"... Nnh..."

The world fleshes out, the reversal of a vacuum. His eyelids tremble before cracking open. He blinks a few times at the discolored wooden ceiling, trying to recall when he fell asleep. He's lightly shocked when the harsh blinks cause tears to trickle down his face. With a sigh, he brings his left sleeve to wipe his eyes from the tears.

He draws in the thoughts of yesterday in so closely, he hardly realizes that he's laying on the bed. It strikes him soon enough. A quick glance around the room illustrates that it's still Dahlia's, with a few of her belongings still around despite lacking the mare herself. He also comes to realize that he's on the bed rather than the wall, giving a clear indication to him that he was relocated. Small, weird, sweet things like this are one of the reasons he enjoys her company, aside from a few other gleaming qualities. Her quirks are something he admires... sometimes.

He's glad to have found her again. He won't make the same mistake twice.

He kicks his feet off the side of the bed, which doesn't come far down. He tends to forget that everything is made too small for his likes, only due to becoming accustomed to it. Rubbing his face and letting out a sigh from his nose, he tries to stave off his depressive weariness. He stands up to his full height and arches his back, getting a pop from it. He scans the room again, finding nothing interesting.

He reaches into his outer left pocket and takes out the metal sphere. He pops it open and gets a fingerful of moss out, plopping it into his mouth fearlessly.

...

Okay, bad idea. His nose scrunches and he throws his head to the left, the saltiness waging war against his taste buds. He lets his saliva break it apart for a few seconds before swallowing in one gulp. He grinds his tongue between his teeth in a futile attempt to shave the taste off.

Despite the unpleasant entry, it sits very comfortably. With the equivalent of a full breakfast inside his belly, he pockets the ball and steps out of the room. The hallway is just as dim and depressing as it is during the night, but small holes in the boards that cover the windows tell that the sun is out. Rays of dust float across the length of the hall, making them seem like security beams that'll alert Moobs of trespassers.

Speaking of Moobs, Crimson encounters him at the receptionist desk. The old camel stands like a statue, face and eyes more droopy than usual. The reason as to why isn't hard to come by. The man's orbs give a quick take of the room. Traces of last night are all but gone - cleaned up the way only a patient old camel could.

Having spent a second too long without saying anything, Crimson breaks the silence. "G'mornin'," he greets, assuming it's still morning.

The old camel doesn't look over, but a slight simper forms on his saggy cheeks. "Afternoon. Didn't sleep too well, reckon?"

"Rough night. Made up for it just now." Moobs simply nods with that same tiny smile. The air between them is tense and heavy. Crimson lines his lips and kicks one foot up for an indecisive step. He takes another step in the same fashion before deciding he'd rather sit down on the single-seater.

"... Miracle you wouldn't have my head, young'n? Figured you would."

Looks like he was thinking about it too. Crimson shakes his head slowly, "Save it fer now, ol' timer. Wanted to ask a few things."

"Ripe to respond."

"... What was that thing you called her?"

His smile widens a bit more. "'Lil Flower?"

"Yeah. Reckon you 'n her are close."

He nods with closed eyes, then resumes blankly staring forward. "As much as she'll tell, which is plenny fer me. Known 'er since she was new to the bid'ness. Like a daughter of my own."

Crimson hums an acknowledgement, letting his gaze fall to the base of the receptionist desk. "Cleaned up the place real nice. ... Last night... saw you out back. Axel, uh... he..."

"Don't worry 'bout 'em, young'n. He's asleep."

The pit in the man's gut only deepens.

"... Feel guilty?"

The man nods once.

Moobs sighs, finally letting his stagnant eyes move. They come to the ground, his unfazed front visibly takes melancholy. "Me too. Tried bracin' myself fer it, but... hurtin' me more'n I could'a ever believed."

"... Yeah."

The camel nods to the simple word of the man, barring an afflicted smile. "It's only fair I'd let you in the loop, partakin' in the disaster 'n all. Care to entertain an older sort?"

"I wouldn't mind."

The smile upon Moobs becomes slightly more genuine. "... See, six years ago... I met Dahlia, her first time in the Slums, lost 'n afraid. Got her hooves on a relic, she did. Somethin' to do with her bein' a mail carrier. Lookin' fer a place to pawn it. Like you, she happened to wander in ma' establishment tryin'a find her ways about. Took 'er a bit to trust me, but... she did. 'Ventually."

Crimson nods, letting the old timer know he's listening.

"Les' take a step back 'nother four years. Makes ten. Introduce ya' to mister Axel Flex, a pony that was five years into the Horseshoes. Small time grunt. Poor fool lost his house in Las Pegasus, caught cheatin' at the card tables. Wandered the Slums like a lost 'lil lamb, found my place by accident too. Got to know each other. Coincidences and such, m'I right?"

"Hold it, his house? Lost his house?"

"Ye'zir. He had to sell it to bail h'mself out. Mighty fine of twelve-thousand bits."

Crimson's brows wrinkle his forehead. "Twelve-thousand? Over a gambler's game?"

"Strict regulation, young'n. Gotta respect 'em. Y'enyways, poor fool got shamed in the Horseshoes fer makin' 'em look bad. Rep took a dive, needed'a make a name fer himself. Spent many'a night here, tellin' me about his strategy to get his name back in the ranks. Axel'd pass out right there on that couch," he points to the two-seater that Axel rested upon when Crimson first entered. "Troubled nights tryin'a get the perfect plan; goin' on fer hours 'bout his heart's content."

Crimson only now realizes that Moobs has a rather big smile on his face. The sight disheartens him, it's no smile of happiness.

"My best friend, he became. Family, even. Every time he needed somethin', he'd come here, even if I didn't have it. Just stop by 'n give the ol' geezer a 'hi' 'r 'hello.' Hrmh. Colt got himself into trouble more than once. Used this here motel to fade into the shade."

"Never bothered you that he'd be bad company?"

"Naw, naw," he swings his head left and right. "Foolish, but not evil. 'Spite what one may think, Axel's one'a the good ones. Heart'a gold. A humble folk. Never hurt the innocent. Not evil."

"A fool'd be more accurate. Cheatin' at a table certainly ain't sound."

"Hrh, now wait just a minute there, youngster, he--" Moobs starts rather defensively, but cuts himself off midway. Silence imbibes the air, leaving Crimson confused and Moobs guilty. After a pitiful moment, the camel sighs distantly. "... Shouldn't tell you this, personal detail I neglected to mention... but... reckon he can scold me 'n the afterlife. Be meetin' him soon, anyway, hyehea. Won't hurt you knowin' this now." Crimson sits up a little. "Reason he cheated on that there poker table, he was tryin'a take away some winnin's to pay fer his daughter's medicine 'n surgery."

The man's front hardens.

"Axel and his little one lived in a small chunk of land once called the Communities. Bunch'a little farmin' villages settlin' over in midland 'Questria, helped each other out. Happy lot from what Axel tol' me. They were prone to raids, but nothin' their local law 'n militia couldn't shoo away. Many generations, the Communities stood... that is, 'til the Wildmanes raided. Nothing could prepare the town fer what they had in store. Destroyed, killed, pilfered, raped, the full front and back. Axel managed to get himself out of there with his daughter, though, she wun't so lucky. Got shot with an arrow in 'er left hindleg durin' the escape, sad, but nothin' too serious at the time, wun't enough to kill her."

Crimson's eyes fall to the base of the receptionist desk in perturbed deliberation.

"Axel 'n the little one had to ditch the Communities. Axel's only family was on a hospital bed, Uncle. Some lung disease if I recall. He caught wind 'n let 'em move in. Uncle was ready to pay fer the little one's medical treatment, but he died before he could get any paperwork signed or bit sent out. Bunch'a legal poppycock stole Axel of any inheritance. 'Cept the house, since Axel managed to step hoof inside 'n find the deed 'fore it was probated. That was all Axel had left, the house 'n his wounded daughter. Wound got infected on the trip to the city. Axel did what he could, but couldn't get it treated. Las Pegasus's an expensive place, 'n jobs in the Horseshoes weren't payin' out enough, 'specially since the colt's rep was deathly. Few jobs, low pay. It was a rut. With no money to his name, he didn't have the resources to help his lil' one. Desperate fer an alternative, he was. Had a fair hoof fer poker, but winnin' a few small-time spits weren't gonna fetch the nine n' a half grand he needed."

"Almost ten-thousand? Fer medicine? Take out an arrow head 'n disinfect it? Kinda shit is that?"

"That, my friend, s'called monopolistic oppression. With few trained doctors 'round Equestria at that time, the ones that did come about charged a nut'n a half. Cannerlot, Las Pegasus, Whinneypeg, no matter what city. F'you weren't rich, you'd best never catch a cold. Wind up in a grave."

Realization strikes him. It wasn't any better back home. The situation with doctors, charlatans, and false tonics is just as bad, if not worse. He recalls having to spend a week's worth of saving for one bottle of medicine for Viola when she'd get sick, and travel ludicrously long distances to obtain it. "That's some shit."

Moobs only nods, staring blankly forward. "T's when Axel sat at the high roller's table. Bluffed his way to the end-game by keepin' two cards tucked behind his left ear. Fool put the rest of his money down that day, hopin' to win it back with a multiple of twenny. Pay off the house 'n get his daughter treated. ... Could say he ran through his luck. Some klutz of a waitress done slipped with a bottle'a wine 'n hit Axel on the back. Cards he tucked behind his ear got spilt. Rest is history. Sold his house to bail'm self out, took his dyin' daughter, 'n scattered from the city with high society spittin' on his name. No where to go, no money fer even a train. Wandered into the Slums with a dyin' hope. Met ol' Moobs by that there accident I told ya' about. ... Still remember. First room, here, where Axel used'ta sleep. Daughter's eyes - yellow, big 'n beautiful. Slowly turnin' grey as sepsis took 'er life."

Crimson fiddles his thumbs together morosely.

"Ain't a need to look sad, young'n. They're together again. Father'n daughter, together at last. Livin' it up in the afterlife."

The camel's thoughtful words give the musing man a very slight smile, but nothing more. "He told you all this?"

"Sure did. Spend many a night sharin' stories 'n countin' our demons."

"... What'd he do after steppin' through your door?"

"Loads'a things. Favors, r'quests, bounties, you name it. Anythin' to get his mind off of what he lost. After tryin' this and that, he found a nack fer treasure hunnin'. Someone smelled treasure, colt was on it. Temples, caves, coves, mines, 'bandoned buildin's, don't matter. Axel took the trophy. Got his rep back, he did. 'Black Horseshoe's renowned treasure hunner: Axel the Exhumer.' Held that title jealously. That sword he poked you with? Relic from an ancient pony tomb. Could cut wind."

Crimson squints slightly, starting to realize the correlation.

"Then came 'Lil Flower. Toldya' already she'd got her first relic four years after Axel's affair. Was the first and only relic she'd have fer some time. Never did tell me what was goin' on, 'r how she got it, just let me know she was a courier. She spent some time in that line'a work, but somethin' happened that made her switch out. Hasn't told me what, but ain't fer my ears to know, I reckon. 'Ventually, she became a treasure hunner too. And boy, lemme tell you somethin', young'n. Findin' priceless hunks of junk was like breathin' air. She was a natural for that kind'a stuff. Don't know how she does it to this day, but she brings home the long haul. At some point, Axel 'n Dahlia met each other 'ere in my abode. Good friends, they were, fer a number of years."

"They were friends?" the man questions astounded. "She told me they used to work together, but... friends."

"Ye'zir. Got along real well. Till, well..." the camel stops for a moment, pausing to consider his words deeply, "... let's jus' say a fallin' came about. Far from friends, then. They still kept their line of work, but took their separate ways. It 'ventually became The Black Horseshoe's prized treasure hunter versus the fabled freelancer. ... You c'n see where this's goin'... can't'cha?"

"... Axel made his reputation from being a treasure hunter, in came another to steal his limelight."

"Sharper'n steel, young'n, that's exactly right. Didn't take long fer 'Lil Flower to make waves in the Horseshoes. Didn't bother Axel much at first, but didn't like it neither. Wasn't until she started overtakin' his title, that's when that there metaphorical snowball was pushed downhill. Horseshoes started goin' to her rather than Axel, started hirin' her services instead of his. Top of that, the jobs Axel'd land, she'd end up catchin' wind of it and claim the prize under his nozzle. Sooner th'n later, Axel became a no one in the gang again, save fer the close ones he made along the way. Gloriosa, you already know. Close knit. Even after all that, our boy dropped from Equestria's face. Plottin'. Schemin'. ... Hopin'."

Crimson bites his lower lip in contemplation.

"He had his connections, but... weren't the same. Tragic seein' Axel get so heated 'n depressed. After spendin' years gettin' over what he went through, it was all fer nothin'. Weren't a thing I could do, neither."

"Both Dahlia 'n Axel made base here, right? Back when they were friends?" Moobs nods with a lifted left brow. "Then they hated each other's guts. How'd somethin' not happen earlier?"

"That's where ol' Moobs played his own cards just right," he smirks with a tinge of pride. "Made sure Axel 'n Dahlia never saw each other here. When one was around, made sure the other wouldn't be showin' up. Else, 'Moobs'd be out fer the night'... if ya' catch my drift. Woefully, this ol' camel's embers smoldered out... 's you can see."

"How long'd you keep those two away from each other?"

"Say 'bout three years."

"... Hard to say I trust you anymore, old timer."

With a snort, Moobs waves a cloven hoof, "Don't worry yerself, young'n. You can trust this ol' camel. Ain't got nothin' to hide no more. Neither do you. Angel-boy." The man's eyes pop, lifting his head in a snap towards the camel. "Hehyea, come now, mister Sky. Secret's safe with me."

"I'd fuckin' hope so," the man conveys cynically.

Moobs nods again, losing any semblance of happiness. "With what's happened 'ere, it'd only be right. To you, 'Lil Flower, 'n Axel all the same."

"All of this just rounds one big coincidence. Aimless wanderin' of three different folk put them in the same place."

"Right here with this saggy ol' bag'a bones."

"Suppose this is the part where you ask if I believe in destiny."

The camel chuckles lightly. "Not if you already do. Inevitable. Felt it'd happen sooner 'r later, I just... couldn't let my right mind win. Always knew Dahlia 'n Axel did bid-ness through Gloriosa. Meditated their meetin' through her. At some point, they came to me separately, told me they'd gank one-another 'n finally put a stop to this competition fer good. Hurt my heart, it did... hearin' how they'd rip each other's necks. Observed plans from both sides."

"You had money on a victor?"

"Did, actually. Thought it'd be 'Lil Flower that'd win. Not 'cuz she's stronger 'r a better fighter. Girl can't fight fer shit. Just mapped out 'er plan better. If she could'a gone through with it, Axel wouldn't had a chance in tartarus. Would'a been a death even he wouldn't see comin'. ... But, eh... guess you came into the picture 'n skewed it all. Rushed things, in a way."

Crimson rumbles in muse, shifting his eyes to the left at nothing. "But it don't make sense. Why'd you suggest me work with Axel if it'd tilt the scale?"

"Didn't expect you two to work as well as ya' did. Got along surprisin'ly well despite that terrible first impression. Pair'a killers, you were. Even scared me a spell. One week is all it took fer you two to make a wave 'round here. Might'a been the next talk of the Horseshoes... had... circumstances not came about. Yesterday night, seein' you two prop up to take out mah 'Lil Flower... she'd haven't a chance. Last thing that came to mind after the ball started rollin' with Axel's half-baked plot was... wehll... take you out. Get'chu outta the picture to make the tussle between them as fair as could be."

"Why'd you let this happen if they mattered to you so much?"

"I ain't let nothin' happen, young'n. It was gonna, no matter what these old bones did. Like you said, one big coincidence. These eyes seen too many of them fer somethin' to be done 'bout it. Fate, you might call it. Never could do somethin', don't assume I ain't tried. Love 'em so much, was like askin' to help mah son kill mah daughter, or the other way 'round. Can't ask a parent to do somethin' like that. Rather'thn stickin' my nose in, all I could do was... let it happen."

"If not you, someone else!" Crimson starts passionately. "Hard to think no one could'a prevented this. If you can't save Dahlia and Axel, you should'a reached out to someone who will. They're like yer children, right? Parents break up fights between siblings, and they bring that intervention when it's imperative."

Moobs smiles very slightly. "How old're you?"

"Age's got nothin' to do with it."

Moobs closes his eyes slowly. "Answer the question."

Crimson lines his brows at the top of his eyes. "Twenty-seven."

"... You've got a lot of life to live, young'n. From the words of a wheezin' geezer to the wise... fate ain't always so black 'n white. There won't always be a solution to a problem that don't require sacrifice. Remember this, mister Sky... what's better, to lose some, or lose it all?"

Crimson stops to ponder and does not counterargue. Moobs lets his face return to stagnation, gazing idly forward at the front door. The air quickly becomes cumbersome.

Even if he stays true to his belief, Crimson sighs and caves in for an apology. "Didn't mean to raise my voice at'cha, Moobs."

"Heh, better if you do, these ol' ears 'r hard of hearin'." Crimson finds himself chuckling along with Moobs, letting the air clear of its mud.

"... To me," the man starts after a quiet, "... I reckon Dahlia was the favorite."

Moobs shakes his head slowly. "Not the case, mister Sky, not the case."

"Feels like you warrant her life over Axel's."

"Lots of no's I could give ya', but... I understand why you'd think so. Simply put, gave a bit more love 'n care fer the little flower more'n I did Axel. Not 'cause she was a favorite, but 'cause she has no one else." Crimson lifts his brows slightly. "Axel's had a number'a ponies to lean on. He's had his lil' world put up with that there Gloriosa. If he wanted it, they'd give it to 'em. 'Lil Flower, she... well, she got no one but herself. You can say I used that truth to provide for 'er more than Axel."

Crimson nods in acknowledgement, only now letting that fact set in. She was truly alone, even when she found him desolate months ago. No one but herself in the neck of the woods. The man lifts his attention to the door behind the receptionist desk, and it lingers there for a moment.

"... Wanna go see 'im?" Moobs offers without looking over.

"... Yeah." Moobs nods, turning around to open the door. Crimson gets up, walks around the desk, follows him out.

They stop at the far end of this backyard square of dirt land, surrounded by wooden picket fence, where two wooden boards protrude from the ground as headstones. One grave is older and weathered, the other new and straight - a sturdy swordcase rested at the base of the marker. Ovular mounds of soft dirt cover the ones beneath, Ponish text engraves both boards.

Crimson gazes down at the graves. The old camel dons a sorrowing squint, the man pursed lips of guilt. "... What was her name?"

"Tella Flex."

Crimson feels a burn in his chest hearing the name which labels the tiny grave. Death is no stranger, but it hardly gets easier to deal with. The man steels his nerves to fight the sheen. "Funny thing, ain't it?" The old camel doesn't react to the starting, but he's obviously listening. "Thought Axel'd go 'round my back 'n kill me while I was asleep. Now we're here."

"Wasn't yer intention, young'n. I saw what you did. You were on no one's side. Don't bear the weight."

Crimson gives the camel his eyes for a moment, then back to the grave. A brief silence passes through the yard. He comes down to one knee, if only to speak a little closer to his comrade. "Evenin', partner. Quite a ride, huh? In one week, we got plenty done. Don't seem longer than a day." He gives himself a pause to close his eyes before continuing. "I pray I've got yer pardon. Some partner I turned out to be. If I was a better man, we would've... you could have made Tella proud." Crimson stops himself again, squinting at his boot. "I know I ain't worthy of sayin' her name. Just lettin' you know how I feel. I'm sure you would've aged to be a great person. You and yer daughter. If I'd'a know what I know now, things'd be different. I wish I could... have done somethin' fer you."

"After spendin' years gettin' over what he went through, it was all fer nothin'."

Maybe that's it. Maybe that's exactly it. Axel's face appears in his mind, mirroring his own. What if he isn't supposed to be here? What if his being in Equestria is wrong? Wrong in all the ways one could imagine? He isn't the savior of this land, he isn't the angel that will shine the light in the darkness. He's misplaced - a needle in a hay stack. He doesn't belong in this world.

Fool of the earth that's done nothin' to earn his happiness. I face death tryin'a make amends, but nothin' comes of it. Maybe nothin' will come of it. A forsaken soul without a sight of heaven. I can't even die right. And it'd be me that's gotten so lucky.

"... Young'n, you okay?" The rustic voice snaps Crimson out of his mental abyss. He throws sharp eyes at the old camel, realizing only now that a single stream runs down his cheek. Retaking reality, Crimson wipes the tear off his face and frowns at the ground. "Hmh... lemme rephrase that rather dumb question. Anythin' I can do fer ya'?"

Crimson holds still for a moment before muttering to himself. "... How'm I gonna break this to Gloriosa?"

"Leave that to me," the camel advises. "Axel taught me a few things, in the event som'm like this ever happened. I'll make right sure she knows what's happened. She deserves to know."

The man nods in acknowledgement, but nothing more.

"Take all the time you need. Gonna fetch lunch. Sum fer two?"

Crimson declines silently. The man rises to his feet and slogs back to the motel. Moobs holds his place, deciding he'd spend a little more time with the Flex family before taking his own leave.

Crimson moseys into the hall, proceeding to the last door and stepping inside. He kicks the door closed before he moves to the bed and spins around, letting himself plop back down. He reassumes the same position he was in when he woke up, hands to his sides, legs straight out. He glares at the ceiling for an uncounted time before his eyes close autonomously.

There would be nothing more he'd like than to escape reality. Even for a moment.

‎

---

---

‎

Dahlia pushes the door to the motel in, eyes rested on the ground as she walks. It's fairly late at night, and strangely enough, Moobs is not present at the desk. She turns and proceeds down the hall off to her room, entering without bothering with her key. If her assumption is right...

She pushes the door in and finds herself correct. It's unlocked and the man is still laying on the bed. She's mildly impressed at how long he's been asleep, she recalls his previous tendency to fail terribly at doing so.

"Want me to get off yer bed?" the man suddenly blurts, startling Dahlia.

She hardens her face. "Why are you still laying down if you're not sleeping?"

"That a yes?"

She rolls her eyes and continues to the side of the bed, setting her saddlebags down on it and sitting on the edge. She starts rummaging through it, the clinking of coins melds with a dinging of metal. She pulls something out, revealing it to be a ring of some sort.

The man peeks down at the object in her hold. It looks like a rusted old bracelet without much merit, but whatever it is, she scrutinizes it heavily.

"Here, hold this," Dahlia suddenly commands, holding out this bracelet to him. He reaches out to take it. He inspects it, observing that it once had a green-ish color with etching. It's too worn to be of note now. The mare reaches into her bags again and retrieves another bracelet, similar to the scuffed one from before, but it's pristine and flawless. It appears to have the same engravings and full lime color. She turns and scoots closer to Crimson, sitting next to his shoulder. "Now look at this," she holds out the new ring. She grabs the man's wrist and forces it over to her, the one that harbors the hand which holds the rusted ring. The two rings are held side by side.

"One's old, one's new," Crimson comments.

"Is that all you see?" Dahlia inquires.

"Pretty much."

"They're the same except for age?"

"What it looks like."

"So no difference besides age?"

"Yup."

Dahlia smiles in satisfaction, taking both of the rings back and stuffing them in her bags.

"Not the case, I reckon?" the man presses further.

"The clean one's a fake. Some heirloom I spent like two weeks replicating to look like the original. Got a referral from a connection of mine, client is some zebra who wants it refinished."

"You tellin' me you made that one?"

Dahlia nods with pride, "Yup, all me. There's a sweet metallurgy shop in Las Pegasus, I used it to make this bad boy. It got done cooling and hardening. Fetched it just now."

"Sounds mighty high-effort. Why not just restore it?"

"Because. I can sell the fake back to the zebra for a ton of money, and then sell the actual one to an appraiser and get more money. Zebra's too dumb to figure out it's a fake, and the egg-head's gonna fork over a bunch of bits. You'd be surprised how many weirdos get pleasure out of making old stuff look good again."

Crimson's brows raise and his lips pout, acknowledging her cunning. "Right, well... zebras, then. They find out it's a fake, what're you gonna do?"

"IF they ever do, which is, like, impossible, they'll be across Equus. The pack I'm dealing with are a migrant type, they're in Equestria to find a restorer and whatever else they need to do here. They'll be gone once they get what they want, probably keep going north to the yaks."

"Hm. Guess they can't hurt you from up there."

"Exactly. You wanna come with?"

Crimson finds himself pleasantly surprised at this offer. He hardly expected to get a genuine response to his inquiry, let alone ask to venture together. "This mean we're still a team?"

Dahlia glares at him seriously. She then looks away, still stern. A silence breezes through the both of them, both feel a deep bit of dissatisfaction from the hang. The mare lines her lips and looks away a bit further, giving him her right cheek. "... Sure, I guess. Just don't be annoying."

The man smiles slightly, admiring her side profile. She looks as worse for wear as she always has, just like when they first met. The only difference is the length of her mane, which is quite a bit longer than it was before. There is many a time he forgets he's in a world where ponies are talk and have sapience. Seeing a denizen so close up serves to remind him.

He discerns that her void-gaze becomes contemplative. It prompts him to offer, "Happy to listen if you've got somethin' to say."

Dahlia remains still briefly. Her attention then shifts towards him, her front feels a tad judgmental. "I still can't believe you're here."

"I can say the same 'bout you. Never thought I'd run into you again. Bein' honest, I wanted to set aside some time to look fer you, even asked around to folks who might know where you'd be."

"It's a surprise hearing you say that. I thought you forgot all about me once you hit it off with royalty."

"That ain't the case at all," he affirms with a frown. "'F course I wanted to find you, you're my partner."

"..." Dahlia becomes contemplative again, keeping her magenta orbs away from his general direction.

Crimson respects her decision to end the trail there. He lets his head fall back onto the pillow, staring up at the weathered wooden ceiling. "... Two months, huh?"

"... Yup. Found you at the start of spring."

"I've been gone from home that long already."

"Thought you had some beef with the Horseshoes. Still looking for a way to get back?"

"Yeah, that's my second priority behind figurin' out the human plight."

"The what now?"

Crimson looks towards her, finding her already gazing back at him. "The situation with humans here. I understand they're not native 'n got quite a story to tell. Guess I'm puttin' it upon myself to figure it out."

"What good will that bring you? It's not really your business. It shouldn't be, anyway."

"Lots of things aren't, still won't stop me. Call it my conscious makin' me curious. Do one good thing in the world before takin' my leave."

Dahlia tails on his words, quietly staring at his brooding front. The mare really lets it sink in - his details, his hair, his clothes. He hardly resembles the man she first met keeled over in the Everfree. "... Sky, huh?"

"Yeah, 'Lil Flower."

His touché causes her to frown very quickly. "Don't give me that. Sky? Why Sky?"

"What's it to ya'?"

"Stop doing that or I'll put a roach on your face when you sleep."

"'When?'"

"Yeah, when. You passed out outta nowhere and I had to drag your heavy ass to the bed."

"Had to?"

"Gh-You--" she clenches her teeth, "stop avoiding the question!"

Crimson chuckles, still finding that tinge of enjoyment from picking on her. "Sky is my last name."

Dahlia's face shifts from strong annoyance to inquiry. "... That's your last name? Crimson Sky?" He nods, moving his hands behind his head and resting it on them. "Huh." She stops and ponders deeply at the information presented. "... Interesting. So the Consortium knows you by... Crimson. And Horseshoes caught word that a 'Sky' was up and coming... both are you. But they don't know that."

Crimson looks at her, smiling in approval.

She catches his simper and can't help be impressed. "That's pretty slick."

"Glad you think so."

"So all the helmets and egg-heads don't know you're here trying to infiltrate the Horseshoes?"

"They don't. 'N the Horseshoes think I'm back at Canterlot doin' whatever."

Dahlia puts it all together. "That makes this easier, then. We won't have one pulling on the other looking for you. Speaking of the Consortium, what did you even do over there?"

"What have you heard?"

"A good bit. Worked with the Guard, worked with the Robes. That Head Researcher you mentioned wasn't brought up though. I want in on that."

Dahlia is monitoring him intently, yearning for the divulging. "And I want in on more about you. Think we can trade?"

Dahlia flatulates with her lips. "As if! I don't need to tell you anything about me, it's not important. What you were doing IS."

"Hmh," Crimson gazes off towards nothing, mildly disappointed. "... I'll tell you more about what I went through after we finish this escapade, I guess."

Dahlia, surprised he didn't come up with something intelligent to say, lines her lips and nods. "Sure. It won't be hard, especially if you're there."

"Oddly nice of you to say."

"Yeah, well, the fact you aren't dead yet makes me a little more confident in you."

A lopsided, low-effort smile takes his lips. "Thanks."

"I'm serious. I thought you'd be dead in a week. Now you're..." she presents him with both hooves, "this. Whatever this is. You look straight out of the Black Horseshoes."

"I've been gettin' that a lot. Hopin' it rings true. They're my best bet at gettin' what I need. I don't expect you to help me out with that, you can set yerself aside if you'd like."

Dahlia contemplates briefly, tucking the corner of her lip. "... We'll see."

"Good enough fer me."

"You never gave an answer. You wanna come with or not?"

"Sure."

"Good. It's a pretty far walk out. I have water and stuff just in case."

"There anythin' I need to know 'bout?"

"Don't sweat the details, I've got it mapped out. All you need to do is make sure I don't get killed."

"Can do that. Where're we headed?"

"A few miles south to the desert. It's mostly a straight shot down from the Slums. We even--"

A pounding knock is suddenly heard at the front door, cutting Dahlia off. Both of them quiet down and focus their attention on the sounds coming from the receptionist room.

Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!

There it is again, the same harsh banging as before. Dahlia gets up and sneaks closer to the door, putting her ear to it and listening keenly.

She can hear Moob's heavy steps approach the front door, it seems that he's back from where ever he was. He opens the door for the company. The conversation is very muffled and incomprehensible, but the straightedge tone of the visitor gives away who may have come.

Crimson notices worry overtake her expression. He rises carefully and walks over to her side, pinning his ear to the door just as she does. The voice is immediately familiar.

"Mister Sky!" Moobs calls. He and Dahlia come off the door, exchanging a quick glance.

"What the hell!?" Dahlia utters quietly. "Moobs never gets visitors! Crimson, who is that? What do they want?"

"Just some business," Crimson retorts.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dahlia questions.

Neglecting her prod, he continues, "What time did you need to leave for that hike?"

"Don't ignore my question!" Crimson squints at her firmly. She scoffs and tips, "The zebras don't get here until tomorrow morning, so we've got time."

"Reckon I'll be back pretty soon. Won't have to worry about that."

"You're saying this like I'm not coming along."

Crimson stops, raising his left brow. "You sayin' you want to?"

"Well, yeah. I need to make sure you don't go do something stupid."

He takes some gratification in her unbidden honesty. "Might not be a good idea to take you."

"So you don't want to take me even after I offered to bring you to one of my stakes?"

"It ain't that, just--"

"Mister Sky!" Moobs repeats himself with the same exact shout as before.

Crimson purses his lips and mulls briskly. "Stay here."

She feels offended at being commanded so sternly but he gives little time for her to complain. He opens the door and steps out with a swift pace. He enters the receptionist area to see Moobs and Zeek, the bouncer that is usually posted at the front of the Gloriosa. Attention is shot to him as soon as he makes his appearance.

Crimson and Zeek share a nod of solicitation. "Good to see you again," the zebra formally greets.

"Likewise. Moobs get her the news?"

"He did," Zeek acknowledges. "Tragic fucking thing, isn't it?" Both Crimson and Moobs nod collectively. "... She wants to see you, Sky. Now."

"Best not keep her waitin'," the man acknowledges. He feels the urge to just walk out without mention of bringing a certain pony along, but the repeated panging energy of a heavy gaze garners his attention.

The old-timer is eyeing him intently, putting up a tired smile. "... Take 'Lil Flower. Would'ja?" The camel's demeanor subtly signals something much deeper than his simple request implies.

It's as if fate spoke into Crimson's ear. He senses that he has no real reason to neglect taking her now. He looks towards the hall, where a magenta eye can be seen peeking out from the edge of the doorframe. He lifts his hand to beckon her with the repeated bringing in of his fingers. She comes out and makes haste towards him, cautious of the zebra that guides them. The trio make their exit from the motel and venture to the club.

Dahlia carries confusion in seeing the Gloriosa's primary bouncer here, but even more taken by the fact he's requesting for Crimson directly. Zeek saw her, avowed her presence, but said or did nothing, as if she was naught of importance. No one seems to be questioning each other, no one looks to be accusing her. She takes this fact and follows behind the man quietly, looking up at Crimson's back.

‎

‎

The painful silence of walking through the Slums is replaced by the never-ending pounding of electronic music. The fruity air of the Gloriosa overtakes the environment, and Dahlia can't feel more tense. She's weary of the fact she was allowed entrance so easily, being guided by Crimson and Zeek. Their escort is a spectacle to the goers of the club, many eyes follow their steps.

The ropes that protect the staircase to Gloriosa are lifted by the posted zebras, and the final stretch to grace the mare herself is taken. The blaring music is muted as they reach the top, the walk across the VIP section is strut in silence.

Upon witnessing Crimson's approach, the unicorns guarding each corner of Gloriosa's veil all bow their heads. One of them wastes no time in using her dark purple magic to lift the veil, giving audience to the charming mare who sits upright in her couch with a cold contemplation.

Zeek excuses himself, leaving only Crimson and Dahlia at her presence. The veil falls back down behind them, further isolating them together. The man is the first to take a step towards her, letting her passive colored lights above shine on him directly.

Gloriosa's serious front gives way to a slightly warmer tone at seeing him, giving a waned simper. It's very obvious that this beautiful being had been crying recently, marked by her pinked cheeks, muzzle, and the faintly stained eye shadow.

"Sky," she takes in a deep breath, holding it for a second, and letting it go, "thank you for coming. I know this was... very sudden." The man nods once solemnly. She notices the figure standing behind him, reminiscent of the way Crimson did when he first arrived. "... Is that you, Wisp?" Dahlia puckers her lips. "Please, come forward."

Dahlia reluctantly takes one step forward, but stops. Crimson looks back to her, staring at her from behind the shade of his hair. He tilts his head, signaling her to come closer. She adheres hesitantly, moving to stand directly at his side.

A moment of silence passes before Gloriosa speaks up again, "He's gone, isn't he?"

Crimson bows his head somberly. "... He is. It happened... quick. He was ghost at his last word."

Gloriosa looks away briefly, resisting the urge to fall into her emotions again. "... Out of everything..." She clenches her teeth before releasing another breath, "He survived through impossible odds. He lived through the unimaginable... only to die at the hooves of that... camel."

Both Dahlia and Crimson actively stop themselves from reeling.

"... An accident?" Gloriosa huffs, trading her quivering sadness to smiling incredulity. "I don't believe it."

Crimson's mind puts the pieces together as soon as they fall. He shoves his hands in his duster pockets and lets his gaze drop to the ground. "... It was. If it weren't fer Axel, I'd be the one buried. Got me outta the way so he could take the hit." Dahlia looks up at him with a bland expression, but internally aghast at his false admission.

"... Moobs," Gloriosa suddenly comments, eyes stargazing into the void. "That is his name, correct? Axel's murderer?"

"... It is," Crimson affirms. "He's good folk. It's a shame any'a this's happened. I'm... very sorry, Gloriosa."

She nods slowly, glazing her eyes just as steadily towards him. Her beautiful front places a mourning smile. "Please, Sky... call me Mary. There's no need to apologize. I know he was your friend as well." Her beam becomes just a bit more genuine. "You two got along so well, it made me worried he'd forget me."

"That's the last thing he'd ever do. Everything we did together was fer you - danger, bloodshed 'n all."

She soaks in his words momentarily, then shifting her focus to the figure who's been silent the entire time. "... It's been some time since we've seen each other, hasn't it, Wisp?" Dahlia tense slightly and nods quickly. "I’m very glad to see you here, especially with… our current circumstances. You and Axel worked together once. Are you here to pay your respects?"

"... Ye... Yeah. ... I didn't think it would happen like this."

Gloriosa closes her eyes with a melancholic smile. "The future is always murky. Nopony knows what'll happen next. Like your visit, Wisp. The timing is almost perfect. How do you know Sky?”

“Through Moobs,” she responds firmly. “We all worked together before… the accident.”

Gloriosa nods twice slowly in thought. “… Are you willing to take Axel’s mantle, Wisp? I’m in need of a treasure hunter with prowess. No veils: this will be difficult. But it will give us the graces of the Horseshoes again, and give us the appropriate connections.”

Dahlia passes a few seconds in mute rumination before she nods firmly.

“... Good. Before I set you two off, I have one last request. And, Sky, my love. Your reward for completing this will pay out everything you've done for me, and something more. Something that you can carry along with you in your quest to... take on the Horseshoes?"

Crimson appears briefly stunned by her remark. "Reckon Axel told you?"

"He did, he told me more than you'd think. And I can see why he liked you so much. You have a passionate fire in you that won't burn out until the job is done, something rarely inside anypony these days. Plus..." she looks away, her expression retaking that bored, uninterested front that suits her chillingly, "they've treated me and my subordinates less than acceptably these last few years. I think it's high time the chairs spun... if you catch my drift~"

Crimson gives a fortified nod. "Then we're on the same team. Glad to hear it. Now, what's this last task you've got fer me?"

Gloriosa blinks her luscious lashes and grins slyly.

‎

‎

"No! You're not!" Dahlia shouts for the nth time.

"Watch me," Crimson replies simply.

"NO! You're not!" she repeats with heightened aggression.

"I'm done repeatin' myself."

"FOR THE LAST TIME! I SAID NO!" Dahlia props herself up in front of Crimson, stopping him from ascending the staircase to the motel. She growls fiercely at him, almost ready to bite him if he takes another step.

"You ain't gotta be here for this."

"It's not whether I'm around or not! You're NOT gonna kill him! END of STORY!"

The door of the motel suddenly comes open, drawing the attention of both Crimson and Dahlia in the heat of their altercation. Moobs stands at the frame, glazing them both with his long, droopy expression. "... Come in here, you two," he beckons them.

Crimson treks around Dahlia ardently, while the mare still stands mouth ajar. She rightens herself quickly when the man passes her, trotting to his side with anger.

The three now stand inside the motel, gathered around the receptionist desk where Moobs is positioned behind. The silence is palpable, ingestible; no one speaks. Dahlia is tense, Moobs is somber, and Crimson is grave.

"... Heard yer debacle, there," Moobs breaks the silence.

"Then you know what's goin' on," Crimson states.

"And he's NOT going through with it!" Dahlia shouts, causing both others to wince.

"... 'Lil' Flower," Moobs starts. "I know what yer thinkin'. Trust me, I do."

"I don't wanna hear it, gramps," Dahlia starts, becoming quickly emotional. "He's not gonna hurt a hair on your head. Not one."

Moobs lets his head hang slightly, ushering a semblance of laughter. "Always loved yer heart, young'n. Fierce. Gorgeous." He tilts his head to the side, waving them over once again. "Somethin' 'na show the both'a ya'."

He turns and opens the door to the backyard, stepping out. The two are quick to follow him out.

What they see brings a dawn of astonishment to the both of them. Moobs stops his walk at the far end of the yard, next to the graveyard of the Flex family. What causes their duress isn't these graves, but instead a deeply dug hole just next to Axel's - a sizable plot fit for a large animal to die in.

Moobs smiles at them, his dragging face baring some height. "Fate has stated her due. Reckon it's time to adhere."

Dahlia's hanging mouth and dilated pupils tremble. Her left foreleg lifts a little, then reaches to him. "M-Moobs, wha... what are you doing?"

The camel's beam lifts just a bit higher. "What needs to be." He looks at Crimson, who slowly approaches with desolation. The man was ready to accomplish what was instructed, but this is painful to take in. He stops a few feet away from Moobs, right at the edge of the grave hole. Dahlia stays put in the background, still watching in appalment.

The two eye each other, the camel comfortable and smiling, the man bearing a deep frown. "... You knew she'd ask me?" Crimson questions.

"Can say that," he responds plainly.

"Moobs, stop!" Dahlia cries suddenly, only now dashing up to stand next to Crimson. "Stop this right now! If this is a joke, it's not funny!"

Moobs shakes his head slowly, smiling down at the mare he considers his daughter with profound sadness. "Outta everyone, I'd thought you'd understand, 'Lil Flower. When a fire burns, it catches whatever it can. Don't matter who started it, it'll swallow all. Figure I got caught in the flames, 'n well..." he chuckles twice heartily, "... I'll burn just like anythin' else. Was only a matter'a time before it reached me."

"Moobs, you don't have to do this! You can just--"

The camel lifts his wobbly hoof, silencing her passively. "... 'Lil Flower... thank you fer makin' the latter years of ma' life just as enjoyable as my first. I owe it to you 'n Axel fer that grace. I can rest easy knowin' yer in good care."

"... Moobs..." Dahlia utters. Her shimmering eyes well, her lower lip quivers at trying to articulate further.

The old camel looks at Crimson with his unwavering smile. "... An' now, you have my blessin', young'n. Any way you see fit, long as this body's rested in its bed. Do as you may."

Crimson lets his gaze fall to the ground. In his peripheral, he sees Dahlia trembling. He concentrates on her, which causes her to look back up to him. His heartache only gets worse at making eye contact with her.

"Wanna go inside, 'Lil Flower?" Moobs speaks up. "Don't gotta be here fer this."

Dahlia doesn't voice herself. She closes her eyes tightly. She grits her teeth and shakes her head repeatedly.

"... Then," Moobs starts, "... Mister Sky?"

The man returns his attention to his target. He tries to think of him as just that - a target. One that he feels no remorse towards. He opens his right duster flap and reaches into his pocket, retrieving a weapon from inside - the dart-flinger. He takes it into his hand and he aims the end of the barrel towards the camel. His thumb flips the switch on the side from down to up.

Moobs stares at the weapon with satisfaction.

"... It'll be quick," Crimson states.

"Yer consideration is appreciated," the camel replies.

Dahlia opens her eyes slightly - Moobs stands perfectly still.

Crimson's finger rests on the trigger, gently applying pressure. He stalks his target. A body of no importance. A number added to a stock of many. He feels nothing towards this kill.

Blatantly untrue.

Pwf!

"Rh! Mmh!" Moobs recoils slightly at the tinge of pain panging his neck. Dahlia 'eeps' very quietly, her entire being taking shock as if she were the one hit. "... Ouh, uh... huh..." Moobs' legs quiver intensely as his eyes struggle to stay open. He intentionally relieves some tension from his left foreleg and hindleg. "... Huh..." One last faint huff, his left side gives way and his entire body comes crashing down, slipping into the hole and falling down several feet. He hits the bottom with a thud.

Dahlia clenches her teeth and runs away, back into the motel.

Crimson's frozen figure still holds the pistol at the angle of the shot. He stands there a moment, eyes jaded, staring off into the ether.

His arm goes limp, falling to his side while still holding the gun. As if his body moves into autopilot, he opens his duster to pocket the weapon. He finds the shovel resting on the right end of the yard upon the fence. He toils towards it, taking it into both hands, and returning to the large pile of dirt that sat next to the hole. He begins to shovel.

Misery rains upon the motel, the one that is left abandoned the same night.

Next Chapter: Dupe Exchange Estimated time remaining: 11 Hours, 38 Minutes