Pinkamena and Starlight spent roughly an hour just talking. After she caught her up on everything that happened last night after their call, she started telling Pinkamena about her social life. While she didn’t have a lot of free time or days off, she spent a lot of it hanging out with a group of online friends. She hadn’t actually met any of them in real life, or even knew what they looked like, but she felt very close to them and thought of both of them as her best friends. They had met through shared forums and groups they were in, and mostly played video games together online.

There were only two of them, they were both girls and she didn’t know much about them except one was still in highschool, and the other had an absurd amount of free time and seemed to never sleep. The girl that was still in high school had a habit of speaking in third person, calling herself by her username. While the other one always spoke in a monotone and dull voice, rarely showing whatever emotion she was feeling, but Starlight had a distinct feeling that she was actually the type that cared a lot.

As soon as they got to the office, Starlight showed her everything she knew about it. She specified what in there either belonged to Igneous, or that he had added in. There were a few things in there that bothered her. First was the row of televisions that was constantly recording every room in The Syndicate, even the bathrooms, which was strange because she didn’t recall seeing any anywhere beside the outside of the vault where all the money was kept.

The second thing, which pissed her off significantly more, was a picture frame sitting on the desk. It was a family picture they had taken forever ago, she was actually shocked he bothered to keep it. She had to resist the urge to break it upon seeing that Limestone and Marble were marked with red x’s over their heads, showing how little their deaths meant to him.

Starlight remained silent as Pinkamena trudged over to the desk, flipping it face down so she wouldn’t have to see it.

She then showed her the laptop that was on there, informing her that it was basically an all-access resources to the online connections The Syndicate has, even to the extent of the black market and insider information that the public wouldn’t usually have access to. She didn’t know what Igneous kept in the drawers, but she guessed it was documents of various types.

The bookshelf had all kinds of books on it, apparently her late father really enjoyed reading books to pass time. She saw that some of them weren’t normal books, having labels on them that were names, all of them vaguely familiar to her like she heard them in a dream. She was almost positive they were the journals of the previous leaders, she made a mental note to skim through them later. There might be some questions answered in there that The Whispers didn’t want to tell her.

The last thing she showed her was where the isolation tank, or more specifically, how to access it. Like a scene straight out of some high tech spy movie, she placed her hand on a seemingly random spot on the wall. A small light came out of the spot and scanned her hand, a large, door shaped area beside the spot began to collapse in on itself and slide in to the side. Revealing a cylindrical, chamber like spot inside that was just large enough to fit one person. The inside was dark black, made out of some kind of metallic material she didn’t recognize.

Starlight explained to her that it was the isolation tank, but it had been significantly upgraded since she last saw it. How it used to work is whenever Igneous needed a short break and to be alone with his thoughts for a while, he’d have to tell somebody to let him out after a certain amount of time passes, or else he’d be stuck in there without anyone knowing where he’d gone.

Now that wasn’t necessary, Discord had upgraded it and made it to where it had a timer and would open itself after however long it gets put in for. The only people that would have access to it would be members of The Council and whoever the leader currently was, but as far as she knew, no one but Igneous had ever used it.

Previously, Pinkamena wanted to use it to force The Whispers to give her answers when they were being dodgy. While that was still partly the intention since she didn’t think they were going to start being honest anytime soon, she admitted the idea of being able to just completely cut off the world and focus on her thoughts was a bit tempting. She was curious what it was like and wanted to try it out, but she had other things she needed to do.

*I wonder which list is longer: my list of things that I need to do, or the list of things I want to do when I actually get the time?*

After that, Starlight and Pinkamena parted ways. Starlight mentioned that Michael was supposed to start his first physical therapy session soon, and she promised herself she was going to be there so she could talk to him without him finding some excuse to leave. Pinkamena didn’t want her to. Both because of her own conversation with Michael, and because she enjoyed being with Starlight. It was the few moments of normalcy she had in her now entropotic life, reminding her that things hadn’t completely gone to hell quite yet

She looked through the drawers, seeing documents, folders, and various other things she’d have to sort through later. She was searching for something to roll the weed with, she’d only done it once or twice herself, but she was fairly sure she could manage it decently. She actually ended up finding some wrapping paper, she wondered for a moment what Igneous was doing with wrapping paper in his desk. Then she realized that if Michael, Zecora, and more than likely Discord smoked, Igneous probably did too.

*The more I learn about him, the less I feel like I have a grasp on who he was. It’s like he was two different people at once, who the hell were you, Igneous?*

After taking the amount of wrapping paper she thought she’d need, she shut the drawer and left the room. The next time she got the chance, she was going to sit down and thoroughly investigate everything in there. She knew there were things in there that could help her and answer the questions she had. Also, while it was slight, the possibility of finding Igneous’ journal among the others. Her hatred for him was unlike any other intense emotion she’d ever felt before, but with it came a desire to understand him. To learn what made him the monster he became, to get whatever he went through that changed him like that when everyone said he used to be a good person.

She needed to know. If she didn’t, how could she stop herself from following in her father’s footsteps?

She made her way back to the workshop where Zecora was, passing the old man in the booth who she now knew as Randolph, he was smiling and appeared rather happy about something. She made it to the back where the striped gunsmith usually was, disassembling yet another weapon and cleaning it.

*Michael mentioned she’s been upset about Igneous dying and has been working non stop since then, I wonder how long it’s been since she’s slept?*

At the sound of the door shutting and being locked by Pinkamena, Zecora briefly stopped, glancing over her shoulder and staring at her. She looked her over for a moment, noticing that Pinkamena was wearing the exact same clothing she was just over an hour ago, her eyes hovering on her chest where there was dried blood. She decided not to comment on it and turned back around, going back to whatever gun she was working on.

Pinkamena sighed as she began to walk toward Zecora, she found herself slightly nervous. She didn’t quite know what to say, did she just walk up to her and ask her if she wanted to smoke? She had never initiated before, the handful of times she did at her parties someone else asked her too. She agreed out of curiosity, and because she thought if she said no it would ruin the mood of the party.

*Been a while since I felt nervous about something, it’s...comforting in a strange way.*

She pushed down the tingle of anxiety and grabbed a stool from one of the other workbenches, placing it behind Zecora. She reached into her pockets and pulled out her lighter, the bag of weed Michael gave her, and Igneous’ wrapping paper. She put her legs together and placed the paper on her lap, pulling some of the weed from the bag onto it and rolling it.

She surprised herself with how steady her hands were and well she actually did it, she had always watched others, never having done it before. She chalked it up to The Whispers, guessing that either one of the previous host smoked a lot as an escape, or they all did.

As soon as the blunt was rolled, she set the bag down on the ground and brought it up to her lips. It stuck out the corner of her mouth as she turned the lighter on and lit the end of the joint, putting the lighter in her hoodie and deeply inhaling through her mouth. At the sound of the lighter Zecora flinched, stopping what she was doing, but not turning around.

The familiar taste of what she could only describe as ‘painless burning’ flickered onto her tongue, incredibly similar, and yet distinctly different from a cigarette. The stench filled her nostrils, it didn’t smell good, but it had a certain allure to it that took a significant amount of getting used to.

She held it between her fingers and held the smoke in her lungs for a few seconds, closing her eyes and trying to recall the parties she used to do this at. The friends she used to smoke with: sometimes ones she was closed to, sometimes basically strangers, but it was fun all the same.

Her life was much easier than, she had no problems trusting people and had no worries on her mind except whether she was going to be able to pass Cranky’s history test or not.

Most people would think she was the giggly type when she got high, but that would be wrong. She actually totally mellowed out, her typical bubbly personality ebbed away along with her impulsivity. It was some of the few times her hair went straight other than when she had her depressive episodes, she started to think rationally and didn’t feel that desire to be overzealous and random like usual.

Some people it scared, some people said they preferred her that way. She didn’t have much of an opinion on it, other than she didn’t want to be like that around Sunset and the others. She didn’t want them to think she was weird, and compared to how she normally acted, that would be.

*Doesn’t really matter now, does it?*

She opened her eyes and let out the smoke in her lungs, feeling the dopamine cloud her mind and dull her senses. A furor of peace came over her as everything else faded away. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders, her body relaxing as she allowed herself to slump down in the stool.

She remembered Starlight’s words about the calming ritual, and this was likely the closest to peaceful she could get. She brought her left hand up to her chest, grabbing her necklace through her shirt. She turned her gaze to Zecora, her eyes half-lidded and her mind dazed, almost like she was in a trance.

“Zecora.”

Zecora had remained eerily silent and still, her back facing Pinkamena. When she heard her name, she raised her head and turned around, her hands on her knees and her jaw tightened with a tense expression on her face. First she made eye contact, her eyes narrowing like she suspected her of something. Then her leer dropped to the blunt in her hands, Pinkamena’s hand was extended offering it to her.

She abruptly closed her eyes, a blank look on her face as she internally contemplated something. She inhaled deeply through her nose and then through her mouth, her eyes snapping open and snatching it out of her hand. She brought it to her mouth and smoked it as if she were dying in a desert from dehydration and it was water, her body shuddering with relief as a puff of smoke came out of her mouth. For the first time, she saw Zecora actually relax. The corners of her lips rising into an almost beatific smirk, a stark contrast to the grave demeanor she always gave off.

They remained in that silence for a minute, Zecora stared at the joint in her hand with a dreamy look in her eyes, her mind clearly somewhere else much more pleasant.

“You have...no idea how much I needed that.” Zecora spoke in her accent that Pinkamena couldn’t quite recognize, once again halting on speaking in rhymes.

“Probably about as badly as I did, I haven’t smoked since...May? Long before all of this.” Pinkamena slurred as she took the blunt, taking another hit from it.

The more she smoked, the more she could feel her mind becoming both clouded and clear. Her emotions became nonexistent, filled instead with a sense of tranquility and ease. This allowed her to think of things more rationally and to concentrate her thoughts, all her worries and even the constant whispering in the back of her mind were dulled.

“I take it Discord is the one who suggested you do this? As much as I’d like to believe you just came to smoke with me, we’re both far too busy for that.”

Her voice was low and relaxed, but there was still a strict undertone.

“Michael, actually. He’s worried about you, he told me that ever since Igneous died, you turned full workaholic. He also told me that smoking was basically the only way to get you to relax and actually talk. I may not know you that well, but since you guys have been handling everything, I feel like this is the least I can do.”

Zecora gave an affirmative grunt in response, taking the blunt from Pinkamena and taking a much longer hit from it. Her smirk faltered, her eyes dropping downcast as she began brooding.

“Zecora,” Pinkamena paused, the image of her deceased dad flashing in her mind for an instant. “Why are you so torn up over Igneous? I understand why Michael and Starlight are upset, but not you. Was everyone in The Council close to him?”

Zecora turned her head to the side, staring off almost absentmindedly as she took another hit from the blunt, the room starting to strongly be filled with the smell and the smoke. “Do you...know how I came to be a part of The Syndicate?”

Pinkamena thought back to her talk with The Whispers, recalling when they took the appearance of her grandfather and told her the story of how he came across Zecora. “Yeah...Gerald went to go handle a sex slave ring, and found you, right? I heard you managed to break his arm, and that impressed him enough to where he decided to take you in.”

She scoffed, smiling like she was reminiscing on a fond memory. “It was a fluke, he had tired himself out after killing the majority of them. You have to understand, I didn’t know he was a chimera, or that he had come there to save us. I’d rather have died than be a slave for a day more, if I died fighting for my freedom, so be it.

He hadn’t expected one of us to fight back, I took advantage of that and broke his arm. Instead of screaming in pain or even being angry, he laughed like I had told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard, and brought me and the other slaves back to The Syndicate. He sent the others away and offered me a job here, and the rest…” Her voice shifted to a gravelly tone, taking another long hit from the blunt and noticing that it was already mostly burnt out.

“History.” She mumbled as she stood out of the chair, walking over to a part of the room where there was a trash can, tossing it in casually and walking back.

“What…” Pinkamena hesitated in asking, not entirely sure if she wanted the answer to the question she was about to ask. “Was he like?”

Before Zecora sat back down, she grabbed some of the wrapping paper still on Pinkamena’s lap, the lighter, and the bag of weed on the ground. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot as she tried to focus on wrapping another blunt, her hands were still incredibly steady and precise.

“Genuinely one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and absolutely nothing like his son. He hated violence more than anyone I ever knew, but didn’t hesitate when he knew it was necessary. I can not say if he would be proud of you, but I assure you it would be better than if he witnessed how Igneous fell. I…”

She paused when she finished rolling the fresh blunt, once again inhaling deeply through her nostrils and exhaling through her nose, before lighting it and offering it to Pinkamena. She took it and hit it once more, wondering how bloodshot her own eyes were.

“I did not care for your father in the slightest, I joined The Syndicate because of Gerald, and many believe I stay here because I enjoy it. In reality, I only stay because I have nowhere else to go, and I feel obligated to stay to pay back the debt I owe to him.”

“Debt?” Pinkamena asked, her mouth rapidly getting dry, she tried to ignore it.

“On his deathbed, I made him a promise that I would help his son to the best of my abilities, it was his last wish. He knew Igneous was troubled, and that taking on the weight of being the leader might have been too much for him, and he asked that I join the Council to try to share some of that burden. I agreed, but I…” Her head dropped shamefully as she closed her eyes. “Failed, miserably. Not only was I unable to stop that responsibility from breaking him, I could not prevent his death either.

I do not blame you for killing him, instead, I blame myself for not being able to save him. I could not keep my promise to your grandfather to protect Igneous, so I must protect you alternatively, and hope that he forgives me.”

She opened her eyes and looked at Pinkamena almost pleadingly, apologizing with her face instead of words. She hung her head in guilt, vaguely reminding Pinkamena of samurais in those old japanese films she used to watch.

“I have failed not only your grandfather, but you, as well. I should have done something to help your assists, convinced him it was too soon and that they needed more time, or done anything! I offer you my body, my soul, and everything I am to assist you. If you were to tell me to kill myself on the spot, I would not hesitate to do so. However, I must beg of you to allow me to dedicate myself to completing this weapon. I gave my word that I would, and where I’m from, my word means more to me than my life.”

It was hard to tell with the pungent smell and thick smoke in the room, the burning of her eyes, the dryness of her mouth, and the taste she knew she was going to have a hard time getting out later didn’t help. However, she could tell there was genuine desperation and guilt in Zecora’s taut voice.

The mention of her sisters and that Zecora thought she could have done something to save them should have made her angry. The fact that Zecora was like this because she killed Igneous should have made her at least a bit guilty, or even that her grandfather was just as good of a person as she remembered should have made her feel relieved.

She should have felt something, but her mind was so clouded and hazed that emotions just didn’t quite register. Instead of being angry like she would have sober, she brought the blunt to her mouth, ignoring how dry her throat was as she held the smoke in her lungs and closed her eyes. Exhaling as she smiled.

“If I wasn’t so baked right now, I probably would be pissed at you. Currently, from where I’m sitting, I don’t think there’s anything you could have done. I only have a rough idea of what happened to him, but I’m confident that not you or anyone else could have stopped it. If you tried to stop him from putting my sisters in there, he would have just seen you as in the way.

I might get angry at you later when I come down, but I would never order you to kill yourself for something you couldn’t control. I know what it's like to blame yourself for something that isn’t your fault. I can’t speak for my grandfather, but I forgive you for your failure, especially since you’re trying so hard to make up for it.”

“You’re…” Zecora raised her head, her face relaxing a bit. “Too kind. I can not forgive myself so easily, but your words have helped alleviate my guilt.”

*No, I’m not. I’m...really not.*

Pinkamena offered her the blunt. She took another hit from it and offered it back, but she dismissively waved her hands, deciding she’d had enough for one day.

“There’s...still something I don’t get.” Pinkamena mumbled as she leaned forward in the stool. “Zecora, please, I need to understand. What kind of deal did you make with Igneous that makes you so committed to it even after he’s dead? Can you at least tell me that much?”

“That…” Zecora’s eyes dropped to the blunt, twirling it between her fingers absentmindedly. “Would require me to tell you about my life, before I became a slave. I don’t like talking about it, but if that is what you ask of me, I will oblige.”

Zecora straightened her back, watching Pinkamena as she waited for a response. She nodded, bringing her hands up to her hair and trying to keep it out of her face. Zecora closed her eyes and sighed, bringing her hand up to her right temple and rubbing it, her body language evidently more tense.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed from my accent, but I’m not from this country. I was born in a tribe in Central Africa, a place I have not been to in far too long. My tribe placed much value on honor, teaching us that above all, our word should be the most valuable thing we can give. If we say we are going to do something, we do it, or our life is forfeit.

I was...seventeen, I believe when my home was attacked. I don’t know the entire story, but apparently some disgusting animal in human clothing had a ‘collection’ he was trying to mass, and wanted a woman of every variety, he was willing to pay a lot for anyone that could bring him something he didn’t have.

The men who took me, if you could call them that, thought that he wouldn’t have a young girl raised in an African tribe. However, they didn’t know what kind of women he liked, so they took multiple of us. They brought us here and...kept us in cages, barely feds us and we weren’t allowed to wear clothes. We were only there for two days as they waited for the man to come by and buy the one he wanted, and they intended to kill the rest of us. That never happened, as you know.

It may have only been two days, but those two days of us being used like nothing else but living toys were genuinely the closest to hell I’ve ever been. It took me years to get past it, and yet I still wake up some nights expecting to wake up in those cages again.”

Pinkamena felt a hot flash of anger deep inside her for a brief moment, the situation sounding all too familiar to her situation with Blake. Even high out of her mind, her hatred for him bled through like blood through clothing. She pushed it down and tried to ignore it, focusing her mind on something else.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but is that why you selectively rhyme? Because it’s something your tribe did?”

It was a long-shot guess, but something was telling Pinkamena that was the case. Zecora confirmed it with a nod, taking another hit without even opening her eyes. “It is how I remind myself of my home, I do not ever want to forget where I came from. As more time passes, it is getting harder to remember it, rhyming is almost the only thing I have. Once I have retired from this place, I intend to return there, and it is where I shall die.”

Home

That wasn’t something Pinkamena had thought about recently. Did she truly have a home? A place where she genuinely felt she belonged? She didn’t truly know. There was her house with Maud, but that didn’t feel like a home. Neither was The Syndicate’s base, or anywhere else, for that matter.

A home was a place someone felt like they belonged, and Pinkamena didn’t think she belonged anywhere.

“So, I’m guessing…” Pinkamena paused as she thought to herself. “Your deal had something to do with killing the guy you were originally meant to be sold to?”

Zecora shook her head back and forth, smoking the last bit of the blunt to herself. “No, I’ve never been the type to think about revenge, it does not reverse what was done. To this day I do not know the name of the man, and I don’t care to learn it. He told me that he wanted me to build a gun like The Silent Killer’s and gave me everything he had on it. In return, all I asked was that he checked on my tribe. I had no way of knowing what happened to them, at the very least, I wanted to know their fate.”

“From the way you’re speaking, I’m guessing he told you they were alive and well. Meaning, you building this gun is you keeping your side of the deal.”

Once again, Zecora confirmed by nodding. She got out of the stool and tossed the used joint in the trashcan, leaving the lighter, bag, and wrapping paper sitting on the floor. When she sat back down, she glanced at them for a moment, internally debating rolling another one. She subtly shook her head, sitting down and keeping a stoic stare on the ground in front of her. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was clearly very high. However, that didn’t seem to stop her from brooding, Pinkamena was beginning to wonder if getting high even really affected her at all.

“I think I get it now. You made a promise to my grandfather to protect Igneous, but you failed that. You also made a promise with Igneous to make that gun, problem is: He’s dead. So you’ve been burying yourself in cleaning guns to keep yourself preoccupied, and to try to deal with the guilt.”

“..yes.” Zecora murmured.

*Alright, I think I’ve figured out what all the members of The Council have in common; They’re all mentally unstable one way or another. Except for Fancy Pants, I think.*

Pinkamena crossed her arms, Zecora was watching her out of the corners of her eyes, like she was waiting for her approval. She had to handle this delicately, this was a sensitive situation. Zecora’s guilt and shame were so severe that she thought the only way to repent would be to completely dedicate herself to Pinkamena in an attempt to make up for it, effectively only thinking of herself as a tool.

Which was bad. She didn’t want anyone’s life to be her responsibility, certainly not because of something like regret. She needed to say the right words to get Zecora out of her stupor, which wasn’t easy since she’d never handled anything like this before.

*Why does it always have to be me?*

“Zecora, I’m not going to act like I understand your situation. I’ve been tortured and used as nothing more than a living fleshlight, and I know guilt, it’s almost crushed me many times. I agree with putting value on your word and the promises you make, I strongly believe in the phrase ‘A promise isn’t a promise unless it’s kept, it’s just a lie’. Still…”

Pinkamena reached forward with her right hand, hesitating before making physical contact, pushing through the fear and placing her hand on Zecora’s shoulder. As soon as contact was made Zecora’s head raised, her eyes widening as her composure fell, showing just how genuinely afraid and ashamed she was.

“To give yourself to me because you made a mistake or two is not only absurd to me, it’s unthinkable. Your word should mean a lot, but that doesn’t mean you have to blame yourself because you messed up. You couldn’t stop what happened to Igneous, no matter what you might have tried, things would have turned out the same. He was too far gone.

You can continue building that gun for him if you like, but I don’t want you burying yourself in work to keep yourself distracted from your thoughts, not like I have any right to say that. You said that you’re giving your life to me? That you would do anything I tell you to? Well, my first and last order is for you to start living for yourself. Stop feeling held down by your obligations you couldn’t keep, if you don’t let your past die, it won’t let you live.

Instead of being alive for other people, live for yourself Zecora. Be a person, not a tool. If you keep being held down by your emotions, then you still haven’t moved past what those men did to you, and you’re just a slave to your emotions instead of them.”

She took a risk bringing up her time as a slave. She wasn’t even entirely sure if the words she was speaking were her own or from The Whispers, but it seemed to work. Zecora recoiled slightly out of shock, her mouth agape as she registered Pinkamena’s words. The corners of her bloodshot eyes teared up, her eyes narrowing in an expression between relief and fear.

“You’re saying...I’m free?” Her words came out as desperate, like she was hearing the answer to a question she’d wanted for a long time, and wanted to hear it once more.

“Well, I’d like it if you stayed a part of The Syndicate to help me when I need it. But, no, you’re not obligated to do anything. If you want to leave and go back to your home, I won’t stop you.”

Pinkamena could feel the tension in Zecora’s body leave, she shuddered as she relaxed, like she hadn’t calmed down like that in a while. Her eyes squeezed shut as tears rolled down her cheeks, letting out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for a long time.

“Thank you, that’s…” She paused as she opened her eyes, wiping the tears off her face and taking a deep breath as she composed herself. “The words I never knew I needed to hear. However, I believe I will stay. I have grown close to some of the people here, and I feel like this is where I belong, for now.”

“If that’s genuinely what you want, then I couldn’t approve more.” Pinkamena said as she stood up from the stool, her back and neck popping as she stretched.

It must have been something to do with her healing factor, because she could already feel herself coming down. Her eyes were beginning to burn less and that dazed feeling was beginning to fade, her emotions were starting to come back through. If her healing made it to where she could only stay high if she was continuously smoking, that probably meant getting drunk wouldn’t be easy either.

*Great, just fan-fucking-tastic. No fun allowed for me, I guess.*

She scowled at this realization as she turned to look back at Zecora, relaxing as she remembered something she had meant to ask her earlier.

“Zecora...how many guns have you fixed or cleaned since Igneous died?”

She peered up at Pinkamena for a moment, then glanced to herself as her mouth moved wordlessly, as if she were counting something to herself.

“103.”

“Yeah, come on. You’re taking the rest of the day off, at least.” Pinkamena said as she grabbed the wrapping paper, lighter, and bag of weed, making a mental note to drop it off at her office later.

“But I sti-”

“How many days has it been since you’ve last slept?” Pinkamena asked as she glared at her, her hands wrapped under the stool she was sitting on and carrying it over to the workbench she took it from.

“...Two days, I think.” Zecora mumbled bashfully.

“That’s too long. Alright, here’s what we’re going to do:” She stated as she sat the stool down, turning to face Zecora. “I’m coming down right now, and since I haven’t had anything to eat today, the munchies are hitting really hard right now. So, we’re going to go to the cafeteria and eat something. After that, I need to leave, I have things I need to get done today. You,” She said with emphasis as she pointed at Zecora. “Are going to sleep! I don’t care how, take melatonin or something, just get some rest. After that, do whatever you want, except work! Watch Spongebob, get high again, whatever. Just. Relax.”

“What about-”

“Zecora, don’t make me pull the ‘leader’ card. I don’t want to, but I will.”

They held a short staring contest, both stubbornigly staring at the other. Zecora, likely because her eyes were still burning, gave in and closed her eyes with a sigh.

“Can you at least let me complete this one? I hate leaving things unfinished.”

Pinkamena glanced at the weapon on the workbench behind her, The Whispers telling her it was a half-dissasembled Remington 870.

“Fine, you have thirty minutes. If you aren’t in the cafeteria by then, I can and will come back here and drag you if I have to.”

Pinkamena exclaimed, turning around and walking towards the door. She opened it and took in a deep breath of the clear air, letting some of the smoke out and then walking out herself, shutting the door behind her.

As soon as the door shut, Zecora turned back around and continued working on the gun, an almost unnoticeable smirk on her face.

“I don’t know what any of them are talking about, she’s nothing like him.”

********************************************************************************************

Her lunch with Zecora was...filling, in one word. She got as much as she thought she could eat, and then a little more. The only strang thing was while she was getting food, the person who manages all that told her that Discord said if she ever came by to get anything, she was to always get a drink with it. It was the same milk like liquid that last time he brought her food, she made a mental note to ask Discord about it the next time she saw him.

When Zecora showed up, she had clearly came down, but still distinctly smelt like weed. She brought significantly less food than her and looked exhausted, it seemed finally relaxing made her realize just how tired she really was.

They ate in silence for a short while. It wasn’t an awkward one, more like they both just simply had nothing to say. Afterwards, they each went their own ways. Zecora looked like she was moments from passing out, and for all Pinkamena knew that’s exactly what happened when she left. Pinkamena stopped by her office and dropped off some of her stuff there, picked up her hoodie she left in that bathroom, and then left for her house. She at least needed to check in with Maud, and then she needed to set up a meet up time with Applejack.

Right now, she was freerunning there, jumping across the rooftop building to building. She felt an immense sense of satisfaction, both from because she ate until she was full, and because she genuinely felt she handled things relatively well. Her talk with Discord and Michael was, at the very least, informative. Her therapy session with Starlight, while it could have gone better, still improved both herself and her relationship with Starlight. She got to help Zecora and get high at the same time.

With how everything has been lately, it was a good day so far.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

Her smile dropped at the sound of Igneous’s voice, turning her head left to the source of the voice. The Whispers were floating in the air beside her, on their back with their eyes closed and arms crossed like he was taking a nap, following along with her with each jump.

“Haven’t seen you for a while, any particular reason for that?”

“Didn’t think you needed me. Alice was handling the melding, and she wanted to deal with any of your emotional issues herself in case it had anything to do with the aftermath. I was going to step in and give you some advice with how to handle things with The Council, but you actually ended up doing a decent enough job yourself. I guess giving you their knowledge made you a better leader.”

“Hm.” Pinkamena grunted, turning her face back forward. She found it hard to take anything they said at face value, especially since Alice switched up her act so easily and convincingly.

“If that’s true, why are you here now? My plans for the rest of the day are to visit Maud, catch AJ up on what’s happened so far, and hunt down TSK to settle things. None of that sounds like you need to be involved.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t like me.”

“I don’t.”

His eyes snapped open and he brought his hand to his chest like he’d been shot, hunching over in mock offense. “Ouch, that really hurts my feelings, y’know?” He said unconvincingly.

“If it makes you feel any better, I like you better than Alice. You’re upfront and consistent, I at least have a rough idea of what to expect from you.”

He straightened out and turned to face her, his act dropping and turning on his side to face her. He propped his head on his hand, like he was laying on something and not floating in the middle of the air.

“Well, negative nancy, I actually came here to give you some advice with your romantic escapades. But now I don’t wanna.” He said as he pouted.

She glared at him out of the corner of her eyes, raising her eyebrows as she found herself struggling to understand what he was referring to. She paused as she tried to think back to the last time she did anything romantic. The only thing that came to mind was her talk with Starlight about her relationship with Rainbow Dash, and the confirmation after checking her voicemail that Rainbow had feelings for her, it was just the question of if Pinkamena reciprocated those feelings or not she was uncertain about.

“Are you talking about the whole thing with RD? There’s not much to talk about since she’s...dead, what I might have felt for her is irrelevant.”

He rolled his eyes at her like she stated something that was the most obvious thing in the world. “Not that, I couldn’t care less about your conflicting feelings about your dead friend. No, I’m talking about your blooming fondness of Starlight Glimmer!”

His sudden words completely threw Pinkamena off balance, as soon as her feet touched the next rooftop, there was a loud screeching sound as her shoes scraped against it. She threw her arms out in front of her as she tried to regain her equilibrium, avoiding looking down at the alleyway behind her.

She let out a relieved sigh as she firmly placed her feet on the rooftop, glaring at The Whispers a few inches in front of her. He was wearing a smug smile, his arms in his pockets and his hat slightly tipped forward.

“I’m not developing feelings for-”

In an instant, he appeared in front of her, pushing the tip of his finger against her lips. Unlike Alice’s touch, which had fake warmth that felt like it was imitating human contact, his was still cold and dead like a ghost.

“No. We aren’t playing this game. You aren’t sixteen anymore, and I’m not one of your girlfriends. As of right now, you are in the starting stages of romance, or, a ‘crush’. How you take that is up to you, but I don’t have the patience to deal with you denying it right now.”

He pulled his hand away from her mouth, she opened it to retort, but shut it at his disapproving leer. She glanced away from him, steering her thoughts toward Starlight.

She thought of her as a close friend, yes, but was it anymore than that? She couldn’t really say, her romantic experience was next to zero. Thinking about Starlight made her feel...warm, if she really focused her thoughts on her, her heartbeat picked up slightly. The way she always tried to look good showed how much she cared about other people and what they thought of her, how nice she could be and yet stern when she needed to.

Her hands were firm yet soft, she always knew the exact words to say and how to say them. How easy she was to tease, and how surprisingly insecure she was about things. Her smile was so sincere and happy, it reminded her a lot of how she used to smile. She’s seen Pinkamena on the edge of a meltdown and overwrought with bloodlust, and yet she didn’t think less of her because of it.

Pinkamena noticed her cheeks were warmer than usual, a tightness in her chest she could only describe as ‘flustered’.

“Maybe…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to compose herself. “You’re right, I might. Why are you bringing it up? Do you disapprove or something?”

“Oh no, not at all!” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “In fact, out of everyone in your life right now, she’s probably the best person you could get with. It makes sense why you’d fall for her too.” He put his finger in the palm of his right hand like he was counting something. “She’s been there for you when you needed it, she’s incredibly trustworthy almost to the point of gullible, she has low self-esteem and insecurities and probably doesn’t even realize what a catch she is. It helps that she’s easy on the eyes.”

She ignored his brashness and turned around, recognizing her surroundings as about five minutes or so away from her house. “What about...the fact that she’s my therapist?”

“Pfft! You think that matters? Hell no, not in a lifestyle like yours. Even Igneous thought about it once or twice, and he was married! Though, his wife was little more than a robot with a human body, so I can’t really say I blame him.”

She found it hard to choke down the disgust that rose up inside her at that statement, clenching her fist and jumping off the edge of the roof to another building as she began to freerun again. Unsurprisingly, she saw The Whispers appear beside her, floating in the air with a perturbed frown.

“That was rude, not very nice to run off when someone’s talking to you.”

“Are you going to keep saying things you know piss me off, or actually give me the advice you said you were going to?”

He scowled and brought his hand up, pressing his thumb against his finger as he prepared to snap them. She mentally prepared for a brain aneurysm, having learned to just always expect one after everything she says. She was a little relieved when he lowered it, hearing him mumble something along the lines of ‘Not worth it, she won’t learn anything.’

“You honestly don’t deserve it, buuuut since we’re melded now, we’re invested. Besides, maybe getting you a girlfriend will help you loosen up a bit, everyone needs a little reprise every now and again. I’ll take a page out of Maud’s short book and use a geology metaphor: Everyone needs a rock that keeps them grounded.”

“So...what, are you telling me to confess to her? When, for one thing, I don’t even know if she swings that way? Or if she’s even interested me at all? Not to mention she is clearly still getting over Michael! There’s so many reasons for her to say no, and so many ways it could go wrong!”

She tried not to raise her voice due to the fact it was still midday and there were likely people in some of the buildings she was jumping on, but she couldn’t keep the panic and aggravation out. He responded with a light chortle, a self-entitled smirk on his face that couldn’t have been a more perfect imitation of the man they were dressing as.

“You’re right, but you’re wrong. Yeah, lot’s of things could go wrong, but just as many could go right. Can’t tell ya whether or not she feels the same way, only mind we can read is yours. What I can tell you, is that every person we’ve been a host to has had regrets of some kind. The single ones regretted not having someone and dying alone, and had at least one person they might have been able to be with if they confessed. Don’t be like that, grow some balls and tell her you’re interested.”

“It’s...not that easy, I can’t just…” Pinkamena landed on the sidewalk across from her house, quickly looking around and seeing no one was there. “I mean, I’ve never confessed before, what if I mess up? I-”

He placed his hand on her shoulder, which she was fairly sure was meant to be reassuring, but didn’t have any sort of affect since it didn’t actually feel like he was touching her. “Kid, you’ve stared death in the face and smiled, and now you’re telling me you’re afraid of being rejected? You could die any day, it's not like you’re immortal. Just do it, take the risk, might work out.”

She shrugged off his hand, the way he was trying to comfort her...deeply disturbed her, she actually preferred when he was being arrogant. As much as she hated to admit it, there was truth to what he was saying. Considering everything she’s been through up until this point, being worried about rejection was just absurd.

“I mig-”

There were two heartbeats.

As she stepped towards her house and it came in range of her hearing, she detected Maud’s heartbeat like she expected to, but there was also a second one she didn’t recognize. Maud’s was, as usual, incredibly steady and slow. The other’s was slightly erratic and beating faster than average, almost like they were nervous and anticipating something.

What really threw her off was how close the heartbeat’s were to one another. From what she could tell, they were both standing up, the heartbeat she didn’t recognize right behind Maud. She didn’t think Maud would just invite someone over without telling her, nor could she think of anyone she would let get that physically close to her.

Suffice to say, this put Pinkamena on edge.

“We’ll finish this conversion never. I-” She glanced over her shoulder at where The Whispers were standing, just noticing that they had disappeared without a trace or even a word, like they usually do.

She shrugged it off and speed walked towards her house, her mind running through the possibilities of who could have been in there. First she thought of the positive ones, the chance that Maud had a secret boyfriend or girlfriend.

*Yeah, fat chance of that. No offense to Maud, but I don’t think she’s even interested in anything like that.*

As she opened the door and entered, the bad scenarios came to the forefront of her mind as she couldn’t think of any other good ones. The grim reality that someone could have come here with the intent of using her against Pinkamena was the most prominent, she was sure there were plenty of people who had a grudge against The Syndicate who would try something like that.

Her fears were realized when she stepped into the living room, Maud standing in the center with a curved dagger to her throat and a hand firmly grasping her shoulder, wearing the same pajamas she had seen her in before. If it were anyone else, the fact that she had a completely despondent and almost blank expression on her face would have been disconcerting. However, since it was Maud, it actually had more of a calming effect. If she had been worried or scared and Maud was showing it, then the situation really was serious.

Even when she laid eyes on the culprit, it didn’t clear up the confusion in mind at who it was. She was a few inches taller than Maud, standing directly behind her with her head tilted so Pinkamena could see it. Her skin was a dark orchid, paired with a lighter rose hair that was in a thick, sharp mohawk.

It was hard for Pinkamena to see her body, but what she could see was heavily covered. She was wearing some kind of dense gray body armour, small azure symbols on her chest, shoulders, and knees she didn’t recognize. The areas that weren’t covered by the body armour were instead protected by a dark black bodysuit. Her feet were covered in steel toed boots, and her hands were covered in dark black gloves. It reminded her a lot of Juno, but more battle-heavy and less stealth focused.

The only part of her that was visible was her face, tilted back with her eyes half-lidded and a distinct scowl on her face, giving Pinkamena the feeling she was being looked down on. It pissed her off more than she already was, she clenched her fist and tightened her jaw as she struggled to hold herself back. The only thing about her that stuck out was a curved scar that went from her forehead to just under her right eye, like someone had tried to cut her and left a deep gash. Strangely enough, the scar wasn’t on her actual eye as it was undamaged, suggesting she at least closed her eyes whenever whatever caused that scar happened.

“I like your hair.” Maud stated, either oblivious or uncaring to the tension in the room.

“Who are you?” Pinkamena growled, taking a step closer to them.

As soon as Pinkamena inched forward, she pierced the skin of Maud’s neck with the tip of the blade, drawing blood that ran down the edge. Maud barely responded with more than a dreary blink, like the pain hadn’t even registered.

“Slow down and stay calm, as long as you do what I say, no one get’s hurt.” Her voice was cool and monotone, and more gravelly than any other woman she’d known.

“What do you want?”

“A lot of things, money, information, a cold bottle of scotch waiting for me at home.” Her tone was sardonic to the point of sounding like she was mocking Pinkamena, pulling the blade away from Maud and twirling it in a circle between her fingers, placing it against her neck just as quickly.

“However, right now the only thing I’m interested in is you.”

*Great, a crazy type, exactly what I needed.*

“So, what, you threatening my sister is your way of getting my attention?” Pinkamena asked with a coy smile, coiling her knees as slightly as she could to try to be unnoticed. She also hardened just the toes of her feet, if she could move fast enough and catch her off guard by just a second she could make it.

“You might say that, yes. Though it is much more like I think it was high time we met. If my sources are as consistently reliable as I expect them to be, you’ll need me as much as I’ll need you.”

Pinkamena didn’t like the way she said that. She glanced at Maud to see how she was doing, she had expected she’d be signalling her or something. Instead, she hadn’t moved at all since Pinkamena came in, that empty expression on her face and her arms hung limply to her side, the blood from the minuscule slice wound on her neck still running down the dagger.

Her instincts were telling her that there was something wrong here, she didn’t like anything about this entire situation. Maud had been trained by The Syndicate, there is almost no way she would have let herself be taken hostage without a fight, which there was no sign of in the room. Not to mention she wasn’t fighting back in the slightest, when it would have been very easy for her to. There weren't any signs of a break in either, bringing up the question on how this intruder got in without Maud noticing.

There were so many questions and so many things about this that irked her, but she needed to focus on saving her sister, she couldn’t live with herself if she lost another family member when she could have done something to stop it.

“You’ve certainly got my attention, but I’m a lot more inclined to rip your throat out than listen to anything you have to say. Putting a knife against the throat of one of the few people I care about is a bad way to get my trust, but a pretty damn good way to get yourself killed.”

She smirked almost sadistically at that, pulling the knife away from Maud’s throat by just a few inches. “That’s a good point. I ma-”

Pinkamena didn’t give her the chance to finish whatever she was saying, launching herself by the tips of her feet and closing the gap between them. Her eyes widened slightly as she tried to put the knife back against Maud’s throat, but before she could even finish making the motion, Pinkamena tightly grabbed her by the forearm, her claws digging into her body suit, and pulled it away from Maud.

She let go of Maud’s shoulder and grabbed Pinkamena by the throat, trying to choke her the best she could. She couldn’t get a good grip and was just barely squeezing her windpipe. Pinkamena slammed her other hand into her face, smashing her into the ground.

Maud causally stepped away from them like she was getting out of someone’s way on the street, blinking absurdly slowly and observing the fight happening before her.

Pinkamena pinned her left arm against the ground, pressing her knee against her chest to keep her on the ground. Pinkamena let go of her face, she was clearly dazed and likely had a concussion, but was still conscious and was grimacing up at her.

Pinkmena raised her right hand over her head, flexing her fingers as she prepared to slash her throat in one swipe, not wanting to give her the chance to hurt her family again. Right as she went to kill her, she felt a sudden force stop her swing.

She glanced back and saw Maud standing beside her, her hand around Pinkamena’s wrist.

“Stop, she’s a part of the Shadow Broker’s.”

“Shadow Broker’s?”

Pinkamena asked, turning back to the woman she was sitting on top of at the sound of a low chuckle. Her eyes were half-lidded again and she had a smug smile on her face like she knew something no one else did, still managing to give off an air of superiority despite being at a clear disadvantage.

“He didn’t tell you? Figures. I can already see you’re much more rash than the previous leader, Igneous would hav-”

At the mention of Igneous, and the flare of white hot rage that came with being compared to him, she applied more pressure to her forearm. The woman let out a sharp gasp and abruptly shut her eyes, accompanied with the distinct sound of cracking bone, she at least had a fracture.

“You come in here threatening my family, and then you mention that name in here? You must have some kind of death wish. I suggest you start talking, or I might just grant it for you.”

She opened her eyes and scowled, her right hand unclenching and letting the knife fall to the floor, her left arm laying on the ground beside her. “Shadow Brokers are an independent group of information gathers, meaning we aren’t aligned with anyone in particular, official or underground organizations. However, we have a...deal of sorts with The Syndicate. I believed it was time we had a discussion, but since you’ve been keeping yourself busy recently, I figured I would have to force a meeting between us.”

As she spoke, Pinkmena listened intently to her heartbeat, ignoring the adrenaline pumping through her veins and her bloodlust yelling at her to kill her. Her heartbeat remained stable, meaning she was either telling the truth, or she was a very good liar.

If she was telling the truth, and she was a part of some secret group of spies, it was even more likely that she was that good of a liar.

“Actually, I more or less have the day off. If you had just told Maud, I probably could have met with you. However, I’m questioning the legitimacy of your word since you decided to do that by holding my fucking sister hostage! If what you’re saying is true, you aren’t making a very good first impression.”

She tried to make the gesture of shrugging her shoulders, but winced at the pain in her arm like she’d forgotten it’d been injured. “She was never in any real danger, it was just a test. I wanted to see what kind of person you were. I talked to Maud and she agreed, I assure you, there was never a single time during which I would have done anything but scathe her.”

Pinkamena turned to Maud for confirmation, her dully colored sister curtly nodded, letting go of her wrist. Pinkamena’s body was telling her to take advantage of that and kill the intruder, but her mind knew doing that would likely permanently break Maud’s trust, if not down right traumatize her.

“I wanted to see what you’d do also. I always knew you had problems with self-control, I see that hasn’t changed.”

While Maud’s voice was as flat and emotionless as usual, Pinkamena had known her long enough to make out the disappointment masked beneath it. Hearing that from Maud hurt her in a way no physical wound could, but she couldn’t show that. Not here, not now.

She took a deep breath and rose off of her, letting go of her arm and extending a hand. She stared at it for a moment, before grabbing it with her right hand, ignoring the pain in her arm as she rose to her feet.

“Are you crazy? If Maud hadn’t been here, you would have lost your life!”

She looked down at her right arm, moving it around to test exactly what hurt and what didn’t. “If my life was enough, it’d go pretty damn well with the end result. Besides, I knew Maud wouldn’t let you kill me, the fractured arm is a bitch though.”

“I’ll get you something to wrap it with while I’m getting bandages for my cut, we’ll call it even for stabbing me.” Maud said blatantly as she walked out of the room, her eyes slightly narrowed and eyebrows furrowed in an almost scowl, which was the closest Pinkamena had ever seen her to actual anger.

She watched her walk out with a deep, sinking feeling of guilt. Ashamed of herself both because she had let Maud down, and she really had lost control of herself. Even if it was for just a moment, she should have been better than that, especially if that were a real situation where her life were in danger and the wrong move would have ended it.

*I....really need to talk to her later, and maybe re evaluate my entire life while I’m at it.*

Pinkamena took a deep breath and calmed herself down, her claws receding and her eyes going back to normal. She turned back to the woman with her hands on her hips, who’s eyes were examining her curiously with her head tilted to the left.

“Your hair changed color, and so did one of your eyes? Interesting.” She tried to walk forward, but suddenly stopped and hunched over with her hand against her face as she painfully grimaced, her other hand on the armrest of the couch to keep herself balanced. “Yep, that’s a concussion, great.” She said as she plopped down onto the couch, closing her eyes and taking slow breaths.

“Sorry about that, there’s not much I can do but tell you to avoid falling asleep for a while. Can you at least tell me your name?”

There was a slight smirk on her face as she peered up at Pinkamena, lowering both her arms to resting on her legs. “My name is Tempest Shadow, and I’m The Syndicate’s direct contact to The Shadow Brokers.”