They were nearly to the top, if the blinking runes above the control panel were to be trusted. She had seen them glitch backward and flicker off several times already. Rollins would have some very choice words for whoever had disrespected the elevator's machine-spirits, but they were still attempting to honor their duty. Octavia pushed her inner qualms down, took a deep breath, and focused on her mission.

"Where," she looked up, careful not to make eye contact, "are you taking me?"

Her soft voice broke through the other earth pony's mutterings, and one of the guards finally decided that the best way to shut her up was to answer. "The Daughter must inspect the intruder," replied the unicorn, his face far more stern than Octavia expected of an Ecstasy cultist. "And the one who has defiled our Sanctuary by bringing her within its walls."

"I defiled nothing!" roared Grip Steel, "I only did-"

The other guard walloped him with the blunt end of his spear hard enough to knock the factory worker to the elevator floor. "Be silent. The Daughter will judge you." His eyes turned to the grey mare, and he glared at her as well. "Both of you."

The Daughter will not be the only one passing judgement, thought Octavia. She raised a hoof to her bow-tie and took comfort from the familiar token. And I have yet to see a cultist compound with guards that lacks something evil at its core. Now all she had to do was find that evil.

That was what separated the Bon Hadescream Organization from ARGUS. The Organization had a Charter, a thousand year old document that they honored. In that document was a requirement for evidence before action. Equestria was a land of courts and duly-elected mayors, not military governors and jackbooted thugs. This ruined hotel had probably hosted a conference or two in its prime, offering a venue to businessponies, political hopefuls, and perhaps even a convention or two of overzealous fans of some franchise or another. That was the way things were accomplished under Celestia's sun. Ponies worked together, played together, and made the world a little brighter. This civil society was protected by laws that sought to uphold the rights of the individual, and punish the wicked deeds of the criminal.

Such laws were vital to the survival of the society, and yet at the same time they were rather annoying for some who protected it. The Organization fought threats who survived by blending in with the population while making war against it. That was the key word, war. War was not crime, it was a beast of a different breed, one that had to be answered properly. Before an act of war could be answered, it had to be proven. This was not a secret law, enforced by shadowy conspirators who made up the rules as they played. The definition and punishment of treason was clearly defined in the Equestrian legal code, a copy of which could be found at any library. When that treason drifted into the realm of the paranormal, however, it fell within the Organization's purview.

The Charter was their authorization, but it was also their restraining order. It demanded proof that could be archived and produced later, even on days when your base camp was in ruin and your stomach was empty. It was what kept them from terrorizing innocents, or usurping the civilian government. That document kept the Organization holding the line rather than tying it into a noose. It was how they had endured for almost a thousand years. As the Lady Bon Hadescream put it: "The means make the ends, just like the way food is cooked defines how it tastes."

A single numeral X flickered above the control panel as the elevator halted at the top floor. Octavia glanced from side to side as the guards hustled them out. The walls were decorated with garish tapestries and paintings that were far more concerned with invoking carnal desires than demonstrating artistic skill. As they walked down the corridors of the former hotel, she felt a curious kinship with a worm wriggling through a rotting corpse. Her coat was certainly dirty enough, and her father had always spoken about the nobility of the worm. It fed on strong and weak, caring not what one had been in life, and served to feed the mighty bird who chanced upon it. For some reason, that brought to mind a memory of Rollins pecking gummy worms out of a paper cup. Octavia averted her eyes from the walls. While the cultists might have found the decor beautiful, she knew that an unguarded mind was like a fortress with its gates open.

They passed a still-intact pane of glass that looked down upon the vast central plaza of the hotel. Once it had been a flourishing botanical garden, and Octavia could still see many planters strung between floors of the hotel, along with the twisting tubes for the irrigation system that had fed the delicate plants. Pegasi must have zipped through the webs of planters, unicorns would have carefully maintained the solar reflectors on the roof above, and earth ponies certainly would have tended the trees planted at ground level.

None of those rare blooms remained. In their place hung platters of curious flora that were tended for reasons other than their beauty or taste. The old trees had been cut down and turned into planks, their soil given over to herbs and shrubberies. Wild vines ran up the walls of the garden, and had even curled into the structure of the hotel itself. They were covered in brightly colored buds that seeped some kind of narcotic. What had once been a place of beauty and elegance had been given over to hedonism and unchecked rot.

She noticed a curious construction at the center of the ground floor, but her escorts hustled them past the glass pane too quickly for her to get a proper look. There seemed to be only a few ponies on this floor who were not wearing leather armor. A few cast interested glances at the group, and one chuckled at her as she walked by. Victoria avoided eye contact and hid behind her long black mane. She noticed that many had odd metal studs driven through their flesh. Some had rings in their noses, a simple metal circle fashioned in the shape of a snake eating its own tail. Grip Steel glanced about nervously. One of the guards reached out to slap his flank with a wing as they passed. He yelped, then clamped his tail tight against his rump.

Undisciplined, unfocused. Confident in their superiority. Preference for close quarters combat, no visible ranged weapons. Octavia let her outer body radiate fear and timidity, while inside was a pool of calm. There was only the mission. Mostly unicorns, likely with strong magic. Several certainly will be able to manifest shields, unless they truly are without discipline. That was well enough. A shield was only useful if you saw your killer coming. All she needed now was that dollop of evidence. For the moment, they were mere criminals, guilty only of minor misdeeds such as the possession of narcotics and the usage of forbidden runes. Perhaps some of those plants were illegal to grow, but none seemed particularly malevolent. In theory they were not trespassing, but Rollins did not have notes on who exactly owned the dilapidated hotel. The Bon Hadescream Organization did not fight criminals, that was beyond the reach of their Charter. She had to find that core of evil, both for the Organization's sake and her own conscience.

After a few more moments of winding through corridors, they reached the end of the line. Her escorts threw open a pair of doors, then pushed them into a room filled with candles and reeking of incense. The factory worker coughed a few times, and the cellist mimicked the action. She knew those scents, recognized them as generic dopers that muddled the mind and made you vulnerable to suggestion. The grey mare shifted to shallow breaths, and kept her tongue under tight control. These were still criminals. She was not a mad gunmare in an ARGUS greatcoat.

"Approach," cooed a mare swaddled in silks. She perched atop a garish throne of fine oak and glittering gemstones. Octavia saw there were only two guards by the throne, both strapping young stallions with tight leather armor and golden piercings. One was a pegasus, the other an earth pony. Neither wore headgear that would discourage a lasbolt, but they did look very intimidating. Octavia felt she had a good grasp of how the cult was governed. They hold power by carrot and stick. Oppress and reward. Not so different from ARGUS, if one thought about it enough. For an instant, she thought something had clicked inside the case on her back, but knew it was her imagination.

The mare in silk sat upright, then looked down at them through a mask trimmed with glitter. Her horn protruded proudly above it, and was ornamented with a ring cut from emerald. Octavia could see though the silks that her hooves were neatly painted with red polish. She moved as one unaccustomed to doing much for herself, and held a long-stemmed pipe in one fetlock. Although the multicolored clothing covered up her body to the point that it was hard to discern the natural color of her fur or mane, she was obviously very well fed.

Octavia felt her stomach grumble. If this charade went on much longer, she would be hungry enough to eat a small horse. Wait, what? The thought had surprised her, but did not breach the mask of fear. Victoria whimpered softly as she was forced to her knees, and curled her legs against her body. The factory worker lay flat against the floor next to her, his eyes shut and his mouth moving slowly without producing a sound. Snuggling back into her silks, the mare on the throne raised that curious pipe to her mouth and inhaled deeply. Smoke floated up from her nostrils. Between the silks, gemstones, and smoke, she resembled nothing so much as one of those dragons on the tapestries hung throughout the Bon Hadescream Organization's central command castle.

In the time it took for her to continue, Octavia estimated that the Lady Bon Hadescream would have completed seven millimeters of paperwork, made two life-or-death decisions for her Company, and reluctantly let her maidservant feed her a few mouthfuls of soup. Finally, the unicorn spoke. With a pleasant but cold voice, she asked, "why have you interrupted my journey of joy?"

The guards spoke, but Octavia did not hear their words, just the way they spoke them. She is a revered leader, the guards are using humble tones. Supreme authority in the building, possibly of the entire cult- No, they were not a cult, not just yet, merely a band of criminals. Perhaps mere narcotic dealers. I was not properly brought into the fold. Common charity is not their way, after all they do have something to hide. All new applicants to the group would have to be properly indoctrinated, a mundane precaution. She had been invited in and fed. Well, almost fed. That was not their way. They offered inclusion and pleasure if you followed their rules, then wrapped it all in a thin veil of mysticism.

Knowledge. That is what they are selling, some hidden knowledge that makes you better than the rest of the world... but you can never hold it, it is yours only while you follow their little road of secrets. Victoria was still terrified, but Octavia had to fight back a smile. It was always the same, the cults claimed that you had to earn what the forces of Harmony offered freely. She had wanted something as simple as a meal, offered without question by many charities or bought for a small fee at a store. Even so, that alone would not make them enemies of the realm. They were within their rights to do such things on their own private property... even if Rollins had not been able to figure out who owned this old place. She would let the small matter of being detained against her will slide, for the moment.

"...we have brought them before you, oh Daughter most illuminated by the Great Glow, so that you might divine wisely what is to be done with the interloper and the idiot." The guard clicked his hind heels together when he finished, then raised one front leg in a salute.

The girl thinks she is Celestia. Octavia had to hold back a dignified smirk. But, the Charter does not condemn opulence. Her body tensed. There was a total of six guards in the room, and the incense was beginning to affect her reactions. The plush carpet under her hooves would be poor for maneuvering, and it would take her several seconds to unlock her cello case before she could draw out the weapon hidden inside. The sniper's mind began to tease at the problem, searching for a better way to cut short the lives of everypony else in the room if the need arose. A shame that they were all out of white-phosphorus. Rollins had been tinkering with something he called a Tesla grenade, based on some interesting archaeotech a contractor had recently recovered, but that was still a sketch in grease pencil on a slate.

What would Vinyl do? The ghoul wondered while The Daughter rubbed her chin. A horrible image sprang into her mind, and she quickly batted it away to maintain her composure. That could not stop a cheesy one-liner from echoing through her thoughts: hey, didja know gold's a conductive metal? Ride the Lightning boys, I like mine extra-crispy!

"I am disappointed with you, lay-brother Grip Steel," the mare in silk finally said. "You have let your enthusiasm overcome your common sense." She took another puff from her pipe. "For all you know, this mare you have invited in is the very harbinger of our destruction."

No, that would be Vinyl. Octavia thought. I am just the substitute cellist, since the harbinger is in torpor in a metal barrel right now. A touch of pettiness pushed another thought into her mind. Nopony wants to hear classical music anymore, just that whap-bang-boom "rock" or the thudding stuff Vinyl plays so much of. Can nopony appreciate a well-performed piece with a touch of subtlety?

"What have you to say for yourself?"

The factory worker swallowed hard. "She was hungry, Daughter Scoffing Song. I felt my inner spark guiding me to feed her, so she might be of use to the Fellowship."

"You did, did you." The unicorn leaned forward and squinted through the eyeholes of her mask. "Hrmm... and did your inner spark also tell you to desert your post, and endanger those who you are in Fellowship with?" She tapped her chin. "You know how perilous the moment is, you better than most, for was it not with your own hooves that you laid the foundations of the Circle?"

Victoria shivered, then made sure her bow-tie was fastened securely around her neck.

"Yes, oh Daughter."

"Hrmm... but, you seem to have brought a musician into our haven." Her voice turned from annoyed to entrancing. "Tell me, my little pony, what is your name, and what do you do?"

Octavia. I have come here to eat pasta and end lives, and I seem to be all out of pasta. Oh bother, now she was starting to think like Vinyl. This unicorn had some skill, the silver-tongued undertones of that question had almost forced an unguarded reply out of the grey mare. There was a hint of foul magic in her words too. Between that and the incense, most ponies would have found it too easy to spill their guts. "V-Victoria, miss. I play..." she swallowed, "I used to play my cello in the orchestra."

"Then They cast her out, oh Daughter, as They cast me out," the factory worker added. "I could hear the pain in her words, and my inner spark dimmed for her."

"Truly?" the unicorn pushed her mask down with a glow of her horn and looked at them over the top of it. "Hmm. What orchestra did you say you were part of?"

"The Third Avenue Philharmonic, I also performed in the Forty-Second Floor Symphony," Victoria replied humbly. A tear formed in one eye, but she blinked it away, as though repressing happy memories that would never be felt again.

A look of surprise crossed the unicorn's face. She had been expecting this "cellist" to sputter and stall, but she had rattled off two high-class local orchestras with barely a blink. The Daughter had recently attended a performance by the Third Avenue Philharmonic, and it had been most enjoyable. A shame she had to hide such dalliances from her followers, but she did hard things for the Great Glow, and so could afford to live like the "rich" once in a while. "And, ah, you said you were the first chair cellist in the Third Avenue Philharmonic?"

That seemed to strike a chord with the grey mare. She shut her eyes and slowly shook her head. "N-no, miss. I was first chair in the Forty-Second, not in the Third Avenue Philharmonic. I tried, I truly did, but I was not... what they wanted to show."

The Daughter raised an eyebrow, her thoughts drifting back to that performance she had attended. She had paid no mind to it at the time, but all of the leading parts were held by unicorns. "I... see." In her heart, she could hardly fault the Philharmonic. If you were trying to appeal to a high class cloud, why put an earth pony out in front? Still, she was the Daughter, and such discrimination was good for rabble-rousing. This girl was certainly no gang spy. Though she looked scruffy and hungry, she lacked that rabid gleam in her eyes. The Daughter twisted up her mouth, still trying to figure out why she had that odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was about to launch into a more thorough interrogation when she noticed a look of sympathy on the faces of a few of her guards.

Blast the girl, she was winning them over with a sob story! That was the downside of the mind-muddling incense, it was not keyed to her words alone. Anypony's attempts at persuasion were bolstered by its scent. Still... why would she be that familiar with these orchestras if she had not been a part of them? Perhaps all this really was an overreaction. She took a puff from her pipe, hoping that the smoke would clear her mind.

Octavia kept her breaths shallow and reviewed her facts. She had spoken with that street musician for a few moments after a bag of bits had mysteriously appeared inside the performer's case. At the time, she had no idea the things she had learned would be useful, it was merely a gift from one survivor to another. That little act of generosity had provided the cornerstone of her cover story. The rest came from her own heart.

"Well, Victoria, it seems..." the unicorn's voice trailed off. She had finally noticed what her subconscious had picked up on long ago. Her guards. They were paying more attention to this new girl than to her. The mare in silk settled back into her throne. Yes, this girl was very pretty. She had curves in just the right places, even though one could tell that she had been living rough for some time. It was easy enough to believe her story, she had heard far stranger ones from other members of her Fellowship... but Scoffing Song used more than blind faith to ensure her authority. Other pretty mares, especially those who did not understand their place, tended to upset the balance she maintained.

The unicorn humphed quietly, and took another puff from her pipe. Was she not the Daughter, the most enlightened of them all? Of course she was, and that meant she should be the most adored. Her inner spark guided her to a devilish plan, one that would ensure not only her continued worship, but also bring about her long awaited ascension ahead of schedule. "It seems you have certainly come to where you are most needed, and it was good of Grip Steel to see your potential."

Both earth ponies looked up in surprise, one with vindication, the other with confusion.

The Daughter held out her front legs and smiled down at them. "We have worked long and hard to raise up one of the fallen Great Powers, unfairly cast from his rightful place by those of our race who believe foolish things." She stood from her throne, and her silks rustled as she stretched. "Our Fellowship is made of the forgotten, the disenfranchised, the hungry and homeless. We are those who have no place in this world that Celestia claims to rule, but in truth she has only stolen it from its true owners. In exchange for our help, one of these exiled Great Powers has promised us," she took a breath for dramatic effect, then spread her forelegs wide, "pleasures that our feeble minds cannot even imagine!" That was mostly true, except for one small word. Us.

Victoria tucked a few stray strands of her mane back, and cast an uncertain look at the factory worker. He nodded. "It's true. We will rise up and overthrow all the oppressors, we'll fight anypony who stands in our way, and we'll take back what's ours!"

"Do you... does everypony here... believe that?" the cellist asked meekly.

"Every last one," replied the factory worker. His eyes shifted slightly as he remembered a few that were purposefully kept from some of the more demanding truths, lest their inner sparks not be fully unbound by the revelation. The Daughter obviously thought this one was ready, though, and he congratulated himself for finding her. "We all have stories just like yours, of the rich keeping us down. They're the evil ones, not us." He reached out to the other earth pony. "Will you join our cause?"

Victoria bit her lip. "I... I have come this far. I must do what has been set before me." She let him take her hoof with his, and smiled with just a hint of uncertainty.

"Oh, about that," said Daughter Scoffing Song. "Grip Steel, rise. Come to my side."

The factory worker looked up in confusion, glanced between the scruffy grey mare and the silk-clad unicorn for a moment, then let go of Victoria's hoof. He walked toward the throne and bowed his head. "Yes, oh Daughter most bright?"

"You've done so very well, my faithful follower," she kissed his cheek. "You have found the last piece for your masterwork."

He blinked, then slowly realized what she meant. The incense was thick in his nostrils, but somehow he found the strength to protest. "I... I was thinkin' she would be more like a new recruit. I mean, she hates the rich an' all that. She understands."

The cult leader made a show of appraising the grey mare, then shook her head. "No, she has the look of one with too many reservations... and she is pure in heart and body." Scoffing Song chuckled, she could tell such things. "We have enough of the faithful already, and I grow weary of waiting. You understand, don't you?" The unicorn touched his front with a painted hoof. "What does your inner spark say?"

For a moment, he looked as though he was about to throw up. Then she whispered something into his ear, and the sickly expression faded into one of glee. Grip Steel turned his head toward the grey mare, who had a puzzled expression on the half of her face not hidden behind her mane.

"What do you two mean? I... you do not want me?" Victoria asked, her voice trembling a little. "You... you do not want me either?" The cellist swallowed hard. "Just like Them?"

"Oh," cooed the unicorn, "we want you, my little pony. Go on, my faithful one. Tell her what we have in mind."

Grip Steel looked between the frightened earth pony and the fiendish unicorn again. It was time to choose, but the decision was easier than he might have expected. The Fellowship was where he belonged, that little buzz some called a conscience was just more poison They had put into him. "A sacrifice," the stallion said calmly. He had to follow his inner spark to be free. "For the greater good of all, of course. A sacrifice will allow us to complete the ritual today." That was what he had heard, at least. He had only made the physical structure of the Circle, the rest was up to the unicorns.

"Ritual?" Victoria gasped. "What ritual?"

"Weren't you listening, dearie?" the witch cackled. "We're calling up the soul of one of the Great Old Ones, a Carpathian Dragon... and we need a tasty morsel for him to gobble." She nodded with exaggerated gratitude toward the grey mare. "Thank you for offering yourself, it takes one of strong spirit indeed to serve as bait."

"Bait?" Victoria whispered, then covered her mouth.

"It's for the best," the factory worker assured her. It really was, the Daughter always knew what was best for everypony. "And you'll get your revenge just like the rest of us, I promise. Thank you, Miss Victoria."

"I... I was just hungry, you cannot-" she collapsed to the floor, legs weak from fear.

"Who's going to stop us, dearie?" the Daughter laughed, and ushered her follower toward the door. "Go ahead. Scream. Nopony will hear you." She took a breath, savoring the thrill of power. With a word, she could condemn one to die and push another to the heights of jubilation. This was the truest pleasure, to rule over life and death, to drink deep of her own strength and see the world shaped in ways that pleased her. This was what that tyrant of the sun had claimed for herself, but what one had stolen another could steal back. There was no pleasure greater than the seizing and exercise of power. "Your life was already poured out by the sun, squandered on her great lie of Harmony. We are giving what remains of you to a better purpose."

Grip Steel bobbed his head in agreement. "Besides, this is still better than getting preached at by those Educarchy nuts."

Victoria blinked back tears. "Please, I..." The mare begged, just as one might imagine she had begged to keep her place in the upper tiers of society. "I will do anything, hard labor or any small task. I will clean, I can mend clothes, or-or change candles, or wash dishes, or..." her voice trailed off as she saw no trace of remorse in the unicorn's eyes. The grey mare swallowed hard, then implored in her most polite tone that trembled only a very little, "I do not want to die."

"What we want, and what we are given, are often two different things. We have to seize life, take what we want from it, and pursue where our inner sparks lead." The Daughter stood at the door, then pointed at the guards who had brought the grey mare before her. "You two have done well, and deserve a reward. Prepare her for sacrifice." With a glow of her horn she pulled open the doors and stepped outside, along with her follower and the other guards. At the sound of soft sobs, the Daughter turned back to the grey mare. "Oh, buck up. You probably weren't that good of a musician anyway."

The doors slammed shut, leaving Victoria trapped in the incense-filled room with two snickering leather-bound stallions. Or, from another point of view, leaving two enemies of Equestria trapped with a hungry ghoul...

Author's Notes:

Oh dear. It seems Octavia is done for. She's been left at the mercy of two nameless minions after the evil mastermind has completed gloating and gone off to celebrate her imminent rise to near-absolute power. It seems that the stakes are considerably higher than anypony (or gryphon comms officer) thought!

This chapter gave us a glimpse into the Organization's standard operating procedure, and I hope it helps to explain why Octavia was having to hold back. The Bon Hadescream Organization exists to protect and sweeten, so they need a jolly good reason before they can kick your tail into next week! The next chapter will have a dash more action, this one was mainly used to set the stage.

Also, look up the english translation of this title, along with the music if you can find it! I thought that this piece fit the "hurrying" part of the chapter very well, and the little "dun-dun!" at the end of the movement is a perfect sound effect for the doors slamming shut.

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I hope everyone is enjoying this story. I blame myself for its lackluster initial response. It was my first published story and I of course botched a few very important things. For one, I had no cover art, and for another the only chapter was ten-thousand words long. Since that first release, I edited the first chapter so it is a good little taste of what is to come rather than an intimidating pile of words, and whipped up some half-decent art. Readership improved, which makes me happy inside!

With that said, I feel like I am not connecting with you readers very well. I write because I love writing, and because I want to tell these tales. Still, I would like to see this story get a tremendous amount of views and come to the attention of those who will most enjoy reading it! In regards to that, I've noticed that readership has dropped off of late. If you enjoy the story, please leave a comment and say why you do. Your comments show up on this story's front page, and many readers who are trying to decide if the story is worth their time will often check the comments to see what other readers think of the tale. That's not to mention the value I personally get from your comments! Feedback both positive and critical is of great use to me in planning out future chapters. If you have the time, I would truly appreciate even the humblest of responses.

Ah, but enough begging like a street musician. (Did you like that little callback? I did!) Next chapter will have a bit more action!