"Good job, lance corporal." The gryphon stifled another yawn as he nodded at the mare. She stuffed the last body into a broom closet, then cocked her head to the side.

"You sound almost bored, sir."

He chuckled. "You don't want to see me excited." The gryphon yawned again, then shook his head to clear it. "Okay. Plan. Stick to the plan." Rollins rolled his neck. Stay focused. You've been through tougher stretches than this. "Turns out I was right. All the generators are on the eighth floor."

The mare leaned around a corner and checked a corridor. "You find a map or something, sir?"

"Better." He looked down the other end of the hall, finding it pleasantly free of deranged maniacs who wanted to overthrow Celestia. The gryphon yawned again. And here I was hoping they would at least have an interesting cause... "The Asset snagged one of 'em and leaned on him for information. Turns out he wasn't a true believer, so he spilled like a jar of jellybeans."

The mare glanced back at him. "Wait... how'd she know he wasn't as nutty as the rest?"

Rollins shrugged. "Luck, I guess. They all look the same until you talk to 'em."

She leaned against the wall, then looked back at the broom closet. "So... I... I might have just..." It was not the killing. She had pulled the trigger before. Her first time had been hard, it always was, because she was not a psychopath. Killing her own kind was not natural, but it was necessary. There were those who would not listen to logic, or who refused to be persuaded by kind words, and... and... she protected the innocent from ponies like that. The pegasus twittered her wings nervously. "I mean, they were-"

"Guilty," the gryphon said firmly. "You're doing your duty, lance corporal."

She nodded slowly, and followed when he waved her down an empty corridor. "B-but... that's what those ARGUS troopers were thinking when they stormed us. That was their duty."

"Yeah, but we hadn't done anything wrong," the vox op assured her with the calm tones of someone who was used to managing the fears of others. "These nutters are trying to summon a monster."

"Sir... you kept a vampire in a coffin and pointed her at the biggest threats on your list." She swallowed, and leaned against a wall behind him when he signaled a halt. The gryphon peeked around another corner, then reached into a pouch and pulled out a piece of paper. Wind-two cleared her throat. "H-how is that different? Just because she works for us, it's okay?"

He nodded. "Pretty much." Wait for it... waaait for it...

"Buh... wha?" The mare raised a hoof to her helmet as her mind fought to comprehend. He was her superior officer, that meant he had the training and experience to be right about these kinds of calls. However, she had also been trained to question authority and make sure that her orders were proper before carrying them out. These two mindsets battled within her brain, producing a rather nasty headache.

The gryphon turned back to her and put his paper away. Confusion opened the mind to understand strange things more quickly, it was a psychological trick he had picked up from the instructors at Pendulum. "They, and their monster, want to overthrow Celestia. We, and our monster, want to keep Harmony as the dominant force in the world. ARGUS... hades, I don't even know what they want." He shrugged. "Well, aside from power. They say they want harmony, but I kinda think they mean the other thing. We're different. Operatives of the Bon Hadescream Organization fight with honor, right?"

She nodded, taking some solace from his words. "Yessir... but there doesn't seem to be a lot of honor in gunning down ponies who might be on our side."

"They're traitors, lance corporal. All of them. Doesn't matter if they didn't know it when they joined up, they're still traitors because they've all done their bit for this crazy scheme." He reached out and set a claw on her shoulder. "Hey, you don't see any of 'em in the dungeon, right?"

Her eyes widened. "There's a dungeon here?"

"Metaphorical. If this brew up a dragon scheme of theirs pans out," he tried to ignore the sudden chill that ran down his spine. Octavia had reported the chef's claim that this little cult had somehow gotten their hooves on dragon bones. That was a very bad thing, because they could be used to reconstitute said dragon with far less effort than a full summoning. "Don't you think they'll all be lining up for a reward, regardless of a few misgivings?"

The mare swallowed hard. "Y-yes, sir."

"So, we moan a little about the grim necessity of it all, and then we go kick tail. If somepony gives up, hooray for them! They're still a traitor, but maybe we can work something out." The gryphon stepped back and checked the corridor again. "But we don't go in trying to save 'em. Because all it takes is one cultist who doesn't want to be saved, and you're dead."

The mare nodded slowly. "I... understand, sir. I'm sorry, I've just never been in an operation quite like this before."

"Don't apologize. Let's move out." He led the way. This floor had few guards, but that was no great surprise. It had been gutted for the most part, the furniture from its rooms and common areas drug to other parts of the hotel and its inner walls knocked open to make storage areas. This was a maintenance sector, just like the lowest level was a communal area and the highest was a pleasure dome. After a few more moments of dashing from cover to cover, the mare heard two guards roaming behind them.

The two operatives looked around for cover, jumped over the remains of a wall, and slid behind an old sofa that had not been considered worth moving. Rollins kept his lasgun close and peeped out at the corridor.

"Sir," began the mare, worried that he might think she was becoming unstable. She was, just a little, but the fear of appearing weak helped her overcome it. "if we need to take them, I can-"

"We don't," he replied softly over the voxlink. "They need to report back that nothing suspicious is going on."

She blushed, happy that the helmet hid her red cheeks. "Right, right, I just-"

"It's natural." He glanced over at her and nodded. "It's the right thing to worry about, helps keep you sane." The gryphon sighed. "It's part of what makes you a pony. Just stick with me, we'll get out of this alive, and we'll do it the right way. Okay?"

"Yes, sir." The pegasus nodded.

"Good troop. I wouldn't have brought you inside with me if I didn't think you were strong enough for this. We all have doubts, and you're picking the right time to ask." He glanced out at the two guards again. Their helmet voxsets meant he could talk all he wanted to and they would never hear. The gryphon just hoped there were no spiders lurking behind the sofa with them. "Which is when we are not neck deep in a firefight."

Wind-two took a deep breath and reminded herself that the gryphon knew what he was doing. She had seen him air-tackle that pegasus with a gun like it was nothing. "You had questions too, didn't you sir?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah... but not quite... not the way you're thinking." The guards decided to stop a few meters away and talk about a girl they both wanted, or some similarly idiotic topic. An awkward pause hung in the air between the two operatives. He could tell from the way she wiggled slightly away from him in the cramped space that images of a bloodthirsty gryphon ripping his foes apart before finally being tackled by black-armored squadmates were dancing through her mind. "No, they didn't have to teach me what a conscience was, lance corporal."

"Sorry," the mare said quietly over her commlink. "I... I can do my duty, I just... I don't know how I'd live with myself if I killed the wrong mare."

Rollins rubbed his forehead. "And you're worried that you might without even realizing it. I know." He sighed. "Look... have you ever heard of the Ash War?" The two guards were still chuckling about something. Rollins suppressed the desire to resolve the problem with a few lasbolts. They had killed too many already, these guards needed to report that there was nothing suspicious on this floor. Who trained these idiots, anyway? Oh. Right, cultists. Training to them means beating up each other to decide who gets first puff on the happy-root.

"No, sir, I can't say as I have." The mare pondered for a moment. "Was the Organization involved?"

"Heh, I don't think so. This happened a long, long time ago. Celestia was on the throne, Equestria was in a minor economic slump, but life was still pretty good in the world... except there was a tide of unrest among the gryphons. They wanted war. Oh, not all of them, but enough to rally the different broods and forge a unified government by brute force." He paused for a moment. Not too different from what Celestia did, if those old records about the Sisters Astral are accurate... but she stopped after reclamation. "War is in a gryphon's blood. We were supposed to be the ultimate warrior race, half-lion, half-eagle, all predator. I can survive on just about any kind of food, and shrug off hits that would put a pony into shock. Whoopee."

The mare looked around for another way out, in case the guards ambled this way. There was a hole in the ceiling above, but what they needed was on this floor. She made a mental note. It would be preferable to being discovered.

"So, they attacked. The usual plan, invade Equestria, dethrone Celestia, rule and snigger at all the ponies who are now your slaves." He yawned again. "Did fine on the first two parts. The gryphons bombed Canterlot, did a real number on it, and took the lead in the land war with a devastating push... that's where things soured. Ponies love peace."

"Not all ponies, obviously," the mare muttered with a wave toward the guards.

"Enough do. Gryphons have a lot of pride, it's how the agitators were able to hammer enough of a coalition together to stomp out the naysayers and build their war machine. A few little bands of heroes sprung up in the occupied territory. Began cutting supply lines, disrupting maneuvers, and eliminating officers." He sighed and shut his eyes. "Then the real Equestrian military might showed up and kicked the invading army in the beak. Celestia had known. She saw it all coming years before the first shots were fired, and so she had traded space for time. Made us overextend, played on the pride, and then rolled out her reserves. After all the smoke settled, she let the little heroes take the credit."

The mare scratched her head. "Wait, I remember what you're talking about... but... but that was never a big war, was it? I mean-"

"It was big enough to blow holes in Canterlot and a lot of other cities," he answered in a weary voice. "But it wouldn't do to have everypony remembering all that nastiness whenever they looked at a gryphon. As you can tell, Celestia didn't wipe us out. She didn't raze our towns, decimate our population, or tear down our monuments. Some ponies wanted to, there was a lot of hate back then. She did something worse." He took a breath as the two guards finally moved away. Rollins slinked out from behind the sofa and waved for the pegasus to follow.

The mare, her inner qualms mostly answered and largely forgotten due to his story, kept quiet until they neared a room that seemed to shudder with clanks and hisses. "Sir? What did Celestia do?"

He looked back at her, his helmet obscuring his eyes. "She took our pride. Instead of killing us or grinding us into the dirt, she offered aid. Food to get through the winter, for those willing to ask for it. Funding to rebuild, trade agreements, honest work that paid well." Rollins leaned against the wall. "You take a gryphon who's been told his whole life by the conglomerate in power that he's an unstoppable warrior, give him a crippling defeat, then force him to choose between his grumbling stomach and the lie in his head. That's why it's called the Ash War by gryphons. It's an old tradition to put the ashes from the firepit on your head when you're mourning... and we did a lot of mourning."

Wind-two checked behind them. "But... Oh. They mourned, but they were alive to mourn. That's the point, right? Her Majesty let the gryphons live. She didn't wipe them out, she just broke them to end the war."

"That's her way. And she did it with little heroes raised up from the darnedest of places." His voice dulled to a flat growl, "and we're no use to her dead."

The mare blushed. "I'm... sorry to bring it up, sir."

"Do you understand?"

She nodded slowly. "Yessir. Mercy is for after victory." The operative followed him to the doorway of the clanking room. "That's why you ordered the Asset to go after that mare in charge, isn't it?"

"Yeah. We stop her, maybe we can avoid some bloodshed." He shrugged. "Maybe we can exploit some of these cultists to help us achieve the next goal." Getting out of this town alive.

A smile crossed the mare's muzzle. "It worked well enough for Celestia."

"Uh-huh. But I don't raise the sun, so we stick with plan A." Rollins checked his paper again, wanting to make sure that the collection of noises on the other side of the wall was indeed the generator room. "You solid, lance corporal?"

"Yes, sir." She nodded, and checked her lasgun. Poor guy. That was how he learned life was precious, by hearing about his ancestors being spared. The mare took a deep breath and reminded herself that she needed to shoot to kill. A second's hesitation could be the end of her, and that would not save any lives at all. "And you, sir? You're still staring at that page."

Rollins was indeed, for his sleep-deprived mind was making it hard to read the scrawl. Instead, he kept seeing the photographs from the history book. An earth pony photographer had journeyed through the gryphon crags just after the Ash War, with a few native born assistants. She had a remarkable talent for photographing the true nature of anyone in front of her lens. Her camera had snapped the tears of widows whose nest-mates would never return, orphans that had ganged together for safety, and the ruins of cities. The photo that stuck in his mind like bubblegum was different, though.

It was of three young gryphons, wearing the ragged remains of their uniforms. They had been promised glory and power, but received only humiliation. In their eyes was confusion. They had fought hard and well, they had followed their orders, why had they lost? Why was this mare who could not even fly here? Of course she could take their picture, they did not fear her. Not in the least. They were noble warriors.

Noble warriors who bet against the wrong horse.

Many of the operatives who worked with Octavia thought she was a cold, heartless mare. They did not hold it against her, but they thought it was true. She knew this was because she could kill in cold blood as easily as one of them might pour chocolate into a mold. They were warriors, soldiers of an organization whispered to be older than even Celestia. In life they protected the weak and avenged the lost, in death they... well, she was not privy to many secrets, but she had picked up enough to know that duty did not end just because your body was broken. Operatives were taken from the greatest, the least, the mighty, the hungry, anypony whose eyes were open and whose will was strong enough to stand against the crawling horrors.

However, that perception of her was incorrect. She felt every kill more keenly than they ever could, for she sought to understand her targets. Anypony could defend themselves or others, but few could watch a target, find its weakness, and then act without hesitation.

So, as Octavia stuffed yet another guard's body into a laundry bag and rolled it behind a couch, she understood that a life was gone from this world, never again to return. She was responsible for that. His blood was on her hooves, and it had not been a fair fight. He had not seen her, and was given no chance to surrender. Perhaps he had heard her coming, but that had not been warning enough for him to turn his head.

Octavia did not think of herself as a hero, sneaking and fighting her way past legions of evil minions to confront the wicked Daughter Scoffing Song. Nor did she justify her actions as the unfortunate means to some greater good that was worth any price to achieve. She was an Asset, he was the enemy, and his blood was on her soul.

The grey mare had a unique perspective on the killing of the Organization's enemies. But for a train crash, she could have been that guard. She could have been just another nameless foe working against Harmony, or even worse, an archenemy of the Organization who targeted their officers. The more she learned about the Bon Hadescream Corporation's activities, the more she was certain that her father had been raising her for some nefarious purpose that The Lady would have frowned upon.

Would I, contemplated the mare as she shot three cultists dead, then dumped them into a bathroom stall and drug a stray tapestry over the bloodstain, have wanted somepony to kill me? Would I have understood that I was evil, and deserved death? She always found it troubling, for she had indeed done wretched things at her father's behest in her younger years. There was blood on her hooves she could never wash away. Perhaps that was another reason operatives were wary of her. The Lady understood, and so did her friend the harpist. But I am certain that the Lady Bon Hadescream would have killed me in an instant if we had met as enemies.

Such thoughts flowed through her consciousness, but they did not distract her. Her belly was filled with good food and her mind was filled with purpose. This was what she needed to do. These cultists wanted to kill innocents, usurp duly elected representatives, and if they really had their way they would try to throw Celestia out of Canterlot. That was nothing particularly special, Equestria always seemed to be under attack from some rival faction or another determined to rule the world, reduce them all to slaves, or just cause mayhem and carnage for amusement.

The tipping point was these cultists' employment of monsters to achieve those goals. That made them the Organization's problem. Rollins had told her to kill their leader, and she knew he would not have made that decision if he did not have the evidence to do so. She had helped provide that evidence, and was a witness to its validity. This was right, and she rejoiced in that assurance as she knocked a pair of cultists down an abandoned elevator shaft, then lept inside, grabbed the dangling cord, and shot the two other guards who had been chasing her with spears as they ran up to the elevator doors. Her preferred method was with a rifle from a good distance, but her father had trained her in smaller weapons as well. Further education had come from the Organization.

The Lady Bon Hadescream had taken to deploying her and her vampiric friend as a two-mare special operations unit, with a communications expert to keep an eye on them. Despite his fervent pleas for any other available posting, Rollins was more often than not that expert. As the Lady had elegantly put it, "you have no room in your heart for monsters, lieutenant. That is how I know you will not permit them to act as such."

Octavia opened a small door marked staff only, shot five cultists dead before they could stand, then reloaded as she stepped over their bodies. The grey mare made her way through the narrow passage, her mulberry eyes searching the gloom for threats. The gryphon had softened up after a few assignments, though he claimed his interest in their well being was strictly because he did not wish to disappoint the Lady Bon Hadescream. The sniper knew he would always be there when she needed him... unless he had been shot through the heart, like that time in Baltimare.

Enough. She had a mission. Octavia shot a guard who was reaching for some kind of alarm crystal, then turned about in time to drop the one who had crept up on her. She was not sniping influential leaders or rival businessponies. Mercy had been shown to her, and she had passed that gift on to another this day. That was enough for the grey mare. What many ponies did not understand was that she did not have a cold center, just a calm one. Vinyl envied that calm center so very much. The DJ had always looked to Octavia as her reliable friend, the one pony who could put up with her antics. That calm center had seen the grey mare through sin, sickness, poverty, and death. Now it was buoying her as she carried out her purpose in this wicked place.

Octavia slid through the shadows, the urban camouflage of her uniform blending with her black mane to make her almost a part of the darkness. Rollins' words lingered in her mind. "Bones... uh-oh. Yeah, they could pull off a summoning with those." He had been skeptical about the trustworthiness of the information, but conceded that cooking and cleaning staff were often the best spies. "Short of corrupting a comms officer, at least." The cook had no idea where the bones were stored now, so the best course of action was still to remove the head of the problem. Rollins had mentioned something about a backup plan, but quickly added that he had full confidence in her.

Moving quietly took precious time, but cleaning up when there was no other option took even more. At last, the mare had reached her primary objective. The Daughter's quarters were right where Hot Trot had said they would be. Two bored guards stood at the front, grumbling about something or other. Both had lanterns in their mouths, lighting themselves up and ruining their chances of spotting her in the shadows at the other end of the hall. Octavia smiled as she took aim. Ivory team was already up to the fourth floor, otherwise Rollins would have directed them to just drop a satchel charge in the middle of the ritual circle and forget about stealth.

He and a pegasus would cut the power to the entire building and show these cultists why the things beyond the firelight feared Operatives. The others were performing their parts well, now it was time to finish hers. The cellist would find the leader of these cultists, and eliminate her. She glanced over her shoulder, made certain that she knew the way to the large glass pane that looked down over the central area, and took a deep breath...

As Octavia took aim, she could have sworn that the little hammer and sickle etched into the autopistol was smiling at her. This was the work of a true revolutionary!

Author's Notes:

This chapter took a lot of revising and editing, but I'm really happy with the way it came out! I wanted to do a little worldbuilding in this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed the murky glimpse at some of the knowledge haunting a certain gryphon. That's why I felt Volière was the best song for this chapter, since it's French for "aviary".

Octavia also got a chance to shine here, working over some guards and making it look easy. Next chapter will have her invading The Daughter's quarters!