Vinyl Scratch glanced out of the window of the apartment, looking up at the morning sky. Its normal blue was tinted purple and shining in the bright sunlight. In the aftermath of the attack, Shining Armor had cast his shield over Canterlot. It wouldn’t do much good protecting them, since the changelings had already infiltrated the city, but it did its task, which was to calm the populace. Princess Luna had ordered round-the-clock guard patrols of the city, again as a means of preventing a panic. The sight of royal guards marching down the main avenues seemed to soothe everypony’s fears, but every time Vinyl heard them stomp down the street it just reminded her of what they had yet to accomplish.

She lowered her gaze from the transparent dome encasing the city to the building across the street, where she could spot one of the two Pinkietons watching her. She tapped her goggles to enable the zoom function and saw that it was Sharp Eye staring at her through a set of binoculars. Upon seeing Vinyl watching her, she lowered the binoculars and gave her a friendly wave. Vinyl responded by sticking out her tongue and blowing a raspberry before using her magic to draw the curtains closed.

The agent turned around to face the living room. Octavia was seated on the couch, pouring over a copy of every newspaper she could get her hooves on (even the Foal Free Press, which she generally didn’t bother with). To her frustration, the press was giving just as much attention to the incident at the racetrack as they were to the destruction of the building. Images of a changeling amidst terrified ponies were splashed across the front page of every newspaper while the stories were filled with exaggerated accounts of the incident from audience members. With such a clear indication of their attackers in the presence of so many famous Canterlot personalities, the fiery destruction of a nondescript government building was being treated more as a side note.

“An entire sidebar story on the front page devoted to ‘Fancypants’ Daring Escape’ and yet the destruction of a building gets relegated to page five,” Octavia grumbled as she scanned today’s copy of the Equestria Inquirer.

“Just as well,” Vinyl commented. “If the press ever figures out what was in that building, they’re going to flip out.”

“But ponies almost died in that explosion!” the grey mare exclaimed. “How could the account of a celebrity possibly be more important than that?!”

“What I want to know is how nopony thought to get a quote from DJ-Pon3!” Vinyl threw her forehooves up in a overly dramatic fashion. “Equestria’s hottest act, on the scene of both incidents, and nopony thinks to get her story?” She gave her friend a cocky grin, which quickly vanished when she caught the look on Octavia’s face.

“Vinyl Scratch, how could you?” the cellist said in a severe tone. “Ms. Maker is in the hospital and you want to make light of this?!”

“Geez Octy, I was just kidding,” Vinyl muttered, sitting down beside her friend. “Look, I know things are bad, but try to lighten up a little.”

“This is no time to ‘lighten up,’” Octavia said firmly. “Melody Maker is lying unconscious in a hospital bed and Con Mane is still out there.” She picked up another newspaper. “There must be something we missed,” she added in an undertone. “A clue or some piece of evidence or something that would give us a lead as to where Mane is.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna find much in the papers,” Vinyl replied in a skeptical tone. “No reporter is going to know more than we already do.”

“It pays to be thorough,” the cellist said shortly, now scanning the day’s copy of The Canterlot Post. Vinyl cocked her head to one side as she watched Octavia read.

“Is this because of that changeling?” the DJ asked. Octavia froze, looking up from the newspaper but refusing to glance over at her friend. Then she sighed and continued reading.

“I can’t believe I fell for such an obvious bait-and-switch,” she muttered, more to herself than to Vinyl. “The ‘her’ Con Mane swore to protect wasn’t Princess Celestia, it was Melody Maker!” Octavia put a hoof to her forehead. “We already knew that Mane was targeting the agency. How could I have been so blind?”

“It wasn’t that obvious,” Vinyl remarked. “Made sense that the changelings wanted to get Celestia. And they wanted us to think it too. They had this whole thing figured out.”

“Even so, Melody Maker is in the hospital because of my failing,” Octavia said. “And I’m not going to rest until I find that accursed stallion,” she declared, returning to her newspapers.

“Suit yourself,” Vinyl muttered, getting off the couch. The grey mare turned a page to see the headline ‘Canterlot Stars Offer Harrowing Accounts’ staring at her. She groaned inwardly.

Vinyl Scratch walked into her room, closing the door behind her. She glanced at the window, making sure nopony could see her inside before trotting over to her bed. After a quick glance back at the door to check that the coast was clear, she reached under the bed and pulled out her saddlebag, opening it to reveal a gleaming, silvery device.

A broad smile spread across Vinyl’s face. “Hi, Wubsy.”

There was a rapid knocking at the front door. Octavia put down her newspaper and trotted over to the door, opening it to reveal a harried looking stallion.

“Watt Sun?” she asked in surprise. “What are you doing up here?”

“I’ve come to relay a message,” the Pinkieton replied, taking off his bowler hat and quickly bowing his head towards her. “May I come inside?”

“Hold on, I want to make sure it is actually you,” Octavia said, holding up a hoof. “What did I tell you when we first met?”

“That you didn’t trust me because of what Golden Harvest did,” Watt Sun responded promptly. “And what was my answer?”

“That nopony breaks a Pinkie Promise and gets away with it.” Octavia stepped aside to let the stallion enter. Watt Sun walked across the room and sat down in a chair just as Vinyl came out of her room.

“What’s going on?” the DJ inquired.

“Captain Shining Armor sent me,” Watt Sun answered. “Your quartermaster is missing.” Both mares gasped before the stallion continued. “He left for home last night, accompanied by a pair of guards the captain sent with him. That was the last anypony has seen of them.”

Octavia sighed and pressed her forehooves to her face, while Vinyl stood quietly to the side. A heavy silence filled the room as Watt Sun fidgeted with the bowler hat in his hooves. “It’s Mane,” the cellist growled. “He’s picking us off one by one.”

“Shining Armor is about to make an announcement. In fact...” He glanced at his watch. “It should be about to start. Do you mind?” he added, gesturing at a radio sitting on the bar separating the living room from the kitchen. Vinyl nodded and used her magic to flip it on. They turned it on just in time to hear a news announcer wrapping up the headlines at the start of the news show.

“—with leading defense experts to find out what they have to say on this latest breach of royal security. All that and more coming up.” The show’s theme began, a dramatic tune that was punctuated by the ticking of a clock that counted down the last remaining seconds until the start of the hour. The theme rose in volume before the ticking finally stopped and the tune ended with a grand flourish.

“Good afternoon and welcome to the EBC News in Canterlot. I’m Nut Graph, filling in today for Head Liner. In the wake of yesterday’s changeling attack on the Equestrian capital, authorities are declaring a state of emergency effective immediately. This morning at a press conference, Shining Armor, Captain of the Royal Guard, announced several new security measures, including a curfew that would go into effect beginning tonight. All large gatherings are banned until further notice, the Royal Court has been suspended indefinitely and police powers have been extended to enable search of ponies without warrant. This comes shortly after the establishment of round-the-clock patrols of Canterlot and a shield around the city.”

“I just want to ask that everypony be patient with us.” Shining Armor’s voice was now coming through the radio. He sounded exhausted and his voice lacked its usual upbeat tone. “Everypony should remain vigilant and report any suspicious activity to the authorities.”

The announcer’s voice returned. “Authorities are also looking for a unicorn named Constantine Mane, who is wanted for questions regarding the incident. Mr. Mane is described as a tall, middle-aged stallion with a tan coat, green eyes, a light brown mane and a cutie mark of a donut with pink icing. Anypony who has any information should immediately come forward.

“The incident has raised serious questions about the preparedness of the royal security forces against these sorts of threats. We turn now to former guard captain Praetor, who is with us in the studio—” Watt Sun flipped off the radio, apparently satisfied.

“Wait, that’s it?” Vinyl asked incredulously. “He didn’t say anything about Quite! Is anypony even looking for him?”

Watt Sun looked uncomfortable. “So far, I’m afraid nopony has been able to do much,” the Pinkieton said sadly. “Shining Armor put out the word among his guards to keep their eyes open for him, but between increased security around the Royal City and the round-the-clock patrols, he hasn’t even been able to dispatch anypony to Quite’s house yet. And he doesn’t want to announce his disappearance to the public, lest it draw any more attention to the agency. The Pinkieton Detective Agency would normally be eager to step in, but all our operatives are either protecting you and your fellow agents, or going through the wreckage of your building.”

The three ponies were quiet for a moment. But where Watt Sun had been expecting a heavy, emotional silence, the two mares glanced at each other, both with thoughtful expressions on their faces.

“Say Octy,” Vinyl began with a small grin, “you wouldn’t by chance know where Quite lives, do you?”

An hour later, the two agents were standing around the corner from Quite’s house. Unlike most Canterlot residents, the quartermaster didn’t live in an apartment but in a spacious townhome in a quiet neighborhood. A row of similar townhomes lined both sides of the street, giving the appearance of one long building facing the street.

Vinyl glanced upwards to see a pair of royal pegasus guards flying past overhead. “I’m not sure how we’re gonna get in there. There are too many eyes on the street for us to climb through the window without getting caught.”

“If we can just get inside one of those buildings, we should be able to get over to Quite’s house,” Octavia said.

“Hmmm.” Vinyl wore a thoughtful expression, putting a hoof on her chin. After a moment she suddenly grinned and slapped her forehooves against each other. The DJ turned to Octavia, taking off her goggles as she did so. “I think I’ve got an idea! Punch me in the face.”

It took Octavia several seconds to register what Vinyl had said. And even then, she didn’t seem to know how to respond. “...Sorry?”

“Punch me in the face!” Vinyl repeated, sounding exasperated. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“I frequently hear ‘punch me in the face’ when you’re speaking, but it’s usually just wishful thinking on my part,” Octavia muttered.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” With a grunt of frustration, Vinyl called on her magic. The blue glow encasing her horn suddenly spread to Octavia’s ears. Before the cellist realized what was happening, she threw her forehooves over her ears as a piercing sound filled her eardrums. She clenched her teeth and shut her eyes, squirming in pain before she finally reared up and thrust one of her forehooves forward, landing a firm blow to Vinyl’s right eye.

The DJ dropped to the ground, her magic promptly going out as she did so. Octavia took a few heavy breaths, massaging her ears as her normal hearing came back while Vinyl stood back up again, now sporting a black eye. “Ouch,” she commented calmly, gingerly touching her face. “Okay, now we—”

But Octavia wasn’t finished with Vinyl just yet. Before the DJ could finish her thought, the cellist leapt at her, pinning her down before grabbing her in a neck hold. “Don’t you ever do that again!” the grey mare growled through her teeth, wrestling her fellow agent to the ground.

“Hrk...okay!” Vinyl sputtered, trying to wrench free of Octavia’s grasp. “I think you’ve done enough, Octy!”

After a few moments of violent tussling, the two finally separated and Vinyl trudged up the street, now sporting a few cuts and bruises in addition to her black eye. Octavia reluctantly followed, grumbling the whole way. “You could have just told me this was part of your plan, rather than subjecting me to that horrid noise you call music.”

“Yeah, but my way was more interesting,” Vinyl replied, grinning. “Now hush and play along,” she added, trotting up to the front door of a townhouse adjacent to Quite’s and ringing the doorbell.

“Yes?” The door opened to reveal an elderly mare wearing fine clothes and jewelry. As soon as she opened the door, Vinyl began hyperventilating and speaking in a shaky, fearful voice that was very uncharacteristic of her.

“Uh...I-I’m really sorry to bother you Miss, but...I-I was just attacked! S-Somepony...n-no, something just stole my saddlebag, a-and ran off, and c-could you help me please?” She broke down, seemingly weeping uncontrollably into her forehoof.

“Oh, you poor dear!” the elderly mare exclaimed, patting Vinyl’s shoulder. “Here, come in, come in! Everything’s fine now, dear.” Vinyl took a few shaky breaths and allowed the old mare to gently lead her inside while Octavia awkwardly followed along.

“I, um, saw the whole thing happen,” the cellist said uncertainly.

“I don’t know what this city is coming to, when innocent ponies can’t walk down the street without running into danger,” the elderly mare said, shaking her head. “Were you able to tell who stole your bag, dearie?” she asked kindly.

“I...(sniff) I dunno,” Vinyl muttered. “It was some kind of monster! It was big with grey hair and it had these horrible purple eyes! And it stood up on two legs!” she added, shuddering. Octavia bared her teeth and glared at her partner, but the elderly mare didn’t notice.

“Um, she might be exaggerating just a touch,” Octavia jumped in. “If I may, I have some limited medical knowledge. If you have a bathroom we can use, I can patch up these cuts.”

“Oh, bless you dearie,” the old mare said, smiling warmly at Octavia. “It’s up on the second floor, on the left. I’ll make you a strong cup of tea.” With that, she trotted away into the kitchen while the two agents made their way upstairs. They entered the bathroom and shut the door behind them.

“Some kind of monster, was it?” Octavia growled.

“Oh, hush.” Vinyl was opening the bathroom window, which looked out on nothing more than the wall of the adjacent townhouse and the narrow space between the two buildings. The DJ poked her head out and looked around. “Okay, I see a window into Quite’s place just down there. Think we can make it in?”

“I can,” Octavia answered, clambering onto the windowsill. “You stay in here in case our host comes upstairs,” she instructed. The grey mare jumped out, landing gracefully on a narrow ledge on the adjacent building before swinging down to a window. She found that it was unlocked, gently pushed it open and slipped inside.

The first thing that struck her was the smell. It was the pungent scent of sweat and filth, like somepony that hadn’t bathed in a week, which was a far cry from the clean and orderly appearance of the bathroom Octavia had snuck into. The agent strode across the room, quietly opening the door to the hallway.

The smell was even stronger out in the hall. Octavia started when she heard a dripping sound coming from the adjacent room. She slowly made her way down the hallway, carefully peeking around the corner. A spacious and well-furnished living room was laid out before her, but a couple of chairs and an end table were tipped over on the floor. And the smell was stronger than ever.

Octavia took a step forward only to feel her forehoof slip out from under her. She caught herself in time, looking down to see a puddle of green liquid on the floor. As she examined it, a single drop of the liquid fell from the ceiling. The agent tentatively glanced upwards. What she saw didn’t surprise her, but she still felt a chill go down her spine.

A pair of transparent green cocoons were suspended from the ceiling, each containing an unconscious royal guard. They hung upside down, both still in their armor and looking badly beat up. One of the cocoons was leaking drops of the strange green liquid that preserved the unmoving bodies of the guards.

Octavia pressed a forehoof to her bowtie. “Vinyl, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Vinyl’s voice replied through the radio embedded in the cellist’s bowtie. “Find anything?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Octavia muttered. “The changelings got to Quite’s guards. They’re hanging from cocoons above my head.”

“Can you free them?”

“If I was a pegasus or a unicorn, I might be able to,” the cellist said with a sigh. A stairwell wound up to the second floor, which had a balcony that looked down onto the living room. Octavia trotted up the steps to the balcony, getting as close to the cocoons as she could. However, they remained far out of her reach. “Let’s leave them for Shining Armor and his guard. They’ll be able to help.”

The agent looked around. A small table and a vase were overturned and there were scratches along the wall, as if something had been dragged along it. A nearby door stood slightly ajar, a long crack running down the middle and splinters littering the floor, clear signs that the door had been forced in. She walked up to the door and slowly pushed it open.

She found herself in Quite’s study. It was a mess, with chairs overturned, drawers pulled out of a dresser and lying on the floor. A vase of flowers lay on the ground, its water spilt on the carpet and the flowers already wilting.

“There was a fight in here,” Octavia muttered, looking around. She gave a heavy sigh as the pieces came together. Somehow the changelings had found their way inside, defeated the guards and trapped them in the cocoons, then came upstairs and removed a struggling Quite.

The agent starting cleaning up, hoping to find some clue among the mess, but her hopes were not high. She picked up the chairs and the vase and put the drawers back in the dresser, searching through the papers within to see if there was anything of interest. But nothing revealed itself.

She turned back towards the door, spotting a stray quill lying on the floor near the door beneath a small table. Octavia picked it up and placed it back on the table. She was about to leave when she noticed something else on the table. Sitting there was a small notepad lying open, with four words hastily scribbled on the top page: