The night was sleepless, not to his surprise. He couldn't say the same about his rest. He feels fairly relaxed, albeit a little stiff from the springy bed.

Crimson reckons its morning by now, if it wasn't obvious by the voices which clamor outside his room. Sounds like Moobs and Axel are at it again. It's more than just concerning, these two seem a little too close to be arguing like this. Even worse, the argument carried from one day to the next. Whatever's going on must be more serious than he initially thought.

No time to be laying around. He holds onto the bunny which slept on his chest through the night, using his other hand to open his duster to pocket it safely inside. He kicks up and fits his boots back on effortlessly, stomping them a few times to ensure they're in place. He marches to the door and exits with haste.

"It wasn't a fucking question! Do it! Make sure it gets done before I get back!"

"Yer bein' unbelievably unreasonable right now! Blowin' it up bigger'n it needs to be!"

Moobs and Axel immediately shift their attention to the man who becomes present in the lobby. Their weighty gazes judge him a bit too harshly even if he's not involved. At least, he doesn't think he is. "'M I interruptin' somethin'?" he asks nonchalantly.

Axel huffs and shakes his head, "Nah, it's... we're good." He gives a quick glare to the old camel, who returns a puckered gawk in return. He faces Crimson again and continues, "Glad you're up. We can get moving, rendezvous with Gloriosa's agents. They'll give us what we need."

"You already ate? Can't start our march on an empty stomach."

"I said they've got what we need. Come on, we need to head out."

Crimson notes the stallion's clear rush to want to leave, so he doesn't overtly question the debacle. Besides, he agrees in a way. He'd rather get the day started sooner than later.

Axel brings the door open and steps out, leaving it unclosed. Crimson gives Moobs a sly glance before taking his leave. The elder returns a very solemn, drooping front. His expression gives a multitude of messages, but all of them derive from the same thing: sadness. He doesn't know what kind of ass-chewing Axel has been giving him, but Crimson is starting to itch. It may not be his business, but this feels a bit too significant to let it rest.

The man closes the door behind him, taking the following behind Axel as usual. He stares down to the back of the stallion's head, curious. He guesses it's worth a shot, and if what he assumes is true, his shot will land in the void. "... What was all that about?"

"Don't worry about it, Sky."

Yup, just like he thought. Maybe once more for good measure. "Sounded important. You sure--"

"Sky, dude," Axel turns his head back to glare at him. "Just drop it, man." They share an awkward moment of silence as they continue to stare at one another. Axel holds his hard front, but he definitely feels the agitated disapproval coming from his partner. The stallion sighs and faces forward again, "Listen. Maybe later we'll talk about it. I just need us focused on today's hit. We don't wanna fuck something up letting our minds wander. Y'know?"

"... Reckon yer right."

"I won't leave you in the dark." He glances back at the man again, trying to set up a smile. "Promise."

Crimson simply nods. On this, they continue their trek to the Gloriosa, onwards to the carriage that awaits their arrival.

‎

‎

Heavy hooves skid across grass, using friction to stop the carriage. The pegasus stallions dressed in Gloriosa's suits exhale heavily, finally able to rest after a lengthy haul. Their passengers, Crimson and Axel, remain seated. Both the man and the stallion wear hats and shades, with Axel donning a white ballcap and Crimson placed with a straw farmer's hat. They both look and feel a bit ridiculous, but apparently it's necessary. They collectively watch as other carriages, counted to five total, also come down and stop nearby.

Crimson analyzes their surroundings, noting their stop is in the grassy plains of western Equestria. They are all bunking down under the shade of a few trees that sit sparsely among the sea of green. All carriages line themselves next to each other, each one carrying three agents. These carriages, he notes, are generic and without label, unlike the Gloriosa carriages that escorted him the night before. He returns his attention to the passengers of the carriages, all fifteen of them. He isn't sure if they're really going to need such a cumbersome force, but apparently each one of them is apart of the plan.

Every agent is currently dressed in pricey civilian clothing and headwear. The mares wear sunhats, the stallions wear ballcaps just as Axel. Each carriage has a picnic basket, and once they start disembarking, they take them down as well. Crimson comes to realize that they're playing a disguise. He supposes it makes sense since the city of Las Pegasus isn't more than a mile away. Anyone interested in them won't see anything but a few high-class ponies enjoying lunch under the morning sun. And their single human.

Still reluctant about his 'disguise,' the man fixes his sunglasses a bit more comfortably so his hair isn't trapped behind them. He can barely see with this double blockage, but he tries to make do of it anyway. He feels a nudge on his side, Axel signals him to dismount. He complies and comes off the carriage from the opposite side of his partner.

The agents are splaying out the blankets and mats where they're looking to sit. One of the agents beckons Crimson and Axel over to theirs, making sure there are five members at each set-up. The whole display is organized in a matter of seconds, practically ready for sitting and enjoying by the time they reach their appointed place. Crimson acknowledges that if these ponies aren't any good at fighting, they're at least good at setting up picnics. Very good at it.

Axel and Crimson take their seats on the checkered purple and white blanket. A dark purple pegasus mare next to Crimson reaches out and places a plastic tray with a plate on top in front of him. She then sets a plastic cup down next to the plate, then a fork. "Sandwich? Salad?" asks the mare, her voice stern with a sprinkle of femininity to it. He takes a brief moment to realize that this mare is... well, jacked. Easily. Her slender form is cut at every major muscle and her wings are thick at the base. She isn't large, but she looks terrifyingly strong. Now that he puts mind to it, the same can be said about every agent here. They're all physically fit to a magnificent degree, yet give off such an impassive demeanor. It looks even more inconspicuous behind the silly get-ups everyone has. "You can talk. We all know."

Crimson shakes his head quickly in surprise. Not that they know he can talk, but that he pretty much got caught daydreaming. He's glad they confused it for keeping quiet. "... Just some salad." A few of the agents who are already chatting and mingling amongst each other pause to glance at the man talk. Axel doesn't seem too interested at the moment as he chows down on a berry and lettuce sandwich.

The mare tending to him smirks slightly, taking some tongs with her wing and forking out salad from a large plastic bowl for him. "This enough?" The man nods in response so she puts the tongs back. "Lemonade or orange juice?"

"Lemonade."

She does the same with a pitcher of greenish liquid that has some pulp from the lemons floating about alongside ice. She removes the plastic cap and pours it into his cup, topping it off before another agent asks for it. She passes it to him along with the lid.

"Much obliged," Crimson thanks.

"You're welcome," she replies, gathering some food for herself. She shifts on her bottom, looking like she's trying to get comfortable. In this discreet motion, she actually rears her head close to Crimson's, whispering, "Staring, Hazel Eyes?"

Crimson's orbs pop open. "... Pardon," he apologizes in a whisper, taking his fork in hand.

The mare continues to smirk, taking a forkful of salad into her maw. "N't both'rin' me," she says out loud through the food before swallowing. "Just tell me if you do it again."

Crimson pokes a particularly big piece of baby carrot already coated in some sort of raspberry vinaigrette. "Why's that?"

"So I can stare back~"

"The shit are you two talking about, Trizzie?" Axel suddenly interrupts his conversation to glare back at the dark purple mare.

"Hoh, goodness," the mare named Trizzie retorts satirically. "Why so hostile, Axel?"

"You know what you're doing. No more. Zilch. Zip."

"Axel, what're you talkin' about?" Crimson butts in sarcastically. "I think yer bein' jumpy."

"Yeah? Care to explain what she meant, then?"

"A staring contest," the man states dead-pan. "Gotta stay entertained somehow. What did you think it was?"

"Yeah, Axel!" Trizzie crosses her arms, glaring at him judgmentally. She has a hard time staying composed because of how serious Crimson seems. She can't help but release a snicker and hit the man's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," Axel huffs some of his orange hair from his eye. "Didn't realize the circus was in town, couple of clowns."

"He does have a sense of humor, kinda." A dark yellow pegasus stallion from across the picnic blanket comments. "Is it wrong to say I can't believe you?"

"Believe what I said or what I am?" Crimson prods.

"The latter. Name's Tango. Sky, right?" The man nods. "Great, well, I'm the squad leader for our group. If you have any questions, go to me first. Not this bonehead," he throws a hoof to Axel.

"Up yours, dude," Axel snarls.

"Our objectives will mostly stay between us," Tango continues, "the other teams have responsibilities they've gotta deal with."

Crimson looks at the other groups briefly. Something he notices almost immediately is that the teams seem to be split up by race. The unicorns huddle together in their own picnic, the earth ponies as well. His team is composed of pure wings. "Right," he acknowledges. "Gloriosa said we'd be in groups. Reckon its us five."

"Yes, sir. You got dumped with the hit squad. Every pony around you here is a trained killer, through and through."

"Can tell. You all bein' winged gives it away."

"Bright, you are. A pegasus is death's best friend. Just getting the formalities out of the way, that's Trizzie. You got to know her pretty quick." The mare in question shows a repeated suggestive raising of her brow to the man. "Then this here's Lila," he signals to the orange pegasus mare on his right, who sits next to Axel.

"Sup," she calls simply and waves her hoof, which incidentally has her sandwich in it and causes some of it to fly on Axel.

"Hwu-Rrgh!" Axel snaps his neck to her. "Watch it, klutz!"

Lila giggles with a hoof over her muzzle. The others around share in her merriment at Axel's expense. Something tells the man that it wasn't an accident. Not even close. It's further affirmed by Lila getting a little touchy to clean Axel of the ingredients that paste his body.

Crimson doesn't partake in laughter, however simpers nonetheless. He takes the lemonade generously poured for him and brings it to his lips. It's cold, it tastes great, and the pulp allows his mullers to entertain themselves. It's perfect, so much so, he chugs the whole glass in one take. He pulls the empty cup away and sighs happily.

"Hope you kill Majees the same way you killed that lemonade," Trizzie uses her body to hit his left arm. Crimson waves her off as he tries to force a burp out. "More?"

"Mmh-- Please--" He holds the cup to her and finally burps boisterously. No one cares one bit about his lack of manners. Trizzie takes his cup and refills it for him with a smile. Gratefully, he takes his lemonade back and sips it with more composure.

He sort of feels comfortable among these hitmen. A unique sense of comradery is always held between folk of a difficult coming. Being a conditioned assassin fits the criteria well, he supposes. Not just anyone can take a life, much less do so as a living.

"Hmh. Live by taking life. What an odd existence."

The afternoon is spent shooting the breeze between this little knit. Before they know it, the sun reaches the edge of the horizon, giving way to the moon.

‎

‎

At the break of dusk, everyone wraps up their stupidities and commotion. As if everyone around has turned to machines, they assume an entranced automation that directs them precisely. Movements become quick and agile, the picnic is wrapped up and stored in seconds between everyone.

Crimson and Axel are led by Tango to the back of the carriage he and his team arrived in. The back compartment is pulled down by Trizzie which reveals kits comprised to a suit, a belt, a harness, and a weapon that somewhat resembles a gun. The man is stunned to find such a contraption so easily presented to him.

"Sky," Tango begins, "that one in the corner's yours." He points to it, it's the closest kit to the man. "Get that on."

"Reckon there ain't a dressin' room," Crimson knocks ironically. As he says this, everyone has already thrown their sunny picnic wear on the ground - in a word, they're naked and already getting suited up.

"No." Tango states point-and-case, shaking his head with a grin as he slips his hindlegs into his skin-tight suit.

Crimson accepts his fate swiftly and proceeds to take off his duster. A quick analysis of those around him, there's no way his suit would fit with his shirt and pants on. He moves to unbuckle his belt and kick off his boots, getting down to nothing but his underwear. Taking his shirt off proves mildly annoying because of the collar around his neck, but he manages. He makes very sure to keep his duster, and the little friend inside, tucked safely inside the carriage. He retrieves his kit from the carriage and separates his suit from the rest of the gear, proceeding to stretch it across his frame. The collar again proves to be an annoyance as he can't get the neck part of the suit pulled all the way up. He leaves it as is, the collar hides his neck anyway. No one seems to notice the collar either, he thinks it's due to the fact most if it is hidden under his hair and it's getting dark out. The less probing questions he has to answer, the better.

After the suit is on, all that's left is the utilities. He covertly eyes those surrounding him to get an idea of what goes where. A harness which goes over the trunk, it has two clips at the sides for the waist belt. He latches everything on well enough to make it look right.

He gives himself a glance to make sure it does. It looks well enough, so he moves to the last bobble he needs to equip. It's a small circular device that looks high-tech, it sort of resembles... the button Snowfall issued. The terrible, unreliable magical comms button. But this one looks completed. Evolved, even. Smaller, more efficient. He follows everyone else's lead and sticks it into his right ear. As it sits comfortable behind his inner ear, he hears quiet beeping and voices. Echoes of what some of the agents around him are saying are repeated into his ear. If they press it, it transmits their voice. It's simple... yet so unfathomable.

He almost rips it out from how uncanny this feels. He doesn't understand magic, but he feels this sort of technology shouldn't be possible.

"Right, everyone geared?" Tango announces to the group. Responses come from each pegasus in his team, save for Crimson, who still messes with the tight suit's fit. "Sky, is your equipment malfunctioning or are you?"

He stops tugging at it and raises his hand. "Sorry. 'M good. Got a question though."

"And I maybe got an answer."

"This a gun?" he points to the firearm-like device at his hip.

"Sorta like a gun, but not quite. You won't find those in these parts of Equestria."

Crimson takes the information to heart. "What is it then?"

"That there is a dart-flinger. High-potency tranquillizer inside each shot, each shot comes out of the barrel with roughly forty-thousand PSI. Almost as fast as a bullet, but don't treat it like one. It's not a bullet, it's a dart. Dart's a small white metal pike, gun coats it with narcotic. It's got two levels, see," he takes out his own weapon effortlessly from its holster and demonstrates the right side of it. "This here is your kill-switch," he presents the little latch that looks similar to a safety, but there's obviously another lever which is the safety. "You keep it flipped down, you knock out your target. You want them dead? Flip it up. For this hit, we want it flipped up. Got it?"

"Understood."

"All of the flingers were pre-rigged for that setting, so you don't gotta screw with anything. Remember to aim for the neck or major arteries. Don't have a clear shot on those? Exposed flesh works too, just expect a few seconds of resistance from the enemy before they go down."

"How many seconds?"

"Longest anyone's been standing after getting hit was a monster of a camel. Took eight seconds."

Crimson's brows raise up and come down quickly from understanding. "Got'cha."

"Anything else you got a question on? Can't have you fumbling around your gear once we're in the thick of it."

The man scans his harness and belt, trying to find anything else he may not understand. Other than a knife, a first-aid pouch, some rope, ammo for his weapon, and a few other pouches he hasn't looked inside of, he feels he knows what he needs to know. "Nothin' else."

"Excellent. Mount up!" At his order, all forces move back to the carriages. "Trizzie, port one."

"Aye, aye," she calls back as she trots over to Axel and Crimson, where Axel takes the lead to his respective transport the two follow. Crimson sets himself up in the middle sandwiched between Axel and Trizzie. Their suits rub and squeak against each other very peculiarly. The man feels very uncomfortable in this second skin.

"You're warm," Trizzie suddenly comments to Crimson.

"You comin' with us, then?"

"There a problem with that?" she closes her left eye and leers closer to his face.

"A problem sittin' next to a pretty pegasus? Hardly."

"Pretty? Pfft!" she turns her head and quite literally spits in disbelief, at least making sure not to spit at him. She stares at him again with a squinting smile. "I like you."

"I can tell."

"Stop messing with him, hoof-head," Axel clamors to Trizzie. "Once we take off, game faces."

"Game faces!" Trizzie repeats, mixed between mockery and seriousness. Her demeanor melds to confusion when she feels something pelt her left ear, causing it to twitch quickly. She looks up, seeing the sky beginning to shroud with clouds. "Huh. Guess the slight chance of rain won the bet."

"It did, but shouldn't affect us," Axel assures. "We should get these on, though." He reaches under the seats and pulls out some cloths. Once the stallion passes them out to Trizzie and Crimson, they reveal themselves to be ponchos. The other teams seem to be doing the same, intent on staying dry.

The large pegasus stallions that commandeer the carriages finish hitching themselves up. With all bodies boarded and ready, everyone stays put a little longer - every eye gazes out to the horizon line, watching as the sun makes its descent to leave the land in the care of the moon.

In a matter of a minute, the world is finally engulfed in night. A whistle coming from the stallions in front of Axel signal the inception of the operation. The muscle begins pulling the carriages, each one commencing staggered behind the other so they march in a line - Axel's carriage takes the lead.

The carriages pick up in speed gradually until they finally take off, modifying the formation; now they fly stacked over each other rather than in a line. Under the cover of night, they fly high into the sky. The world under them becomes farther and more compressed the higher they rise.

Las Pegasus now lies about half a mile to their right, the man looks over Trizzie's head to keep on eye on it. They are about level with it now; the carriage keeps ascending so they gain the height they need for their drop. After a good distance is achieved over the city, the angle at which they fly levels out horizontally. The flight-path now fixes towards it, and it no time, they are punching air-space high above.

Clouds have condensed above western Equestria. The light droplets pick up to a mild shower. The cold blowing wind becomes even colder with the company of rain.

The ponies which roam the city appear as specks from this altitude. The high-rises, residences, casinos, and offices that litter the cloudy grounds are all perceived from only their rooftops. One particular rooftop on the north-east corner of the city, a prodigious edifice with yellow and green lights that towers over twenty stories, is exactly where Gloriosa commanded their landing.

The man admires this skyscraper. It appears to be a casino hotel mix with plenty of intricate architectural design that overtly expresses wealth. Throughout the ride, everyone has been cracking jokes or conversing using the earpiece. The chatter follows suit to his thoughts, the agents express their appreciation to the building as well, in-between banter and curses to it.

Without much of a warning, both Axel and Trizzie reach in and wrap their arms around each of Crimson's. He reckons it's go-time. Carefully, all three of them stand up against the cold blowing wind as the carriage still flies. Once all three are standing on the seats, they collectively leap straight up. The carriage immediately leaves them behind, allowing them to plummet.

Weightlessness is felt for just a second before gravity forces them to abide. Their fall soon reaches terminal velocity, the distant flashing lights of the city gradually become closer.

Once at the correct altitude, both Trizzie and Axel spread their wings to slow their fall, clutching Crimson tightly so they don't let him go. It takes monumentous effort to hold him between the two pegasi, but they manage well. Their speed stabilizes in a few seconds, their steady float down is reminiscent of a parachute.

They're easy to miss in the night, but Crimson notes the other shadows coming down along with them. They make their steady descent as well, and like a silent crescendo, they all land one after the other on the rooftop. A quick, sharp glance is thrown around to ensure they're still invisible. It seems to be the case.

They collectively move to the roof access door. One of the agents from another squad is taking the lead. She props herself up at the door, taking something from her toolbelt. It's a small, flat rectangle tied to a thin string. She ties the string around her hoof and comes down to slip this device under the crack of the door. She plants her ear on the door as well, her eyes raise upwards in focus.

She doesn't hear anything. She takes back her device using the string and looks at it. She presses it in the very center, a magical holographic display is beamed; an exact replica of what's on the other side of the door. It looks like a staircase that descends down to two more staircases. There doesn't appear to be any bodies.

"Clear," she whispers to her mate closest to her, and he relays the message to everyone else. The mare pockets her device and charges her horn, having it emit a lime-green aura. It takes ahold of the door handle, and in a second, a click is heard. She proceeds to open the door seamlessly.

The mare steps aside and allows entry to the hit squad. Five agents move in first: Axel, Tango, Lila, Trizzie, and Crimson. They leave their ponchos outside with the earth pony team, leading the way in this scheme.

‎

‎

"Am not bullshittin' ya'! Four-thousand bits, yo!" A stallion wearing a white suit with green accents states, guarding some elevators on the highest floor. He shoots the wind with his comrade across the hallway. He and his post mate have a bandoleer of arrows, a crossbow on their back, a knife on a strap on their foreleg, and a larger blade at their hips. This hallway they stand guard at has nothing but the roof access and their respective elevators.

"Nah, nah, quit fuckin' with me," the other stallion responds atheistically. "No way Five-Tenny's slots even carry that much in 'em."

"Yeah, yeah! Gonna get your dumb ass drunk off the finest wines in the city tonight, then you'll believe me!"

"Pffhohohohaha! Can't wait to be barfin' up a six-hundred bit bottle'a wine right into my toilet, ya' prick!"

They both relish in laughter.

"Hohohahahaha!" "Hehyahyehya!" "Hoohohohoo!" "Hehehyahyahya!" "Hoohoh--" "Hehyahyee--"

They both freeze up briefly, giving each other incredulous looks. One of the stallions reaches towards his neck where he felt a brief ping of pain. Something hard is felt, but he doesn't call it out or mention it. He instead falls onto the ground like a sack of cement, and so does his partner. As their consciousness fade, they hear an elevator ding. The very one they were supposed to guard.

‎

‎

An indifferent mare dressed in Majesty attire, accompanied by two brawny stallions, hits the button to the elevator. It chimes when pressed, and she patiently waits. The elevator dings off which floor its on, which looks to be the very top. It comes down, down, down, down... down...

Finally, it reaches her floor. The elevator chimes again and the doors open. What they encounter is an empty elevator, fit for their comfort. The mare blinks boredly and walks in, her two guards tail right behind her. With the three boarded and waiting, the mare hits the button to a floor one above hers. The elevator dings, and the doors slowly come to a close.

Just before the doors shut completely, three shadows drop from the elevator's ceiling on top of them. The struggling ends quickly and quietly.

‎

‎

"UUUUAAAAAHHHH... Eagh..."

A stallion reclining lazily with his hooves up on his desk puffs out an immodest yawn. His eyes dance across over a dozen screens that beam magical holographs, each one watching a certain part of the building.

This security pony is almost half asleep, barely keeping focused on what the screens illustrate. Still, he knows better than to fall asleep. He shifts his chair to the left a bit to reach out for his mug of coffee. He takes it, sips it, and sets it back down before turning his reclining to its original spot. He stifles a yawn again and keeps watching.

Deet, deet!

His eyes widen and he sits up straight, startled by one of the buttons on the left of his desk chiming off. He reaches to hit the button back. "Yes, Majesty?"

"Six more bottles of wine!" the button speaks back to him, the voice wobbling through the magical static.

"Right away!" He releases the button and hits another just next to it. "Hey, Majesty wants more wine."

Brief static returns before a feminine voice boredly replies. "What brand?"

"Just send the same one."

"Ekolovia?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Alright."

He releases the button, ending the interaction. He reclines back and sighs deeply, making sure nothing changed on the cameras while his attention was displaced.

Nothing seems to be out of order. Good.

"HOHRK!"

The stallion suddenly finds his windpipe crushed when a force behind him grapples and restrains him. Try as he might, the force overpowers him and allows no movement.

"RRUUGHKK! RRRKH! ARAUURAAAHRAAAK!"

Struggling and kicking, none of it to any avail. This restraint is kept up for about a minute. His vision slowly blackens at the edges, saliva begins trickling from the edges of his mouth.

...

"Nighty, night~" Axel hums as he moves the body off from the chair and dumps it carelessly onto the tile floor. The stallion himself kicks up to the seat, replacing the braindead guard with himself. He eyes the screens, pressing the earpiece with his hoof. "Tango, Lila. You're good. Rune, do me a favor, unhitch ward thirteen."

Not long after his request, one of the projections that keeps an eye on one of the elevators fissures. It switches from an empty, static image of the elevator's interior to two agents hauling bodies up through the ceiling hatch.

Axel can't help but grin.

‎

‎

"Twooo mooore fuckin' hoooouurs," a stallion huffs irately to his coworker. Together, they walk along a hallway that contains multiple open doors; offices litter the span of this floor, where usually many voices would be heard talking and communicating while busy work is being done and papers are filed. During after hours, it's a quiet and calm office with only a select few still working.

"I'd kill for a coffee right now," the mare next to him replies with just as much frustration.

"Wish I could drink coffee. That stuff goes right through me, heh, if you know what I mean."

"That's gross, Newlan. Keep your toilet talk to yourself."

"What? So it's cool when you do it, but not me?"

They both pass by office after office, entering a particular room next to the staircase. They enter the break room, where they both stop at the entrance.

"When have I EVER toilet talked!?" the mare grunts annoyedly, but drops her façade quickly. "Stars damn it, I hate it when the janitors turn off the lights in here. I can't see anything."

"They usually don't during this time. Weird. They got vacation or something?"

"Dunno, but can you be a dear and get the lights, Newlan?"

The stallion drops his head and sighs. "Uuugh, fine. But if I knock anything over, you're cleaning it up. You know everypony leaves their shit everywhere in here."

"What? No! Definitely not doing that!"

"Ookaaay? Then let's both go and find the light switch then, princess Complains-A-Lot."

A deep huff comes from the mare. "Whatever."

Together they both try to find the light switch. They proceed into the near pitch darkness, reaching around and bumping into misplaced tables and chairs.

"Why don't they install a fucking window in here!?" the stallion hypes angrily.

"Right? I keep asking PR and they never give me a straight answer!" Her hooves meet a wall panel which has two familiar bumps to it. "... Ah! Hey, I think I got it!" She flicks the switch she touches. The lights do not come on, but a ceiling fan is heard ramping up. "Oh, uh... this one!" She flips the switch next to it. Indeed the lights come on. "Hah! Next time you're going alone--- AAAH-- MMHPHH!"

Her ear-shredding scream is cut abruptly by a hoof coming over her mouth and restraining her from behind. The mare still tries to scream and kick, witnessing her coworker lying dead on the ground, bleeding from his chest. A shadowed figure looms over their body. Another holds her captive.

Lila wipes her blade clean and steps around the body, moving to the horrified mare's front. "Terminal password. Now. If you scream, your tongue comes with me."

The frantic mare hyperventilates from her nostrils. She struggles for a moment to try and understand what was commanded of her, but she eventually nods. Lila glances to Trizzie and nods.

Trizzie lifts her hoof from the mare's mouth-- "AAAH-- MMMMGHPPHH-- MHHPH! MMhmhmhmhmh!" She begins to cry.

Lila huffs in annoyance. She looks down boredly at her knife, and without remorse, she dives in into the mare's left haunch, crippling her and causing her to fall. Trizzie makes up for the slack and forces the mare to stand on her two hindlegs. Said mare bleeds, her left hindleg is slowly covered in trickling blood and quivering terribly.

"Wanna scream again?" Lila questions. The mare, crying and snotting, shakes her head quickly again and again. "Good. Terminal codes?"

Slowly, Trizzie lets go of the mare's mouth. The mare huffs and sobs aloud, but keeps herself from screaming. "W-W-W-Why? Why are you doing this? I just work here!"

"Three seconds to give the terminal codes. Three."

"Please! Please don't kill me!"

"Two."

"I beg of you-huhuhuuu!"

"One."

"Six-ten-H-C-nine-nine! Six-ten-H-C-nine-nine!"

Lila halts, her knife but a centimeter from the mare's chest. She presses the earpiece, "Axel. Six-ten-H-C-Nine-Nine. ... Yeah. ... Good." She moves to sheathe her knife again before turning around to walk out of the room.

"You're going to let me go now? R-Right? Right!?" Cold steel touches her neck. A sharp pressure followed by a sting instantly burns it. "Yohwuh... huh..."

Trizzie lets go of the mare, letting her body slump forward. She holsters her pistol and turns the lights to the breakroom off, following Lila out to the offices.

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"This is highly concerning," an older stallion, dressed in a outstandingly expensive suit, gruffs. He sits forward on his seat, placing his mouth behind his hooves. He sits at a massive oak table that seats eleven other stallions, which all other members present are dressed in similar clothing. All of them are old, rugged, and scowling. None of them are happy. Empty bottles of wine and half-filled wine glasses litter the massive meeting table.

"More than just concerning!" another stallion speaks up emotionally, "this has completely sabotaged our western port! What say you, Majesty!?"

The stallion named Majesty closes his eyes in aggravation. "Poronto was nothing more than a pawn, our western port will be under new leadership by the end of the week."

"And who's in line to succeed him?" a different stallion responds. "Hmm? Your errand colt Blazer?"

"Worry not about the successor, Montclaire!" another stallion fills in the conversation. "Who will rid the port of Gloriosa's force!? They hold every warehouse with an iron hoof! A direct attack would be costly!"

"A direct attack would be the only option!" once again, a unique voice butts in. "Majesty has FAILED to train his strength appropriately to counter what Gloriosa's force offers!" This stallion points his hoof accusingly.

Majesty has had his focus on the windows that overlook the city of Las Pegasus from high above. He remained idle, ignorant even, but the sound of a direct verbal accusation drives him to grit his teeth and snap his neck towards the offender. "WATCH!" Majesty shouts vigorously, "... your tongue. Remember... who you address."

The stallions becoming unruly around the table stare at him with wide eyes, the venom from the alcohol they've been drinking leaving their system almost instantly. Almost.

"... I understand... all of your concerns," Majesty continues. "And worry not. I have MADE... the appropriate arrangements. If Gloriosa wants to send her DOG... anywhere near our sward... she will wind up without a pet."

"H-How can you be so sure of that?" a stallion meekly raises question. "We do not know when and where they will strike!"

"Leave the details... to me..." Majesty comes off of his hooves and presents a scheming smile. "I will ensure this enterprise continues beating its heart. No matter the cost." Voices around the table spread quickly. Tensions are obviously rising. "Rest easy, my good fellows! Please... rest easy. Yes, here... allow me to replenish our provisions of the finest cherry wine Las Pegasus offers..."

Everyone seems interested in the prospect of drinking more expensive wine. Majesty reaches to a orange button to his left and presses it. A beep is heard. "More Ekolovia wine. Chilled this time." He lets go of the button, reclining back and smiling. Everyone eyeballs him silently. Majesty waits for the expected response from the intercom.

...

...

...

Nothing. Majesty's smile turns to a scowl. He reaches back towards the button again and repeats. "Slacking will only cut your pay. I suggest a response IMMEDIATELY." He lets go of the button and sits back again, glaring at nothing angrily.

"... Not even his own employees dignify him," a stallion comments.

"A leader that cannot even fetch a bottle of wine from his subordinates!" another butts in drastically.

"SILENCE!" Majesty screams, his voice penetrates the ears of everyone around, but none of them seem to be listening. He grows only more furious. "FROM YOUR DISRESPECT, ALL OF YOU WILL SUFFER!"

"He wishes death upon us!"

"Indeed! Indeed he does!"

"Cutting trades with his central route will be my next token pass."

"As will I cut trade! Majesty, you have just lost your oil supply line! The words of a stallion such as yourself are only empty threats!"

An uproar against a single target commences at the table.

"ALL OF YOU!" Majesty barges up from his chair, "ALL OF YOU WILL DIE! ALL OF YOU WILL BE SMITTEN FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!"

Kik-CLANK! Metal hits the carpet. The only reaction these stallions can muster is a sharp glance to the noise. Two of the ceiling ventilation grates were kicked in by a seemingly invisible force.

Pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf!

Screaming comes from every stallion at the table as an unseen assault is had on this meeting room. Brief gleams of shiny metal come from two vent tiles that were opened without notice. These tiny metal rods travel and meet every posh stallion in the room.

The only stallion that is left unscathed his Majesty himself, he sits at his seat completely stunned, too shocked to move. He stares, pen-pricks for eyes, directly forward as every other stallion around him is tranquilized. Bodies fall like heavy bags one by one, until he is the last one left standing.

The two shades finally come down from their hiding place. They land on the soft carpeting of the meeting room gracefully, standing up to eye the last remaining survivor. Majesty bares witness to a towering human and a pegasus stallion dressed in all black.

"Get the door," Tango calls to Crimson.

The man abides and stands at the door to the room, reloading his weapon on the way and pocketing the emptied dart mag. He places his ear to the door. He hears no noise from the other side.

Tango walks without hurry towards Majesty.

"GET! GET AWAY!" the fumbling stallion cries to his assailant, cowering into his seat.

"Understand, Majesty," Tango begins, "that you did this to yourself. Your greed has dug your grave and etched your tombstone. Now," he reloads his weapon and pockets his emptied mag, "you get you pick the way you die. So kind of me."

"YOU ARE A BASTARD!"

"What else is new. ... The purple crates. Where are they?"

"SHOVE THE CRATES INTO THE FATHEST REACHES OF YOUR RECTUM!"

"Ch-heh, you always did talk funny." Tango reaches for his blade, unsheathes it, and paces the final distance towards Majesty. "Least you aren't running away. I respect that."

"NO! NO! ..." Majesty squirms in his seat, seeing the assassin approach him, step by step. "... Hmhmhmh."

Tango is confused by this very subtle change of attitude. Majesty's pleading and crying is suddenly replaced by suppressed laughter. Now that he's close enough, he catches something worrisome. A voice is being fed into Majesty's ear. This voice sounds exactly like... Majesty's.

He sees it. An earpiece inside this stallions ear.

"Give Gloriosa our regards," Majesty's double states, completely dropping the accent that he was holding. "I'll see you in Tartarus."

Confusion turns to chills. By the slight of Tango's eye, he catches the sly motion. His heart skips of beat. He snaps his head to Crimson, "DECOY! WE'VE BEEN DUPED!"

Crimson turns to him just as confused.

Click. The stallion presses a button under the oak table.

"RUN!--"

BOOOOOM!

"REAGH!" Crimson is shoved back into the door, breaking it off its hinges as an explosion erupts from the oak table. The entire meeting room is instantly obliterated, taking the double and Tango with it. The man is thrown into the hall outside and slammed onto the tile wall. It shatters at his impact, bouncing him off and leaving him in a cough.

He grits his teeth and rights himself up, unsteady and reeling from the powerful blast. The entire building enters alert - sirens buzz, the lights flash red and yellow, and movement is heard from floors above and below him. After the ringing in his ears begins to settle, he can finally comprehend the noise his earpiece is making. It's Axel's voice.

"Sky! Hey! Heey! What's going on!? We heard an explosion, the whole building shook!"

The man checks his weapon to see if it's still functional and readies it. He tries to shake off the discombobulation and reaches to touch his earpiece. "Decoy. Fuckin' Majesty wun't real. Took himself out. Tango too."

"Shit!" "No!" "Fuck!"

Multiple voices chime their grief for the loss.

"Where are you!?" Axel questions again.

"Still on the sixteenth floor," Crimson responds. "Movement all around me. Thinkin' I'm trapped."

"Shit, shit, shit! How the fuck did they know we were coming!? Rrrgh... just... hold on! Damn it! Damn it, damn it! I can't see Majesty on the wards--!"

"Tenth floor!" A feminine voice cuts Axel off, the voice of one of the unicorns. "Sky, tenth floor! That's where Majesty is! He's trying to leave via carriage boarding the balcony in the deluxe suite! North end! I repeat, north end!"

"How'm I gonna get there?" Crimson questions apace.

"The board room elevator blew out during the explosion!" Axel directs. "Looks like the shaft is still intact! Take the emergency ladder down!"

"He's preparing to leave!" The unicorn calls out again. "We need to hurr-! Ehrck!"

"Northwind!?" Another voice calls, a stallion in the unicorn team. "Northwind! Come in!"

"CARRIAGES SWARMING THE ROOF!" a stallion from the earth pony team screams. "ROOF IS NO LONGER A BLUE-ZONE! REPEAT, ROOF IS NO LONGER A BLUE-ZONE! We--!" his voice is also interrupted.

Crimson grits his teeth. The voices of his team are being cut one-by-one. He grasps his forehead in angst and wastes no more time. He kicks into a sprint down back into the meeting room, seeing the entire room practically missing and in flames. The smoke of the fire raises out of the gap in the building and into the night of Las Pegasus. The rain which falls into the gape causes the smoldering blaze to hiss in protest.

He sees the empty hole to the left where the elevator was supposed to be, now blown out and fallen down to the first floor. He carefully traverses the rubble and unsteady flooring to the shaft. He looks into it, seeing it travel down for what seems like the abyss. He notes the metal ladder directly to his left, the one Axel indicated. He clambers around the broken elevator doors and leaps lightly to catch the ladders. Safely clasped, he puts his hands and feet to the sides of the ladder to descend quickly.

"Trizzie! Lila!" Axel calls through the earpiece, "are you two still on the seventeenth floor!?"

"Yeah!" Trizzie responds, "the ceiling came down on us! Whole floor is on fire! We might have to escape through the windows!"

"What side!?"

"South side!"

"NEGATIVE! NEGATIVE!" another earth stallion calls, "SNIPERS ON THE SOUTH AND EAST! We-- Rrh-GRAAA! Huh, hrugh -- MORE SETTING UP! SOUTH AND EAST ARE A NO-GO!"

"Damn it!" Lila curses, "the south is the only side we have! Everything else is ON FIRE!"

"Just sit tight!" Axel tries to assure, "I'll abandon post! I'll try to get to ground-level and clear out the scopes!"

"Do it quickly, Axel!" Trizzie cries before releasing a distressed cough. "It's getting hot in here!"

Crimson's suit squeaks in dissent as he continues to descend the latter at such a high speed. The elevator doors that help him number the floors pass one by one, and while he does not understand the text, he finally counts six signs. Floor ten.

He brings his hands and feet in to firmly grasp the ladder, stopping his downward fall instantly. He reaches his left fist to punch the metal door that closes him out right in the center. His knuckle imprint is left on the door and it caves in just enough to warp the metal at the closing seam. He brings his fist back and wedges his left foot in the seam, grunting in exertion at forcibly prying the door open against its will. Once its open, he clambers from the latter into the hallway of the tenth floor.

"SHIT!"

The man hops in only to encounter four stallions holding their crossbows ready at the left end of the hall, one of them pointing him out. Before they can ready their shots, the man whips his pistol from its holster and fires a dart towards each body, completely forgetting his weapon has no hammer and reaches for nothing between each lightning shot.

Three shots land dead on their necks, but the fourth shot was a little off and hit the stallion on the right eye.

"Aar-gah! AAah! My fucking--!" he drops his crossbow and holds his head, falling onto his side, "Ahaaahaa! Haha! Aah, aah... ... uuh..."

Crimson turns to the right end of the hall, seeing some ponies poking their heads out from suite doors barely cracked open to witness the scene. He lines his lips and ignores them, turning again to dart down the hallway, deeper into the suites towards the north end of the building. Every room looks the same to him, none of them are different from the other. These doors open one by one as the residents who have had their night ruined by the chaos fearfully check the commotion.

The man ignores them all, exhaling repeatedly from his nose as he runs. Turn after turn, the rooms keep melding into a mess only labeled by numbers he does not understand. He tries to keep himself heading north, until--

"There!"

He sees two guards standing posted at a door at the very end of the corridor, where this door is decorated and unique. He aims his weapon swiftly to push two darts into either guard, dispatching them before running in and ramming the fancy door open with his shoulder.

The door breaks at the handle and opens in, bashing away a stallion just on the other side. Crimson sets foot inside a large, exclusive suite that indeed does have a balcony at the far end from where he stands. And there he sees him, a pony that looked exactly like Majesty's double is ambling towards a carriage that just arrived for him on the balcony. The balcony is held off by a huge glass pane and glass door, which was just closed once Majesty exited for the carriage.

Between him and Majesty, over ten guards are present in the suite and the balcony to keep him safe. Many courses of action debate in his head at once... none of them work. Except...

He kicks into a sprint, despite each guard raising their crossbows. He picks up the henchmen he hit with the door and uses him as a shield. He rushes past the rest, some even try to body him, but they are ran down without a hitch in pace. Arrows fly at him in what feels like hundreds. They wheeze past him, flying by in slow motion - many of them sticking into the meatshield that covers his face and chest, until one lands on his left shoulder. Another on his back. Another on his left tricep.

His rush continues even after the projectiles meet their mark. He lets go of the arrow-battered body, leaps over a couch, vaults over a marble railing, and dashes up a flight of marble stairs until he reaches the glass doors that bar him from his target. Relentlessly, he charges through the glass, breaking the door and the giant panel. Shards fall like rain behind him, chiming out an unwelcomingly loud crashing of glass.

The distance is closed on Majesty step by step. It all feels as if time is crawling. Each step, each breath, his target is closer. Majesty is boarding the carriage, crying and calling to the stallions to move even though he isn't fully on. Two guards step in to wedge themselves between Crimson and the target.

Even if he wanted to change plans now, it's too late. This is what he went with, and now he's got to commit. In this brief millisecond of realization, maybe it wasn't the best plan.

It's far too late now.

Crimson ends his sprint with a hop, a bending of his knees, and a massive spring-jump up towards the carriage that has commenced its move. The man overshot the jump, flying just over his target. But he reaches in to grasp Majesty's head. His velocity keeps him moving, he uses this to snatch him up and taking him, like an eagle swooping down on its prey. Together, they fly over the edge of the balcony and plummet with the rain towards the garden below.

"YEAAHAAAAAAAHAAAAA!" the earth stallion clasped in Crimson's steel grip screams as wind rips past them. "CRRREEEEATURRREE! VIIILE! DEEEEMOOOON!"

The man eyes this old wrinkly bag with disdain. As the ground approaches, he couples his right shoulder onto the stallion's chest, trying to avoid landing on the arrows that perforate him. They crash into the tall trees that shade over the garden. From their collective weight, branches and vines are broken right through using the stallion's body, but doesn't prevent the man from also suffering from whips and impacts of his own. Red spits and shoots in many directions as thin lacerations paint both parties.

CrRRACK!

Blood gushes from the stallions mouth, nose, and eyes when their landing is finally had on a shrub patch. The man slams the ground using Majesty as a cushion, further protected by the patch of shrubs they landed in. The stallion is dead instantly. Water and blood pool under the bush.

"... Fhk," Crimson grunts, his body completely shaken from the collision. Even with all the cushioning in the world, falling ten stories did not bode well with his shoulder, head, and legs. The man grits his teeth to rise to his feet and off the bloody bag of flesh. His ears are ringing enough to deafen him, his right leg almost gives out from under him, and his right arm is lame. He takes his left hand to wipe the blood from his nose and mouth, trying his best to limp away from the crash site.

For the second time, his tinnitus clears just enough to allow the babbling earpiece to provide coherent words. "SAY SOMETHING!" It's Axel's voice. "DAMN IT, HEY!"

Crimson reaches around his chin to touch the device in his right ear, wincing from the pain of the arrows stuck in him. "Dead..."

Multiple voices chime in, battered with relief and distress, but Axel drowns them out. "HOLY SHIT, SKY! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?"

"Sky!" a mare from the unicorn team calls, "Majesty's troops are headed your way! Our carriages are still circling the edge of the city! Run there!"

The man directs his unsteady eyes forward, seeing the city of Las Pegasus ends just after the garden. His trembling walk turns into a struggling jog. He holds his ribs as he moves, trying to keep himself from falling over. The edge comes closer and closer, stepping around and over fruit bushes, avoiding tall trees, and keeping his combat boots from getting stuck in vines.

"MAJESTY!" "STARS ABOVE!"

Voices of henchmen howl behind him as the corpse is found. He can't let himself be caught. He hopes enough flora blocks their view of him so he keeps jogging.

"THE BLOOD TRAIL! FOLLOW IT!"

"Gah-damhet," he huffs to himself and forces his body to pick up the pace. The edge of the city is nigh, all that stops him from jumping off the edge is a marble railing roughly about his height. But he doesn't see any pickup. There's no carriage here for him, or anywhere from what he sees. He pushes the earpiece again, "W-Where?"

"Jump!" the mare demands. The man squints. "Now!"

He clenches his teeth. He can't jump in this condition.

"BLOOD ON THE STRAWBERRY PATCH! THIS WAY!"

But there's no other option. Crimson reaches awkwardly for the arrow lodged on his shoulder, grasping it tightly from the base of penetration, and yanks it out forcefully, taking a good piece of flesh with it. "Rrrh!" He reaches for the next one on his tricep, it comes out along with one single stream of blood. He bends forward and grasps the one arrow stuck in his back, "Mmrh, rrrrhh!" It burns, as if boiling water was being poured onto his nerves. "RRrrh! Rhhgh!"

Glish!~

Panting, the man tosses the arrow haphazardly before proceeding to the rail. He leaps up as best he can with one leg and hauls himself up using one arm. He lazily rolls over the railings top and lets his body fall limply off the edge of Las Pegasus.

A moment of peace takes him as weightlessness encompasses his aching body. He closes his eyes, intent on not reopening them any time soon.

...

"Gotcha!"

A sudden force startles him. Two unicorns latched onto him from the carriage they sat at, which zoomed by to intercept his fall. He is brought in quickly and rested on their laps. The muscle flying the carriage look back briefly to ensure he's there, then return their attention forward to evacuate.

"Axel," the man groans, eyes still closed.

The mare who holds his head hears his quiet call. She pushes her earpiece, "Axel!?" she calls over the heavy wind, "what's your status!?"

"Runa! Is Sky with you!?" the stallion responds in a pant.

"Yes! We've already evacuated! Have you!?"

"GRRH-HAA!" screaming and flesh meeting a blade sounds off. "Heeh, hrrh... not yet. We still got six agents trapped on the building. Makes sure they come home too. Lila! Trizzie!"

"Trizzie is unconscious!" Lila cries, "Axel!"

"JUMP! Grab her and JUMP!"

"The snipers--!"

Crimson's hearing becomes a pool of noises. He feels oddly relaxed, other than the hideous burning he feels and the rain making him feel damp and heavy. The laps of these ponies are soft enough to rest easy, and he failed to realize the carriage has some nice leather seats with plenty of padding. The surreal placidity almost makes him forget what he was just doing.

Strange, he is being touched. But in a hazy realization, he figures out what it is, even if he's too tired to open his eyes and confirm it. The two mares who hold him are trying to patch him up. That is kind of them, he thinks. He reckons he could use the help. Whatever liquids they are using on him, nothing seems to burn or cause discomfort. It is as if all the pain has conglomerated into one empty sensation. He has felt this quite a number of times. Maybe it is the stupefaction talking, but he might kind of like this feeling. Or at least, it is familiar. Masochistic, maybe. He thinks it's best not think too hard on it.

With a slow exhale into the night air, he hopes that everything that happened today was worth something.

Anything.

Next Chapter: Chapter 10: Little Flower Estimated time remaining: 12 Hours, 58 Minutes