Chapter 134

Two suited men stood, waiting for the elevator at the intersection of a long, luxurious hallway, surrounded by its dark wood and gold-laced walls, their polished shoes parked on a carpet of red, black and bronze.

“I take it you didn’t get invited to the dinner either?” one of them asked, breaking the silence as he glanced over at the other.

The other man glanced back, unable to help but gawk at the obscene tattoo of a spider web that covered the other man’s neck and cheek. “No,” he replied. “I’m supposed to head over to the Mane to see about a delivery.”

“Mm,” the tattooed man nodded. “No rest for the wicked, eh?”

“Yep.”

At the far end of the hall, unbeknownst to them, a spectre lied in wait: a sleek, strong figure wrapped in gleaming black, topped with a dark mask and a head of wildfire. Smooth amber cleavage poured from the V in the front of her outfit like the spout of a pitcher as she huddled deep in an alcove that housed a pair of vending machines, bright turquoise eyes peering out to watch the unsuspecting pair.

Just past them sat the elevator door, sealed shut like a vault while the indicator above crawled across the row of backlit numbers. The elevator was coming, and they would surely be watching its approach, hiding their impatience with forced silence.

This was the perfect time to strike.

She darted from her hiding spot and swooped toward the goons like a bad dream, her high-heeled boots padding silently along the carpet. She slowed her pace when she approached from behind and paused for a moment, reaching out with her hands to tap them both on the opposite shoulders.

Attentions drawn, they looked away from one another to see who had touched them while the black figure slunk between, putting herself between them and the elevator. Confused by finding no one there, they turned back to look at each other, but were shocked by the presence of the masked woman in tights.

She gave them no chance to react; her boot swung up and caught the jaw of the man on the left.

“Jeez!” the one with the spiderweb tattoo shouted as he plunged a hand into his suit jacket to produce his gun. Out it came, silencer and all, but its aim was thwarted when she grabbed his wrist to deflect it, followed by a swift chop to the throat.

He croaked noisily, stunned and defenseless as she took his wrist in both hands, turned her back to him and aimed the gun at the other man. The weapon fired with a soft thud, punching a hole in the other man’s thigh. Then she twisted the gunman’s arm around, forcing him to bend forward as the other man screamed and fell to one knee to cover the wound. She gripped the back of his neck with a bare hand, closed her eyes, and waited.

Seconds later, she opened them again and drove her knee into his face. Then she shoved him away, sending him staggering toward the wall next to the elevator door. He collided head-first with the wood and slid to the floor.

She turned her attention to the other man, being sure to note the position of the elevator as she went.

He was on his knees, panting deeply, teeth gritted. She approached, her eyes glaring sharply through that dark mask with a contrasting brightness that was downright unnerving. She reached out and placed her hands on his cheeks, closing her eyes as her mind invaded his, searching the cavities of his consciousness while he waited for her to strike, wondering what she was going to do to him—unaware that she was already doing it.

Without warning, she opened her eyes and then swung her face downward. Her forehead impacted his with a thud that echoed to the far end of the hall and back, then she dragged his unconscious body to the wall next to the elevator. He was abandoned there, straight across from his comrade.

She then sprinted past the elevator and headed down the right-hand hall, bursting through a door marked ‘STAIRS’ just a soft DING! rang out from the elevator, which had finally arrived.

The doors slid open, and a lone maid peered out from inside, brows furrowing when she saw no one waiting. The men had been placed out of sight after being knocked out, and the blood on the carpet was camouflaged by its red pattern, so the maid simply shrugged her shoulders, uttered a little ‘hm,’ and stared up at the ceiling as she waited for the doors to close again, tapping her fingers on the handle of her supply cart.

Knight Mare ascended several flights of stairs to distance herself from the carnage before finally stopping on a landing, next to a door that led into another hallway.

She needed to read more people; so far, her search for information about the top dogs in this gang had come up short. Someone around here had to know who was running this thing. Just as she was about to reach for the door handle, however, a voice entered her head through the earpiece.

”OK everyone, I apologise for the delay. There’s been a hold-up in the kitchen, apparently; they’re not telling me what happened yet, but apparently there was a scuffle in the lounge or something like that. HEH! We all know how those thugs can get when they get a few drinks into them, am I right? No big deal, I’m told. Dinner should be on the way soon, so just hold tight. In the meantime, we can get started with announcements.”

The banquet was beginning—the same banquet that was about to be crashed in a big way.

Knight Mare, placing her fingers to the earpiece, backed into the corner and crouched down to listen. Clearly, Twilight’s antics had thrown a wrench in their meal being on time, and they were still trying to figure out what had happened. They hadn’t yet figured out that the assault had come from an outside invader, nor had they figured out why their security system was acting glitchy, preventing them from seeing what exactly had taken place. Logically, they were keeping it under wraps until they knew more about it.

The time it would take for them to figure this out would give her and her team plenty of time to accomplish their mission—and to return the devastating blow that’d been dealt to Pinkie’s family. By the time these people would figure out what was happening, it would be far too late.

*****

“…Which gives us one of the best first quarters we’ve had for quite a few years,” said a suited man, standing before a sea of tables filled with people in many different styles of dress. Some were wearing suits, others looked like nothing more than filthy hoodrats. All, however, were surrounded by lavish place settings; fancy plates flanked by heavy silverware sat before them, with centerpieces of flowers and candles surrounded by a row of beautiful crystal wine glasses, one for each person seated.

Among those in attendance was a beige-skinned, purple-haired young woman, seated near the far corner, wearing a dark gray hoodie and torn jeans. Her eyes wandered the ballroom as the speaker continued, taking in the golden trim that surrounded the ceiling, broken by burgundy curtains that hung in hoops partway down the walls—except for where the windows on the wall behind her sat; they hung long and straight around the large grids of glass and framework, drawn partway shut to douse the city lights outside.

It was a simple arrangement, this space: rectangular in shape, with windows on one end only —that being the only exterior wall— and a set of double doors on the left side, opposite the low-set stage on the right, which was occupied by a long table with a DJ seated behind a laptop computer.

“That’s pretty good,” the speaker continued, “considering the traffic this time of year; although…” He paused for a moment, then cocked his head thoughtfully. “Convincing the city officials to remove all the supervised injection sites paid major dividends for us; people in recovery are bad for business, am I right?” he chuckled.

“What about the lost shipment from last year?” someone shouted from the far corner.

The speaker paused, his gaze settling onto the crowd as he prepared his response. After a brief moment, he looked into his wine glass and shook it to swirl the dark red liquid around. “I think it’s safe to say that that… rather large shipment is gone, which is unfortunate, because we lost a good chunk of money on that—not to mention a major market.”

“Where’s the little fucker that lost it?” another voice asked. “Did he make off with it or what?”

The speaker looked up and drew a breath. “We don’t know… but we will soon enough. It’s taken longer than we thought to track him down, but we’re hot on his trail. And when we find him, he’ll be having little a chat with the boss man himself…” —a grin slowly crept across the speaker’s face— “and I’m sure he’ll be delighted to answer any questions he may have for him.”

“Like: ‘how d’you wanna die!?’”

The speaker laughed. “Very possible, although the boss may not give him many choices on that.”

A soft roll of laughter drifted over the crowd as the speaker took a sip of wine, rolling his lips together as he sampled its flavour. Then he swallowed. “Speaking of young recruits, I have the honour of introducing a few here tonight—one in particular,” he said, gesturing toward the corner table.

Everyone’s attention shifted that way, onto the nervous, beige face of the young woman, whose wide eyes darted around rapidly.

“Gage came to us a little while back,” the speaker explained, glancing around the room. “I was skeptical at first —what with her being a woman and all— but after hearing about her military experience, I figured there might be a chance they’d made the right choice by bringing her on. Turns out... they did!”

Gage slouched down in her chair slightly, using her fingers to hook a purple lock behind her ear.

“Not long after joining, Gage came to me with some interesting information: apparently she happened to attend a little party over in Canterlot the previous night, and she pointed out that there were some substances being passed around there—and we all know what happens to people who bring foreign objects into our neighborhood, right?”

The speaker raised a hand to silence the soft murmur of chuckling that came from the crowd. “Now... normally, we would have let this one slide. Turns out it wasn’t a dealer, just a lone person with a little grow-op, but...” He paused with a little smirk. “Gage was kind enough to bring it to our attention, and since she was so eager to prove herself, I said to her, I said: ‘handle it.’ Show us what you got.”

The room was silent; all eyes were on the speaker as he looked over at her.

“And she did it.” He paused, shaking his head incredulously. “She fucking did it. She went back, walked right in and took every last one of that family out. BANG! BANG! BANG! Dead. Well… the one sister survived, but she knows nothing. And we’ll finish her off soon enough.”

A dry-sounding cackle rang out from the opposite end of the room when an emaciated woman with too much make-up and an ill-fitting, but revealing miniskirt decided to interject.

“You missed that pink piggy though, Gage! She got away Scott-free!” she laughed, using her thumb to push her nose up and oink like a pig.

A dozen or so people laughed at the frazzled woman, who Gage concluded must have been someone’s prostitute—probably a regular, since she seemed to know the inner workings of The Ministry. Possibly even a salesperson of sorts. She was right, though: one of the four sisters was absent that night. The one from the damn party—and her moron friend! It was a miscalculation on her part, and she would be careful not to make that mistake again. Everything else went well, though; and The Ministry seemed overall pleased by her performance.

The speaker nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, the fat one got away; you’re right. I’m sure she learned her lesson though.” He turned to Gage. “Unless you wanna go back to finish her off along with the injured sister?”

Gage shrugged and gave a blasé smirk.

“If she hasn’t killed herself by then,” he added with a chuckle. Then he raised his glass. “A toast.”

Everyone followed suit by raising their glasses.

“To our newest, and most promising enforcer. I see a bright future for you here with us—especially if you continue to show the kind of resolve you did that night.”

“Hear, hear!”

Glasses clinked together, and murmurs of conversation were exchanged.

“Alright,” said the speaker, after swallowing and then licking his lips. “What else is there to discuss while we wait for dinner?”

*****

Crouched down in the stairwell, Knight Mare took her fingertips from her earpiece and let her head fall back against the wall.

“Mother fuckers,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You there, Mistress?”

***

Outside, a black figure with a ghostly, pale face was perched on a ledge in one of the nooks of the building’s exterior, keeping an eye on the traffic far below while she listened carefully to the feed.

A familiar voice entered her ear.

“You there, Mistress?”

She drew a breath and peered up into the night sky, sapphire eyes piercing through her black mask. “I am, darling.”

”Did you hear that little talk just now?”

After a short pause, she looked back down to the street. “Every word.”

”These people are pieces of shit.”

“Indeed,” the Dark Mistress replied, shifting her position slightly. “I think it’s about time we teach them some manners, wouldn’t you say? How would you like to proceed?”

”The main objective is to get some ‘alone time’ with Gage. So either you get her out of that room so we can have a little chat her, or you get everyone ELSE out.”

She cocked her head. “I believe I shall choose option B: clear the room. Any suggestions on how to accomplish that?”

A long exhale sounded from her earpiece, followed by: ”After hearing that conversation, I would say with EXTREME PREJUDICE.”

The Dark Mistress narrowed her eyes. “Well now… that doesn’t sound like the tolerant and forgiving friend I’ve known all these years; are you certain your kind would approve of such a thing?”

”Well, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that the app might crash and I lose the video feed, which would mean I’ll be unaware of everything that’s going on in there—wink, wink.”

“Hm.” A playful smirk graced those full, frosty lips. “Very well, then. I shall make my descent. Wouldn’t wanna miss the ball now, would I?”

”Nope. You’d better get down there before you become a little more than fashionably late.”

The Mistress stood from her spot and turned to make her way to the nearest window when she was stopped again by her partner’s voice.

“Oh, and one other thing...”

The Dark Mistress paused, glancing down at the street. “Yes?”

“Pay special attention to that whore that called Pinkie a fat pig. Make sure she gets a send-off that leaves a bad taste in The Ministry’s mouth for years to come.”

The pale vigilante smiled. “Not to worry, darling. I see a closed-casket affair in the very near future for her.”