The rays of the morning sun shone into the living room of Octavia and Vinyl’s apartment, once again finding Octavia sitting on the couch. On the coffee table in front of her was the note she had found in Quite’s house. It sat before her, a constant source of puzzlement for the agent.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. The cellist rose and walked across the room, opening the door to find Sharp Eye standing in the hallway.

“Morning, ma’am,” the Pinkieton greeted her, giving the agent a quick salute. “Just here for the check-in.” She paused, then added, “I suppose you should make sure I’m not a changeling.”

“Yes,” Octavia replied. “Hmmm, let’s see...” She considered a question for a moment before glancing in the direction of Vinyl’s bedroom. “What did Vinyl say when you and Watt Sun told us the Pinkieton Detective Agency was going to do regular checks on us?”

“I believe her words were ‘this is bucking ridiculous.’” Sharp Eye seemed to be suppressing a grin.

“Yes, that they were.” For her part, Octavia looked more annoyed than amused.

“Speaking of which, where is Agent Scratch?” the Pinkieton inquired, looking around the room.

Octavia frowned and glanced over at Vinyl’s bedroom door again. “She’s been spending nearly all of her free time locked up in her room.”

“Is that unusual for her?” Sharp Eye asked, looking concerned.

The cellist opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it when she couldn’t immediately think of something to say. “...I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. We’ve never lived together, you see. For all I know, she’s just working on her music.”

The Pinkieton nodded, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “I’m afraid I must be the bearer of some bad news, Agent Octavia. Last night, two more agents went missing, along with their Pinkieton guards.”

Octavia gave a weary sigh. “How do they keep finding us?” she wondered aloud.

“I wish I could say. Rest assured, we’re doing everything we can to figure out how this happened. If this keeps going on, we have contingency plans to move you out of the city, given that you two are Con Mane’s next logical target.”

Sharp Eye glanced around the room again. “Well, it looks like everything is in order, so I guess I’ll report back to Watt Sun now.”

Octavia nodded as the Pinkieton turned around to leave. But just before she made it back to the door, the cellist was struck by an idea. “Wait, Sharp Eye, could I ask for your assistance with something?”

“Of course,” Sharp Eye replied, looking eager. Octavia led her to the coffee table and sat back on the couch, while the Pinkieton sat down beside her.

“I found this in Quite’s house,” she said, handing the note to her. “I feel like he left it for somepony to find, but I can’t make sense of it. At first I thought it was referring to the changelings, since they ‘hide in plain sight.’ But that was already obvious, so it would make no sense for him to feel the need to explain that. Then I thought perhaps it was a command, telling us to hide in plain sight, but I don’t know what he would mean by that. I’ve thought it over and have come up short. Perhaps you’ll have better luck?”

Sharp Eye took the note in her hooves and gave it a scrutinizing look. “Hmmm... interesting...”

“What?”

“Would you say that Quite is very...oh, how should I put this?” The Pinkieton considered her words for a moment. “...Proper? Uses correct grammar and punctuation?”

“I’d say that’s a fair assessment,” Octavia confirmed. “Why do you ask?”

“Doesn’t it strike you as odd that he capitalized the first letter of each word?” Sharp Eye asked, showing the cellist the note. “Why would he do that?”

“It hadn’t crossed my mind,” the cellist admitted.

“Let’s see...” the Pinkieton murmured thoughtfully, picking up a quill off the table with her teeth and scribbling the words ‘Hide In Plain Sight’ on the blank edge of a newspaper lying nearby. “H...I...P...S.”

“HIPS?” Octavia asked, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean? Does it stand for anything?

“It’s no acronym I can think of.” The Pinkieton frowned down at the paper. “I don’t know about you, but that looks like an anagram to me.” She started rearranging the four letters, scribbling down every possible variation and crossing out the ones that weren’t real words. In the end, only one word remained.

“SHIP,” Octavia read off the paper. “Ship? As in an airship?”

“‘Hide In Plain Sight,’” Sharp Eye repeated. “Yeah! Maybe they’re hiding in an airship!” she exclaimed. “Airships are big and really obvious, so they’d be hiding ‘in plain sight!’”

“And Con Mane had access to airships in San Franciscolt!” Octavia said excitedly. “It would probably be quite easy for him to get his hooves on one!”

The two ponies sat there in breathless excitement for a moment, besides themselves that they now had something to work with, before the cellist’s face suddenly fell. “But, wait...how could Quite have possibly known they were taking him to an airship?”

Sharp Eye opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it and put a hoof on her chin. “Oh, yeah...I guess that doesn’t make much sense, does it?” she added sheepishly.

Their silence was interrupted by the sound of Vinyl’s bedroom door clicking open. The DJ strolled out into the living room, catching sight of the two mares sitting beside each other next to the table.

“Don’t let me spoil your fun,” Vinyl grumbled, walking across the room to the kitchen.

“For the love of Celestia, Vinyl. You could at least greet our guest!” Octavia replied angrily.

“Oh, right. ‘Sup,” she said, giving Sharp Eye an indifferent wave. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. You’re the pony who keeps staring at me through the window.”

The Pinkieton blushed slightly. “Eh heh. Well, as a celebrity, surely you are used to getting a lot of attention?”

“Hmm. No, I can’t recall ever having a stalker.”

“Vinyl!” Octavia exclaimed. “What in Equestria has gotten into you?”

“I’m sick of this!” the DJ shouted, banging a hoof on the counter. “It’s like living in a glass box! I can’t go outside, I can’t do anything and my room is the only place where I can get just a midicrum of privacy!”

“It’s ‘modicum,’ Vinyl,” Octavia corrected. “So is this why you spend all your free time in your room?”

“No, I spend all my free time in my room because I’m sick of hearing you going over that stupid note over and over again!” Vinyl replied hotly. “‘Hide in plain sight?’ What the hay does that mean? Even if he was trying to leave us a message, he was about to be kidnapped! Who’s to say he couldn’t think of something good to write before they broke in?”

“I have to admit, she’s got a point,” Sharp Eye remarked.

“Well, it’s all we have to go on,” Octavia said in a severe tone. “But if finding Con Mane isn’t that important to—”

“Oh, don’t you try to pull that guilt junk on me! Admit it, Octy. You have no idea what to do! We’re all just sitting pretty, waiting for Mane to finally show up and finish the job!”

Vinyl stomped over to the front door. “Buck this. I need some air.”

Octavia quickly stood up. “You’re going to risk us getting discovered!”

“I’ll put a disguise on,” the DJ grumbled, her horn glowing. Already, her mane and tail were changing to a fiery shade of orange and her hide tanned several shades in a matter of seconds. With a flash, her cutie mark was replaced by a depiction of a notebook and quill. She glanced back as she opened the door. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

Octavia glared back. “Well, you could have fooled me.” Vinyl slammed the door shut behind her.

Sharp Eye stood in the room, quieted by an awkward silence. “I, uh, should probably, um...go,” she said meekly, already making her way over to the door. “I’ll think over that note some more. Maybe there’s something we didn’t think of,” she added as she stepped out into the hallway.

“Yes, thank you,” Octavia replied. “You’ve given me a lot to consider. I’m very grateful for your help.”

The two of them heard the click of a doorknob down the hall and turned to see the door of the apartment next door swing open. A well-dressed elderly mare with an orange coat and a white mane stepped out. “Is everything alright, dearies?” she asked, looking at Octavia and Sharp Eye. “I thought I heard shouting.”

“Everything is fine, Ms. Amber,” Octavia answered. “But thank you for your concern. We just had a disagreement is all.”

“Oh, first row?” Amber said, giving the cellist a knowing look. “Well, don’t worry too much about it. Every relationship goes through them, you see. In the end, you’ll only come out stronger for it!”

Sharp Eye glanced sideways at Octavia, who was wearing an extremely forced grin on her face. “...Thank you,” she said through a painful smile. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

Vinyl silently crept up to a door on the exterior of an apartment building, pushing a key into the lock and turning it before quietly opening the door. The interior was dark and she stumbled as she tried to find the lamp. At last she found it and illuminated the room, looking around at her apartment — her apartment, not the place she had been forced to share with Octavia — for the first time in days.

She closed the door behind her and swayed slightly as she made her way across the room. After partaking in several drinks at a nearby bar, the idea of returning to her apartment and retrieving some of her records suddenly seemed quite appealing. It had been at least a couple of weeks since she heard the haunting sounds of DJ Shadowbolt or Deltrot 3030 and that was far too long to go without her inspiration.

She grabbed a saddlebag lying open on her couch before walking up to her record shelf. She scanned the stacks of records, pausing to snag her favorite albums off the shelf and slide them in the bag. Within a minute she had no less than a few dozen records in her bag and found it too heavy to pick up. She reluctantly narrowed her selection before finally strapping the bag over her back and getting up, turning off the light before stealthily leaving the apartment.

Vinyl glanced westward to see that the sun was already setting behind the mountains on the horizon. “Gotta get back before curfew starts,” she thought to herself. “I just hope Octy doesn’t ask too many ques-”

“VINYL!”

“GAH!” the DJ yelped, turning to see Octavia galloping towards her. “Octy? What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?!” the grey mare replied angrily. “You came back to your apartment? Did it never once cross your mind that the changelings might be monitoring it?”

“Uh...well, no, actually it didn’t,” Vinyl said sheepishly.

Octavia sighed and put a hoof to her forehead. “Let’s just return before we are discovered here.”

Vinyl gave her friend an awkward grin and started making her way back to the center of the city, with Octavia walking beside her. “What could possibly be so important that you had to come back here?” the grey mare asked.

“Just thought I’d grab some tunes,” the DJ replied, jerking her head back to indicate her saddlebag.

“Oh Vinyl, for the love of...” She trailed off when she caught a wiff of something in the air beside Vinyl. “Are you drunk?”

“No!” Vinyl swayed slightly, bumping lightly into her partner. “Just a little buzzed is all.”

“Clearly,” Octavia remarked darkly. “Let’s get back before you do any more damage.”

“Hey, there was no harm done! I made sure nopony was following me. And I’m already disguised,” Vinyl pointed out. That was when a thought crossed her mind, one that had taken a while to come to her in her drunken state. “Hang on, why aren’t you wearing a disguise?”

Octavia hesitated. “There wasn’t any time. With curfew coming, I was starting to get worried.”

Then Vinyl noticed something else she had missed. Octavia had been following her, which was a reversal of the norm. “Octy, which way is the apartment?” she asked.

The gray mare gave her a puzzled look. “Why? Are you too drunk to remember your way back?”

“If I was, I’d be in real trouble,” Vinyl replied, frowning at Octavia and backing away slightly. “Because I don’t think you know where it is.”

Octavia gave the DJ a blank stare in return. “I don’t know what you are implying.”

“Oh, I think you do, changeling.” Vinyl gritted her teeth and braced herself, crouching low to the ground and charging a spell in her horn.

Octavia stared back calmly before closing her eyes and sighing. “Damn,” she muttered in a very uncharacteristic tone for her. “And here I thought I was doing so well.” With a flash of green light, ‘Octavia’ was suddenly replaced by a perfect double of Vinyl Scratch, albeit undisguised.

The true Vinyl glanced around only to see that the streets were mostly empty and even many of the windows had their shutters closed. There were few ponies nearby, and none who could be counted on to help. “Damn it, where’s a cop when you need one?” she grumbled.

The changeling chuckled. “Yeah, your guard doesn’t seem to have their act together, do they?” She paused and took a step towards Vinyl. “But no matter. Let’s talk about your partner.”

“If you think I’m going to tell you where Octy is, you’ve got another thing coming,” Vinyl growled, her horn glowing brightly now.

“Nah,” the changeling said in Vinyl’s voice. “I just want to talk. You know, get to know you a little better.”

“Uh huh,” the agent muttered skeptically. “Well, I’ve done plenty of interviews, if you just want to read one of those.”

“But I bet none of those interviews mention Octy, do they?” Vinyl’s double smirked. “So why do you hang out with her anyway?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, you two are just so different,” the changeling went on in a casual tone. “She’s serious, you’re laid back. She’s quiet and reserved, you’re loud and outgoing. She’s the fighter and you are...uh, what is it you do again?” she asked, giving Vinyl an inquisitive look.

“Why do you care?” Vinyl shot back.

“It’s quite simple, really.” With another flash of green light, the changeling took on the form of Octavia and began speaking in her refined tone. “I consider myself a master of espionage, even amongst changelings. But to truly be the best, you must enter the minds of the ponies you impersonate. You must understand them. Only then can you truly be a spy.” She took another step towards Vinyl. “And I’ve been absolutely fascinated with your friend, even since before I spoke with her.”

“Spoke with her?” The gears in Vinyl’s brain finally clicked in place. “Wait, you’re the changeling who talked to Octy? The one who impersonated me?”

The changeling flashed back into the form of Vinyl and gave her a cocky grin. “Guilty as charged,” she said proudly before flashing back into Octavia. “And I can’t tell you how fortunate I am to have been the one alerted to your return to your apartment.”

Vinyl glanced around, but it was still quiet and nopony was paying the two of them any mind. The last rays of the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. “What the hay do you want?”

“I want to know what Octavia sees in you,” the changeling replied calmly. “A rambunctious, ill-trained mare who can barely fight and is more interested in making music than saving her fellow ponies. Your very presence here is a testament to your disloyalty.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Vinyl growled.

The changeling chuckled. “Poor Vinyl Scratch. Always the sidekick, always the one who needs rescuing, not cut out to be a spy...it’s no wonder Octavia doesn’t respect you the way you respect her.”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow. “What is this? Are you seriously trying to get me to betray Octy?”

“Think of it more as...relationship counseling.”

Vinyl was silent for a moment. “...For crying out loud, we’re not a couple!” she exclaimed.

“Yes you are,” the changeling said shortly, smirking at Vinyl’s indignant expression. “Oh, you might not have romantic feelings for each other, but your dedication to each other is strong nevertheless. Why, I’d say it’s positively heartwarming.”

“Frankly, I’m amazed you even have a heart,” Vinyl retorted.

“I feed on love, Agent Scratch. I know hearts.” Another flash of green light and Vinyl was now staring at a perfect likeness of Melody Maker, which took a step closer to her. “And I see it in your eyes. You know there’s no escape from us. Everypony you’ve counted on to keep you safe, from the agency to the guard, has failed. And the rest don’t want anything to do with you agents. You’re alone, with nopony to trust.”

Vinyl backed away, giving the changeling a wary look. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Why?” The changeling laughed heartily. “You poor idiot. Because I’m trying to delay you.”

“There she is!” somepony shouted from behind Vinyl. She turned around only to feel her heart stop when she saw a contingent of royal pegasus guards flying straight for her. Their expressions were as dead serious as ever, but Vinyl realized their appearance now could not be a coincidence. The agent whipped her head around, recharging her magical energy and unleashing a blast of sonic energy at the changeling in front of her, who was still in the form of Melody. She was blown backward off her hooves as Vinyl made a run for it.

“Trust no one, Vinyl Scratch!” the changeling yelled after the agent, who didn’t dare look back. The beats of the wings of the ‘royal guards’ grew louder in her ears. She could just make out the outstretched hooves of one of the guards almost upon her. Thinking quickly, she called upon her magic and her saddlebag suddenly came undone, flying up into the air and smacking the disguised guard square in the face. She darted down a side alley just as he hit the ground behind her, barely missing her.

The agent galloped frantically down the alleyway, hearing the disguised changelings hurriedly shouting orders to follow overhead, given that the alley was too narrow to fly through. She emerged out of the other side of the alley onto a bustling street lined with shops and filled with ponies strolling down the avenue, making their last-minute purchases before curfew went into effect. Vinyl darted into the nearest shop just before the changelings could spot her.

The disguised guards calmly landed in the middle of the street, frowning as they looked around at the crowd of ponies, which made sure to give the guards a wide berth as they walked past. Vinyl stared out the window of the clothing store she had taken refuge in, peering out from the safety of a round clothing rack stocked with dresses. She was crouched low to the ground and hiding within the depths of fabric as she watched the guards disperse and began interrogating anypony on the street they deemed suspicious. Knowing she was in the clear now, Vinyl heaved a sigh of relief before hearing a small cough coming from above her.

A well-dressed mare who was apparently the shopkeeper pulled back a couple of dresses on the rack and peered down at Vinyl over the rim of her glasses. She gave the agent a severe look. “Err...can I help you?”

“Eh heh heh,” Vinyl replied, looking around to see a pair of customers, a mother and her young filly, staring awkwardly at the DJ. “Yes, can I take this one?” Vinyl asked quickly, tugging at the nearest dress. “Also, one of those big floppy hats on the wall.”

Vinyl walked down the hallway outside the apartment she and Octavia were presently occupying, removing her floppy hat and shedding her disguise before putting her goggles back on. She had just barely missed making it back before the start of curfew and had been the target of several grouchy royal guards who were trying to clear the streets and get everypony inside. The effects of the alcohol had worn off by this point, which was fortunate as Vinyl may have snapped at the guards otherwise. She turned the corner to see Amber outside her open door, receiving a package from a delivery pony.

“Oh, Ms. Vinyl! Yoo-hoo!” Amber called out. Vinyl groaned inwardly as she put on a plastic smile. “I hope everything is alright between you and Octavia?”

“Uh, yeah, just fine,” the agent quickly replied. “Just had to leave her alone, let out some steam, you know?”

“Sign here please, ma’am,” the delivery pony requested, holding out a clipboard with a quill attached. Amber signed before continuing her conversation with Vinyl.

“Well, that sounds like it’s for the best. Some time away can be the best remedy,” she said as the delivery pony tipped his hat towards Amber and walked past Vinyl down the hall. “Well, if you ever feel like talking about it, you know where to find me!” Amber added cheerfully.

“Right,” Vinyl muttered, opening her door. As much as she didn’t want to talk to Octavia after this morning, anything had to be better than the torture of speaking with Amber. “Well, g'night Ms. Amber.” She quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

Vinyl slumped against the door, closing her eyes and groaning as she tossed the floppy hat and dress to the side. “What a disaster,” she mumbled.

“Had fun, did we?” Vinyl opened her eyes to see Octavia sitting on the armchair in the living room, facing the front door. Something seemed off to Vinyl. The curtains behind her were closed. The cellist’s expression was unreadable and her tone was eerily calm. But what truly alarmed the DJ was the sword that was lying in Octavia’s lap, unsheathed and plain for her to see. “And where did you go?”

Vinyl hesitated. “Uh, you know, just...around,” she replied with a shrug.

“And the hat and dress?” Octavia asked, cocking an eyebrow at Vinyl’s outfit.

“New disguise,” the DJ answered. She was now sweating slightly, trying to assess the situation. Octavia was acting strange and there was nopony else around. Vinyl could quiz the grey mare to see if she had been replaced by a changeling, but that didn’t seem like a good idea when said mare was cradling a sword in her lap.

“Well, uh, I’m just going to head to my room now,” Vinyl said, getting up on her hooves. But she didn’t get more than two steps before Octavia spoke.

“Not so fast,” she demanded. The DJ froze in place. “Come over here and sit on the couch.”

“Why?” Vinyl asked, trying to keep her tone even.

“I just want to have a conversation with you is all.”

‘I just want to talk.’ The words of the changeling rang in the DJ’s ears as she considered her options. She could walk over to the couch, where this creature in the guise of Octavia could leap across the table and slice her into bits before Vinyl would be able to do so much as raise a hoof. Or she could make a dash for her room, grab her bass cannon from under the bed and at least have a fighting chance.

In the end, the second option sounded far more appealing.

Vinyl casually trotted towards the couch for a couple of steps before suddenly darting to the side, racing for the door to her room. Octavia was after her in an instant, leaping off her chair and raising her sword, trying to beat Vinyl to her room. Panicking, Vinyl levitated a nearby vase of flowers into the air and flung it at the grey mare. She easily sliced through it with her sword, splashing water on the rug and littering the floor with ceramic shards and chopped flower stems, but the distraction gave Vinyl the time she needed to dive into the hall and into her room.

The DJ slammed the door shut behind her and locked it before bolting for her bed, reaching under to pull out her bass cannon. But her hooves found only empty air. Her heart leapt into her throat as fear began to take hold. She ripped the covers off her bed, looking around frantically for her weapon before there was a huge crash from behind her. Vinyl spun around to see that Octavia had kicked the door down and was now brandishing her sword in the DJ’s direction. With a growl of fury, the cellist charged at her.

Without really thinking about it, Vinyl began charging her magical energy. Just before Octavia could leap upon her, the DJ unleashed a sonic wave from her horn, causing the cellist to drop her sword and throw her hooves over her ears, cringing in pain from the onslaught of sound filling her eardrums. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Vinyl yanked a lamp off her bedside table and smashed it over Octavia’s head. She collapsed to the ground, injured but still conscious. Without thinking twice, Vinyl raced out of the room.

“Where is it, where is it, where is it?!” she muttered furiously, looking around the living room for her bass cannon. This imposter must have found it and hidden it away somewhere in the apartment. If she could get her hooves on it, she could turn this fight to her favor. She threw open the cabinets and pulled away the curtains, but it was nowhere in sight.

The stomping of hooves in Vinyl’s room told her that ‘Octavia’ was after her again. Desperate, the DJ ran for the door to Octavia’s room and flung it open.

There, sitting on the bed and in plain sight, was the bass cannon.

Vinyl leapt for it just as Octavia spotted her. With an alarmed cry, the grey mare raised her sword and ran at the DJ just as she grabbed her cannon and began channeling her magic into it, powering it up. Octavia ran into her room and was almost upon Vinyl just as the DJ spun around and fired the cannon.

The blast of energy blew Octavia backwards, smashing her through the wall and back into the living room. Dust filled the room as drywall and brick fell to the floor, leaving a gaping hole in the wall separating the two rooms. Vinyl sat perfectly still on the bed, her chest heaving as she clutched the cannon. She couldn’t hear anything but the sound of feedback from the weapon and she strained her ears to make out any other noise.

Vinyl rose to her hooves, standing on her hind legs as she maintained her grip on the bass cannon, charging it for a second blast. She carefully stepped out through the hole in the wall, looking around as the dust settled. But there was no sign of Octavia.

Suddenly there was a scream of fury and Vinyl turned just in time to see the grey mare leaping down from atop a bookshelf, swinging her sword at the DJ’s head. She barely ducked the sword in time as Octavia collided into her, pinning her to the ground and pointing the sword at Vinyl’s throat just as the DJ aimed her cannon no less than two inches away from Octavia’s face.

“PUT DOWN THE CANNON!” the cellist bellowed.

“PUT DOWN THE SWORD!” the DJ screamed back.

“WHAT?!” Octavia yelled, wincing.

“I SAID PUT DOWN THE SWORD!” Vinyl repeated.

“WHAT???” the grey mare shouted, straining to hear over the lingering effects of the bass cannon.

“I SAID PUT! DOWN! THE! SWORD!”

“I ASKED FIRST!”

“I DON’T CARE!”

The two of them didn’t dare move, breathing heavily and not taking their eyes off the other before the front door suddenly smashed open. Both mares turned to see the two Pinkietons gallop inside, only to come to a dead halt at what they saw. The four of them remained frozen in place, staring at each other in an awkward silence.

“What’s going on here?” Watt Sun demanded.

“SHE’S A CHANGELING!” both Octavia and Vinyl yelled simultaneously. They quickly looked back at each other. “WHAT? NO, YOU ARE!” they both shouted at each other.

“Wait, which one of you is the real pony?” Sharp Eye asked, clearly confused.

“I AM!” the two agents bellowed at the same time. Both of them thrust their weapons an inch closer to their opponents, gritting their teeth and trying to stare the other down.

“Okay, hold on a moment,” Watt Sun said hurriedly, looking scared at the prospect of a fight breaking out again. He heard the sound of doors in the hallway outside opening as Vinyl and Octavia’s neighbors came out to investigate. Thinking quickly, Sharp Eye ran out into the hallway and shut the door behind her before Watt Sun turned back to the two agents. “What makes you think the other is a changeling?”

“BECAUSE SHE’S TRYING TO CUT ME IN TWO, YOU IDIOT!” Vinyl screamed.

“BECAUSE SHE’S BEEN HIDING WEAPONS IN HER ROOM!” Octavia yelled back, although her loud voice didn’t care the frantic tone of Vinyl’s. Rather, she just seemed to be trying to make herself heard over the feedback in her ears. “I KNEW YOU WOULD TRY TO GRAB YOUR CANNON WHEN YOU GOT BACK, SO I TOOK IT!”

“Why’d you go into my room?!” Vinyl exclaimed.

“BECAUSE YOU WERE SPENDING ALL YOUR TIME IN THERE!” the cellist replied. “I HAD TO KNOW WHAT YOU WERE DOING!”

“But it’s my room!” Vinyl said indignantly.

“Err, I think that may be a little beside the point, Ms. Scratch,” Watt Sun remarked in a nervous tone.

“Then how did you get your hooves on the bass cannon?!” Octavia demanded. “We left it at headquarters! The only way you could have gotten it is if you were a changeling who grabbed it when you attacked the building!”

“I took it before they attacked!” Vinyl exclaimed. “After you talked to that changeling, when you and Melody were trying to figure out where Princess Celestia was, I went down to the lab and grabbed the cannon before we left for the racetrack! I thought maybe I could get a chance to use it!”

“Then why did you hide it?” Octavia said forcefully.

“I...well...” Vinyl looked sheepish. “After HQ was attacked and Melody was put in the hospital, you got so serious. So it didn’t seem like a good time to bring up the bass cannon and all...”

The cellist was silent for a moment, giving Vinyl a stunned look. “Are you serious?!” she exclaimed, standing up and pulling her sword away from Vinyl. “You didn’t think mentioning the fact that you have a high-powered weapon was worth mentioning at any point?”

“Uh...no?” Vinyl said, giving Octavia an awkward grin.

Octavia smacked her forehead with one of her hooves. “You... I can’t believe... the sheer stupidity...” she stammered before sighing deeply. “Never mind. You can’t be a changeling. No changeling would ever be that stupid.”

“What, that’s it?” Vinyl exclaimed. “I’m just supposed to ignore the fact that you almost severed my head from my body?!”

“I thought you were a changeling, Vinyl!”

“Well gosh Octy, so did I! If you wanted to know how I got Wubsy, you could have just asked!”

“Would you stop calling it ‘Wubsy!’” Octavia yelled. “For the love of Celestia, Vinyl! It’s a weapon, not a child!”

“Don’t you talk about Wubsy that way!”

“OKAY, ENOUGH!” Watt Sun bellowed, cutting the two off. “Now clearly, there’s been a terrible misunderstanding here. But it seems like you’re both really who you say you are. Now, can I leave knowing you two won’t kill each other once I exit through that door?”

The two mares glared at each other for a long, intense moment before reluctantly giving Watt Sun a silent nod. The Pinkieton let out a heavy sigh and trotted to the door, leaving silently. Vinyl and Octavia could hear him reassuring the few remaining ponies out in the hallway. “Nothing to see here, folks,” they heard him say. “Just a domestic disturbance, everything’s fine now. Nothing to get worried about.”

The agents continued to glare at each other in silence. At last, Vinyl stood up. “Tomorrow morning, once curfew ends, I am leaving,” she declared.

“That is fine with me,” Octavia huffed. Vinyl marched into her room and tried to slam her broken door shut, only to find it wouldn’t close. The cellist sat down upon the couch, laying her sword beside her and crossing her forehooves across her chest.

There they remained, Vinyl in her bed and Octavia on the couch, fuming over what had taken place. Several hours later, neither had moved. But neither had fallen asleep, either.