The grey mare heard the two stallions striding closer. Victoria forced herself to stop sniffling. She lay on the floor, her body trembling, still facing away from the approaching guards. One whispered something to the other, and both laughed. After a cough, she begged, "please. I do not wish to die."

"It's the Daughter's will," one replied, his voice considerably less stern now. "Her will be done."

"But..." chuckled the other leather-bound pony, "we might be open to persuasion..."

Victoria wiped her eyes and stood. She turned to them with a pleading smile. "I... I could play my cello for you."

The guard on her left shook his head. "Nah, I never much liked music. I was always one for something I could wrap my hooves around."

"Oooh, I'll play your cello till it snaps, though," his partner said, then leered at the defenseless earth pony. "You'll be all ready for sacrificin' when we're done with you."

"P-please, no," Victoria whimpered. "I would make a poor offering. I am malnourished," she stepped backward, "I-I was promised something to eat, am I to be denied even that final request?"

"I'll give ya a last meal," snickered one of the stallions. He flexed his hindlegs and flicked his tail to the side. "Good and filling."

A pink blush to match her bow-tie rushed across the grey mare's cheeks. She swallowed hard. "Please... you could say I took you by surprise and overpowered you, or that I... I was too quick and slipped away!" Her eyes darted between their faces, looking for some trace of sympathy. "Have you no tremble in your heart that says this is wrong?"

"Yeah. But my inner spark says it's right, and so far that spark's given me way more fun times than that other thing." The guard rolled his neck and pointed his spear at her. His partner duplicated the gesture.

The cellist waited until they were within two meters, then gently straightened her bow-tie. "I... I suppose... that is all, then." She took a shallow breath, mindful of the incense, and hung her head. Victoria shrugged off her black cello case, letting it hit the floor with a heavy thump, then brushed back her mane. "I am afraid I will make a poor sacrifice for your monster..." the grey mare lifted her head and looked them in the eyes. "But you will make an excellent one for mine."

Goodnight, Victoria.

Octavia lunged forward, grabbed the guard on her left's spear, and knocked him to the ground as she ripped it from his grasp. He gasped in surprise, but the runes on his armor glowed as they turned the blunt trauma to a delicious pain. The guard tried to grapple her, so the grey mare punched him in the side of his head. Before he could recover, she shoved the spear tip through his unarmored throat and threw him into his comrade. The two of them collapsed in a heap, one gushing blood and screaming in pleasure, the other shouting in confusion.

She drew a key from inside her bow-tie and unlocked her cello case, then rolled away to avoid an enraged charge from the second guard. The earth pony felt something tug at her tail, and glanced back before delivering a hard kick into the face of the stallion with the spear through his neck. A satisfying crack and his bite slipping off her tail was her reward. She shifted focus to the other target, but the fog in her mind from the incense slowed her reaction to the second guard's magically-propelled spear.

The grey mare dropped to the floor, but too slow. She felt the spear gouge a chunk of flesh from her back as it narrowly missed. Blood welled from the wound and began to ooze down her sides. Octavia bit back a grunt, for it would have been most unladylike, and sprung back onto her hooves. One guard was motionless on the floor, and the other's spear was curving back around for another try. She could taste that wretched incense in her nostrils, and glanced down to find a bowl full of it burning next to her.

With one smooth action, she scooped up the pottery and hurled it at the standing guard, who was too focused on his ensorcelling to dodge in time. Hot liquid splashed over him as the clay bowl broke. The thrill of pleasure as it scorched his flesh broke his concentration. His aura wavered, and the grey mare calmly snatched his spear out of the air. Her stomach gurgled and her wound throbbed as she leaped towards the guard, tackled him to the ground, and drove the speartip through the back of his skull with the strength her domitor had given her.

Octavia took a deep breath, then immediately regretted it as she broke into a fit of coughing. The stench of burned flesh and incense clogged her nose. An instant of vertigo washed over her as hunger and those scents assaulted her mind. She found herself staring at the guard she had just slain. Not guards, huntress, something from the depths of her psyche whispered again, prey.

How... would it... taste? As soon as the thought materialized, she felt ill. The grey mare staggered back to her cello case and pulled it onto her back. Air. I need air, and a touch of sunlight... She stopped next to the other guard and pressed a hoof to his neck, feeling for a pulse. There was none. Octavia had killed him. A curious sensation of strength seemed to drain into her body as she acknowledged that. It was a sensation she had experienced many times in the past two years, and she used it to force herself to the room's exit.

The grey mare gently pushed open one of the double doors. Fresh air, or as fresh as it got in this cultist-infested hovel, tickled her nose. She glanced from right to left in search of more guards, spotted a nearby service hallway, and quickly vanished down it. A thought struck her, and she checked the wound on her back. It was still oozing, but not enough to leave a trail that would give her away. Vinyl's strength was running through her veins, letting her heal far faster than any mortal should, but she could feel her stomach twisting even tighter as her body repaired itself. The thought of what fresh flesh might do to fill that ache inside her returned. It seemed ever so slightly less repulsive this time...

Vinyl. I have seen Vinyl eat... no. The Asset moved on silent hooves, carefully picking each step across the thin wood that patched holes in the service corridor's floor. Those long sessions of close-quarters-combat training at Central had just proven their worth again, but sneaking over rough ground was a skill she had learned long before joining the Organization. This passage had not been decorated like the main corridors, instead it was cluttered with forgotten junk. Octavia took a turn, then followed the hallway to its end and found a boarded-over window. The old planks were already rotting, prying them free was an easy enough job. For a reward she stuck her head outside and filled her lungs with truly fresh morning air. High above, Celestia's sun smiled down on her.

Your Majesty... thought Octavia, knowing that it was foolish but doing it all the same, I know I am just an earth pony. I know I cannot ever atone for the things I have done... but I am doing my part for Harmony, just like you are. It was her imagination, she was sure of it, but the sun seemed a little warmer on her face. She glanced over her shoulder, and saw that the wound on her back had completely healed. That was of course thanks to her friend's gift, not some mystical touch from the Princess of the Sun... and yet, ever since the day she had seen her parents die, Octavia had known there was a place for her in Harmony. Forgiveness had been hers for the asking, followed by go forth and sin no more. She had set her safety and walked away. The earth pony had gladly embraced poverty as a cellist, even though she could have lived very comfortably as a Jäger... until the Organization offered her a chance at more than just forgiveness. This was her duty. This was what she had been born for, and she was determined to be a profitable Asset. Reluctantly, she stepped away from the window and into a nearby storage closet.

The room was large enough to store several of the hotel's cleaning carts, but those had long ago been wheeled out and misused. Octavia took a deep breath. She had shut the doors to the throne room before sneaking away, and hoped for a short window of opportunity before anypony checked up on her attempted molesters. The mare was tired, hungry, and scatterbrained. With another deep breath, she slowly stretched her legs and neck, easing out the fear and reminding herself that she was in control of her body. The sniper tried to find a pleasant memory that would calm her mind.

This reminded her of waiting backstage at a concert. The venue was booked, and the audience confirmed. She had her instrument in the case on her back, and she was ready to perform. All she had to do was check with the stage manager. Octavia had never much cared for agents or managers, especially since most were more interested in her flank than her cello, but this one had never let her down. She opened her cello case, and reached into a hidden slip on its lining. Inside was a comm-bead, which she settled comfortably into her ear. "Wind, this is Strings. Do you copy, over?"

"Affirmative," crackled back. "That pretty transmitter around your neck got everything." Up on the roof, the gryphon tugged a crystal disk out of his voxpack and stuffed it into an armored pouch. "Out of the frying pan, into the dragon's mouth... literally this time." Rollins sighed. "Your little discovery has ratcheted things up."

"What is a Carpathian Dragon?" she asked. "The name seems familiar, but I cannot place it."

"Well, historical and archeological analysis tells us that at the end of the Age of the Imperium Dracon there were a number of transmortalist cabals dedicated to the..." Rollins began, then stopped himself. "They're dragons. Nasty dragons. The full story is long and complicated, like most things related to dragons. The good news is we are going to stop these nutty cultists before that story gets another chapter tacked on."

"I understand, sir. Time is of the essence." That was actually something of a blessing. If her subconscious kept searching for her memories about dragons, it would not be as eager to worry about other things.

"Okay, Strings. The overall plan hasn't changed. We need to clear out this building. But, mopping ten floors room-by-room isn't gonna be doable with the resources available."

Octavia nodded to herself as she pulled on the uniform stashed inside the cello case. "That was why we planned a decapitation strike." The cello case itself was of course custom-made, and able to store a plethora of useful items. It was bulletproof, blast-resistant, and capable of protecting her beloved instrument from nearly any horrid end imaginable so long as the lid was latched shut. "I know the target now. This is a pleasure-cult. Their leader is referred to as The Daughter. Executing her publicly should demoralize the rest of the cult."

A chill ran down the gryphon's spine as she spoke. With a swift kick, he stashed the body of the guard who had come to investigate his stunned comrade next to a few other corpses. The lance corporal lay behind cover a meter away, her lasrifle trained on the roof access door and her eyes searching for any airborne sentries they might have missed. Rollins had to admit, she was a good shot. They had taken these guards in less than thirty seconds. "What did you have in mind?"

The grey mare breathed in slowly. Even the cleaning supplies stored in this closet smelled better than that incense. She liked a candlelit dinner or an hour at the spa as much as the next girl, doubly so because they were such rare treats, but these cultists did not seem to know the word moderation. "Their leader is probably still on the tenth floor. There is a large central area that used to be a botanical garden." The sniper began loading equipment into her pockets, but had to stop and lean against the wall when the churning in her stomach became too much to ignore. I should not have thought about candlelit dinners. She fought down the nausea, locked it away in its own little cage, and forced herself upright again. Vinyl is counting on me. I cannot let her down. "I will eliminate her guards, and throw her through a window into the central area. If any pegasi attempt to intervene, I will eliminate them as well."

Rollins was quiet for a moment. It was a textbook strike. Cults operated on charisma and fear. Cut off the source of those, and they fell apart. That was the supreme art of war, to subdue the enemy without fighting. The lieutenant knew those things thanks to years of schooling at Pendulum, supplemented by a front row seat to the Lady Bon Hadescream's great brain. Still, he got a curious feeling in his heart whenever the grey mare talked about it, as though she had reached into his chest and given the blood-pump a cold squeeze. If he was completely honest, sometimes she terrified him. "Good plan." Rollins forced a smirk. "But all I heard was, I did nothing, the pavement was her enemy!" He stretched his wings and adjusted the straps on his voxpack. "What are you gonna do if she's not on the tenth floor?"

"I will find her." The grey mare tucked a magazine of bullets into a pocket. "Then I will improvise." In her heart, Octavia held no grudge against Miss Scoffing Song for condemning her to a horrible death and leaving her to be violated by a pair of oafish stallions. Vinyl had done almost the same thing on several occasions, but usually it was an accident. This was a tactical decision, one she had made with a calm mind. The death of one leader could break the back of a rebellion. Seeing one comrade die by the touch of an unseen sniper would instill fear in even the stoutest of hearts. Her father had argued that it was a kindness. By killing one upstart, many more could be reminded of their place in the world. Then they would scurry back to that place in the hope of living out the rest of their miserable lives. Octavia squeezed her eyes shut. Manipulation and Execution. These skills will be infinitely valuable to you. She gritted her teeth and forced the distraction away. This was different.

Unaware of the Asset's inner turmoil, the gryphon twiddled his talons. Here came the hard part. He glanced down at the crystal disk, containing all the evidence they needed, then over at the lance corporal. They trust you, Rollins. Don't screw this one up. He cleared his throat. "Strings... nice job on the recon infiltration. I know we knew they were cult-heads, but I... I didn't want to pull the trigger until we had hard intel." With a glance over his shoulder, he pulled out a slate and jotted down a checkmark next to part of his plan. "I know that must have taken a lot out of you. If you need to stand down, you may. We can handle this." Exactly how, he was not sure. Still, he knew the sniper well enough to be sure that the offer would only be accepted if she honestly could not go on. An Asset was just like a voxpack, you could only push it so far before it broke down. And when that happens, I gotta fix it.

Octavia swallowed hard. Her stomach rumbled, and she felt fear snapping at the base of her brain. She knew she was more than a weapon, more than just a tool that hammered down nails, but right now all the grey mare felt certain of was that she was hungry and alone. Vinyl was in a barrel, Rollins was on the roof, and this whole city seemed to want her dead. For the first time in a very long time, she felt like sitting down and having a good cry. Or, she could push down her emotions, pick up her gun, and be a good little weapon. Kill whoever she was told to kill, do whatever she was told to do, stare at the world with cold eyes because it hurt worse to think about her life. Just do whatever Rollins tells you. You were born to obey your betters.

For some reason she did not quite understand, she stepped out of the supply room. Sunlight fell down the corridor, ending right at her hooves. The grey mare took a deep breath, then walked into the sunbeam. I am my own mare. This is my choice, my part in Harmony. This is where I belong, fighting at the side of worthy comrades. That was how Equestria endured. Ponies were willing to fight for their freedom, their rights, their loved ones. She was not a tool, but a warrior. An assassin. All these things were so clear when she was strong and filled with good food, but temptation always came at one's weakest moment. Octavia stepped back into the supply room and pressed a hoof to her ear. This was her choice. "I am status green, sir."

A grin broke across the gryphon's beak. "Glad to hear it, Strings. Stand by for orders." He twisted a knob to include the ground-entry squad on the channel. "Ivory, come in, over."

"Ivory team copies. In position, over."

"As an officer of the Bon Hadescream Organization, I have evidence in my possession to prove that this group is conducting activities that are considered acts of war against Equestria. Therefore, on the authority granted me under the Charter, I find every willfully complicit member of this group to be in a state of war against Her Solar Majesty's subjects." He took a breath. Today there was nopony around he could pass this job to. "In response, I order that the threat this cult poses be removed any means necessary. All operatives are now weapons-free, and ordered to engage at discretion. Verify, over."

"Ivory team copies. Assault order confirmed." On the ground floor, the unicorn glanced at the rest of his team to confirm they had heard. "Proceeding with the plan, over."

"Strings copies. Weapons-free order confirmed, standing by." He had to authorize her part of the mission a little differently. She was not seeking targets of opportunity.

Rollins glanced down at the pegasus, who smiled up at him. "Wind-two copies, sir."

"Wind-one confirms. Good hunting, Ivory. Over and out." The gryphon rolled his shoulders. See, that was easy. Not as good as the Lady could have done, but acceptable. He toggled back to the Asset only. "Strings."

"Yes, sir?" the grey mare said as she drew an autopistol from inside the case. It was a beautiful weapon, an ancient relic restored by the Organization's armorers. She fed it a magazine, and felt the trigger rune warm against her hoof. Some said that the soul of Vladof himself had been split into a hundred thousand fragments and strewn throughout the world to seek homes in the weapons he had inspired. Others claimed that he had sewn a bit of his genius into their designs, but only certain ones that were assembled just so would truly manifest his brilliance. The old legends tickled her ears, but she knew that this firearm was far more than a mere mechanical wonder. It had a will all of its own. A shame that its will so rarely involved single shots.

"I am issuing a kill-order. Find the head of this cult. Eliminate her." He paused. "Do you find this to be a lawful order, over?"

"Yes, sir. Over."

"Then carry it out." And just like that, Rollins knew he had killed somepony. He had done it before. Hades, he had just finished doing it with his own claws, but ordering the Asset to do it always felt different. The gryphon shook his wings to rid himself of the feeling. "Engage any targets that get in your way. We need this building cleared of everything not bearing a Bon Hadescream logo." After that, I can start working on my next trick. Getting us out of the city alive. "And... Strings," he paused, searching for the right words. When the bucket scraped the bottom of his snark well, he reluctantly decided to speak plainly. "Please be careful. You don't have it backing you up this time."

Octavia smiled, and shut the lid on her cello case. "Affirmative, sir. Strings out."

He switched back to the command frequency and started mulling over the rest of the intel that the grey mare had gathered. A Carpathian Dragon? These clowns couldn't summon a sneeze with a snuffbox. Still... Frack, if they're serious about dragging up one of those things, it could level a kilometer or two. He drummed his talons on his voxpack thoughtfully. Then there was that big one we couldn't bring down, out in the swamps... Rollins chuckled quietly, which drew an odd look from the lance corporal. No way they could pull up something like that here, though.

"Sir?"

"Nothin', just a memory that's too classified for me to know about," he smiled. Her eyes widened, and he cut off the incoming question, "a paperwork-related memory, lance corporal." Yeah, the kind where all the paperwork gets burned, but all the shrinks in the world can't claw that silhouette of sky-fire back out of your retinas. The gryphon checked his lasgun's powerpack, made sure his neural stunner was snug in its holster, and nodded to the lance corporal. "C'mon. Let's boogie with extreme prejudice."

The pegasus groaned as she covered his advance toward the roof access door. "Sir, that was horrible."

Author's Notes:

Tortoises (or Tortues in French) is a very elegant and unassuming piece of The Carnival of the Animals. It's very pretty, and it makes a lovely background for Octavia fighting the two guards. I can also easily imagine her standing in the sunbeam and searching her soul to this music, which is why it is truly a good fit for this chapter. The whole of this "arc" has taken a tremendous amount of planning, and I do hope it shows!

This is the first chapter of Bon Hadescream published in 2014, and I hope this will be a grand year for both this story and my others. I hope you will continue to enjoy my work, and as always, thanks for reading!