarm.”

“So?” inquired Hawk. “Isn’t that in our job description?”

“Perhaps,” conceded Nightshade. “I just can’t shake the feeling that they meant for us to- Stratus? What’s wrong?”

Stratus was frozen as he lifted a piece of paper from the top drawer of the desk with shaking hooves. On it, a crude drawing of a pegasus trying to crack a safe, but the safe exploded in his face. The image was captioned “HA HA HA” in crude red letters. Stratus looked up to see Tumbler opening the safe, having finished with the lock.

“NO, DON’T-” yelled Stratus, far too late.

Dagger watched in horror as a large explosion shook the top floor of the building, shattering the windows as far as several floors below. The mare readied to fly to her comrade’s aid, but was stopped by a dark grey wing.

“Keep to the plan,” ordered Descent. “If they survived, they’ll get out to where we can help. Charging in now would be suicide. Have faith in their skill.”

Stratus coughed a mix of blood and dust from his lungs as he rose to his hooves, alarm klaxons sounding outside. Hawk was grunting in pain, his right wing at an awkward angle and his left leg bleeding slowly from a long gash. One look at Tumbler’s neck told Stratus that his comrade was dead, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Arclight rushed to Nightshade, checking her pulse.

“ She’s alive,” reported Arclight.

“Grab her,” barked Stratus. “Cloak, help Hawk. Move!”

The three pegasi moved as swiftly as they could carrying their injured comrades, reaching the bottom floor in minutes. Outside, they were met by a full complement of unicorns, earth ponies and pegasi ready to strike them down. A lone unicorn in an expensive business suit sat looking at a watch. Three pegasi moved to bind up the Shadowbolts in chains.

“Six minutes and twenty-seven seconds from entry to exit,” stated the unicorn. “You are obviously professionals. The locals I bribed really didn’t do you justice in their description. It’s a shame I didn’t hire you first.”

“And you are?” asked Stratus.

“Elysium III, of Manehattan,” answered the unicorn. “As you no doubt have guessed, I own the Elysium Corporation and all of its subsidiaries. And you are?”

Stratus did not answer.

“Strong silent type, I presume?” quipped Elysium. “No matter, one of your friends will be more forthcoming, I’m sure. Why don’t you ask them to join us?”

Stratus still did not answer. Elysium sighed, pulling a gold mechanical pen from his jacket.

“Must you really be so unreasonable?” asked Elysium, withdrawing a check book. “Very well, how much are you asking?”

“Go to Hell,” spat Stratus.

“If you insist on going,” replied Elysium calmly, raising the pen.

“Grandpa, why’d you stop?” asked Cold Snap. “What happened next?”

Cloak looked up, a haunted look in his eyes.

“Nothing good,” the old stallion answered.

Two earth ponies dragged the lifeless body of Stratus away. Cloak and Arclight stared in horror at what they just witnessed. Elysium seemed disinterested in the whole affair, wiping his pen clean with a white cloth, the pristine fabric turning red. The unicorn then frowned in irritation, glancing down at his suit, paying no mind to the pegasus security officer approaching the compound.

“Damned fool got blood on my suit,” remarked Elysium in annoyance.

“Mr. Elysium, the riot in the industrial district has been suppressed,” reported the pegasus guard.

“Any survivors?” asked Elysium disinterestedly.

“Thirty, sir,” answered the guard.

“Throw this lot in with them,” ordered Elysium, motioning toward the Shadowbolts. “We’ll be making examples out of all of them tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes sir,” saluted the guard.

“From there, we proceeded to rest and regroup until first light,” continued Descent. “It seemed impossible for us to continue the mission without the others, but any rescue attempt would be suicidal, at best.”

“So where does the colt figure into this?” inquired Dante.

“He was a thief I observed the previous day, but thought nothing of,” replied Descent. “As Starry and I worked to retrieve food for the group, we observed the thief performing the same activity, successfully fleeing a group of his peers in the process. He was perceptive, resourceful, and incredibly quick-thinking, to the point of rivaling Stratus in his prime.”

“Oh?” asked Dante, glancing at the colt again.

“Indeed,” replied Descent. “At the execution square, he was able to pinpoint the enemy strengths and vulnerabilities in minutes, allowing the four of us to mount a successful rescue and simultaneously complete the mission.”

“So Elysium is dead?” asked Dante.

“Dagger confirmed the kill herself,” replied Descent.

“Excellent,” sighed Dante. “Now all that’s left is the matter of the colt…”

“Sir, I realize he seems weak and defenseless, but I can assure you he is not,” reassured Descent.

“‘Weak’?” interjected one of stallions. “The kid looks like a damn toothpick! Apply enough pressure, and he’s gonna snap, killing himself and others in the process!”

“His plan got us out alive, Blade,” countered Descent. “I wouldn’t be standing here otherwise.”

“It does seem pretty far-fetched,” commented the other stallion. “I trust you, Descent, but a scrawny whelp like that taking out several stronger opponents with only his wits and his surroundings? It seems to be pretty far out there.”

“Razor does have a point,” interjected Nightshade. “Perhaps a test is in order?”

Dante nodded slowly, taking in everything his subordinates had told him. Indeed, this scrawny colt didn’t look like much, but the mercenary leader did respect Descent’s judgement on the matter. Still, Descent was fairly young, and the organization could not afford to lose more veterans if this colt folded under pressure out on the field. A test would be required. He glanced back to Blade and Razor.

“Kill him,” he said calmly.

Runt’s eyes widened in fear as the two Shadowbolts readied to fight. He felt the adrenaline enhance his perception. Time slowed as he analyzed his opponents and his surroundings, trying to find weaknesses to exploit and escape routes.

The one on the right charged forward toward Runt, ready to snap the colt’s neck between his hooves. However, they only found empty air as the young thief slid along the ground beneath the older stallion. An instant later, Razor felt the air being cut off from his lungs as the young colt attempted to choke the older stallion out from behind.

Blade unsheathed his weapon, a single gauntlet with an extendible blade, as Razor stumbled toward the wall to attempt to bash his unwanted passenger. A brief signal with his wings communicated Blade’s intention to end this fight that had gone on longer than it should have. The armed stallion leapt forward with his weapon, intending to shish-kebab his opponent’s head to the wall as Razor turned the colt into position. There was the sound of blade meeting flesh and wall, as expected, but there was an unexpected cry of pain and several strong expletives. Blade looked up in shock to find his weapon had pinned Razor to the wall by his right arm, with the young colt nowhere to be seen. Blade looked up in time to see two small hooves rapidly descending toward him before the world exploded into a dizzying chaotic blend of pain and disorientation.

Runt wasted no time with making sure his opponents were disabled. He knew Descent’s offer had to be too good to be true, and cursed himself for his wishful foolishness. He flew straight to the nearest window, hoping he would be strong enough to break the glass. Nightshade tried to intercept him, but Runt used her forehead as a springboard to gain more momentum. The colt folded his wings, closing his eyes as he braced for the pain of crashing through a window. It never came.

Runt suddenly found himself slapped to the ground by a large form, knocking the wind out of his already burning lungs. The imposing form of Descent loomed over him, one hoof pressed firmly against his chest. The grey warrior’s golden eyes were unreadable as he raised his other hoof, preparing to crush the young colt’s skull beneath it. Runt struggled beneath his opponent’s hoof, willing to fight as hard as he could to escape, with little success. The hoof descended. Runt braced for the impact.

Again, it never came. Runt opened his eyes to see Descent’s hoof a breath away from his head. Silence had fallen over the room, with only the enraged insults and curses from Razor keeping it from absolute quiet. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the silence was fully broken. Dante proceeded to laugh, a deep and rich sound that conveyed honest mirth. The Shadowbolt leader applauded the display as he glided over to the young colt.

“Fantastic,” the older crimson stallion chuckled. “He’s everything you said and more, Descent.”

Descent nodded in acknowledgement, keeping his expression neutral as he lifted his hoof from the now thoroughly confused colt. Dante seemed to notice the young colt’s confusion, as he knelt down to eye level with the young thief as the colt got to his hooves.

“Forgive me, young one,” apologized Dante. “I merely wished to see your ability myself.”

Runt nodded blankly, still stunned by the manner in which he’d been “tested”.

“How old are you?” asked Dante, hoping to coax the colt out his shock.

“Ten, sir,” replied Runt.

“And your parents are dead, I presume?” probed Dante.

“I guess so, sir,” replied Runt.

Dante raised an eyebrow at this. “You ‘guess’?” he repeated.

“Yes, sir,” confirmed Runt. “Like most foals, I was separated from my parents when they were sent to work. They’re probably dead by now.”

“And what is your name?” asked the older stallion, seemingly unfazed by Runt’s explanation.

“Don’t really have one, sir,” replied Runt. “I didn’t have any friends out there, and those that knew me just called me ‘runt’ or ‘thief’ or even ‘street rat’.”

“‘Street rat’, you say?” asked Dante. “Well, we can’t have you running around without a name, now can we? So let’s see: small, agile, quiet, and extremely clever, almost rodent-like in that respect, and they called you a ‘street rat’. How would you feel about the name ‘Rat’?”

“‘Rat’,” repeated the thief, testing the name out. “I like it, sir.”

Dante grinned widely. “Well, Rat, allow me to welcome you to your new home,” said Dante warmly, extending a hoof, which the newly-named Rat took. “Welcome to the Shadowbolts.”

To be continued…

Author's Notes:

And with that, we have a new chapter!
Next up, the world and characters will be fleshed out a bit more and the action slows down a bit for a chapter or two.

For anyone wondering about how often I will update this story, keep an eye out for a blog post this week where I'll address that matter.