The World At Large

by ToixStory

First published 22nd of January, 2013

The continuing adventures of Minty Flower and friends in Fillydelphia.

When Minty Flower first came to Fillydelphia to become a reporter, she had no idea what she was in for. Now that she's achieved that goal, however, she'll learn that even more challenges face her and her friends as they try to get by in a city fighting to recover from its shady past.

(Cancelled!)

Episode 1: Swing Vote - Part 1

Grapevine laid a newspaper on the table in front of me. I peered at it over the top of my cup of coffee. We were sitting in Joya’s kitchen—Sterling Bristle, Joya, and I—and having breakfast the morning after getting back from Las Pegasus. Sterling and I had arrived in town late last night, and had fallen into bed.

The little breakfast nook shone from the early morning light that streamed through the windows behind us. It was a cute little area that those of us who lived in the house had grown fond of using for all sorts of meetings. And breakfast. Always breakfast.

Now, my quiet morning was being interrupted by a certain purple pony. Grapevine’s amber eyes glared at me. Her mussy mane several shades violet-er than the rest of her was pushed back today and held in place with a bright red hair band. “Well?” she asked.

I blew some of my own orange bangs out of my face. “Well what?”

“Have you seen today’s paper?”

To tell the truth, I hadn’t. I had found myself more concerned with what meal Joya, our donkey landlord, had come up with. As it had turned out, it was mostly grits. All grits, if you didn’t count a few thawed out bagels. I pushed one around on my plate.

“Well, no, not exactly,” I admitted.

Grapevine picked up the newspaper and whacked me over the head with it. “You’re not just the average reporter anymore. You’re Minty Flower, reporter,” she said. “You’re supposed to keep up on these things.”

“I was gonna eventually,” I said.

“Right.” Grapevine threw it back to me. “Might as well read it yourself, then.”

I took a sip of coffee and looked at the paper—a copy of the Manehattan Times—over. The headline was the first thing that screamed at me, of course. “MAYORAL CANDIDATE SHOT!” it announced. I kept reading. According to the story, one of our own Fillydelphian mayoral candidates had been killed just outside his campaign office out in the rich part of town, the Burb. Rich Text, 38, was found this morning by his campaign manager who had arrived at the building and smelled something coming from the alley. Ol’ Rich, as he was known to friends and family, was recovered with multiple bullet wounds in his head and stomach. Other candidates Party Line and Marshmallow Bauble have yet to be reached for comment.

I put the paper down. “Does Marshmallow know?”

Grapevine shrugged. “Probably. Seeing as she’s only one of the two candidates left, I imagine she’s probably getting a knock on her door from the police right now.”

“What’s going on?” Sterling asked. My brown-coated coltfriend looked worried from behind his mop of green-yellow hair. “I’m out of the loop too, you know.”

I passed him the Times. “One of Marshmallow’s competitors got shot. Pretty bad, apparently, and they don’t know who it is.” I turned to Grapevine. “I’m going to assume that’s why Ornate sent you over here?”

Ornate Vision, the sour Editor in Chief—and my and Grapevine’s boss—for the Fillydelphia Chronicler had been hounding me ever since Sterling and I had started the drive back from Las Pegasus. Seeing as the story I had been sent there to cover had dissolved into some sort of book, he wasn’t the happiest to hear that I didn’t actually have anything to print.

Figures he would send Grapevine all the way out here to West Fillydelphia.

Grapevine nodded. “Ornate’s beside himself with this new story. He’s saying it’s the biggest thing to hit this city since, well, the last mayor offed herself.”

I flinched at the mention of Ms. Pullmare, a.k.a. Golden Remedy, the city’s previous mayor who had died with her brother in a fire that consumed the city hall. Even as Sterling and I drove back into Fillydelphia, it was easy to see the charred remains of the once-great building.

“So who’s he putting on the story?” I asked. “Me or you? I mean, we’re both reporters now, right?”

“About that . . .” She rubbed the back of her head. “We’re kind of going on this one together. As partners. Again.”

I could feel my jaw start to hang open, so I snapped it shut. “Am I back to being your photographer?” I asked with deliberate slowness.

“He didn’t say that,” she said. “But he didn’t say much, really. We’re on the case, and we’re together.” She glanced over at Sterling. “And no more coltfriends on the case with you, either. I think he’s still bitter at you turning that last story into a book instead of something he could print.”

I sighed. “So what now?”

Grapevine reached over and grabbed a bagel for herself. She took her time to smatter it with grape jelly before answering, “Get ready, I’d suspect. We’ll be leaving for the crime scene as quickly as we can. I was told that a certain Officer Rover would be waiting for you.”

I perked up a little bit. Red Rover had been a gang leader I had worked with on a case and who had decided to go straight afterward. In all the chaos of this new story, he would be a welcome sight. I stood up from the table. “I’ll be down in a minute,” I told her.

“Yeah, yeah, take your time.” She waved me away and turned to move into conversation with Joya.

Sterling followed me out of the kitchen and into the front room of the store-combination-house we lived in. There were shelves spread out in the spacious room that had every manner of dresses and suits piled on top of them. Festive ribbons of fabrics hung down from the vaulted ceiling as Joya began to move into her fall line. With the publicity Grapevine and I had begun to receive for our stories, business for her had picked up and it was rare to see her at anything but her sewing machine.

We climbed the stairs above her workroom and down the small hall to the bedroom we now shared. It had been a tentative thing at first; just a one night thing with Sterling unwilling to make the trip downstairs to the room he had been given after Grapevine and I had blown his house up. But then he started staying every night, whether or not we did anything.

It had just fell in that way, and I wasn’t sorry for it.

I strode into the room and headed over to the dresser we shared. It sat across from the spacious, Luna-sized bed we shared. The covers were still messy from where we had fallen into them the night before. Sterling joined me by the dresser.

“So, back to work so soon?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I knew it would be coming. When I called Ornate and told him about the book, I knew he wouldn’t take it lightly. I’m kind of surprised that he even waited until this morning to sic Grapevine on me.”

“Yeah.” Sterling shuffled his hooves. “And now you and Grapevine are partners again . . .”

“She promised last time I saw her that we’re just friends now. There won’t be any advances from her.” I laughed a little for him. “Though I’m surprised you would find that so bad.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not that, it’s just that when you two get together you seem to attract trouble. Dangerous trouble.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t say that’s completely true,” I said. I threw open the top drawer and pulled some clothes out. For a second, I could see the glass vial pushed all the way to the back of the drawer and filled with a green liquid that sometimes glowed at night. I shut the drawer and turned back to Sterling.

“Stranger things have happened when she’s not been around,” I finished in a hushed tone.

I shoved myself into the clothes. I was wearing a festive, blue shirt just a tad darker than my coat that was covered in pictures of bright flowers. Its design came from some island but the shirt itself from a cheap novelty shop in Las Pegasus. I also threw on a wide-brimmed, floppy white hat I had purchased from the same store. Overall, I thought I looked like a strange cross between a tourist and a madmare. Perfect, I thought, for a pony in my position.

Sterling brought me my camera. It sat proudly in its ebony case with the telescopic lense and large flash that extended on its own branch. The little camera had stuck with me since he had made it for me just two days after I had arrived in Fillydelphia. It had seen me through troubles thick and thin, become a part of me, really.

“I know you’re a reporter now,” he began, “but I figured you still might find some use for it . . .”

I reached over and gave him a peck on the cheek. His cheeks grew hot and I giggled. “Of course I wouldn’t leave my camera behind,” I said. “It’s practically tradition if I’m going to be slumming around the city with Grapevine.”

He brought the strap up and sat it around my neck. I looked down to see its familiar presence just beneath my chin. Even the weight around my neck was just perfect.

“How do I look?” I asked Sterling.

He gave me a goofy grin. “Great. Perfect for a reporter.”

I walked closer and kissed him again.

I said my goodbyes to Sterling and Joya before Grapevine could pull me out of the shop and onto the streets of West Fillydelphia. The drab little neighborhood was just beginning to come alive in the morning light that glittered off the glass towers downtown.

There was a steamcar waiting for us, its boiler humming patiently. It was a handsome little thing with shiny, black paint and a cloth hood that went over the top to keep the inside sealed away. Grapevine took the driver’s seat and I climbed in on the other side.

“You’re driving?” I asked.

“Yeah, why not?” she said. “It is my car, after all.”

I stared. “You . . . you got a car?”

She shrugged. “I figured that I might as well. While you and Sterling were off on that little vacation to Las Pegasus, I was still here and making crazy bits off of new stories. This little thing was well within my price range.” She looked out the front window. “Don’t know how it holds up to your coltfriend’s car.”

I didn’t disagree with her there. Parked just a little ways ahead of Grapevine’s vehicle, Sterling’s custom-made car sat, sparkling in the light. He and a friend had created it for an inventor’s expo in Las Pegasus, and he had naturally kept the thing. It was wider than most steam cars, and longer too. The seats were a creamy white leather and the entire thing was painted a bright, cherry red. The most peculiar thing about it, however, was what it ran on. Gasoline, Sterling had called it, as opposed to the usual steam engines. He talked about it being the next big thing, and with all the mail we had come back to from investors after the expo, I wasn’t sure he was wrong.

“But hey, let’s not dilly dally,” Grapevine said. “We’ve got a story to get to.”

She put the car in gear and we drove away, over rough pavement toward downtown. A few other cars joined us on the road, but otherwise it was almost deserted. Typical for a Thursday, though.

“So I heard about your little identity crisis back in ‘Pegasus,” Grapevine began, breaking the silence.

I coughed. “You heard about what now?”

“My mother called. Talked to me about a very peculiar meeting she had had with a strange young filly that I might know.” She winked. “Would you happen to know anything about that?”

I shrugged. “Well, maybe, but you know there are plenty of fillies who might look like me from here to Los Celestias who would love to meet the Great and Powerful Trixie.”

“Right, and I’m sure they all drive cherry red convertibles.” Grapevine Lulamoon laughed.

My face burned. “Yeah, well, at least you know it got resolved.”

“I figured. How are you and Sterling, by the way?”

“Going steady, I guess,” I said. “I think we got some things out in the open on the drive back. Talked a lot. I think it’s pretty good, at least.”

“You two did it in the desert, right?” She snickered. “Come on, you just had to take advantage of that opportunity.”

“Grapevine!” I hissed.

“What?” she said. “The hot sand on your back while his hindlegs dig into the dune around you and he leans down and—”

I slugged her on the shoulder and she stuck her tongue at me. It got her off the subject, at least.

“You’re no fun,” she said.

“I just don’t like airing my private business,” I said.

She snorted. “Oh, right, because you never have before. ‘Sides, if you’re so defensive that just means I’m right.”

I didn’t say anything, but just let myself stew in silence. She rolled her eyes, of course, and went back to the road. Soon we were passing over the Schuyllhoof River and into Fillydelphia proper. The houses became closer together and the streets were already filled with cars and ponies going about their day. Traffic was brought to a standstill.

Grapevine tried pressing the horn a few times, but when it did little she gave up and sat back in her seat. She sighed. “I guess this would be a good time to let you in on the case, huh?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t hurt,” I said.

“Right.” She cleared her throat. “Obviously, this starts with Marshmallow deciding to run for mayor. Since the whole Pullmare incident, the city council has been running the whole thing for a while until new, ad-hoc elections could be held. The two forerunners on the city council, Rich Text and Party Line, naturally decided to run. The only surprise came when Marshmallow decided to throw her hat in the ring.”

“Do you think she has a chance of winning?” I asked.

Grapevine shrugged. “Before this? Probably not, but who knows? The big deal is that, with Rich Text out of the running, Marshmallow has a fighting chance. It helps that her platform is actually about helping ponies instead of rebuilding Pullmare’s infrastructure. I’d think ponies aren’t ready for another dictator quite yet.” She smirked. “Besides our esteemed Princesses, of course.”

“So Marshmallow runs for mayor beside the two frontrunners, but one of them gets shot down, what, just a few days before the voting starts? Is there any motive in this so far?” I asked.

“That’s the problem,” Grapevine said. “In cases like these, there can be a lot of factors. Personal revenge, political differences, assassination organized by a rival, or even a crazy pony that just wants to be famous and no other reason besides that. So you can see this investigation is still pretty much at square one.”

I snorted. “Joy. Will we be lent any help by the police?”

“Ornate said for us not to get our hopes up.” Grapevine shook her head. “Even with this Officer Rover of yours on the case, it’s doubtful we’ll be let anywhere near the evidence room on something as sensitive as this.”

“So what will we do?”

“The same thing we always do: make use of what we have and cobble something together.”

We shared a laugh and the traffic finally began to surge forward. Within minutes, we were puttering along toward the destination and the promise of a new story. I could almost smell it in the air. It was good to be back.

We parked in front of a dreary little building in the middle of downtown among a group of police cars with their lights still flashing. The outside of the squat office was decorated in red flags bearing a manticore as their emblem. Some sort of party insignia, I supposed.

Grapevine stepped out of the car and joined me on the passenger side. Around the side of the building was a flock of police ponies and about two rolls’ worth of yellow tape. The scene of the crime. “We heading over there?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Everything worth gathering from there has already been done,” she explained. “If we want a story, it’s waiting for us inside the party building.”

I snorted as I fell in behind her. “Party’s too nice a name for it.”

My prediction turned out to be true when we let ourselves inside. The stubby little hall was made up of two main rooms. One contained around a dozen desks with state-of-the-art phones on top of them, waiting to be used to haggle grandparents for their vote. The other was at least a little more festive. It contained writing desks with typewriters, printing presses, and a big pile of signs waiting to be painted with slogans and logos. It was like a business except . . . no, it was pretty much a business.

There were police officers milling about while employees just stood around with vacant expressions on their faces. I could sympathize. They’d lost everything they’d been planning and hoping for in one quick moment. It reminded me of my arrival to Fillydelphia in the first place.

Before we could interview any of them or set about doing whatever normal reporters did, I was approached by a large stallion in full police regalia, hat and all. He had a stark red coat that clashed with his ivory mane. He smiled at me.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Minty Flower,” he said in greeting.

“It’s nice to see you again, Red Rover,” I said. “Getting used to the uniform?”

He stretched at the starched collar. “It’s going to take a little while. You know, it’s too bad we have to meet like this, really.”

“Like we ever meet with the police in any other way,” Grapevine snarked from behind him. She’d found something interesting to look at on one of the desks and was pawing at it.

I shrugged. “It’s kind of true.”

Rover laughed, then took off his hat off to scratch his head. “Well, I suppose that is true. Anyway, is there anything in particular that brings you here? Most of the larger papers were here earlier this morning already.”

Grapevine opened a drawer, which Rover slammed shut and glared at her over. When he did, I watched as Grapevine slid what looked like a small matchbox on the floor under her hoof without him noticing. She rolled her eyes. “We’re here to find out more about the killer,” she said. “Everypony’s so caught up with the victim that they’ve started to overlook the cause of this whole thing.”

“Well I wouldn’t say that—” Rover began, but his words were left to hang in thin air as Grapevine trotted off to another corner of the room to check out something else. Rover sighed and turned to me. “Is she always like this?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “usually she’s worse.”

We both chuckled and I leaned against one of the desks. “So how’s Scout?” I asked. The last I had seen of him, he had been united with his captured girlfriend and, well, I could have figured out the rest.

“We’re good, we’re good,” Rover said. “At first I was going to take back over the gang, you know, but she talked me out of it. It was time to move on anyway. So I joined up here and now we’ve got a little place out in Chestnut Hill.” He laughed. “Now, do you want to know anything about the case or not? You’re a reporter, aren’t you?”

I gulped. Just traveling around with Grapevine had gotten me to fall back in our pattern of her leading and me following. Funny to think we were equals now, if only technically.

“Right, right,” I said. I looked around and grabbed a pen and paper off of a nearby desk and held it in front of me with my wings. “So what did happen?”

Rover began to pace. “We’re not exactly sure, of course, but we know the murder happened sometime between two and four in the morning. It occurred shortly after the victim, Rich Text, locked up the party office and was the last one to leave that night. He didn’t get far.” Rover coughed. “He was set upon just outside the office and killed with three shots: two to the stomach and one to the head. His manager found him this morning.”

“What about anypony around here?” I asked. “Are there any suspects on the staff?”

“We’re going through them right now,” Rover said, “but so far the alibis are lining up. Most of them left hours before the crime could have taken place at all.”

I paused. “So . . . what was the unusual part?”

“That’s just it,” Rover said. “There is none. He left no evidence and didn’t seem to have any motivation besides robbery. He shot Rich, took his wallet, and left. If anything, this is just a case of robbery and assault that just had happened to affect an influential pony.”

“So you’re saying there’s no story here.”

“Not until you find whoever did it, no.”

I sighed. “Well that’s great.” I looked behind Rover and saw Grapevine trotting up behind him with a dour look on her face.

“I can confirm what he said,” she told me. “There isn’t a piece of worthwhile evidence in this whole place.”

“What will you two do now?” Rover asked.

Grapevine smiled. “Go interview some folks around here and see if we can’t dig ourselves out a witness.” She started to half-drag me to the door until I set my hooves in motion and followed her. “You take care now, you hear?”

Rover was left to watch with a funny look on his face as we departed as swiftly as we had come with only the front door swinging closed to mark our passing.

Outside, Grapevine finally let go of me and I struggled away from her. “What was that all about?” I asked. “You’re not even going to let me look around?”

Grapevine snorted and walked over to the car. “Do you really think you’d find anything?”

“Well, no . . .”

Grapevine tossed something to me and climbed in the car. I caught it and took the passenger seat beside her once again. It was the matchbox. On the flap was a stylized picture of a grand hotel, one that I had seen downtown before. “Hotel Rapture,” it said.

“See, this is why I’m still the better reporter,” Grapevine said. “Evidence is everywhere, you just have to look. Lucky for the both of us, I know how to get this stuff without any of those police friends of yours finding out.”

“Then why say there’s not anything to be found?”

She knocked me on top of my head. “You’re too honest, Minty,” she said. “When it comes to politics you have to be delicate. The police are not. If we want to find this killer, we’re going to have to take the lead.”

“Okay . . .” I said, “but what does this matchbox have to do with anything?”

Grapevine started the steam car and it came to life with a gentle purr. “The Rapture’s a high stakes place,” she explained. “Exactly one person in that office could afford to take home one of those matchboxes, and that was Rich Text himself. Problem is, he doesn’t smoke.” She turned to me. “Which means . . .”

“It was left by whoever killed Rich Text,” I finished. “And if it was left inside the party room even though Rich Text locked up afterwards, then that means he knew the killer!”

Grapevine smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”

The Rapture Hotel in downtown Fillydelphia was a sight to behold. Instead of bare steel and straight edifices, the place had a kind of style to it that was rare to see in the city. It had arched windows and delicate curves about it, with brass mixed in to give it a sense of style that few other hotels in the city could match. It was no wonder, then, that the place was the most expensive around.

Grapevine parked on the street across from it and turned off the engine. She pointed to the glove box in front of me. “Be a dear and get us some passes out of there,” she said.

I complied and opened the little compartment. Inside were dozens of blank press passes, just waiting to be filled out. I gulped and took two of them. I gave them to Grapevine and she snapped them up in her magic. “Uh, isn’t that illegal?” I asked.

“Not if you don’t get caught,” she said. “Now is ‘Rapture’ spelled with one or two t’s?”

I sighed and told her. Best not to argue with her since the case had started. All it’d do at this point is annoy her and hamper both our investigations. Though, at this point, it felt more like her investigation. That would have to change at some point.

“There we go,” Grapevine said, giving me the pass. “It won’t hold up if anypony gets a close look, but let’s not let them, huh?” She placed her pass beneath her headband and I stuck mine on my hat.

“Alright, let’s go.”

We tumbled out of the car and started across the street once the traffic was light. I noticed as we went that our shadows were soon engulfed by something much larger, though it was a cloudless day.

I looked up to see Fillydelphia’s more famous moving monument doing its morning routine. Serenity, as it was called, was a massive floating city that served as both the weather base for the pegasi and as a mobile trade dock. It was, for all intents and purposes, a massive metal platform with dirigible gasbags lining its underside in a circle. Mooring platforms and a massive prow stuck out from the platform and airships gathered around it like moths to candlelight.

“Kind of early for Serenity to be downtown, isn’t it?” I asked.

Grapevine shrugged. “They’ve been getting more erratic lately because of the election. Starshine was saying something about the opposing council members trying to get their own share of publicity over the weather.”

“How is Starshine, anyway?” I asked.

“She’s fine.” Grapevine sniffed. “Been talking to Ornate quite a bit lately. I’d watch her if I were you.”

“Sure . . .”

We arrived at the front of the hotel. Porters bustled around with luggage carts while fancy limos and taxis disgorged overdressed passengers. Among all the uniforms, tuxedos, and dresses I felt more than a little underdressed. Then again, as I reminded myself, why would I want to fit in with this crowd? After all, Grapevine walked in the glass revolving door without batting an eyelash toward the others. I followed her inside.

The lobby was as fancy as one might expect from the outside. Heavy oak concierge desks underneath a massive chandelier hanging from a domed ceiling with a fresco of sea life painted on it. The way I looked at it, it was almost like Rapture was underwater.

Grapevine walked right past the front desks and baggage carts, her hooves clicking on the tile floor. I followed her as she led me over to a row of elevators at the far end of the lobby, past an extravagant water fountain that spewed up water in large jets. There were stallions in dark suits next to the elevators and they were checking room keys before the guests were allowed on.

My heart beat a little faster.

They stopped Grapevine as we arrived, though if she was nervous, she didn’t show it. “Key?” one of them asked.

Grapevine pointed to the press pass under her hairband. “Business of the press,” she said. “Just going up for a conference.”

I tried to smile and showed them my pass as well. Their eyes lingered on us for half a second longer than was comfortable, but they let us through in the end. We gathered on the elevator together and closed it before anypony had the bright idea to join us.

Grapevine hit the highest button and the elevator started to glide upward on well-oiled joints.

“Can I see the matchbox?” she asked.

I pulled it out of my pocket and gave it to her. “Are you really going to smoke now?”

Grapevine laughed. “No, but this little matchbox here will give us a better idea of where we’re going.” She flipped it upside down to where I could see and underneath was a stylized picture of a regal dining room with the words “Atlas Room” floating above it.

“Each of these matchboxes is custom made for the room they’re given out in,” she explained.

I stared at her. “And how could you possibly know that?”

She rubbed one leg over the other and looked down. “You remember about my wedding . . . the one that, uh, didn’t happen?”

“Yeah?”

“It was booked for here.”

I gulped and said nothing more. Her cancelled wedding had been the last thing we had talked about for weeks. It was also the last time I had seen her tough facade fall apart right before my eyes. I noticed, now, that her movements since we had come inside had been a little jerkier than usual.

“If you want, I can just take a look myself,” I suggested.

She shook her head. “It’s old news,” she said. “I’ll be fine.” She reached up and hit the button for the Atlas Room’s floor before the elevator could make it all the way to the top.

The doors dinged open and we stepped out into a deserted hallway. It was lined with rooms that stretched around a corner in either direction. Something was off about the whole thing, though. The lights flickered overhead and everything was silent.

“Well isn’t this place just cheery,” Grapevine muttered.

“Where do we start?” I asked.

“If all these floors are the same,” Grapevine said, “then the entrance to the conference room is going to be on the other side of the floor. If the killer stayed here, he had to be in the room at some point. Maybe we can find something that will link us to him.”

We started off one way down the hall toward a corner. The whole floor, I began to realize, was massive. Each story of the building had to be at least the size of a small dirigible balloon. The ballroom, then, must have been about half as large as the one in the city hall that fateful night weeks ago.

The hall toward the ballroom entrance was just as empty, but some of the lights had gone out. There was a coppery smell in the air. Grapevine nodded at me. “I feel it too,” she said. “It feels . . . wrong.”

We arrived at the doors leading to the conference room. Above them was the word “Atlas” inscribed in brass. Below it: “Only What You Choose”. The feeling of wrongness only grew stronger.

“You ready?” Grapevine asked.

“Just do it.”

She pushed open the double doors to reveal a dark room. The copper smell hit me head on just as the lights were flipped on. My stomach turned to ice as the fluorescents overhead blazed to life. Sitting around a single table near the middle of the room were four ponies in business suits. All of them were slumped over on the pearly white tablecloth. Just by the smell, I could tell they were dead.

In the middle of the table were piled books and documents of every type. It took me a moment to notice that, by the way the way the light was glancing off them, they were wet. A cloaked figure popped up from behind the table. Under a stark white mask and black hat and cape, I couldn’t discern anything about who he—or she—was.

The one thing I could tell, though, was that the figure had a small gun in one hoof and a lit match in the other. He threw the match toward the documents as he began to run toward us. The match hit the gasoline-soaked paper and roared into a blazing fire within moments. Meanwhile, the cloaked figure kept coming for us.

Grapevine stepped in his way as if to stop him. Undeterred, the figure kept galloping toward us and raised the gun right at Grapevine. She was too stubborn for her own good, and still didn’t move. I watched the two get closer and closer until at last, with a grunt, I grabbed Grapevine and pulled her out of the figure’s way.

He ran past us and disappeared around the corner.

“What was that for?” Grapevine screamed.

“I’m not going to watch you die!” I said. “Now come on, we can still catch him!”

There was no time to argue, so she nodded and galloped away in the direction the assassin had been going, with me running to keep up. The fire inside the ballroom was already starting to spread and I could feel the hallway growing hotter by the second.

We came to a stop near the elevators. The cloaked pony was standing there, waiting for the elevator. When he saw us, though, he leapt into action. He pulled some sort of knife from beneath his cloak and wedged it in the doors. Just as fast, he shoved them open, took one look down, and jumped.

An elevator car rose up to meet him and by the time we reached the edge of the floor the car had risen up past us, far out of reach. Grapevine yelled and stomped on the ground.

“We’ll take the next one up after him,” she growled. “He is not going to escape!”

I looked behind us and saw the smoke and flames getting closer. The heat was almost unbearable on the entire floor. “Uh, Grapevine,” I said, “I don’t think we have a choice.”

She looked and grit her teeth, then sighed. “Hold on to me,” she said. She looked down where another elevator car was ascending toward the lobby. She closed her eyes and her horn began to spark.

There was a white flash and suddenly we were on a crowded elevator car speeding downward. The ponies inside gasped and stepped back from the new intruders. Grapevine coughed, woozy from the effort. “Call the fire department,” she ordered. “Fire on the Atlas Floor.”

She looked at me and shook her head. “This case just got a whole lot worse.”

Episode 1: Swing Vote - Part 2

The fire department arrived a short time later. The hotel was well-insured and a popular destination, so they got special treatment over other locations. Was it fair? No, but I didn’t mind it for once when the building I was actively standing in was saved the fastest.

Even with the timely arrival of the firefighters, it was still obvious that nothing on the Atlas floor would be saved. Any evidence that had been up there had died with the ponies in the ballroom. Back at square one. Just great.

Grapevine leaned against one of the front desks. She watched while the rich ponies were hauled down from the upper floors and made to stand in the lobby in nightwear and other loves of immodesty. I thought I saw her smile a little.

I walked up to her. “So is there any reason we’re still hanging around here?” I asked. “Our leads are all dead. Shouldn’t we, you know, be moving on?”

She shrugged. “The police are going to want a statement.”

“Since when have you cared about talking to the police?”

“They’re going to want a statement from everypony, Minty.”

I swallowed. She was still a couple steps ahead of me, as usual. Yes, this case really was turning out to be a great way to show me how far I still had to go. I told myself to calm down. If I didn’t learn anything now, it would come back to bite me in the flank later.

About the time the firefighters arrived back in the lobby, the police showed up. Their squad cars wailed with the sirens on top. Behind them, the steam that ran through the street that was as thick as fog. The ponies in the dark blue uniforms burst through the lobby doors with hard looks on their faces. Their weapons weren’t drawn, but they looked like they could be at any second.

Grapevine had filled in the pony we had got to call them with all the extra details about the attacker, so they were expecting some rough business when they showed up. Not, I guessed from their expressions, aging rich mares in their nightgowns.

The officers began to spread out to take statements and gather information for reports and file claims and such. From the way most of them moved, it looked like they would have rather been met with a dozen assassins than just more busywork.

Red Rover trotted over toward us. His eyes looked weary once he spotted the dark spots on our coats from the fire. “Really?” he asked. “I leave you two to your business for a couple hours and you burn down an entire floor?”

“It wasn’t our fault,” I said. “The assassin—”

Rover held up a hoof. “Yeah, we know. We got the message on the way over. Assassin killed several ponies and blew up the Atlas floor of the Rapture hotel.” He smirked. “I heard from the ponies watching outside that it was a big daddy of a fire.”

He leaned closer to us and kept his voice down. “He—the assassin—was connected to the killing of Rich Text, wasn’t he?”

Grapevine nodded. “There’s reason to believe it was the same pony. It would make sense, too. This one’s a trick killer.”

“I thought as much.” Rover looked grim. “This won’t look good for us when the sensational papers get a hold of it. There will be talk everywhere of a killer lining up all the candidates. Without a motive, the papers will make one up.”

“You know you’re talking to two reporters, right?” Grapevine asked.

Rover shrugged. “You two seem to only publish after you have the whole stories. The other papers are more out to make a quick bit over the latest story as soon as they get even a shred of information. They’re the ones that we’re really worried about.”

“Great, then why don’t you go bother them,” Grapevine said, pointing to the crowd of reporters and camera ponies who had started to gather by the entrance.

Rover watched for a moment, then nodded. “Fine, but just try not to destroy another floor while I’m gone,” he said. “I’d prefer to not have to do the paperwork.”

He left us by the front desk and trotted over to the arriving press, no doubt to corral them and assure them that everything was OK. This left Grapevine and I alone by the desk as the secretaries and other office staff were taken aside by the police.

Grapevine rolled her eyes. “Thought he’d never leave.” She jumped up and slid across the front desk, planting herself on the other side.

“And now what are you doing?” I asked.

She started to root through the drawers on the other side of the desk. Papers flew out and drifted across the area. I looked around to see if anypony noticed us, but most were too involved with the police to care.

“Every hotel keeps a record of all its guests,” Grapevine explained, “and this one isn’t going to let a guest into the Atlas Room without them signing in first.”

“But what if he was, like, an employee?” I asked.

Grapevine shrugged. “Maybe, but employees need to gain trust first. Need to fit in first and have a longer record. No, I think he either came in on his own money or as a friend of one of the guests.” She found a file and threw it on the table in front of her. “So either we’re dealing with a rich assassin or one with rich friends. I’m not sure which one is worse.”

She scrutinized the file for a second before sliding it over to me. “Write this down, will you?” she asked.

“I don’t have anything to write on,” I said. “Or something to write with . . .”

Grapevine stared at me. “So you brought your camera, but nothing to take notes with? Are you sure you’re a reporter?”

My cheeks burned. “Well I just, uh, forgot.”

“Fine, then grab something and write the names down. We don’t have time to get the film developed if you took a picture.”

I grabbed a small note card off the side of the desk and flipped it over. I took a pen and began to copy the names as neatly as I could while using my wings to write. Most of the names were unknown to me, but I recognized a few of them from business ads. For sure, all of them could buy Joya’s house like we bought a bottle of milk.

I finished and tried to give the card to Grapevine, but she refused. “Keep it,” she said. “At least have something to prove you’re a reporter.”

She climbed out from behind the desk and beckoned to me. “Now come on, we need to get going before the police are finished here.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, trotting up behind her.

She smiled. “To see Marshmallow, of course.”

We took the steamcar out of downtown Fillydelphia and into the Burb. The Burb, unlike the rest of the city, was like its own little world. Gone were the messy rowhouses and dirty shops that doubled as homes. Here, ponies lived in neat little houses that sat a good distance apart from each other on manicured lawns. Shops were made only for shopping and those that kept them went home when they closed. Here, even the steamcars made less noise and the ponies kept them parked in separate areas called parking lots. It was a strange place.

Marshmallow lived in a neighborhood on a hill overlooking the Burb, but Grapevine took a detour on the way there and turned into the gates of a private neighborhood first. The guard greeted her like she lived there because, of course, she did.

Our car rumbled down the quiet streets shaded by overhanging trees that glowed a vibrant green in the late days of August. She lived at the end of a little road called Connemara Trail in a one story bungalow with white siding. She parked on her driveway and we both hopped out.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

“Just came by to get something really quick,” Grapevine said. “Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

I followed her through the blue front door and into her living room. The whole thing spoke of a modern taste and simple elegance. That, and she never seemed to be home often enough to dirty up the place. The modest kitchen looked almost untouched.

In her bedroom, however, were more signs of the Grapevine I knew. Scattered clothes and documents that spilled over a bed that likely had never been made since she bought it. Hanging above it were objects I hadn’t seen last time I had been there, though.

A few simple pictures in wooden frames depicting a younger girlfriend and a handsome colt beside her. She looked happy in them . . . happier than I had seen her before. She saw me looking at them.

“Thought it was about time they saw the light of day again,” she said, then smiled a little. “It’s been a while.”

A moment passed between us before she shook her head and kept walking into the bathroom. I didn’t follow her in, of course, but instead waited outside. My face started to grow hot when I realized why we had stopped. Grapevine stuck her head out a moment later.

“I’m not doing that, if that’s what you think,” she said. “Sheesh, a pony can’t even walk into a bathroom . . .”

I heard her fumbling inside the room for something, but was kept in the dark until she walked out once again. In one hoof was an old notepad, and in the other was a blue pen with a gold cap. She smiled. “Thought you could use these.”

“You keep a notepad and pen in the bathroom?” I asked, taking them from her and placing them in a pocket on my shirt.

“Ideas come at all times, Minty. All times.” She laughed.” The first pad and pen that I had when I started as a reporter at the Chronicler. Thought it would be appropriate for you to use them now.”

She smirked and poked at my chest. “It would still look better if you lost the camera, you know.”

I stuck out my tongue. “I can still have my own personal touches, you know.”

“You look like a dork, you know.”

We both laughed like school fillies and moved on out of the bedroom and back out toward the car. Grapevine snagged an apple from her icebox before joining me back in the steamcar and setting the thing into gear.

“Now that that’s taken care of,” she said, “it’s about time we go meet Marshmallow again.”

I nodded. “Lead on.”

Marshmallow Bauble’s neighborhood was a prim little area called High Point Estates that was, as its name suggested, on the top of a hill that served as the highest point in the Burb. It was lined up against the mountains that ringed Fillydelphia and offered a breathtaking view of the granite giants.

The air was clearer up in her neighborhood than anywhere else in the city, and I took it in huge gasps. It was like being back in my rural hometown, Derbyshire. Of course, Derbyshire had never had mountains or rich ponies, so I could consider High Point Estates a definite improvement.

We parked at the top of Marshmallow’s long driveway and trotted the rest of the way to her house. It was a massive two story with brick siding and shingles that looked like they were slapped on and then forgotten about. The massive lawn spanned hundreds of feet wide and in length, reminiscent of the farm I had grown up on. The only surprising thing about it, though, were the lack of any cars beside ours. I would have thought that after a major event, one of the mayoral candidates would have attracted more attention.

I knocked on the door and was greeted by a voice from inside, “Go away! The offices of Marshmallow Bauble are closed for today! Anypony not in compliance will have the police called on them!”

Grapevine snickered. “Starshine, we can hear you in there! It’s just us!”

The door flew open and we were greeted by a mint-colored pegasus standing in the arched doorway. Her sharp pink mane settled on her head like a colt’s, though that might have been the intended effect. Before I could greet her, I noticed something very new about her. Something . . . missing.

It took me a second, but when I realized it I had to take a step back. Her wings were gone. Sure, her wings had been artificial constructions of brass in the first place—or at least since she had lost her original wings before I came to Fillydelphia—but seeing an empty space on her back was both unsettling and even a little horrifying. I could see small holes where the wings had been connected to her bones and nerves. They ran from her shoulders back to her cutie mark, a winged horseshoe.

She noticed me looking and laughed. “You like?” she asked, then flexed her back. “That friend of Sterling’s took the old ones so she could work on modifications to the new ones. They’re gonna be so awesome!”

Starshine Scamper jumped in the air, then seemed to forget she couldn’t fly and came back to the ground with a blush on her face. She coughed. “So, uh, I guess you guys are here to see Marshmallow?”

“That was the plan,” Grapevine said.

“Well she’s a little shook up, so I would be careful—”

Grapevine stomped past her into Marshmallow’s parlor and called out, “Hey Marshmallow, you here?”

A tentative voice answered her from the master bedroom. “Grapevine, is that you?”

The purple reporter smiled and trotted through the breezy living room with Starshine and I in tow. Posters, buttons, stickers, and a printing machine occupied the space that had once held a massive couch and fancy radio. Changes had come with the campaign, I supposed.

The inside of Marshmallow’s bedroom was even different. The bed was buried under a mountain of charts and papers depicting voting districts, projections, accuracy checks of those corrections, accusations that those accuracy reports were false, and so on. From one chart, it looked like the candidates had been almost neck and neck before the assassination.

In the middle of it all was an ivory mare with blonde locks that fell down her back. Her deep-set, ruby eyes pored over the same issue of the Times that Grapevine had shown me. She jumped when we walked in.

“It’s probably not best for you to be reading that,” Grapevine said. “It’s just pulp reporting anyway. Nothing to get worried about.”

Marshmallow looked up at her. “I knew Rich Text,” she said. “He was really nice before the debate last week. He didn’t treat me like this was my first time running for office or like how I was just a spoiled Blueblood family princess. Now . . .” She cocked her hoof to the side of her head and made a bang sound.

Grapevine moved forward and took her hoof away from her head. “Don’t get like that on us just yet,” she said. “We’ve got a lot of ponies worried right now, and you don’t need to be one of them.”

“They told me I would die,” Marshmallow said. “When I called the campaign office to ask what to do and they told me to stay away or I would be killed!”

She was shaking. Grapevine put a hoof around her shoulders and pulled her close. She let the former librarian quake against her until the terror had drained away from her. Starshine and I stood to the side, doing our best to look anywhere but at them.

Marshmallow sniffed. “I’m alright, I’m alright,” she said. “Today’s just . . . it’s not going to be a good day.”

“I know,” Grapevine said. “Why don’t you tell Minty about why you decided to run in the first place? Maybe that will take your mind off of it.”

She shot me a glare that dared me to say anything else. I didn’t.

Marshmallow nodded then shook herself and stood up. “Yeah, I can do that, but let’s get some tea first.”

Marshmallow’s kitchen was almost as large as Joya’s entire sales floor and I felt like I could lose myself in it if I wasn’t careful. She even had an entire cabinet devoted just to tea. She swung it open and looked up at the many multicolored boxes.

“So,” she began, “I have Blueberry, Raspberry, Ginseng, Sleepy Time, Green Tea, Green Tea With Lemon, Green Tea With Lemon and Honey, Liver Disaster, Ginger with Honey, Ginger without Honey, Vanilla Almond, White Truffle, Blueberry Chamomile, Vanilla Walnut, Constant Comment, and Earl Grey.”

She turned around to us. “What do you guys feel like?”

I scratched my head. “Did you make some of those up?”

Marshmallow grabbed a light blue box and grabbed some teabags out of it. “Sleepy Time it is.” She filled a teapot and put it on the stove to boil, then leaned against the counter. The circles around her eyes looked to have cleared up a little.

“I guess this whole mayor thing seems surprising to you, huh?” she asked me.

“You could say that, yeah.”

She giggled. “I admit, I never thought that I would run, either. Or that anypony would actually throw in their support for me.”

“So what happened?”

“Well I was on the Burb city council after Pullmare’s demise, if you remember. One day, they start to talk about new elections for a mayor and how one of the council members is bound to win. Rich Text and Party Line both volunteered themselves right then.”

She paused to place a teabag in the pot. “I didn’t think much of it until I was at home, I guess. That all the ponies running were nice enough, but it wouldn’t be so much different than Pullmare except for all the violence. And I had always said that I came to Fillydelphia to do as much good as I can . . . so why not be the mayor and work from the top down?”

I raised an eyebrow. “And how are you affording this?”

Marshmallow shrugged. “Money from back home. Apparently my parents think it’s a sign of me ‘growing up’ and ‘taking responsibility.’” She sighed. “I guess it’s good, but I get the feeling that I didn’t start getting ponies interested until I started adding ‘Blueblood’ to the end of my name on the posters and buttons.”

“But you’re like tied for the lead now, aren’t you?” I asked. “That’s still a good thing, right?”

She smiled. “That’s what we’re counting on.”

The teapot whistled and Marshmallow whisked it off the stove and produced cups of tea for all of us after a short time. I sipped mine and grinned. Her cutie mark may have been a frying pan, but her cooking skills included a lot more than just that.

Before the conversation could start up again, the doorbell rang. Starshine groaned and put her cup down. “Will they stop coming around already?” she said. “I’ve been having to drive ponies away all morning. I’m going to hear that stupid doorbell in my head for a week.”

She trotted over to the front door and opened it. We could hear a short exchange between her and whatever unlucky pony had shown up and assumed it to be over. We were surprised, then, when she walked back with Red Rover in tow. Behind him marched a line of policeponies who scanned the room and took up positions by the door.

Marshmallow stepped forward and huffed, “What is the meaning of this? I don’t have any need for your trouble at this time!”

Rover glanced at me. “Mind telling her that I’m not here to rough all of you up?”

“You know him?” Marshmallow asked.

I nodded. “Long story, but I would guess he’s not here just to say hi.”

“That’s right,” Rover said. “We came here on an executive order from the chief of police. Effective immediately, we are to escort you and Party Line to a safehouse in the city to discourage further attack. We are confident a large enough police presence will discourage the assassin.”

“Assassin?” Marshmallow screeched. “Nopony told me about an assassin!”

“Oops,” I squeaked when Rover glared at me.

He shook his head. “There’s no time to explain. Just trust me when I say that your safety can only be guaranteed in the safehouse, so we must take you there. Now.”

“You aren’t going to give me a choice, are you?” Marshmallow asked.

“I wasn’t planning on it, ma’am.”

“Fine then, but only if I may bring my friends along.”

Rover nodded. “Of course.”

He waved to some of his officers and they escorted outside of the house. I kept close to Grapevine as we moved across the lawn toward one of the cars parked on Marshmallow’s lawn. Grapevine was smiling and enjoying herself while Marshmallow winced at the tire tracks cutting through her grass.

We passed one of the cars and heard somepony call, “Marshmallow!”

I turned and watched as an older pegasus hopped out of one of the black squad cars. He was blue from head to hoof, with his mane just a few shades darker than the rest. He had on a white collar and red tie. He was smiling as he approached Marshmallow.

“It’s great to see you’re alright,” he said. “I was in the car when the announcement about the assassin aired and I was afraid that, well, you know.”

Marshmallow sighed. “Yes, I’m just now learning of this so-called assassin. It’s good to see you’re fine as well, Party Line.” She turned to us. “All of you, meet Party Line. He was head of the council here in the Burb and the first to announce that he would run.”

Line did a small bow. “It was only my duty, I felt. Though I don’t discourage Marshmallow from running.”

Grapevine raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you two supposed to be . . . rivals?”

Line laughed. “Don’t believe everything you read, dear. The Burb council was pretty tight-knit; we don’t hold any ill will toward each other.” His face darkened. “That was one reason the death of Rich Text hit us so hard.”

Marshmallow nodded. “It wasn’t pleasant learning about what happened, but at least now we have a way to get to safety. Rich wouldn’t have wanted us to be in any more danger than he was.”

“Yes, I agree,” Line said. “To that end, would you like to join me in my car, Miss Bauble?”

Rover stepped forward. “No can do,” he said, “we’re under strict orders to keep you two in separate cars. That way, if something happens, it can only affect one of you at a time.”

“What is that chief of yours expecting to happen?” Marshmallow asked.

“Beats me, but better safe than sorry.” Rover escorted us away from Party Line and to a waiting car. There was an officer in the front with a large mustache and reflective shades. Grapevine stopped short of getting in, however.

She turned to Rover. “Can I at least take my own car?” she asked. Rover thought for a moment, then relented and let the violet reporter hop in her own steamcar. I stayed inside the car with Marshmallow and Starshine, however. Grapevine didn’t ask if I wanted to come with her and I didn’t ask.

The line of police cars set out in our own motorcade with Grapevine bringing up the rear. Party Line was closer to the front and we were somewhere in the middle. The whole thing must have been loud enough to hear across all the Burb and just as visible, but I supposed that was the point.

We wound down the hill away from High Point Estates and toward the smattering of office buildings in the center of the Burb. The car was quiet as an unseen tension hung in the air. Marshmallow kept looking back and forth out all the windows while Starshine rubbed her back over and over, tracing patterns in her coat.

I was in the passenger seat and did my best to keep still. The stallion driving the car did the same, but it could have been nervousness on his part. I wouldn’t have wanted to have his job either.

The motorcade passed onto the city streets that were much narrower than up the hill. The buildings soared above us and closed us in like a cage. The entire line of cars had to slow down to pass through traffic.

We came to our first problem a short way on. A carriage lay on its side in the middle of the street. Its contents were strewn all over the ground and the thing was on fire. The motorcade, then, had to pass down a side street and away from the more visible avenues through the Burb. There were two lanes on either side of the road and we stayed the farthest away from the sidewalk as we could.

A few cars drove along with us, but most of them pulled over and let us go past. Every time one of those cars would drive near us, the driver tensed up a little. I could guess that he was seeing a cold-hearted assassin in every one of them.

It turned out he wasn’t wrong about the assassin, but just about the source.

When we passed beneath a stand of trees that stretched over the highway, a parked car started up and followed alongside the column. Other cars had done it before of course, though this one was larger than the rest. Still, it was no cause for alarm until it swerved to the left and struck Party Line’s car in the midsection.

The other cars tried to respond, but it was like the entire street had become our enemy. Parked cars started up only to ram themselves into police cars in the column. It was chaos. I caught glimpses of what was happening but wasn’t aware of much outside of the screams and noise that were emanating from the motorcade. Cars swerved everywhere. One car ran off the road and crumpled into a burning ball of fire. I didn’t know if it was ours or not.

A side street loomed ahead of us to the right. What remained of the motorcade bolted for it. Our assailants noticed and pursued. The lead car was slammed off the road. Second in the line made it through, but the third smashed into a tree.

Our drive smashed his hoof on the gas and we darted forward. Even with the new burst of speed, it still seemed too slow. We had been untouched before, but now one of the “other” cars drew up next to us.

Starshine and Marshmallow were screaming in my ears and I couldn’t make out anything to say myself. The driver had the wheel in a death grip. We were sitting ducks. The other car, though, seemed to hesitate for a second. I could see a dark figure inside, and it looked like he was checking who was in the car.

He didn’t have long to get a good look. There was a massive roaring sound from behind us and Grapevine crashed into the back of the other car. Before he could recover, she shoved him off the road and onto some poor pony’s front lawn.

She leaned out of her window and screamed, “Drive!”

The police pony complied and we zoomed down the side street. We twisted and turned down more small roads as Marshmallow guided him as far away from the assaulting ponies as we could go. Grapevine stuck to us the whole time.

We stopped some time later at a small outlet mall with a big, wide parking lot. Before the engine was even off, I was out and on the ground, thankful to feel its comforting presence under my hooves. From the looks of them, Marshmallow and Starshine were experiencing the same thing.

Grapevine parked next to us and got out. She winced when she saw the carnage her little stunt had done to the front of her car. “It was brand new, too . . .” she moaned.

I held my head as I saddled up next to her. “What in the world was that?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Either our assassin is even richer than I thought, or this is a coordinated effort. Which makes it just that much harder on us.”

Marshmallow joined us by Grapevine’s car, Starshine following close behind. “I can’t start to thank you enough,” she said. “I thought we were going to . . . well, you know. I’ll pay all the bills for your car, don’t worry.”

“I would say it’s no bother,” Grapevine began, “but, well, you can see for yourself.” She laughed. “Happy to help, though.”

“Yeah, I thought they were going to ram us for sure, but then the stallion in the other car hesitated and you came up and rammed him!” Starshine said.

“He hesitated?”

I nodded. “Yeah, he was going to hit us, but then looked to see who was inside . . . come to think of it, I don’t even know if he made a move against us after that.”

“Do you think he was looking for me?” Marshmallow asked.

“Probably. I don’t know, maybe they were looking to make sure they could take you alive . . . like they took Party Line, I guess.”

“Did they?”

“Hey, police . . . guy,” Grapevine called, “any word on Party Line?”

There was no reply from the other side of the police car. We walked around it to find the driver’s side empty. The mustache and sunglasses sat on top of the uniform, folded and placed on the driver’s seat. The pony that had been wearing them was gone.

“What the—” Starshine began.

Grapevine picked up the shiny police badge that, now, looked like an obvious fake. “Maybe the other driver didn’t hesitate because of Marshmallow,” she said. “Maybe he hesitated because of his boss.”

“Th-The assassin was in the car?” Marshmallow screeched.

“Maybe,” I said, “but why would he help us escape?”

Grapevine shook her head. “I don’t know, but this just complicates things even more. Not good . . . not good at all.” She turned to me. “Alright, next move is hook back up with the police and start taking a look at those guests from the Atlas Floor you wrote down. Still have the card?”

“It’s in my pocket, hold on.” I reached down into my shirt and produced the card, but when I saw the backside my heart sank. All the excitement had smudged the ink, making the words unreadable.

Grapevine saw my expression and sighed. “What now?”

“The names may have been smudged in the car chase.”

“You’re joking. Please be joking.”

I showed the card to her. She groaned and shoved it back at me before stomping off. Marshmallow followed after her while Starshine just shook her head. I sighed and turned the card over, hoping maybe I could read the impression on the other side.

The other side, I had figured, would just be a normal hotel business card. Nothing special. But this one . . . wasn’t. It had a small, stylized picture of a flame on it, and over it read, “Pyrrhus Electric & Matchsticks, Inc.” Under it was a name scrawled in pen. A nickname, from the looks of it. Hep.

“Hey, Grapevine, do you think this is important?” I asked, wagging the card at her.

She walked back over after a moment and snatched the card away. Her eyes got wider as she did so. When she gave the business card back to me, I could watch her mind already begin to start up again.

“That’s no ordinary card,” she told me, “and Pyrrhus isn’t any ordinary business. If you got that from the hotel . . . something’s going on here.”

“If they’re so big, how come I haven’t heard of them?” I asked.

“Saturation. Pyrrhus supplies almost all of the electricity and steam power in the entire city. Their name is everywhere if you know where to look.”

“What’s the big deal if their card was in Minty’s pocket?” Starshine asked.

“Because Pyrrhus does not deal with the Rapture Hotel. Not only that, but they’ve had their hooves in politics before . . . the only reason they didn’t with Pullmare is because she used her own business. Something tells me that if Minty got that card, then something big is going down.”

“So how do we find out about that?” I asked.

Grapevine smiled. “We investigate, of course.”

We slumped into the police station in downtown Fillydelphia sometime around twilight. The drive back had been uneventful, but our nerves had begun to wear down. For me, at least, it was Grapevine’s promise of an investigation. Investigate what? Pyrrhus? How?

I left those questions for Grapevine anyway. I felt burned out. The day was fading, the lights were on, and the highway curled behind us as we arrived at the station. It was the time of the day when the flashing headlights illuminated dark sidewalks as ponies passed each other on the concrete roadways on their way home. For them, the day was over.

I envied them.

We came in through the front doors to find what was left of the department in the same shape as we were. Their haggard looks and bloodshot eyes did more to tell me than any words could that we had taken a beating that day. For all their looks, though, they still managed to stand and smile when Marshmallow came in.

Red Rover ambled over to us and rubbed his eyes. “Nice to see you all made it,” he said. “We were beginning to think something had gone wrong. Especially after Party Line still hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Takes more than that to hurt us,” Grapevine said, then backed up a little. “It wasn’t by much, though. And we’ve gotten even worse news since then.”

“Worse than most of the convoy getting taken out and a dozen officers in the hospital or worse?”

“Well, okay, maybe not bodycount-wise, but in the context of this investigation . . .”

Rover sighed. “Let’s go to my office.”

He ushered us in to a little side room near the corner of the station no bigger than a broom closet. Rover sat at his desk, Marshmallow and I in chairs, while Grapevine stood at the back. Starshine elected to remain in the hallway.

Rover pushed some papers around on his desk. “Now what way do you want to ruin an already bad day, Miss Lulamoon?”

“I believe that the assassin from the Rapture hotel was the driver for our car. Somehow, he infiltrated your force and was able to drive us around.”

“That’s . . .” Rover stopped and looked down. “I’m not even sure what to say to that. Are you certain it was him?”

Grapevine shrugged. “Not completely, but I would bet on it. Our driver disappeared shortly after we got out of there, and my friends report that one of the cars hesitated to ram them.”

“But why would he help all of you escape?”

“That’s the million bit question.”

Rover leaned back in his chair and rolled his head a little. “My first investigation with you two and I feel more lost than a something in a something.” He smiled a little. “Did I mention I’m tired?”

Marshmallow yawned. “You’re not the only one.”

“Yes, and I suppose you’ll need someplace to sleep, won’t you?” Rover said. “Well, the four of you could take the cadet barracks over on the opposite side of the station. Can’t promise they’ll be comfortable, but they’ll give you four some privacy as well as police protection.”

He leaned across the desk. “It is strongly recommended that you take the offer.”

A few minutes later, we were dumped inside the dark barracks room. Even with the lights on, they were dimmed and buzzed so loud that we shut them off after a few seconds. The room was nothing more than a couple rows of four bunk beds each with lockers lining one wall. There were no windows and only one toilet in a closet at the back.

I fell on the starchy sheets and thin pillow with a vigor that only comes after a day like we had experienced. I watched Marshmallow and Starshine do the same. Grapevine climbed into the bed next to mine and winked.

“You know, there’s always room for one more,” she said.

I glared at her. “Very funny.”

She snickered and rolled over on the flimsy mattress, making little squeaking sounds. I didn’t have much time to worry about that, however. My thoughts were fading fast and my eyes racing to beat them.

There was a single thought that stayed with me as I drifted out of consciousness and sailed off to dreamland.

Pyrrhus.

Episode 1: Swing Vote - Part 3

Sleep didn’t come easily to me on the hard cot at the police station, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. The sheets were itchy and over-starched and pillow may as well have been a piece of cardboard filled with rocks. Still, I managed until sometime early in the morning.

I tended to roll around in my sleep, but the cots they gave us were just wide enough for a pony to fit in and nothing more, far unlike the bed back at Joya’s. Suffice to say, I awoke with a start when my head slammed into the hard wooden floor, jolting me awake.

My head swam for a moment as I snapped awake. I moaned and rubbed my head where a bruise was almost certainly forming. To my surprise, neither Marshmallow nor Starshine woke up even with all of my noise. Lucky them.

I sighed and picked myself up on all fours and prepared to climb back in bed. That’s when I saw that, across from me, the cot Grapevine had been occupying was now empty. Curious, I looked around but didn’t see any sign of her. The bathroom in the corner still had its light off, so that wasn’t it.

I took one last look at my bed then walked out of the barracks into the main hall of the police station. It wasn’t like I could sleep knowing she was gone, anyway. If she got to do something more interesting than me, I would flip. I was supposed to be a reporter now too, after all.

The lights were off throughout the police station as well. Most of the officers had gone home, and those that hadn’t slept in the other barracks rooms or Celestia knew where, but not in the main room. In the darkness, the shapes of typewriters and bulletin boards seemed almost sinister as my eyes adjusted.

Then, of course, I realized that if I could see anything, then light had to be coming from somewhere. I looked around until I spied a door that was cracked open, yellow light spilling out of it. I shuffled over to it and opened the wooden door with a soft sigh to reveal a flight of stairs leading upward to what I assumed was the roof, seeing as the police station had only one story.

I shut the door behind me and walked up the stairs. They creaked beneath me and sawdust flew around my hooves as I went. Soon enough, though, I found myself at the top and another door. I pushed through it and found myself on a barren rooftop. Besides the little shack that held the stairwell and a whirring a generator, the roof was just bare concrete.

Bare, that was, except for a familiar purple pony who sat on the far edge, her back facing me.

I trotted up to her, careful to keep my steps from making too much sound. I could hear her humming to herself when I got closer. It wasn’t anything I recognized, but it lilted over me and made the scene below the roof that more serene.

Early morning in downtown Fillydelphia didn’t seem that much different from the late night scene. Electric lights glittered like stars across the flashy buildings and towering high rises as buses and taxis honked and rumbled on the streets below. Ponies roamed the alleys and boulevards, walking up and down them with their fancy clothes and hats.

Pictures of streetcars lit up in the night below the skyscrapers had been carried in magazines that I’d bought all those years back in Derbyshire. They had been what had set me so much on going to the city. Sure, I had applied to other newspapers, but my heart had been set on Fillydelphia. Something about it just entranced me. There was so little magic here, instead the wonders of the city were bought with the labor of other ponies. It was a place where I believed anypony could make it big. Then again, had I been so wrong?

“Hey, you made it,” Grapevine said when I reached her side. She slapped a hoof on the rooftop. “C’mon, sit and relax a little bit. You’ve had a long few days.”

I smiled and let myself down. While she watched, I wrenched my shirt off and spread my wings as far out as they could go. I let each feather preen and shake itself to get any soreness out. I couldn’t help it: I sighed a little.

Grapevine stared at me. “You pegasi sure know how to make that erotic,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, are you starting this again?”

“Can’t I have a little fun?” she asked with a wink. “But no, no, we’re cool. I’m, uh, over that.” She kicked her legs in the bare air away from the roof and sighed. “Problem is figuring out where I am now. You’ve got Sterling and a new job . . . me, it’s just same old Grapevine.”

“Why is that so bad?” I asked. “I seem to remember ‘same old Grapevine’ being a pretty good friend.”

She smiled a little. “You’re such a flank kisser, Minty.”

“Only around a certain somepony . . .”

She threw up her hooves. “Okay, okay, too much information!”

I laughed and a moment later she joined me. I watched as she did so. It was hard to describe the emotions that run through the mind when seeing somepony else smile and laugh, especially somepony like Grapevine. Knowing what I knew, it was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. Sure enough, when she saw me watching she quieted down and looked away.

“So what’s got you down?” I asked after a moment. “Is it that me and you didn’t work out? I mean, I’m sorry, but I’m just kind of . . . straight.”

“No, it’s not that,” she said. “I mean, c’mon, I was reaching too. I wanted companionship more than I wanted a mare. I’m not like that . . . I think.” She sighed. “I just want to be different, you know? This whole case has just felt like the same old thing where we’re outgunned and outnumbered and at the end of it is going to be more dead ponies and a me who has to go back to an empty house.”

I spread a wing out and draped it around her shoulder. “Well then why don’t we change this time? Make a different outcome out of this? Whoever this assassin is, he isn’t Pullmare. I think we can handle him.”

“Yeah, but how?” Grapevine asked. “I’ve been thinking about it and I just . . . I don’t know. I don’t know where to go or what to do.” She held her head between her hooves. “I feel lost.”

I stood up and took her hooves in mine. “I have just the thing that can fix that,” I said, spreading my wings.

“Please tell me your answer isn’t a flight around the city,” Grapevine said. “I think only you pegasi actually enjoy flying without a blimp.”

“No, no, nothing silly like that,” I said. I pointed down below us to a squat building with “PUB” illuminated in neon on the front of it. “I figured we go get smashed and come up with something. I mean, c’mon, isn’t that what friends do together?”

Grapevine smiled and wrapped her hooves around my waist. “Now you’re speaking my language. I might just remember why we were friends in the first place.”

I laughed and threw myself off the roof, letting my wings catch an updraft that lifted us up off the street, though only just. I was still getting a hang of flying, and tried to make a mental note to see Starshine about that sometime soon. I still had enough wingpower to land us in front of the pub, though. I touched down just in front of two tipsy stallions who staggered out of the way.

The front door was painted to look like it had stood since Luna had been locked up, though its hinges were well-oiled when we went through. Most of the crowds had left for the night, but there were a few ponies still at the bar or sitting in booths.

Grapevine and I hauled ourselves onto stools and signaled for the barkeep. He was a tan stallion with a green hat who smiled really wide when he saw us. New customers, I guess. Fresh meat.

Before I could order something simple, Grapevine produced a coin bag from under her headband and threw it on the bartop. “Keep it coming until I say stop,” she ordered. “Whiskey, of course.”

She grinned at me. “You said smashed, didn’t you?”

“You’re really gung-ho for this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, is Minty trying to withdraw already? I always knew those were chicken wings . . .”

I glared at her. “I’ll drink you under the table.”

The barkeep arrived and our night began.

The night ended as we stumbled down the street after being dumped out of the bar by the keep. He hadn’t seemed to have enjoyed Grapevine trying to nibble on his ear and calling him her new “lovetoy”. I did my best to keep from mentioning it to her.

Grapevine slumped against a lamppost that cast her in a yellow light, complimenting her violet complexion. She huffed and looked toward downtown.

“This city is crazy, Minty,” she told me.

“Yeah, I kind of got that impression the first day I came here,” I said. “It hasn’t really stopped since then.”

Grapevine shook her head. “No, no, not that kind of crazy. That’s the fun kind. I mean that this whole city is sick in the head, you know?” She sighed and pointed up to the high rise buildings downtown. “When we stopped Pullmare all of this was supposed to end. The corruption, the double-dealing, the exploitation . . . everything. But it hasn’t, has it? We’ve had to deal with cases just as bad as hers. Business corruption, radical scientists, and gang wars. It never stops.”

“But we did stop all of those,” I said. “We may be just reporters, but we’ve done a lot of good.”

Grapevine snorted. “Yeah, sure. We stopped them, but always after the fact. And look at this new case! We’ve got Pyrrhus Industries, one of the biggest in the city after the Pullmare Company, assassinating political candidates and killing police officers. Not because it’s something to do with them, but because they can. Because they can! Do you get that, Minty? There are businesses in this city that can kill us and have the money to cover it up.”

My head started to pound. Ugh, why had I agreed to drink again? When I managed to stop myself from throwing up, I said, “So what are we supposed to do?”

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” Grapevine said, swaying back and forth on her hooves. “We’re going to get her elected, that’s what. Then we’re going to make her princess-y little ass kick all these high rise lords off their thrones and out of this city for good!”

With that, Grapevine bent over and vomited alcohol and nachos on the ground. After a moment of watching, I joined her. Tears stung at the edges of my eyes, but I felt a little bit better afterwards. Or, at least, less bad than before.

I found myself against one wall, panting with my face turned toward the ground. “S-So how do we get her elected, exactly?” I asked.

Grapevine wiped her mouth and held a hoof to her forehead. “We can’t take on the corporations, that’s for sure. Last time, we barely survived Pullmare by herself. This time, we’re going to have to make them come to us.”

“Uh . . . how?”

“We do their job for them.”

“Absolutely not,” Red Rover told us the next morning when we brought the idea up to him. We had gathered in the barracks once again, though this time around a small card table that had been set up.

Grapevine had told Rover that we had a “plan”, but wisely didn’t tell him until he was there himself.

“It’s the only way we’re going to get past this,” Grapevine said. “If we don’t take matters into our own hooves, you can bet that Pyrrhus will.”

“We don’t even have substantial evidence!” Rover countered. “If you would just let us do our jobs, we could simply arrest them.”

“So, what, they can just pay their way out of a cell?”

“Nopony could pay their way out of what I threw them into . . .”

Grapevine snickered. “You’re so sure of that now.”

Before Rover could respond in turn, Marshmallow raised her hoof in the air and looked between them. Her stark red eyes gave Marshmallow a piercing gaze, even when she didn’t mean it. I could see why she had gotten success thus far as a candidate.

“Yes, what do you want to know?” Grapevine asked.

Marshmallow took a deep breath. “You said that you would do Pyrrhus’ job for them . . . but what would that mean to me? What are they going to do?”

“Our best bet is that they wanted to kidnap you,” Grapevine said. “Then, once they had you, suddenly another member of the council or perhaps one of their own ‘nobly’ steps up to assume the mayorship until you’re found. I think you can fill in the rest.”

Marshmallow gulped. From the look on her face, she didn’t have a hard time figuring out what it would mean if they never found her again.

“So, now, you want to kidnap me?” Marshmallow asked.

“Just stage one, of course.” Grapevine smiled. “We publicize it and make sure every single pony in the city knows about it.”

“But then won’t they just do what they’re planning in the first place?”

Grapevine nodded. “Of course they will. The difference, though, is that the police will ‘catch’ the ‘kidnapper’ and keep them in jail. We’ll leak that the kidnapper is looking to exchange information with the police for release, and sooner or later that assassin is bound to show up and silence our fake.”

I added in, “Then we have you rescued by the police and have a safe return while we capture the assassin and get him to spill what he knows. You get elected and the bosses have to submit.”

Marshmallow looked down for a moment. “But what about Party Line?”

“We’ll be looking for him while pretending it’s you we’re searching for,” Grapevine assured her. “Besides, I’m sure the assassin will be happy to let that information go once we have him.”

“I don’t know . . .” Marshmallow said.

Rover crossed his hooves over his uniformed chest. “See, that’s where I don’t like it. Too many risks. We win their game for them and have to hope that they don’t capitalize on it before we can catch them. No sane pony would ever do this.”

Grapevine and I looked at each other for a moment, then back to him.

“We have to take risks in a situation like this,” Grapevine said. “We don’t have the time or the resources anymore to get at Pyrrhus. The Pullmare fiasco took years to lead up to, and the election is in days. They’ve already won anyway, so this way we make it on our terms.”

I looked at Marshmallow. “It’s still your decision,” I told her.

She smoothed her golden mane with two hooves and bit her lip. She waited a moment before nodding her head just a tiny bit. “We can’t let the ponies at Pyrrhus do this to us anymore,” she said. “We have to keep them on our terms.”

Grapevine pumped a hoof while Rover rolled his eyes and sighed. Starshine, who was lying on a cot behind the table, slumped out and made her way over to us.

“So what parts are we all going to have in this plan?” she asked.

Grapevine placed a hoof on her chest. “I’ll be with Marshmallow in an undisclosed location to wait out the whole investigation. Minty will be the pony accused of kidnapping her own friend, and you’ll be the one to guard her in the jail cell.”

Rover and I objected at the same time.

“My officers can protect her just fine,” he said.

“Why do I have to keep ending up in jail?” I protested.

Grapevine answered, “If your officers are that good, then Starshine won’t have to worry about a thing, will she? And Minty, well, unless you want to memorize every detail of the city and come up with a half dozen locations for fallback points in case any Pyrrhus agents get close to the hideout, then be my guest. Otherwise, it’s jail time again.”

I slumped in my chair. “Fine, whatever.”

Rover stood up. “I’ll go get things ready. My stallions will be on standby to react to the kidnapping, but will give you leave to take Marshmallow where you may.”

“Then it’s settled.” Grapevine smiled. “It’s time we stage a kidnapping.”

It was a bit unsettling how well she pulled it off. The police knew it was staged, but even they seemed surprised by the ferocity that Grapevine displayed. I had to admit, it was somewhat fascinating how many racial slurs she managed to pack into her demands as she backed out of the police station with a hoof around Marshmallow’s throat and a gun pointed at her head.

She couldn’t be seen, of course, so I was the one in the car. I drove across the city to as many visible areas as possible with the police in “hot pursuit”. That hot pursuit eventually ended around the neighborhood of Chestnut Hill, far out of the city. There, beneath the spreading trees and wide expanses of grass, I ditched the car and waited.

Police arrived to take Marshmallow and Grapevine away and detain me for the time being. Then, after a day of “searching”, I was found hiding in the basement of the local library in Chestnut Hill and brought back to the police station for detainment.

Now, I sat on yet another cold, hard wooden bench inside of a tiny jail cell while everypony else was out having fun. Joy.

The cell was large enough for me to stand in, but if I turned sideways my tail brushed against the wall. The meals so far had been nice, at least, but I couldn’t say the same for the company.

“It’s just so weird, me without wings,” Starshine said for the millionth time, pacing up and down the corridor outside my cell. “I mean, with you, your wings don’t really matter. You suck at using them, and you barely use them anyways. But me, well, I’m a flying machine. Literally.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“Hey, when was the last time you came to me about flying lessons?”

“Fine, I get it,” I said.

She reached the wall and turned around, pacing back up towards the door at the far end of the jailhouse room. “It’s weird, too, me not having my wings. I feel naked.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever not seen you naked,” I said.

“No, no, like . . . super naked. Like the naked you get for a good stallion when you rear up your legs and—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” I said.

Starshine grinned at me from behind her pink, curly mane. “Your reactions just want me to do it more, you know that, right?”

“I’ve been informed of the same from Grapevine,” I grumbled.

Starshine snickered. “How’s the old broad holding out, anyway?”

“For one,” I said, “she only four years older than you, and for another, she’s fine. We both are.”

“Did you have to add that bit on the end?”

“Are you going to analyze everything I say?”

Starshine leaned against the wall, hiked up on two legs, and crossed her forelegs over her chest. “Just wanting to know a little bit of what’s going on, that’s all,” she said. “I mean, you know I’ve been talking with your boss about positions.”

“Oh yeah?” I said. “What about?”

“He doesn’t know yet, but he says I’ve got promise.”

I laughed and stood up from my bench, walking around a little to stretch my legs out. “Yeah, see, I thought he was saying the same thing when I came here. Turns out, just to get this job I had to come close to dying, oh, five times? Maybe more?”

Starshine sniffed. “That won’t be me?”

“Oh, and why not?”

“I’m not as dumb as you.”

Before I could think of a witty retort before the moment turned to awkward silence, the door at the end of the cellblock opened and let a little light stream in to the dank room. Red Rover marched down the row of cells before arriving at mine.

Befitting him, however, was a big grin on his face.

“You would not believe how much everypony’s freaking out right now,” he said. “The newspapers are going crazy, the radio is spilling with news of this, and every council in the city is in meeting. It’s great!”

“So the plan’s going off without a hitch, eh?” I said.

He nodded. “All the guards around this building haven’t reported anything so far. We know the assassin is coming, but we’ll be more than ready for him when he does.”

“Yeah, about that . . .” I said. “Why, exactly, do I have to wait for him in this cage?”

Rover tapped the steel bars, letting them ring out with a harsh, metallic sound. “Safest place in the station for you right now. We’ve got all the keys locked up or in other safe places, and without them it’s just as hard to get into a cell than it is to get out of one.”

“Sure, but what if he manages to get a key off a guard?”

Rover’s face darkened. “If the assassin manages that, then you never really stood a chance.”
He brightened. “But I’m sure it won’t come to that. My guards are being rotated out every four hours and I have only my most loyal officers on the job. In addition, we’ve been in talks with the Royal Guard about coming out here to give us assistance in our ‘investigation.’”

Starshine snorted. “Great, just what we need, more government.”

“That government is what’s keeping you two from being gutted at the moment,” Rover said. “I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss them.”

“Sure, easy for you to say.”

“Girls, girls, you’re both pretty,” I said, “but can we try to focus on this right now?”

Starshine crossed her hooves. “Well isn’t somepony selfish.”

“She’s right.” Rover coughed and leaned against the bars of the opposite cell from mine. “What do you want to know?”

“What’s going on outside?” I asked. “And how’s Grapevine and Marshmallow?”

“Things are going according to plan so far,” he said. “The corporations have banded together and ‘nobly’ proposed for one of their own to take the mayoral position until the whole deal is over. Grapevine and Marshmallow are still in hiding, and haven’t indicated that they will come out anytime soon. The guards I posted there report that all is quiet.”

“So our plan is, uh, working?” I asked.

“Seems like it,” Rover said. “Though let’s not count ourselves out yet. The assassin still hasn’t shown his face, remember.”

“And once he does, I’ll be sure to sock it to him,” Starshine promised.

Rover laughed and said his goodbyes before departing the cell, leaving me alone with my thoughts and Starshine. When she started to prattle on again, that just left my thoughts. Most of them focused, of course, on the assassin. Who was he? What was he doing? With Pullmare, things had been straightforward in this light, at least. She hadn’t messed around. But with Pyrrhus? The game had already changed and here I was, only prepared to win the last one.

Day turned to night and the only light coming in to the cell from the small window was from the afterglow of downtown Fillydelphia and the occasional star. Starshine had dragged herself into a cot and fell to sleep on it, snoring softly. I eventually laid myself on the rickety bed in the cell and did my best to match Starshine’s example. Not that it was easy. Too much of it reminded me of the restless nights I’d had since I had come to the city. Some were restless by choice, of course. Namely those with Sterling, but all the others . . .

I drifted in and out of sleep for a time, and my mind was caught in that land between dreams and reality, like an endless plain of mystery and wonder. At some point I thought I heard a mighty rumble, but for all I knew I had imagined it.

It was not until later, however, that I was awake enough to realize I was not alone in my cell. My heart quickened as I rose off my cot to make out the silhouette of a figure all in black, leaning against the wall opposite of me. We wore a white, expressionless mask that concealed any face he might have had.

“Quite a resplendent night, isn’t it?” he said, nodding toward the far wall of my cell.

When I looked, however, I beheld a massive hole in the masonry that peeked out on the streets outside. Moonlight danced over the hole and shined across half his mask, while the other side of his face was hidden in shadow.

“It is rare, in my line of work, to share a view such as this,” he continued, “but tonight I may make an exception.”

“Wh-Who are you?” I stammered.

He sighed. “Why must they all say that? Who I am is irrelevant, but you may perhaps be more interested in what I am. Though, to answer that, might be a more complex task.” From under his cloak he produced a small dagger that he scraped along the wall, making a small scratching sound. “I am but a pawn with dreams of being king. My job, however, takes me farther off the board than I might have dreamed. Someday I hope to return, not as a white knight, but as a black rook, moving against the queen . . .”

“Yeah, I get it, chess,” I said. The longer he went on, the less I started to care about the dagger. That, and ponies acting like knowing how to play chess made them better was a pet peeve that went a little deeper than, say, danger.

For my part, the assassin laughed. “Very good!” he said. “While most ponies are content with metaphors and similes, you and I—” He leaned over and stuck the dagger in my face until the silver tip touched my nose. “We deal more in the reality of things. Isn’t that right, Minty Flower?”

“You know me?”

“Of course.” I could hear him laugh again, a harsh sound. “You are she who is feared by masters in this city. You are a killer, and an eloquent one at that. Who would think that your simple guise hides the mare who killed Pullmare, that Germane, and many others?”

“I’m not a killer,” I said.

He slid the blade of the dagger across my cheek. A shallow cut appeared and it stung. “That is what we all say, don’t we? But, well, you won’t get to see quite yet tonight. You see, Minty, I am not here to kill you, but to bring you with me to my master. And in just a moment—”

He had been focused so much on me, and I on him, that neither of us had paid attention to the click of the cell door opening or the pony standing there. In fact, I wasn’t even sure what was going on until the assassin was swept aside as a pink and green ball of pissed off pegasi tackled him to the ground.

Starshine’s hoof connected with the assassin’s mask, cracking it down the right side. He tried to sweep at her with his dagger, but she was on top and shoved his hoof to the ground.

While she was doing that, though, he used his other foreleg to knock her in the side of the head. Her grip slipped, and the assassin made for the dagger. I jumped at him, but didn’t make it in time.

He grabbed the dagger and came up swinging. The blade sliced across the my chest, around my sternum, and cut a deep gash through it. Pain lanced through my body, hot and angry. It felt like my entire chest burned as the wound gaped open in the air.

I cried out and fell to the ground. Starshine rushed to my side, but the assassin smashed his hoof on her head and she went down, out like a light. I watched as he stood over me. He looked at my wound once, then reached into his cloak and pulled out a white piece of cloth.

He pressed it to my face and the world slipped away.

When I woke up, I was much higher than I had been before. Something pegasus in me was telling me I was way up above the ground, even if the room looked more like a hellish dungeon than anything else.

The room was bare for the most part with gunmetal walls adorned with banners of a fire motif. The rug under me that ran the length of the room had flame designs in it that led up to, no joke, what looked like an iron throne. Behind it was a massive fireplace that burned bright and cast the room in a sinister glow.

I looked down at myself and saw a bandage that had been hastily slapped on my chest. Blood still seeped into it, but not enough to kill me or anything. I shuddered that I actually had a thought like that. When I tried to move my limbs and wings, I found them bound. Again. Joy.

Looking to the left and right, I saw Starshine had been brought, as well as Party Line, who made his reappearance. My stomach sank when I saw that Grapevine and Marshmallow had been taken as well. They were all tied and gagged but I found that I, in fact, was still free to speak.

Somepony began to clap and all of us looked up. Stepping out of the shadows around the throne was the assassin still in his garb and another pony. He was older, but moved as quick as his assassin did. His charcoal coat was complemented by a fiery mane that alternated between red, orange, and yellow. The cutie mark on his rump was the same stylized flame that adorned everything else in the room. Not exactly subtle, this guy.

“Nice to see you all waking up,” the pony said. “You should all be familiar with my associate, of course. As for me, well, you may all call me Pilot Light.”

I cocked my head. “You know I’m the only one here that can talk, right?” Grapevine made some muffled shouts—no doubt filled with obscenities—my way.

“Of course I know,” Light said. “I wouldn’t want any of these . . . lessers . . . get in the way of our conversation.”

“Lessers?”

“Lesmphph?” Grapevine asked through her gag.

“Yes, lessers,” Light repeated, walking over to me. “You see, these ponies here . . . they shape nothing! They are bound to ebb and flow of society. But we are not.”

“You do know both mayoral candidates are here, right?” I asked.

He laughed. “Of course. But what is a mayor but the tallest blade of grass that sways to the winds of the populace?”

I wanted to scratch my head. “Is it just a rule that all the important ponies here have to talk in metaphors?”

“Power, Minty Flower,” Pilot Light said, “grows larger in the dark. A mayor who is transparent to those he or she rules will never have the power to truly rule. But put on a facade and the whole world falls to its knee.”

I paused. “So . . . you think I am in your little power game?”

“Always the humble one, I see.” Light smiled. “But yes, you are. Think, Minty Flower. You killed the most powerful mare in the city and toppled a political and industrial empire. You killed a Germane refugee being hunted by not one but two governments. Then, to top it off, you arrested one of the most notorious crime bosses in the city. You are a force as unstoppable as that of nature. And that has made the other powers in this city afraid. Nothing is scarier than a force for good. Bad is content to sit and be happy, but good never stops moving and is impossible to stop once it has started.”

I snorted. “So I’m an unstoppable force for good now?”

“As much as you would deny it, the evidence seems to hold true,” Light said. He sighed. “But that is not why you are here. In fact, your presence here is simply a blessing. It will make it that much easier to get rid of you. It’s sad, really. I wish we could have talked more.”

Pilot Light turned, smiling, to the assassin, presumably to order my execution. What he got for his trouble, however, was a dagger to the throat. I watched the silver blade poke out the back of his neck. His eye focused, unbelieving, on the dagger even as he gagged on his own blood. After a moment of struggle, he slumped to the ground.

The assassin tsked and retrieved his blade from the dead Pilot Light with a sharp tug. A little blood sprayed as the dagger came free, and the assassin wiped it on the late stallion’s coat to keep it clean.

“Such a waste of time,” he said. “Always talking, but never doing!”

I stared at him. “W-What just happened?”

“Power,” the assassin replied. “Pilot Light spoke of it and its origin, but did not understand himself. Power grows strong in the dark, but he was never this.” The assassin laughed. “He put a face to his empire, and you see how well it served him.”

“And you . . . killed him.”

“Would you have rather me let him go on? He was, after all, just as much a villain as Pullmare, yet I killed him in one fell swoop while you watched.”

I gulped. “Then what was the whole point of all this?”

The assassin said nothing, but I could almost swear his mask smiled. “For Pilot Light, he sought to control your Marshmallow friend through her naivety and his political strength. He wanted to play a game of shadows; an unseen puppeteer. You can see how well that worked for him.”

He swished his cape around himself until only the top of his mask was showing. “But for me, today was a demonstration, Minty Flower. You asked who I was earlier, and now you see. I am but a mask. A visage that others project themselves and their fears onto. I am what is wrong with society and what we have to fear for our children. To fight me is to fight an ideal and to join is to do nothing more than question those who only want you to obey. I am the winter breeze in summer time. The world is broken, but I’m just fine.”

Lightning fast, he whirled around and produced a small knife from within his cloak and cut my restraints in the shape of a “v”. They fell to the floor, but I was left unharmed. He threw the knife and it embedded itself in the floorboard at my hooves. The blade vibrated for a moment.

“Free your friends,” he said. “They have been through enough today.”

I looked at him then slid the dagger out of the floor and held it in my hooves. “So . . . you were on our side?”

He laughed. “Oh, Minty, don’t you know? Sides are only for those who wish to be blind to the world around them. You and I are not on any side but our own, and it is only the future that will tell which one comes out ahead. You see, the death of Pilot Light is only the beginning: a warning. With the death of the last figurehead, this city will descend into chaos to look for a leader.” He looked at Marshmallow and Party Line lying on the ground and snorted. “We can only hope it’s not either of these two.”

With that, he sprang up and past us toward the rear of the room. I turned to see him halfway out two massive, coal-black doors. “Wait!” I cried.

He stopped for a second.

“The fire in Rapture . . . what was that about?” I asked.

“Some ponies have purpose in their methods,” he said. “But perhaps I just wanted to watch the world burn.”

A moment later, he was gone. As I undid the last of my restraints and started to work on the others, I thought about his last answer. The idea that he didn’t have a real motive . . . somehow that made Pilot Light look like a simpleton. And made the assassin all the more scary.

“You going to pout all day or finish untying me?” Grapevine grumbled.

I went back to work.

A few days later, I stood with Grapevine near the back of the crowd that watched Marshmallow get inaugurated as the Mayor of Fillydelphia up on a big wooden stage under a dozen flowing banners. In the end, with the death of Pilot Light, she had come away the most clean and won more of the vote than Party Line ever could. Then again, after all that had happened, he probably didn’t mind so much.

“This is going to make a good story, huh?” Grapevine asked. She was decked out in some slick blue dress Joya had made her wear. She’d done the same for me, to sponsor Marshmallow’s “official” color.

“I guess you could say that,” I said. “But which one of us is going to write it?”

Grapevine shrugged. “Why not both? I feel more like doing an editorial, anyway.”

Marshmallow gave an oath and became the mayor under a sunny blue sky. Serenity hovered overhead, the massive steel and wood platform acting as her vigilant guard for the city she would now helm. I looked around. Millions of ponies . . . and she controlled all of them with her decisions. No power, my flank . . .

“So the pretty little girl from the Royal family becomes ruler of the underclass,” a voice from behind said, “how surprising.”

I turned around to find Ivory standing over us. His lean form towered above ponies, as usual. Even though his mottled gray posterior was that of a pony’s, the only thing anyone noticed was the other half of him, which was a spitting image of a griffin. His beak curled up in a grin. “Been awhile, Minty.”

“I thought it smelled raunchy around here . . .” Grapevine mumbled.

“Hey, Ivory, how . . . convenient. Where have you been?”

“Oh, nowhere special,” he said. “But it’s where I’m going to next that will matter more.”

“And where’s that?”

There was a twinkle in his eye. “That’s for another time. Come on, your friend just received her Mayorship! It’s a day to celebrate!”

I nodded and, with a grin, joined him and Grapevine as we made our way to the stage to congratulate Marshmallow and enjoy the fruits of the day. For a second, though, I thought I could see one pony in black watching me in the crowd as we went. But maybe that was just me.

Episode 2: For Whom The Bell Tolls - Part 1

The sun broke through the clouds over Fillydelphia. Delicate rays of warmth splashed across the ivory and glass towers that dotted the city center. Far overhead, Serenity drifted lazily through the air, its engines creating a loud hum that washed over the city below.

I had to cover my eyes with a single cerulean hoof to keep the glare out of my eyes. Sunlight streamed in through glass panels on the rear of an elevator I rode on. It slid up the side of a stone skyscraper, carrying Grapevine, Starshine, and I to an office near the top.

Starshine fidgeted as the elevator rose higher and higher into the sky. “So why is Marshmallow up in here again?” she asked. “It’s awfully high . . .”

“Says the pegasus,” I said.

She glared at me. The space on her back where her wings would normally be was bare, the metal wings marked only by a small pair of holes deep that ran deep into her body. My stomach swam when I looked at them.

“Isn’t my fault I don’t like being able to fly if we fall out,” she said. “Is this how you always feel, Grapevine? Totally useless?”

“Funny,” Grapevine said. Her horn was glowing and projected a sunshade in front of her eyes. “But really, girls, can we try to act professional for once? This is the Staten Building, the first skyscraper raised after the parasprite attack. The bell in the tower is the one from the old city hall.”

“Do you think it still rings?” I asked.

“It does, I’m sure.” Grapevine stared up at the glass ceiling, toward the puffy white clouds in the sky. “It does for us all.”

The elevator slowed as it reached the top of the spire. Little breaks built into a track on the side of the building coasted the glass car to a stop. I fought the urge to look down. Metal doors behind us opened, letting in the cool air from inside.

I turned and followed Grapevine inside, Starshine bringing up the rear. The elevator let out into a tiled hallway. A single black stripe ran across the pearlescent floor from one set of doors to another. The ones opposite were made of thick wood that towered toward the ceiling.

“Fancy duds for a mayor’s office,” Starshine said.

“Better than the old city hall,” Grapevine said. “Less murder-y. And less burnt now, too.”

“Are they ever going to get that repaired?” I asked.

Grapevine shrugged. “It’s been three weeks since Marshmallow was elected and I haven’t seen a single work crew at the site. Shows you the priorities in this city, I guess. Meanwhile they put up a new terrace in The Burb.”

“You say that like it’s something new.” Starshine snorted. “This city’s always catered to money. How do you think Pullmare got elected over and over? The little mare’s been screwed over for years.”

We reached the heavy oak doors and Starshine stopped talking. Grapevine reached out and pushed them open with a grunt. Despite their size, the doors slid open without a sound across the polished floor. We walked into the room within and looked around.

I was standing in an oval room lined with tall Prench windows that filled the room with natural light. A stained desk sat atop a plush blue rug with inlays of cerulean and seafoam green. In the center was the seal of Fillydelphia, a tower of industry rising into the sky.

The girthy threads felt soft under my hooves. Shelves lined with books were sprawled over the room, but for the most part it was empty. Save for a couple mares by the desk, of course. Marshmallow sat in a high-backed chair while a mare I hadn’t seen before sat on the edge of her desk, her violet lower legs dangling off the side.

“Great to see you all made it!” Marshmallow exclaimed.

“Yeah, ride was a little scary, but we got here just fine,” Starshine said, then turned to the mare. “New secretary?”

Marshmallow blushed a bit and shook her head, holding out her hooves toward the mare. “No, no, she’s not—”

The mare laughed and hopped off the desk, shaking her light blue mane about. “It’s quite alright, dear, few ponies can recognize me compared to my company.” She brought a hoof to the red sweater vest she wore and pumped her chest out proudly. “My name is Amethyst, CEO of Amethyst Star Lines, Equestria’s premier airship transportation line. I’ve got hubs in every major city and outsource to just about every little town across the country, as well as a few overseas.”

Starshine whistled. “Me and my daddy used to offload some of your ships up in Serenity. Always were in good condition. Not everyday you get to meet someone famous.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to tell who’s the most powerful mare in the room,” Grapevine remarked.

Marshmallow slid her chair back and climbed out from behind her desk. She gazed out across the bustling city outside and smiled. “Miss Amethyst owns a majority holding in this building, and was kind enough to lend the city the top office for the mayor.”

“I was only too happy to help,” Amethyst said. “This city’s been good to me for a long time. I moved my headquarters here after the Prench Quarter of New Stables burned down and Pullmare offered me a lucrative offer here.”

Her face darkened. “She may not have been the best gal, but this city’s better’n her. If a new mayor needs an office, I’ll give her one.”

Marshmallow nodded. “It’s been a real lifesaver. Having a sort of official office goes a long way in convincing the ponies of Fillydelphia that their government is functioning. Especially after the whole election debacle . . .”

“Right, yes, debacle,” I said.

To be honest, as bad as it had been, it had been an alicornsend to us. Grapevine’s editorial and my front page story had hit the newsstands the day of the election and had sold out before noon. If there was one thing ponies loved more than how bad their last mayor was, it was learning about the new one. Just the paycheck from that story had kept me floating for weeks, and could provide for me months if I needed.

Sterling certainly hadn’t complained.

Grapevine looked at her purple counterpart, then back to Marshmallow. “Alright, so if everything is okay, why are you calling us here, Marsh?”

“I need to call in a favor,” the ivory-coated mare admitted. “And it’s a big one, I’m afraid.”

“I’m listening.”

Amethyst stepped forward. “As part of Mayor Bauble’s major contributors and staff, I am one of the few who know of the true events that conspired at Pyrrhus. The individual known only to us as The Assassin.”

I hugged a hoof to my chest. The scar had ceased to be so red and angry, but it still throbbed on occasion. Sterling had told me it fit my look, but to me it was a reminder of that night, and how little control I had had on my near-death. I’d tried to put the incident behind me as best I could, but it had been a futile gesture at best.

“So you decided to tell her, Marsh.” Grapevine’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like the sound of this. What business is her’s to know what happened.”

“It’s her’s if the information is going to affect her and her company directly,” Marshmallow shot back.

Amethyst raised a hoof. “I’m right here, Miss Lulamoon. If you protest me knowing confidential information, that is fine, but you should know that I am not a bystander to The Assassin’s actions.”

“Oh, did he hold a knife to your throat?” Grapevine asked.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” The mare held a hoof to her head and sighed. She looked out one of the plate windows toward where Serenity drifted just outside a cloud bank. “Since the fall of Pyrrhus, most of the other businesses around Fillydelphia have fallen on hard times, and ASL is no different. But to meddle issues further, it has begun to be apparent that The Assassin’s influence extends much farther than just a few company execs.”

Marshmallow joined her by the window. “Amethyst came to me personally after several of her workers began to feel threatened by ponies in masks, telling them that if they were going to work with the oppressors, they would die with them.”

“So what? Scabs get threatened all the time downtown,” Starshine said.

“My company does not hire scabs!” Amethyst snapped. “These are my everyday, normal workers who were threatened with their lives for working for me. Several of the higher-up ponies I managed to transfer out to Manehattan, but the rest are afraid to come to work everyday.”

“And just why are you so sure that these ponies are connected to The Assassin?”

“The way the masks and cloaks the ponies wore were described, it can’t be anypony else. Even if it’s just a copycat crime, it’s enough for my business to start to sink even further.”

“So why call us?” Grapevine asked. “We’re reporters, not miracle workers.”

Marshmallow waved to the city outside her window, bathed in sunlight. “Not to them, you’re not. The two of you right now represent everything this city is striving toward. Just your presence might be enough to get them to back down.”

“And if they don’t?”

“You’ll be sent with a police escort to track them down. They will escort all of you to their last known location tonight. Please, Grapevine. All of you, actually. I can’t be a good mayor if ponies in this city can’t even work.”

Grapevine leaned against the desk. She looked at the seal on the desk and the papers scattered around it. It didn’t even look as much like a mayor’s domain and more a CEO’s. Grapevine wrinkled up her nose, then shook her head.

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to get Minty for this one,” she said. “I know it’s a worthy cause and all, but something just doesn’t sit well with me on this. I’m going to have to keep out of this one.”

I thought I saw Amethyst shoot Grapevine a glare, but it was gone so fast I tacked it up to my imagination.

Marshmallow sighed. “I understand, Grapevine. Minty?”

I shrugged. I didn’t have much of a stake in a company I hadn’t used or in workers I hadn’t met. It was an easy story, really. The only element that kept me from jumping at the opportunity was the subject matter. Facing possible associates of The Assassin wasn’t the safest idea I had ever had. Then again, when was the last time I had played it safe?

“I’m in,” I said.

Starshine stepped forward. “Well, nopony asked me, but I’m in too. You’re going to need someone who can be downtown and actually know what the heck she’s doing. Trust me.”

Amethyst beamed. “Great, it’s settled! You will both receive compensation for your consultation, as well as the rights to any story you publish based on your experiences.”

Starshine pumped her hoof in the air. “Sweet, golden wings here I come!”

Grapevine rolled her eyes.

The trip down the building was only a little less disconcerting than the trip up. Maybe it was because everypony kept quiet, but the ride seemed to take forever. What seemed like five hours later, but really five minutes at best, we all stepped out of the Staten Building’s lobby and onto a clean sidewalk outside.

Starshine cracked her neck. “Well that went well, I think. Nice to be making a little extra cash, I mean. I can see why you took the raise to a reporter, Minty.”

“That’s not really why I did it,” I began, but trailed off when I saw Grapevine.

She was glaring at the ground, her eyes focused on the smooth pavement below. She shook, like a racer at the starting gate, but said nothing. I pressed a hoof against her.

“Grapevine?” I asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just dandy,” she said.

“It’s just a case . . .”

“It is not just a case,” she growled, turning to me. “Marshmallow’s gone corporate, and you’ve just followed right in her hoofsteps. Since when are we helping corporations instead of trying to bust them?”

I shook my head. “Not all corporations are bad, you know.”

“Do you really think that the ones that try to buddy up with the mayor can be any good?” She sighed. “Look, if you and Starshine want do this, fine, but don’t expect me to pull your flanks out of the fire if things go bad.”

She flagged down a steam taxi and climbed inside. She looked at us for a moment, but after seeing we weren’t going to join her, she closed the door and the cab sped away. Starshine stared at the cloud of smoke left in the taxi’s wake.

“What’s up with her?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Who knows? I guess she’s still paranoid about the whole Pyrrhus thing, even if pretty much everyone hated them.”

Starshine and I walked down the street toward the nearest trolley stop. The warm air felt nice blowing through my mane, and the smells of the food stalls we passed had my mouth watering. Some aprts of Fillydelphia may be distasteful, but downtown wasn’t one of them.

“So what do you think is going down with these masked ponies anyway?” Starshine asked as we walked.

My scar tingled. “Let’s just hope their imitators and that’s all. If they are, a little news coverage should be enough to scare them off.”

“Or give them enough justification for more.”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

The trolley stop was a step above what could be found in West Fillydelphia. A bench made of polished wood stood beneath a glass enclosure that kept the rain and wind out. Advertisements were plastered all over, but they were little more than a nuisance.

The trolley that slid up to us, too, was far different than any out west. The paint shone and the headlights still functioned correctly. The ponies onboard dressed properly and sat quietly in their seats. We boarded and took a bench near the back, feeling out of place among the upper class.

“I could get used to this,” Starshine whispered to me.

“Tell me about it,” I muttered.

Now that I really looked at downtown, it wasn’t hard to be a little envious of the ponies who treated it as the norm. Sparkling windows, smooth brick, and clean sidewalks just weren’t something a mare like me was used to. Starshine seemed to regard it with indifference, but I felt a stir inside me. I had money, but not enough for anything here. Yet, the dream of living opulence flashed before my eyes.

A dream of Sterling and I, sitting together on a plush couch in front of our sweeping front window. Watching the nighttime vista around us as downtown Fillydelphia pulsed and prospered. Thousands of lights from thousands of apartments just like ours shining against the window pane in an imitation of starlight.

I was snapped from my illusion when Starshine had to pull me out of our seat. Even with her help, we barely made it on the connecting trolley in time. Then, as soon as it took off, it was back to the dirt and grime my life now encompassed.

Joy.

I left Starshine on the trolley at my stop. She told me she’d take it all the way to a small airport out near the Burb to get back up to Serenity. Lacking wings and all that, she didn’t seem to like readjusting to her life on the ground. I waved at her and got off, then watched the battered trolley chug away.

Even without being as fancy as downtown, I had to smile from being in front of Joya’s. The cool green paintjob that Sterling and I had helped her apply looked nice for the coming winter, and helped her shop stand out among the others on the street.

Sterling’s fire-red convertible sat in the street outside, resting where it always did. The hood was jacked up, and my coltfriend himself leaned over the engine, tinkering with something inside. I could hear him muttering and cursing to himself, so he must have been having some trouble.

With a smile, I walked up and slapped him on the flank. “Hey, whatcha doing there?” I asked.

He let out a yelp and hit his head on the raised hood. He glared at me and rubbed the sore spot. “Do you always have to do that?”

I grinned. “Does that mean you don’t want me to touch your flank?”

“Well, no, I mean . . .”

I patted his head and nuzzled my nose against his. We’d settled into a sort of routine, him and I. I reported, he kept up the shop and sold the gadgets he could while dealing with all the legal binding behind the gasoline car.

“How goes today?” I asked.

He scratched his head. “Got a few new investors for the car, and . . . not much else. I think Joya is getting tired of using a stallion to model her dresses for her, though. She keeps huffing when she makes me.”

“You never complained that I remember,” I said.

“You’re so funny, Minty.”

I winked. “I know I am.” I leaned against the car, but quickly pulled myself away. The metal felt hot as coals under the influence of the sun.

“I got a new story,” I told him.

“Did you now?” he said. “And somehow I thought you had gone into early retirement.”

I stuck my tongue out. “Me and Starshine are heading to the factories tonight with the police. Going to do a little investigating, a no-rough-stuff type of deal. Easy story, you know.”

Sterling wiped his hooves on an oil-stained rag and smirked. “But easy stories never sell papers.”

“Don’t I know it.”

I gave him a peck on the cheek and went inside the little shop that we lived in with Joya. Clothes were strewn haphazardly on and over shelves and display stands that were scattered around the room. I stepped over a pile of dresses and toward the kitchen that stood at the back of the spacious front room, behind the checkout counter.

I peeked my head in to find Joya sprawled in a chair, snoring softly. I started to step out the door, but she jerked up and her eyes snapped open.

“Huh, what’s going on?” she asked in a drowsy tone.

I rolled my eyes and walked over to her. The kitchen was as much a mess as the front room, only with messy splatters of dough covering a myriad of pots and pans. The table in front of the chair Joya sat in was stacked high with boxes filled to the brim with cloth. What was strange, however, was that it was all the same color. Black.

“You were asleep,” I told her.

The beige donkey yawned and licked her lips. Her eyes had heavy, dark bags ringing them and parts of her face sagged. “I guess I was, wasn’t I?” she said, then looked at the clock. “Oh dear, I must have worked through the night!”

I nodded to the boxes. “Working on . . . whatever all that’s for?”

“Costumes.” Joya hit her head against the table. “Lots and lots of costumes.”

“All in black?”

“It’s some new stage play, artsy-fartsy thing. They just wanted a hundred identical cloaks and I’ve been trying to get them done.” She rubbed her hooves and winced. “I may have gone a bit overboard.”

I laughed. “I’ll say.”

I put a hoof around one of her shoulders and squeezed. She smiled and leaned against me for a moment. Since coming to the city, she’d seemed more and more like the mother I had wish I’d known, the kind who threw everything into what she loved instead of the bottom of a glass of brandy.

Once we broke apart, I looked to a bright pink telephone on the wall, and a little wooden table underneath it. “Did I get any calls?” I asked.

Joya nodded and walked to the table. She picked up a little slip of paper and looked at it. “Red Rover called,” she said. “He said he was going to come pick you up around eight or so.” She giggled. “You got a new boyfriend on the side? I know I’ve heard of ponies in three-way relationships before . . .”

My cheeks flushed. “No! It’s for a new story that Marshmallow wants me to do for a friend of hers. Starshine will be there too. She’s my assistant or whatever.”

“Your camerapony? My, how the tables have turned. The student’s now the teacher.”

I giggled. It was true. The pony who had spent one disastrous day trying to teach me weather and almost got me killed had somehow ended up under me as an assistant. What a world.

I rustled my wings under my shirt. Since that day, it seemed like I had been using them less and less, only in spurts. I couldn’t even remember the last time I went flying just to fly. They almost seemed like they’d be better off, like Starshine’s.

“Yeah, pretty crazy,” I said. She yawned again and stumbled her way toward a room under the stairs in the store. It was inside that she kept her sewing machine and other materials. Dozens of black cloaks lay around the room.

“Back to work, I suppose,” she said, and shook her head. “After some coffee, of course.”

I smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll let you get to it. I’m going to try to get some sleep before Red comes to pick me up, okay?”

“Should I tell Sterling to come join you?” she teased.

“Sure, if he wants to cuddle up next to a log,” I told her, backing out of the room. She laughed it off and I trotted up the shop’s stairs to the living area above, my tail swishing behind me. I blew past all the room and practically jumped into the big double bed in the room Sterling and I shared. Before long, I was out like a light.

I was woken by Sterling shaking my shoulder. I pulled myself up reluctantly from the soft caress of silk pillows and sheets. I yawned and rubbed my eyes, smiling up at him. “Hey there,” I said.

“Hey sleepy head,” he replied. He looked back toward the bedroom door, then to me again. “Your ride’s here, so I figured you might want to get up. Just a thought.”

“Such a joker.” I put my hooves on the floor and looked down at myself. My floral short was stained and tattered from so much wear, and I still almost thought about wearing it some more. With a huff, though, I decided to grab a fresh batch of clothes from the chest of drawers across from the wide bed in my room.

I replaced my usual wide-brimmed hat with a small bowler, and put on a light green, collared shirt that Joya had described as “stallion-ish” but I thought was comfy. Oh well, I’d always been more stallion than mare anyway.

I looked at my old camera bag, then decided against it. If I was going to be a reporter now, especially on my own, I wouldn’t need it. Or want it, so I told myself.

Sterling led me out of my room and down the stairs, back into the main room. Red Rover was waiting for me by the door with a half-smile on his crimson face. He was a large stallion, but hid his size by letting his stark-white mane grow long over his face and neck. Longer than police regulations, I was sure, but they didn’t seem to mind.

“Nice to see you again, Minty,” he called to me.

I gave a tired wave and yawned. “This mare is ready for the night shift,” I mumbled. “Probably.

He grinned. “Glad to hear. Starshine’s already in the car, and I’m sure she’s fidgeting by now. If we’re to get down to the docks, we’ll need to go now.”

I nodded and followed him out of the store after giving Sterling a parting smooch on the cheek. The night air washed over my fur and I shivered a little. I was thankful to climb into the sleek, black police steamer. I sat in the back, behind a wire mesh cage that protected the front passengers from prisoners in the back. I didn’t like it, but I wasn’t about to fight Starshine, who was sitting with her hooves held close to the heater, a sullen look on her face.

Rover got in and shut his door behind him. “Ready to go?” he asked.

“I was ready like twenty minutes ago,” Starshine grumbled. “Just how long does it take you to wake up, Minty?”

“Twenty minutes, duh.” I giggled and leaned forward against the mesh grate. “So, officer, where are you taking me?”

“Down by the airship docks near the airport,” Rover said. “There’s been rumors of activity down there by those fanatics, so hopefully we can catch some in the act. That would make quite the story, eh?”

Starshine brought up a camera from beneath her seat and held it up. “And quite the picture.”

The steam car started up with a cough, and Rover pulled it away from Joya’s shop and away from the district of West Fillydelphia. The airport was south of the city, a big open area of concrete and oil stains. A few terminals dotted the landscape, but most of the land was just space for giant zeppelins and dirigibles to land.

Even at night, from halfway across the city, I could see the bright lights shining in the sky, marking the way for the pilots to land their ships. Midnight flights were just taking off and I knew the terminals would be packed with business ponies just returning home.

We drove through quiet neighborhoods that ringed the area between West and South Fillydelphia. These areas were the boring ones, the “normal” ones. Parents went to work at local businesses or downtown, fillies and colts went to school and played sports and played music and had lots of friends and nice houses. It wasn’t the richness of the Burb, but it was as normal as Fillydelphia got. Boring.

Luckily, we passed out of the district soon and drove down some small hills to the flat expanse of the Fillydelphia Airport. Traffic was bad and we had to sit and wait for several minutes at a time, just stuck and unable to move.

Starshine, the whole time, remained silent.

“Something wrong, Starshine?” I asked her.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just cranky, okay?

“Okay, jeez,” I said, and sat back. Rover didn’t say a word, but gave her a sideways glance. There might have been a hint of a smile there, but I couldn’t tell. At any rate, we passed through the traffic soon enough and emerged on the other side of the road leading to the airport.

Past the airport a little ways was the Fillydelphia Dockyards. A whole different beast from the airport, the dockyards was an orderly and strict set of landing bays and cargo storage areas. Each bay was a mass of metal girders that formed a cradle for the airships to land in. There, they could unload whatever exotic material they had brought and take off just in time to let another one land. Railroad tracks ran up to the dockyard on the other side to ship the goods off to other cities.

I whistled. “That’s a whole lot of ground to cover. And in the dark, how are we supposed to find anypony?”

“It won’t be so bad,” Rover said. “We’ll just patrol from the car and look for any suspicious activity. We probably won’t even find anything tonight, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Sure. Me, worry?” I muttered.

Rover drove around the edge of the dockyard, around the massive cargo containers colored in pastel shades. His steam car had a small spotlight on it, and he shone it over the containers. The light spilled out from the lone car over the piles and piles of cargo, but found nothing.

We drove on, past the outskirts of the docks, and further in. Graffiti covered some of the containers and a few cargo loaders nearby stood gleaming in the darkness, but nothing else was out of the ordinary in any way.

Starshine drummed her hoof on the dash of the car, and Rover leaned against the wheel. I tried to keep my eyes peeled, but after about twenty minutes or so I became so bored of that I almost wanted horrible criminals to jump us.

At just about the time we had all grown half-asleep, we heard a crash. Rover shot up like he had been plugged into a circuit and swiveled around in search of the source of the noise. I scanned the area as well, but it was Starshine who spotted it first.

“Over there, in the offices!” she shouted, pointing towards a small cluster of squat buildings sitting among the piles of cargo containers. They stuck out like a sore thumb in the dockyard, even more so when I could see a light on inside.

We all scrambled out of the car, and Rover kept a hoof on the holster of his pistol. He galloped ahead of us toward the offices, with Starshine and I trying to catch up. I noticed she had forgotten to take her camera, but just figured we could get a picture afterwards.

We made it across the open ground between the car and the office unmolested, and stacked up beside the door. I could see Rover breathing hard, and he pulled out his gun. He looked at us, then to the door, then back a few times. After a deep breath, he rose up and kicked down the door, galloping through the entrance.

“Police!” he yelled. “Drop any weapons you have and come out with one hoof in the air and you head down!”

Starshine and I rushed in after him, but couldn’t see anything through the dust the door’s splintering had created. When it had cleared, however, all we saw was . . . a very scared-looking janitor who had dropped his mop on the floor.

“P-Please . . .” he stammered.

Rover sighed and holstered his gun. “False alarm,” he muttered. “You can put your hoof down,” he told the janitor. “Just police work, go back to your business. We’ll pay for the door.”

He turned, dejected, toward the door and started out. “Come on, let’s go, we need to get out of here so I can file the paperwork.”

He stepped toward the door, but Starshine moved in front of him, blocking him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that, Rover,” she said.

“Wha—” he began, but was stopped when the janitor brought a jug of bleach down on his head. Red Rover slumped to the ground and lay there, unconscious.

I stepped back, away from the two, my heart racing. “Wh-What’s going on?” I stammered.

Starshine sighed. “I’m sorry, Minty, but you’re going to have to be our hostage.”

Episode 2: For Whom The Bell Tolls - Part 2

I stared down at the smaller pony before me, the pony I had known for months now, the pony I trusted utterly. The pony now holding me hostage. Starshine just smiled at me, trying to reach out to me reassuringly, but I backed away. I didn’t get far, however, when the janitor appeared behind me.

“So why haven’t we knocked this one out yet?” he asked in a gruff voice.

“Just calm down, Clean Sweep,” Starshine said. “Minty here is a friend. An ally. She’s not going to mess with this, so there’s no need to hurt her. Isn’t that right, Minty?”

The calm tone that Starshine kept belied the words coming out of her mouth. I knew the way she was talking, like she was some sort of leader. Or, at least, in control. Of what, I didn’t know.

Clean Sweep snorted. “She’s here because of Amethyst, remember? She took the job all on her own. Now tell me, Starshine, what kind of pony is she if she’s working for Amethyst?”

“She doesn’t know as much as we do,” Starshine told him. “She’s the one who took down Pullmare, remember? Killed her, which is more than any of the gangs ever did.”

“Or just threw her from power to let her own friend in.”

“Hey, Marshmallow’s a good mare!”

“Hey, Marshmallow is working with Amethyst.”

I stepped between the two of them in the small office. “Okay, what’s the deal with Amethyst?” I asked.

They both looked at me and said in unison: “Be quiet.”

I shut up while Clean Sweep bent down and gathered Red Rover in his hooves. The beige janitor slung the policestallion over his back and shook his head. “Look, Starshine, I’ll let you have your special little friend, but we are going to have a long talk about this when we get back to the Shed. Until then, keep her shut up, and make sure she doesn’t get away.”

He walked past Starshine and out the door of the offices. Starshine looked to me, opened her mouth, then closed it again and hurried after him. I sighed and followed. We stalked across the airship dockyard, clinging close to the shadows of stacked containers and putting a bit of distance between us and the office with Red’s car out front.

“Where is she?” Starshine hissed.

“She’ll be here,” Clean Sweep shot back. “She always is.”

I moved closer to Starshine while we waited in the shadow between two stacks of containers. “Who are we waiting on?”

“Scout,” she said.

Before I could say more, the squeal of tires echoed out across the quiet dockyard. Then, what followed was something that I had heard very rarely before. The roar of an engine. My heart beat faster and, for a moment, I had the crazy idea that Sterling was coming to rescue me in his convertible. Then, the car emerged into view.

It was midnight black, and much smaller than the convertible. More compact, with the engine block making up most of the car. It had harder, sharper lines and low-slung headlights that illuminated the ground in front of the car only.

Clean Sweep rolled his eyes. “She always likes to show off.”

The car slid to a stop in front of us, the engine rumbling and idling in the night. The car looked like a wild beast on the prowl, or a racer at the starting gate, shifting in his horseshoes. The passenger side faced us, and the door clicked open from the inside.

Clean sweep got over and shoved Red into the back of the coupe with a grunt, then motioned to me.

“Get in,” he ordered.

I gulped, and didn’t want to do anything to make him angry. I walked to the car and climbed over the folded-down passenger seat and into the back. I cringed and had to sit next to the unconscious Red, but smiled when I saw the driver.

The name Scout should have given it away for me, but I had forgotten. The ivory mare with a small frock of maroon on her head had been a member of the Royales, a gang of Neighponese ponies in downtown Fillydelphia that Starshine, Ivory, and I had gotten involved in after a big attack by local cartel groups. I hadn’t seen her in what seemed like months.

She watched me out of the corner of her eye, but said nothing. Starshine in the middle between Scout and Clean Sweep, and the car took off. The larger, petroleum-driven engine was much faster than anything steam could make, and we were soon zipping around the outskirts of Fillydelphia.

We zoomed on up through the foothills past West Fillydelphia, toward the mountains that rose behind the city. There were only two parts of the city there: the Burb on one side, the Heights on the other. While the Burb splashed against the mountains in a tide of wealth and prosperity, the heights sat farther west, on the plateaus near where the mountains became plains.

The place had been abandoned for years, until the cartel ponies had set up shop there. We had stopped them, and I never thought I would come back. Then, Scout turned on an old, rocky road toward the Heights, and my heart started to beat faster.

“Why doesn’t she need a blindfold for this?” I heard Clean Sweep hiss at Starshine.

“She’s been here before,” Starshine replied. “It wouldn’t do anything.”

“She’s been to the Heights?”

“We all have.”

The all-black car crunched over unstable roads, through the central area of the abandoned houses and businesses of the Heights. Thirty years ago, fifty thousand ponies used to live in the Heights, now it’s a ghost town. Not even the bums came here, and the stories circulated about the ghost part being more than just a saying.

We crossed out of the downtown area and toward the industrialized fringe areas of the suburb, where much of Fillydelphia’s factories had once been. Many warehouses lined the road, but only one of them didn’t have rusted carriages or trash in front of it.

Scout jerked the wheel and the car slid into the parking lot of the warehouse. It was a fat, tall building with a massive corrugated gate on the outside, and a smaller, normal door to the side. The rumble of the car’s engine echoed across the empty waste of the warehouse district.

I thought we might be alone for a moment, but then the door to the side opened and a pony appeared. He waved at us and Scout shut off the car. She climbed out her side, and Clean Sweep got out his. I was pulled out against my will before Clean dragged Rover’s unconscious body out.

A cold wind blew gently and the weeds in the yard danced. I shivered and saddled up next to Starshine. “Did you really need to put your headquarters in such a creepy place?” I asked.

“What, scared of a little wind?” Starshine asked. “And besides, it keeps prying eyes away, which is what we really need.”

“Sure . . .”

She tugged my hoof. “Now come on, you need to meet our boss.”

I allowed myself to be led across the ruined courtyard to the front entrance. The stallion that had let them in had disappeared, and the interior was pitch black. I tried blinking my eyes, but even with the eyesight of a pegasus, I couldn’t see for anything.

Then, the lights were flipped on and I was almost blinded. I held my hooves over my face and cried out until the pain in my eyes had faded enough for me to look.

When I did, there wasn’t much to look at. A slate gray floor that had been cleared of all debris save for a few massive generators at the back and a few offices further beyond. A catwalk hung over our heads, but that wasn’t wholly unusual. In all, there wasn’t anything abnormal, save for a steel desk and two chairs in the middle of it all.

In one of the chairs was a stallion whose coat was a few shades lighter than the concrete and a cropped, jet-black mane. He waved me over and, after a second, I nodded and walked to the table.

After seeing Scout again, I shouldn’t have been surprised at who was waiting for me. Maybe I was surprised that he had become the leader of the little group, but then again that shouldn’t have been either. Anyway, all I knew was that it was Shuya waiting for me at the table.

I remembered our last time in this part of town, when he had helped me take down the cartel. The short Neighponese pony had saved my life from them before, and had united his gang after the fight to be at peace with the other gangs in the city. That, it seemed, had changed.

“Minty,” he said, “it’s nice to see you again. You look well.”

I nodded to him and sat in the steel chair. It felt cold under my flank and I shuffled my wings under my collared shirt. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Shuya . . . not like this.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And may I ask why not? Is this so different than what we did before, last time we were here?”

“Last time you weren’t knocking out police officers and threatening workers. A bit of a difference there.” I sighed and looked behind me. “And you’ve got Starshine in on it too, I see. If her then . . . Joya too, I assume? Those ‘costumes’ of hers? And did Sterling make you that engine for the car?”

“Whoa, whoa, one question at a time,” Shuya said, holding up his hooves. “We can get to our purpose soon, but for now just know that Starshine came to me asking if she could join. Joya doesn’t know what we’re doing, no, and Starshine simply copied your coltfriend’s engine designs and Scout managed to make a working replica. She tells me it isn’t up to the real thing, but it works.”

I smiled a little at that. No matter how nice the car, I knew the engine wouldn’t compare to what Sterling could do. The colt was a mad genius in front of a work bench, and there was no way they had anypony like him.

“Well good to see Sterling’s honest, at least,” I said. “But why the heck are you doing all this underhoofed stuff, Shuya? This isn’t like you.”

“I can’t tell you why,” he said.

“Then who can?” I asked.

“Perhaps I could, if you would allow it,” said a voice.

I whirled around in my chair, only to come face to face with a white mask and a stallion in a black cloak. He tilted his head and I could almost feel the smile come out from under it.

“Did you miss me, Minty?” he asked.

My heart beat hard in my chest, where I could feel the scar his knife had given me start to burn. No, not here, not now! Not him! The assassin that had almost killed Starshine and I, who had killed Pyrrhus, stood in front of me.

“You!” I shouted.

He stepped back out of my reach before I could swing my hooves at him. I growled and tried to lunge at him, but Shuya reached across the table and held me back.

“You bastard!” I yelled. “What are you doing here? What are you doing to these ponies?”

I could hear a sour laugh come from behind the mask. “Doing to them? Whatever do you mean? I am merely accepting an invitation. This is no way for you to treat a guest, Minty.”

“You tried to kill me!”

“I did no such thing.” He shook his head. “If I had tried to kill you, I would have succeeded. I merely meant to wound you, nothing more. Now that I am released from my previous contract, I am no longer required to harm you in any way.”

“So, what, you expect me to forget about the scar you gave me?”

“No, I expect you to learn from the scar I gave you, as we all learn about the pains that ail us. You were hurt, but I can only hope you have learned and grown stronger from your pain.”

I growled. “Strong enough to take you on for a rematch.”

“Is that so?” Faster than I could react, he sprang forward and was pressing a knife against the nape of my neck. The silver blade was sharpened to a fine point, and I could feel it scrape hard against my skin. I did my best not to whimper.

“Enough!” Shuya shouted. He stood from his chair and walked around the table toward the two of us. “I asked our friend to come here, Minty,” he said to me. He turned to the masked assassin. “And I asked you to be on your best behavior around her. We don’t need more enemies, especially in her.”

The assassin was quiet for a moment, but then removed his knife and sheathed it beneath his cloak. “Acknowledged.”

I rubbed the area on my neck where he had held the blade. The precision with which he’d pressed on the blade had left me feeling sore, but the skin hadn’t been broken. I tried to discern what was behind the mask he wore, but as usual he showed little emotion beyond a passing concern for what Shuya was saying.

“So Shuya,” I said, “can you remind me again why you hired an assassin to play on your team? One that’s known for killing his last employer?”

Shuya shook his head. “I didn’t hire him, just asked him to come. I asked because I believe our causes are much alike, and we could both benefit from a mutual partnership.”

“And what cause is that?” I asked.

“The only one that matters,” the assassin said. He hopped up on top of the bale and waved a hoof through the air like he was making a speech to a massive crowd.

“Revolution! For too long, the ponies of this city have sat idly by and watched while their government creeps in through their lives, enveloping them and squeezing them tighter and tighter. While the ponies in their sky-high towers grow fat and rich, the have-nots grow ignorant and complacent.”

“They’ve started to grow used to the corporations and the banks controlling them,” Shuya continued. “The Burb thrives with unrestricted business that sows among the poor and reaps for the rich. We are an organization that seeks to end that. The gang wars are over, and the revolution has begun.”

I looked between the two of them. Shuya, with his honest face, beamed at me. His eyes shone in the harsh light from overhead fluorescents, and I could see sweat gathered on his forehead. The assassin, of course, kept his emotions behind his mask, but he leaned close toward me and made me feel like he meant every single word.

“You say you want a revolution?” I asked.

Shuya nodded. “That’s the idea.”

“Well, you know, I guess we all want to change the world.” I shrugged. “But is this the best way to go about it? To start a revolution instead of, you know, maybe trying to talk to Marshmallow? She’s my friend, and I’m sure she’d listen.”

“We’ve tried,” Shuya said.

“And?”

“All queries to speak with her have been refused. Trying to make an appointment at the office itself is met with rebuke by one of her secretaries. The time for inaction is over.”

My father had had similar opinions, back in the day. When a small-time thief had robbed the town store on a hot summer’s day, my father had gathered several stallions from the outlying farms of Derbyshire and gone to the police, trying to get them to track down the criminal after the case had slowed.

When our two-bit cops had refused, my father had rounded up his cadre of stallions and gone on the hunt themselves. They trudged through the backwoods around Derbyshire, sloshing through mud and rivers until they finally found him, taking a nap among the reeds that lined a riverbank a couple miles upstream from our town.

He hadn’t spoken a word of it to me, I had only found out from my mother years later. But that thief had never gone back to the local courthouse. No, my dad came home with a smirk on his face and a little blood on his hoof, confident that justice had been served. Somehow I hadn’t ever thought of it as a valid idea, but here I was with an entire organization holding up the same values.

“So what do you want me to do about it?” I asked. “What, do you expect to hoist me by my own petard and march through downtown Fillydelphia? Or are you just going to scare off more factory workers who have as little control over the company as you or I?”

“There’s more to this than what you know,” the assassin said.

“Then tell me.”

“Minty, this is far bigger than you. When you’re ready we can—”

Starshine stepped into the little ring that the assassin and Shuya had formed around me. She stood so much shorter than the rest of us, but with a simple look she seemed to tower over us like a colossus. She took her place by my side and looked at her two compatriots.

“Tell her.”

Shuya shook his head. “Starshine, we can’t take that chance. You know that.”

“Tell. Her.”

The assassin audibly sighed behind his mask, and I could almost see him rolling his eyes. “We tell her, and we give up our one trump card, and put her life in danger. You want her to know, tell her yourself.”

My ears perked up. Had I heard that right? The assassin . . . had shown remorse at the idea that I might be killed. Somehow, in the midst of all the insanity that had consumed my life, that was the funniest thing I had heard in a long while.

I opened my mouth and, Celestia help me, I started to laugh. Not the little filly snickers when talking about a boy, but the big, belly laughs that fill taverns and bars all over Equestria. I was bent over and wheezing, laughing myself crazy while Starshine and Shuya just stared at me. The assassin, somehow, seemed bemused, almost as if he knew what I was laughing about.

My scar started to hurt.

Starshine stared at me like a family pet had suddenly started to talk. She shook her head and took me by the hoof, and led me a little ways from the two other ponies. She sneered at them.

“Forget those two,” she told me. “But I do need to tell you about this. It is e-ssential you know, Minty. You’ll be on our side afterward, I know it.”

“And if I’m not?” I asked.

She smirked. “Then you’ll be our hostage for the next week, and you get to share a cell with Red Rover. I’d be careful about that. I hear he snores.”

“How would you know—”

Starshine grabbed me and hauled me across the bare factory floor to a smattering of offices at the far end of the building. Neither Shuya nor the assassin made any move to stop her, and only stood and watched us.

We trotted through a veritable maze of high-class offices and secretory rooms that wound around the exterior of the building. Her grip tightened around me when we came to a door that led into a flight of metal stairs. They snaked up the side of the factory and deposited us on a flat roof that overlooked the entire district.

Wind blew in from the west, and rushed over staccato rooftops and streets quiet as a graveyard. The air had a stale smell to it, like dying rust that paled in the sun. The wind blew around Starshine’s closely-cropped mane, and sent my own burnt orange hair flinging around my face. I spat out hairs from my mouth, and looked at her.

“Why are we up here?”

She waited a minute before answering. Before she started to talk, she hung her head over the edge of the roof and looked down. “I wanted to give you a glimpse of what we’re fighting for.”

I looked around. “We’re fighting for the Heights?”

“We’re fighting for what the Heights represent,” Starshine said. “Their destruction, and their remains, are a wound on Fillydelphia that refuses to scab over. When we lost this place, we didn’t just love individuals. Every one of the ponies who died here was part of Fillydelphia, and we are less for their loss. We haven’t recovered from then, and only continue to lose more of ourselves.”

“Do you mean Pullmare?” I asked.

Starshine glared at me. “I’m talking about ponies like Rainbow Remedy. This town is so much worse for his loss, and it’s a wound that hasn’t been filled. You didn’t know him like we did, Minty. You haven’t been here long enough to understand any of what we’re talking about.”

“You mean the revolution?”

“Not just that, but yeah. The revolution.”

I bit my lip and watched her. She chucked her head back and let her neon pink mane ride down over the nape of her neck. I noticed she was shaggier than I had ever seen her. She looked like a mare who had been thrown out with the bathwater and forgotten about. Despite it, her eyes gleamed and looked around with a bright intelligence.

“So what’s the big secret?” I asked at last.

“Ponies have been disappearing,” she said simply. “We don’t know how, and we don’t know why, but ponies around the city have been going to work and not coming back. We’ve been trying to scare off as many workers as we can to protect them, but it only works for so long.”

I hesitated. “And you think Amethyst is behind this?”

“How could she not be?” Starshine snorted. “A majority of the disappearances are near her factories or shipyards, and the rest are close enough to assume it was her.”

“But Marshmallow—”

“Is being played for a fool, Minty.”

I took a step back, and tried to shake my head. I tried to tell myself that she was wrong, that there was nothing bad about the kind mare I had met in Marshmallow’s office, but I couldn’t. My heart of hearts, beating like the rapping of a war drum, knew it to be true.

I felt cold and clammy. Wet. The air seemed to congeal in my mouth and drift into my senses like a dull cloud.

“So will you help us?” Starshine asked.

I looked at her, then began to nod slowly. “Yeah, I’ll do it. Not for some revolution, mind, but for Marshmallow. She has enough problems as it is, and now she has a pony playing her for sinister means.”

Starshine raised an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure she’s innocent?”

I surged forward and pressed myself against her. I glared down into her eyes, our faces meeting, and growled. “Marshmallow is one of the best ponies I know,” I said. “She has no part in this. Got it? I won’t even tell her about Amethyst until all this is over.”

“Okay, okay. Just don’t be so quick to trust her.”

“Like I trusted you?”

A pause. “Yeah.”

I walked to the opposite edge of the roof and looked. I could see where the Heights ended below me and the real Filllydelphia began. Even at its weariest, the city was still filled with light and sound, an alien construct compared to what was here. It glowed like a million suns in the night, and it was hard to not call it pretty.

“So what do you need me to do?” I asked.

Not that I was doing it for the assassin, though. But somehow, I thought doing something would land me a bit closer to the truth than I would ever get out of anypony around here. Besides, Marshmallow either didn’t know what she was doing, or too far in over her head to stop it. If for nothing else, I had to stop whatever was going on with Amethyst.

It wasn’t that I didn’t expect that Marshmallow might be okay with whatever Amethyst was doing, but that she was as low on the list of suspects as Princess Celestia. The mare I knew and was friends with wouldn’t do anything that would warrant Starshine fighting her. The assassin, though, I wasn’t so sure about.

“What you’d have to do is simple, really,” Starshine said. “Wouldn’t take much effort at all.”

I stared at her. “So what is it?”

“Well . . . you know Scout?”

“Yeah?”

“Tonight she’s supposed to have another job. Just a simple run. Down to Amethyst Corp and back up here. Be back in an hour. Problem is, she doesn’t feel that right going alone.”

I sighed and rubbed my head. “So you want to go with her, is that it?”

“More or less.” Starshine flashed me a smile. “C’mon, Minty, it won’t be so bad. We’re only sending her to the headquarters to retrieve information to prove that what Amethyst is doing is bad. You’ll be sure of it, and we’ll have what we need. It’s a win-win, right?”

“Will that . . . that assassin be along for the ride?” I asked.

Starshine shook her head. “He’s here for a different reason. I know how you feel about him, Minty . . . but he isn’t as bad as you think.”

I slid down my shirt to show her the scar on my chest. It was still a dull red and the fur around it hadn’t grown back yet. I could hear her gasp a little, but she stood firm.

“He’s done some bad things before, yes, but not ever out of choice. He’s on our side now, isn’t that enough?”

I snorted. “Sure. Just don’t keep him near me. I’ve already been burned enough—sometimes literally—in the past. I don’t need more of this.”

“Sure thing.” Starshine sighed and loped to my side of the roof. She gently rubbed her head against the concrete that was cool from the night air. “Do you ever wish you hadn’t come here, Minty?” she asked. “That you hadn’t met . . . all of us?”

I took a moment to answer. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” I flicked my tail. “Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I had stayed safe at home. No scars, no death, no sweats late at night or bad thoughts . . .” I gulped and tried to pass over it. “But I mean, at the same time I’m glad to be here. I really feel like I’ve done something with my life, for once.”

I reached over with my wing and wrapped Starshine in a tight hug. It caught her by surprise, and she sort of squeaked when I squeezed her. She didn’t protest, though. She felt soft under my wings, and I smiled.

“I’m still glad for the friends I’ve got. You don’t have to wonder about that.”

Above us, clouds moved around the moon came out from behind them. Its light spilled down on the quiet city and the metropolis beyond.

We came down from the roof a few minutes later. The assassin and Shuya were talking to each other in hushed tones near the edge of the factory. They looked at us when we got down on the concrete. The mask the assassin wore never changed expression, but I could swear it was frowning at me.

Not just at me or past me, but through me. Like an arrow or a bullet that had shot me, but somehow more personal. We walked over and met them near the interrogation table I had sat at with Shuya.

“So what’s the word?” Shuya asked.

“She’s in,” Starshine said.

The assassin kept his mask locked on me. “She has no qualms about joining Miss Scout on her mission?”

I smirked a little. “I’ll be fine, trust me. I’ve had a lot worse. If she wants me, then I’ll go.”

“So quick to answer, I see.” The assassin made a sort of clicking sound with his tongue. “Hasty decisions made in the heat of the moment rarely turn out to be wise, Miss Flower,” he told me. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I haven’t known since I got here,” I said. “I’ve managed.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Shuya stepped between us. “Alright, alright, you’re both pretty,” he said. “Before you two either start stabbing or grinding on each other, Scout is waiting outside. Minty, head out there and tell her you want to go with her. It won’t be a problem, and you’ll be back soon. Once you are, we can talk more.”

“Sure, just trying to send me away,” I said, but had already started to trot away.

To tell the truth, I would have taken a dozen dangerous jobs to get away from that assassin. He just seemed like he wanted to know he was the most important pony in the room, and that he could kill me if he wished. I mean, he’d said it, but he just kind of radiated it.

I guess having him on our side was a good move, but I wasn’t sure I was happy about it. I wouldn’t have wanted Pullmare on my side, after all.

I made it over to the door I had come in, and let myself outside. The rush of cool air was welcomed, especially without the wind that had been on the roof. The only sound around for miles was the rumble of the engine in Scout’s car.

Scout herself leaned against the hood, and she looked up when I walked outside. She ran a hoof through her mane and nodded to me.

“They convince you to go?” she asked.

I nodded. “Well enough. You ready?”

“Would I start my car for any other reason?”

She swung herself off the hood, and opened the driver’s side door. She slid inside and waited for me to trot around to the other side and get it. The vibration of the engine really got to me when I was sitting in the front seat, a lot more than the back. It was kind of nice, really.

Scout pulled away from her parking space, but not out onto the road. Instead, she parked at the other side of the building. She stopped and sat, idling, and looked at the door.

“We waiting for somepony?” I asked.

“Just a couple of Shuya’s stallions,” she said. “They’re going to do the heavy lifting on the job. I’m just the driver.”

As if on cue, the door banged open and a couple of hulking stallions came out. They were both dressed all in black, with only their eyes showing through their masks. Scout got out and let them climb into the back over her seat.

Once they were settled in, she revved up the engine and drove off onto the road proper.

I sat back in my seat and let gravity take over. The two stallions weren’t quick to talk, and I had never heard more than a couple sentences at a time from Scout, so I didn’t figure it would be a very loud ride. I was right, of course, but that was okay. The night sky was still beautiful from the road, and I was glad to be in a car.

It was pretty great to be out of the creepy, haunted town. Supposedly haunted, but to me supposedly is more than enough. The place gave me the creeps, more than anywhere else in Fillydelphia. There wasn’t something right about it, even if I couldn’t really put down what it was.

Anyway, we were driving in a big copy of my coltfriend’s car toward the Amethyst Corporation. I thought they had meant like a factory or something, but no, they had meant the big building downtown. The lights from skyscrapers and apartment buildings colored the inside of the car orange as we drove. It was kind of pretty at night, even if it blotted all the stuff that made night great like stars and the moon.

I wondered if Luna ever got mad at the big cities and all the ponies that couldn't see her stars and moon. Maybe that was what had made her go all Nightmare Moon, but she had been back since then so I didn’t think so.

Scout parked behind the Amethyst building, on a narrower road from the front and way more secluded. We were in the shadow of a gnarled tree growing from a planter in the middle of the sidewalk. It somehow still had its leaves, and gave us a nice little hiding spot.

Scout asked me if I minded getting out for the two brutes in the back, but she didn’t really care if I minded. It was nice of her to ask, at least. I got out under the spreading limbs of that tree and let the two hulking stallions out. They said nothing like always, and instead ran toward the building.

I got back in and looked at Scout. She had a little gold pocketwatch on a chain, and she had it tied around the wheel. She watched it, and watched the building.

“So what are we doing here, exactly?” I asked.

She shushed me and shook her head.

I grumbled a bit, but what could I do? This whole night was like a rush that wouldn’t come down, just escalate. My life had pretty much been like that since I had gotten to Fillydelphia. If I had a time to rest, it was soft and quiet, but as soon as things picked up they didn’t stop until the problem was solved.

Three days of problems and a week of rest.

Not that I complained, anyway. I’d rather have something quick and get all the nasty business over with so I could write a column about it afterward. Still, when I looked at Scout, I wondered just why the hell I was there.

An alarm started to go off inside the building, and Scout’s head shot up. She started the car and stared at the door the two stallions had disappeared inside. We waited and waited, with our breaths held while the siren droned on and on.

Finally, the door banged open and one of the stallions came running out. His mask was off and one of his shoulders had been torn with a deep cut across it. I could see blood trickle out of it as he ran, splashing around like a damn sprinkler.

Another stallion appeared in the doorway, but he wasn’t one of Shuya’s stallions. I could only see his outline, but he was smaller and more clean-cut than our allies.

He raised his hoof, and a small explosion came out from it. The bullet slammed into the running stallion’s head, and exited out the front. A little bit of mist with other little bits and brains came out of the hole and the stallion toppled to the ground.

I didn’t even know his name, and he was dead. Fuck.

Scout started spilling curses out of her mouth when she saw the stallion go down. She fought with the gear shift to get the car out of there. I thought she must have been scared if it was taking so long. There was another bang, and the window behind me exploded. I crouched down beneath the door and grit my teeth.

One more gunshot followed before Scout rammed the stick into gear and sped away. The engine roared and we sped down a wide avenue leading out of downtown toward West Fillydelphia. I was shaking and fought to keep still in my seat.

I looked over at Scout and saw that she was shaking too. Sweat was building on her forehead and she had a hoof planted firmly against her side. My heart caught in my throat and I didn’t want to look down, but I made myself. Sure enough, blood was seeping out of her side.

Shit, what was it with people I didn’t know? Were they supposed to die because they weren’t important or something?

“You’re shot!” I yelled.

“No fucking shit!” she yelled back. “Don’t you think I already know that?”

She was right of course. Dammit.

“We need to get you to a hospital or something!” I said. “You can’t keep going like this!”

“Just watch me,” she grunted.

“You’ll die!”

“I’m dead if we go to a hospital. If I can just make it back to the base . . . I’ll be fine.”

I shook my head. She was bleeding too much, and the car was starting to weave all over the road. But she wouldn’t speak to me again, no matter how much I pleaded. So, I got an idea.

I popped open the glove compartment in front of me and fished around inside. I smiled and, sure enough, there was a shiny revolver inside. I brought it up in my hooves and pressed it against her head.

“Pull over. Now.”

She laughed. “What, I’ve been shot so you’re going to shoot me?”

“You’re too hurt,” I said. “You’re not thinking straight. Pull over to the side of the road or we both go down.” I ground the barrel against her skull. “Now!”

She smirked, but did as she was told anyway. It was a good thing, too. Her eyes were fluttering closed by the time she ran the car up on the sidewalk and came to a halting stop.

I watched as she slumped over, head against the wheel. I cursed and grabbed her by the shoulders. I kicked the door open behind me and dragged her out, doing my best to not let her body hit against the pavement too hard.

We were beneath a streetlamp, the light letting me see just how bad the wound was. The bullet had buried itself deep in her before exiting out the other side. A thick stream of blood ran out both sides and stained my hooves red when I tried to keep pressure on it.

The hospital was far from us, and I didn’t even know how to get there. Scout was fading in and out of consciousness, mumbling beneath her breath and staring up at me.

“Not you!” I yelled. “Not you, not you, not you! Nobody’s dying on me again, not ever!”

Tears streamed down my cheeks and dripped onto her fur. I pressed myself as hard as I could against her, and tried to close the wound. I wished for a horn so badly right then, more than I ever had in my life. I was a useless pegasus, and I couldn’t do one damn thing.

I looked at the road ahead of me, but it was bare. The road leading into West Fillydelphia was as empty as a graveyard. I was alone on that damn street, all alone. That’s what was the worst, that I was only useless on my own.

“Somepony help!” I yelled out, even as I knew its futility. “Somepony help! Please! My friend’s shot, and I need a doctor!”

Silence.

But then . . . a voice.

“Minty?”

My heart stopped. I whirled around, as much as I could with my hooves on Scout’s side. The voice I had never expected to hear again belonged to a unicorn standing behind me. A unicorn with fur as red as the blood that stained my hooves and a mane every color of the rainbow.

“You said you needed a doctor?”

Author's Notes:

I have a plot twist now. Ho ho ho

Episode 2: For Whom The Bell Tolls - Part 3

The light hurt my eyes. They never tell you that about going to a hospital, that all the lighting is liable to give you a headache. Yet here I was, laying on my back with bandages wrapped around me and forced to stare straight at an overhead light. Torture, I tell you.

I had woken up a few minutes before. Waking up in a hospital was at least preferable to other places I had woken up to, but still wasn’t that great. My wings were splayed out under me and the tips were immobilized for some reason. They felt funny, like they had been dipped in concrete. The rest of me was done up like a mummy in one way or another, and I felt kind of like I had been put in a grave, but they decided to pull me out at the last second.

The sun shone through the window outside, so I guess it was daytime again. That meant I had been in the hospital for at least a night. Or maybe two, who knew? I could barely recall the night before . . . I could remember the Assassin and Starshine, and going with Scout, but then . . . nothing.

There was a knock on the door, and I looked up. Or, well, looked over as best as I could in my current situation. A nurse walked in wearing a green frock that came down to her hips and a frilly little cap of the same color that made her look like a clown. She approached my bedside, saw I was awake, and smiled.

“Oh good, you’re up,” she said. “You gave us quite a scare there for a while. We had to patch you up very nicely. Though it looks like you’ll be making a full recovery.”

“Patch me up?” I asked. “But . . . it wasn’t me that got hit. It was Scout. Where is she? Is she okay?”

The nurse smiled and walked to my bedside. “You were hit by a bullet that lodged itself in your thigh,” she said. “You may have gone into shock, and not felt it. You lost a lot of blood, though, and we had to do an emergency transfusion.”

Shot . . . shit, really? I had been broken, beaten, battered, stabbed, and now shot. When I thought about it, I noticed that I couldn’t feel my right leg, and that it was the most wrapped in bandages. Part of me wanted to shake or be sick, like the momentum from being shot had finally carried over from that night.

“Scout . . .” I mumbled. “Is she okay?”

“Your friend pulled through,” the nurse told me with a wide grin. “In no small part thanks to you, of course. How did you do those stitches on her and on yourself anyway?”

“Stitches?” I asked.

She nodded. “They were crude, but we found your needle and bits of your jacket next to you, and the crude stitches in your thigh and your friend’s stomach.” She looked at me a little funny. “If you don’t remember, that’s common. Ponies are capable of all sorts of things when they’re in shock.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I mumbled, my mind already somewhere. I felt like I was floating, and not just because of the medicine flowing into me through an IV in my leg. The memories of that night flashed through my mind like little snippets on a movie reel, but I couldn’t put them all together.

“. . . and you’ve been approved for bed rest at home,” the nurse was saying while I was away in my mind.

“Wait, I am?” I asked, looking down at myself. “Just the day after I get all this?”

The nurse shook her head and picked up my chart. “That would be true, dear, except you’ve been here for three days.” She made a mark on the clipboard and scurried out of the room with a promise of “bringing in the ponies who are signing you out.”

I felt like I was going a little crazy, but biting my lip only made it hurt, not woke me up. I settled back in my bed and waited for whoever was picking me up. I wondered who would be checking me out, if it would be Starshine to bring me back in shame to the Assassin and Shuya. Or maybe it was Amethyst, and I was going to take a trip to her funhouse.

The drugs kept me in a stupor, so I couldn’t focus and kept drifting in and out of lucidity until the door finally opened some time later. I watched to see which side of the little conflict would claim me first. But, instead of either, a familiar purple unicorn stepped through the door.

Her amber eyes locked on mine immediately. I noticed her usual headband was gone, and her mane fell free all around her head. It looked pretty on her, but I knew she wouldn’t have appreciated my saying so.

She closed the door behind her, then ran to my bedside. In one fluid motion, she pulled herself up to my level and planted a soft kiss on my lips before backing away again. Okay, so maybe she would have liked the compliment.

“Uh . . .” I stammered.

She shook her head and gave a dry laugh. “You stupid idiot . . . how many times are you going to worry me and everypony else? Me and Sterling get a call at Celestia knows when in the morning that you’re dying, and we have to come here and wait while they try to keep you from dying, and then you fall into a coma!”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“Sorry. Right.” She sighed, and laid a hoof over mine. “I told you getting involved in this Amethyst thing wouldn’t turn out well. And Scout got involved too . . . what have you two been doing?”

I tried to smile, but the edges of my mouth hurt. “I’ll tell you later. Are we taking Scout with us?”

“I already signed her out. They’re getting a wheelchair for her, then they’ll get one for you.”

As if on cue, the door opened again to let in a nurse and a doctor in a white coat with a wheelchair in front of him. He droned on to Grapevine about medicines for me and cautions and a dozen other things I would probably ignore within a few days.

All I paid attention to was the nurse who pulled the needle out of me. It hurt like a damn bee sting, and I winced. I had been afraid of needles of a long time, and watching one come out wasn’t better than watching one go in. But at least it was over in a little bit, and before I knew it I was in a wheelchair and being wheeled out of the hospital.

Scout showed up beside me, with a different nurse pushing her. Her eyes were fluttering, and she had massive bandages all around her midsection. She noticed me, though, and I think she smiled at me. Was it weird that I felt close to her all of a sudden? We were both in our silver chariots being whisked away, though we were on no parade.

The sun was pleasant enough outside, and it wasn’t too bad in the thin hospital gown they’d left me in. I felt more naked with it on than off for some reason. Grapevine, at least I think it was her, had assured me that she had my clothes with her, so I was alright in that department.

We were wheeled over to Sterling’s red convertible, but my coltfriend wasn’t in there. My heart sank a little when I saw it was empty, but I suppose I understood. He probably had enough to worry about with me in a coma, and I felt kinda bad for him since I kept running off and almost getting killed.

A couple of nurses had to help me into the car, what with my thigh being encased in bandages and all. They banged my hoof something good getting me in, but managed to keep me from bleeding all over the place. I got to lay across the backseat while Scout was helped into the passenger side and Grapevine climbed in on the driver’s side.

The doctors wished us both goodbye just as the car started up and drowned out all noise with its engine. I smiled when I saw Scout poke her head up at the sound. Her little sporty car had been cool and all, but my Sterling’s car was the original, and the best.

Grapevine roared away from the hospital and into the downtown traffic. I guess it occurred to me that we were pretty lucky to have been shot where we were, and ended up in the downtown hospital with all the fancy doctors and magical machines. Any other hospital in town and I might have died. I scratched at the bandages around my thigh.

We drove fast down the big roads leading across Fillydelphia to the western neighborhoods. The breeze felt nice running through my mane, even though I had to rest my sore eyes every few minutes. I noticed that there were so fewer carriages on the road than when I had first come to the city, even if it had only been months. Time moved fast, I guess.

West Fillydelphia loomed in front of us, and then we were suddenly passing through it, whooshing by little shops and awnings colored pink and blue and green. We parked in front of Joya’s house and there was a whole big deal of getting a cart out to wheel in Scout, then me. The cart was rickety and wooden, and it gave me a rough feeling on my back when I was wheeled inside.

Finally, after a lot of grunting and moving Scout and I were sat on a couch Joya had moved out to the middle of the floor. The energetic donkey stood with us now, smiling up and down at us and gushing about we were “hospital buddies” or something. It was really nice, in a way, to have her back after that long day and the time in the hospital.

The stallion I really wanted to see, though, was conspicuously absent. I could feel him being gone like somepony sucking all the air out of the room, and suddenly I couldn’t draw a breath. I wanted Sterling there, needed him in a way that I wouldn’t have understood until I found him. That stupid, floppy smile of his and that ridiculous mane that he refused to ever straighten or cut.

“Minty?” Grapevine asked. “Are you okay? Is it the medicine?”

“Is Sterling here?” I asked. “I mean, I know I gave you all a big scare and just . . . I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, dear,” Joya said, “but Sterling won’t be here for a while. He and Ivory went on a trip while you were in the hospital. Ivory was afraid Sterling would hurt himself, so he got him out of the city.”

My heart sunk. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about his own mental health and all that, but I wished so bad he could be home at last. Just for a little while, even. Though I guess him being really sad about me being in the hospital just showed how much he cared. It was cute, in a grim sort of way.

Scout sat silent on the couch beside me. She peered out from her mane that fell down over her face. She was scooted pretty close to me, which was kind of a nice reassurance when everypony else was staring at us like we were in a zoo or something.

Grapevine was chatting with Joya about the medicine we had been given and the doses when the bell above the front door dinged. I turned, which hurt, and saw Starshine walk through the door with a slightly guilty look on her face. Then, following her, came Marshmallow with bags around her middle.

Scout jerked a little from Marshmallow’s appearance, and I pressed a hoof against her leg. It was a silent gesture from me that, hopefully, would keep her down. She might think Marshmallow a villain, but I wasn’t about to. She’d never been anything but nice to me, and I wasn’t about to think she was aligned with Amethyst while knowing whatever terrible things were done under her company.

Marshmallow certainly seemed happy to see me, and even Scout as well, though I don’t think she knew her. She rushed over and fawned over the both of us, talking about how we were “brave” and all like we were two veterans back from war, fresh from the front. I mean, we technically were, but not the usual kind of war. One fought for information about the future of a city. Point is, I wouldn’t see a damn medal.

“I just can’t help but feel terrible,” Marshmallow was saying. “Here I am, mayor of Fillydelphia, and my own friend gets shot on my streets. Near my building, too!”

“It was just an accident,” I said, not completely lying. “Sure, it was a bad one, but it’s not like it’s your fault.”

I thought I felt Scout glare at me for that last remark, but I kept it. I would believe her until she proved me wrong. She proved unlikely to do that, however, when she lifted the cover of the bag on her back to show a variety of sweets and ingredients.

“I thought I would come over here and bake you both something,” she said. “It’s my way of showing that a mayor is not too high and mighty to not serve her ponies.”

She smiled and scurried off with Joya to the kitchen. Scout and Grapevine watched her go, then we all let out a collective sigh. That is, until Starshine walked around the couch and plopped down next to Grapevine.

“Pretty bad accident,” she said.

“Yeah, it was just terrible,” I said. “Scout and I wish we hadn’t even been driving down there, right Scout?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Bad accident.” Starshine sighed and scooted closer to Grapevine. “I would have hated to see anything happen to the both of you. I’m sure Shuya would have been sad as well, Scout.”

“How is he?” Scout asked, for once showing even a hint of interest in the conversation.

“He’s well, last time I saw him,” Starshine said. “He can’t come over here right now, though. Business, you know. He wants to see you as soon as he can.”

I tried to smile. “Just us girls, then.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Grapevine smirked, and I thought back to the kiss in the hospital. Was she? No, no, she was being a tease again, messing with me like she so loved to do. I was sure of it. Mostly.

“Then again,” Grapevine said, “the doctor said a lot of bed rest for the both of you. You two probably shouldn’t even be on this couch.” She got up and smiled. “You two can rest in the big upstairs bedroom. The bed’s big enough for two, and there’s a radio up there, too. Me and Starshine can also get you both books if you want them.”

“Me and her are going to . . . share . . . a bed?” Scout asked.

“Oh, thanks,” I muttered.

“It’s just temporary,” Grapevine said, “unless you’ve got a better place to go. The doctor said you didn’t list any other place of residence, so you’re stuck here unless you tell us where to take you.”

Scout looked away. “Here is fine, I guess.”

“Great!”

Grapevine walked over and sat down on the couch next to me. “I don’t even imagine how hard it would be to get the two of you up those stairs,” she said, pointing to the wooden staircase against the far wall. “So just hold on and we’ll be up there in a moment.”

Scout grabbed onto me tighter than I had expected, and I closed my eyes. When I opened them, we were sitting on me and Sterling’s bed in a cloud of dissipating magic. Scout was coughing and waving at the air in front of her, then held onto her stomach.

“You alright?” Grapevine asked.

She nodded. “That magic might have just affected me a little bit.”

“Well, you two should probably take your medicine anyway.” A pained expression crossed Grapevine’s face. “I’ll try to remember to not use the magic as much.”

She hopped off the bed and promised to be back with the medicine as well as pillows, books, and switch on the radio. I had to admit, I was feeling more and more like the Princess. If it wasn’t for almost dying, I would have been glad for being shot.

I sat next to Scout, and she fell silent again. She still kept close to me, though, and didn’t make any effort to move away. I suppose she was scared, and I could understand why. She had been shot, and then abandoned by the revolutionaries. Now, we were the only ponies to take her in. I fought the urge to give her a hug.

Instead, I settled for rubbing her shoulder with one of my wings. They, luckily, had escaped undamaged for the most part.

“It’s gonna be okay, you know,” I said.

“What does it matter?” she muttered. “Shuya’s left me here, and all the rest of them, too. I asked my nurse if anypony had been in to see me in the past few days, and she said nopony had.”

“I’m sure it’s something else,” I said.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t trust that too much,” she said. “Recharge and Volt are dead, and me and you nearly joined them. As it is, it’s going to be weeks before we’ve recovered. I guess we’re just casualties of the revolution now.”

Okay, I couldn’t stop myself then. Despite the pain welling in my thigh, I reached over and hugged her around the neck. She didn’t pull away, though she did mutter about, “What is with you ponies and hugging?”

We both held together until we heard the door opening. We thought it would be Grapevine back with the medicine, but instead it was none other than Starshine, with a guilty look all over her face. I wanted to tell her to go away right then, that I didn’t need her at the moment, but knew that she had something to say and wasn’t going to stop until she had said it.

She closed the door behind her and walked over to our bedside. It was still weird looking at her without any wings, but then again I guess all of us in the room were damaged in some way or the other. At least I hadn’t lost my leg, I thought.

“So how are you two feeling?” she asked, pacing around the bed.

“Just peachy,” Scout said. “I feel like a million bits.”

“Well thanks, Miss Sarcasm,” Starshine said. “Minty?”

I rolled my eyes. “Just get to what you were going to say already, Starshine. We all know why you’re here.”

“Well excuse me for trying to remind you both about the reason you landed in that hospital.” Starshine huffed and sat back on her haunches. “Or did you two decide to abandon this whole thing, including the ponies who gave you the bullet wounds?”

“Yeah, I decided alright,” Scout said. “I’m done with this whole thing. I watched two of our own get killed, and then I and Minty got shot too. I can barely move without my stomach feeling like it’s on fire, so I’m done. Shuya can come and get me and we can move to Los Celestias or Manehattan or anywhere that’s not here.”

Starshine glared at her. “Shuya isn’t going to just abandon this whole thing.”

“Then he can find himself another marefriend. I quit.”

Starshine growled and turned to me. “Come on, Minty, this whole thing proves we’re right. You’re the one who took down Pullmare, for crying out loud! Can’t you at least try again?”

“Can’t.” I nodded toward my leg. “Try walking on this thing. I’ve had enough brushes with death, Starshine. I think I’m going to ask to be put in editorials at the newspaper. Effective immediately.”

I hadn’t actually thought about it, yet, but it just kind of seemed like the best thing to do at the moment. Adventuring and all, that wasn’t a long-lasting game, and I didn’t want to get more caught up in it than I already was. The stupid idea to follow along with the Assassin seemed so idiotic now . . . the scar on my chest was just window decoration compared to what I got now.

Starshine shook her head. “I can’t believe you two. You get hurt and you just give up and quit.” She pointed to her back. “I got hurt too, you know! I had my wings snapped off by a fucking airship! And yet here I am, still trying to do good by this city. You two nearly died, so did I. Get over it.”

“You got hurt in an accident,” I said. “We both chose to do something stupid for it, and paid for it. Isn’t that right, Scout?”

I looked over, but she had already passed out. She was breath softly with her head back on her pillow. She looked peaceful while she slept, like a flower closed for the night.

“Well, you get the point,” I said.

“I didn’t think you would be like this, Minty, not you,” Starshine said. “Shuya and the rest are spooked and hiding out, but I came here so I could get you and take you back, to prove this hadn’t gotten to you. Now . . . I don’t know what to do.”

Starshine looked down. “I don’t know the point, why I try, when everyone else just gives up. Like you gave up on those flying lessons, huh? Yeah, real glad you came to visit me every so often, Minty. I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” I said.

She laughed softly. “Yeah, right. You spend so much time with Grapevine and that colt of yours that me, Ivory, Marshmallow . . . we’ve just been by the wayside, huh? I quit the Weather Corps for you, and you’ve ignored me.”

I wanted to reach out to her. To touch her, to hold her tight, to tell her I was sorry . . . but it was like there was a world between us. “Starshine . . .”

“Save it.” She got up. “Look, we’re going to be pretty locked down, but if you want to come back and help . . . you know where to find us. I’ll tell Shuya about Scout.” She walked to the door and looked at me one last time before leaving.

I let her go without a word. It served me right, really. I didn’t have much to tell her, and didn’t want to think much myself. I just wanted to collapse back on the bed and scream. I wanted to thrash around and rip off my bandages and just not be hurt anymore. I didn’t want my scars to exist.

Instead, the medicine kicked in hard like a buck to the gut, and I settled back in the bed. I pulled the covers up around me and snuggled in the bed, a sigh escaping my lips. Scout was close, and I considered cuddling up next to her. For warmth, of course. Still not a lesbian. That’s me, Minty the straight mare. Oh, wait, here I am, and I am snuggling up with her. Great, Minty.

She was warm.

I don’t know to what outer realms my mind drifted, or to what far off seas my consciousness swam, but I was out for what could have been minutes or days, depending. Was I floating? Was I existing? Does a bell toll if no pony is still around to ring it?

Faces and names and voices rang through my head while I drifted in sleep, but nothing that was concrete for more than a second. When I drifted back to the shore of consciousness, however, one shape did begin to glow. It wasn’t a familiar one, but not one unknown either. She had a violet coat, but her mane was a light blue shade and ran long down her neck and back. She was . . . smiling at me?

“Wake up and smell the ashes, Miss Flower,” she said.

My eyes snapped open. “A-Amethyst,” I said.

“Oh my, I’m so glad you haven’t forgotten my name,” she said. “It would just be a tragedy if you had.”

“What do you want?” I shifted in my seat and tried to sit up. “We don’t have anything for you, Amethyst.”

She sneered and paced next to me on the floor. “Is a pony not as valuable as the sweat of her brow?” she said. “If you can work for me, or at least not against me, you are quite valuable, Miss Flower.”

“So you know.”

“Of course I do. Do you think me a fool? You and your friend here left a bloody trail of evidence from my office to that delightful little car of yours. It wasn’t hard to figure out where you stood.”

My eyes narrowed, and I felt a pang in my leg. “So, what, did you come up here to smother us, just wanting to do it yourself?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Amethyst said. “I just came up here to make sure you two didn’t leave, and maybe to gloat a little.” She smiled. “I admit, it’s a weakness of mine.”

“What, gloat that you caught two bedridden mares?” I said, holding up my hooves. “Whoops, you got me.”

She laughed. “Don’t play dumb, Minty. A certain police officer managed to escape those revolutionaries and told us all about where they’re located and all sorts of fun little details. He seemed particularly disappointed in you and Starshine.”

Red Rover. Shit.

“So what?” I said. “They’ll be gone before you even get there, and you’ll just have to start over. Big whoop.”

Amethyst smiled. “Then we’ll see, won’t we? I just thought I might test you a little, see if you wanted them to survive or not. Not that it matters, really. I’ve got a dozen stallions waiting by the front door to this disgusting little house who will strike you down if you try to come out.”

She reached over and rubbed my leg, and I struggled to move away from her. “You and Scout are about to the be the only revolutionaries left,” she said. “Once we’re done with the ponies up in the Heights, then you and I will have some fun, Minty.”

Marshmallow stuck her head in the doorway, and Amethyst immediately pulled away and rubbed a hoof over my mane. “Now, you get plenty of rest,” she said. “My company is going to make sure you don’t pay for a thing, we’ll take care of everything.”

She moved toward Marshmallow, who smiled at her and left with her. I watched them go, then lay back. The ponies in the Heights were trapped and holed up, waiting for us, and Amethyst was going to come right to them. I felt so useless now, so helpless. Ponies were going to die because I could do nothing.

I stared down at my leg and tried to will it to heal itself, but it sat still and did nothing. I could feel a dull ache, and knew that trying to put weight on it would just make it worse. I was stuck for every meaning of the word, and it sucked.

Then, I started to gather an idea. An old idea, one I had resisted for so long, but now seemed like my only choice. The idea that I did have something to make me stronger, to make me heal, and I had it in the room. Chemiker’s potion, the one I had kept hidden for months now since his death. The one only Sterling knew about.

I looked across the room to my dresser, a wooden behemoth pushed against the far wall. It seemed so far now, like a lifetime of a journey, but I had to try. I pulled the covers away from me, and settled two hooves on the floor. I put a third down, and held my damaged leg out away from me. It hurt real bad, but I had no other choice.

That is, until I was racked with pain after two steps and remembered the feathery appendages called wings I had on my back. I thought that I could really stand to use them more. They were probably the least damaged out of all my body, and I was able to flap up into the air and toward the dresser, even if it still hurt to get there.

My hooves scrambled over the wooden surface of the dresser until I found the knobs and pulled out the top drawer. I searched through socks and shirts until my hooves finally hit a glass vial with a cork stopper. I pulled it out, and stared when I saw only maybe a fifth was left in it. I tried to think of who could have taken it, but I really didn’t have any time to worry about it. There was way more at stake.

With a deep breath, I took out the stopper and held the vial over my mouth, letting the purple liquid flow into my mouth. It tasted real bitter, like I was licking a rusty pole, and made my face scrunched up a little bit. Then, it hit my stomach and I had to double over. The pain that whipped through me was worse than what I had felt so far back from the hospital, but it subsided after a moment.

It was replaced by heat, that I felt around my leg and over the rest of me. It felt like somepony was cooking my right leg, and I ripped the bandages off as quick as I could. There, beneath them, was a wound that was still pink and sensitive, but healed. Weeks of healing time compressed to a few seconds. I felt like I could see a little better, too, and that I was . . . bigger. I didn’t know how to explain it.

I took a cautious step forward, and found that I could walk alright. It still hurt, but it was enough to keep me from crying and screaming. I looked over at Scout, who was still asleep, then walked to my room’s window. It looked out away from the front door, so hopefully nopony would be watching it.

I threw open the window panes and let a fresh breeze blow in, washing over me and baptizing my new body in warmth. “I’ll be back for you,” I told Scout, then spread my wings and hopped out of the window. After a brief fall, I was flapping up and away from the house, away from Amethyst and toward the Heights that lay far beyond.

That was my path, and I soared off to it. I just tried to ignore that weird feeling in my head. It was probably nothing.

The Heights, for the first time in what must have been decades, saw fire. Flames raged and ate at the old factory district, casting the entire dirty street in a sickly orange glow. Police steam cars and vans were stopped all along the road, and police ponies swarmed around them. They carried guns, weapons that sputtered and cracked to send lead down toward a single factory building.

I wasn’t stupid enough to pass over them, and instead kept near the clouds of smoke all around the area to conceal myself. I dove toward the roof of the factory and landed it on it in a tumble of feathers and hooves. The building shook from gunfire and I fought the urge to cry and scream just from the idea that I could get shot again. Silly me, I know, but it was so scary that I barely kept going on.

The door off the roof was mostly concealed by smoke, so I had to barge through and bash the door down with one shoulder. I probably should have thought it through more, as there was liable to be fire on the other side, but thankfully for me there wasn’t. The air inside the building was cool by comparison, but still filled with shouts and gunfire.

I scrambled down to the offices on the ground and burst through a door onto the main floor, only to be met by the gun barrels of ten or so ponies. They scared me, and I felt myself shaking looking down so many faces of death. When they saw who I was, though, they lowered and turned back to the single entrance to the factory from the police’s end. A small pile of dead bodies was already stacked around the door. Not all were police.

“Minty!” Shuya yelled, and ran over to me. He had blood streaked all over him, and bandages that had once been white were wrapped around one hoof. “I knew you’d come!”

“Yeah, you keep pulling me back in,” I muttered. I looked around at the destruction. “I came here to warn all of you about the police coming, but, well, I guess that’s not needed.”

Shuya smiled a sad smile, and nodded his head gravely to me. “You did the best you could. What could help the revolution now is not an escape, but what you can do for us. For me.” He waved to the fighters as the door on the other end started to bang open. “Run! Meet up in The Burb when you can, or escape into the hinterlands! Let no one know of your identity!”

They looked at their leader like he was speaking Manedarin, but ran off anyway. They took their guns with them, and looked at the far door before escaping out the back. That left me with Shuya alone, who was laughing and coughing up blood.

“No, no, don’t worry,” he said. “Just cut my tongue up something good. I think I need to learn my lesson about this whole thing, yes?”

There was a crash, and part of the roof fell in. We both yelled, and hurried toward the back door. It was starting to get unbearably hot inside the warehouse, and the door the police were breaking through was starting to cave in. We burst through the back door and into the air outside, which was cool but choked with smoke.

Shuya was bent over, holding on to his crude bandages and muttering under his breath. I saw there was was new blood on him, and he laughed morosely. “This is just a heck of a way to end things, isn’t it?” he said. “Our whole idea, gone up in flames. I don’t blame you, though. Amethyst was always going to find us at some point.”

“Scout wants you to stop all this,” I blurted out, figuring it was as good a time as any. “She wants you to stop with this whole revolution and come with her and get out of this damned city. She just wants you.”

Shuya looked stricken. “She does? She just wants to let go of the whole thing, just like that?”

“Me and her nearly died,” I said. “We both want to let go. Look, just go to her and get your head out of your flankhole and be with her.”

“Yes but . . .” He paused, then sighed. “Alright, I’ll talk to her, but I still need your help, Minty. The whole city does.”

“What is this whole thing about?” I asked.

“You see, a lot of it has to do with Marshmallow. We think that she is, maybe, well . . .”

We were standing in an overgrown alley behind the warehouse, concealed from the carnage by overgrown plants and a corner facing the front of the building. We were relatively secure. That was, until a couple police ponies bolted around the corner.

I raised my hooves and Shuya started to, but they weren’t interested in that. The pistols in their hooves barked and Shuya’s head and stomach exploded into waves of blood and tissue that splashed everywhere, yet somehow not me.

I screamed, and screamed, and screamed. A life snuffed out before my very eyes, like it didn’t even fucking matter. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck shit cunt fuck. He was dead, he was dead, ohCelestiahe’sdeadIwasjuststandinghereandhe’sdead!

I think I reached out for him, but I’m not sure. All I know was that Shuya was dead and the pigs raised their guns at me. Their gazes were hard and mouths curved into wicked smiles like they were doing their jobs and loving every minute of it.

The muzzle flashes I expected didn’t come, though. I closed my eyes and waited for them, but none came. Then, before I opened my eyes, I was picked up in a tight gaze and carried over hedges and fences. I realized I was clinging to my unknown hero and crying. I don’t know if I was crying for myself for seeing Shuya dying, or for Shuya, dead with Scout back in West Fillydelphia asleep and waiting for his return. My heart wanted to break and throw the thousand pieces away so I didn’t have to look at them again, but I wasn’t so lucky.

My savior stopped after some time and gently placed me on the ground. I was laying on soft grass, with my eyes tightly shut. I didn’t think I wanted to open them, but I did anyway. I knew who I was going to find, but it was still a surprise.

The Assassin looked down at me through his mask, his hoof rubbing through my mane. “Cry now, little one,” he said. “There is little time for tears in your world, and they matter far more than anything else in this town.”

I shook on the ground, my tail flicking and swishing against the ground. The Assassin stood over me, watching me with a solemn quiet that somehow was able to keep me calm, to keep me from doing something to myself. I cried and shook for who the fuck cares how long, just a long, long time that only seemed to end when I was out of tears.

“When you get back,” the Assassin said, “you may want to keep the pill bottle away from Scout. Her life is precious, and her taking it over the loss of another only lessens this world more.”

“Why were you too late?” I whispered. “Why couldn’t you save him?”

He took a long time to answer. “I’m not perfect.”

There was another minute of silence, but then he turn to go. Before he did, though, he turned back and swept me up in what was unmistakable for a hug. He squeezed me gently, then let go and ran off, disappearing behind a nearby fence. I could have gone after him, with Chemiker’s formula I could have done a lot of things, but I didn’t.

I just climbed to my hooves and took off into the air, over the smoldering ruins of hopes and dreams that had once lie in the bed of revolution. I tried not to look back when I left, but I would be lying to say I didn’t.

I got back around the time the sun had started to set. Like it was mocking me, the sky was never a more beautiful shade of pink and orange and purple than at that moment. Its warm fading winds hugged me and eagerly pushed me on through the sky, my feathers rustling in the breeze. I landed just outside my room’s window, and stepped inside without a sound.

The first thing I did was wrap my bandages around my leg, which was beginning to hurt more and more. I guess it was the potion wearing off more and more, or maybe it was guilt that I should feel some sort of pain instead of coming out of a battle unscathed like it hadn’t even happened.

Once I had done that, I stumbled over to the pill bottles on the end table next to the bed. Somepony had placed my jacket from that night on it, and the pill bottles were next to them. I decided to hide them both in my jacket until I could find a better place. When I reached in one of my pockets, however, I felt something soft touch my hoof.

I pulled it out, not sure what to expect, and when I did I felt my stomach harden. In my hoof was a clump of hair, bright and clearly rainbow-colored. It was the kind of hair I had only ever seen on Rainbow Remedy, and clearly were no other. I remembered the nurse talking to me about stitches, and it all started to come back.

“Minty?”

I turned, and saw Grapevine standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the hall light. “What are you doing out of bed?” she asked.

“Wanted to see when I could take my medicine again,” I said, and it was true. The pounding in my leg had only grown until it had reached almost to the height of before taking to the potion, and I winced in pain.

“You can in another hour,” Grapevine said, walking to me. “You need to rest until then, but after we can have the radio on and all of us downstairs can come visit you two. How’s that?”

I nodded. “That would be great.”

She helped me climb back into bed next to Scout, but when she turned to go I stopped her. “Wait,” I said. “Sterling isn’t back yet, and well . . . could you be in here with us? I’d feel more . . . safe.”

Grapevine smiled a bit, then nodded. “Of course.”

I squeezed next to Scout, and Grapevine next to me, with my fragile form in the middle. I hugged Scout’s softly-snoring body tight and felt her do the same for me, but presumably for different reasons. I didn’t care right then, though. Sterling had left me, and if Grapevine wanted to show some affection, then I would let her.

I don’t know when I started to let go of myself, but I think it was just as I closed my eyes. I let go of the Minty from just a few days earlier, that I had held on to in vain. That was the me that no longer functioned in Fillydelphia, and never had. A new me, the me in a loving embrace of two mares, was what occupied my body now.

I was home.

Author's Notes:

Remember when this story was happy? Haha, the Dark tag is on this story for a reason.

Episode 3: The Dirty Joke - Part 1

We did it. Sex, I mean, between me and Grapevine. It wasn’t like I planned it, mostly. I mean, I did end up spending a lot of time with her and Scout, but I don’t think it was intentional. It more just kind of happened. See, with my leg going to back to normal, where normal was in intense pain if I tried to move it, I couldn’t very well bathe myself. So I had to rely on somepony like Grapevine to do it for me, you see.

The first time she bathed me it was all kinds of awkward, and she didn’t get my “parts” very well, and mumbled that it would be better to wait until Sterling was back to do them. But I could see her looking down there. Really, it wasn’t like I minded anymore. Why should I? My cheating heart was just looking for an excuse. I had slept pretty close to Scout every night, though I kept telling myself it was to make up for Shuya. I always told myself that after that fact, to make up for it.

Anyway, it was the second time Grapevine was bathing me that her hoof just kind of fell down there and didn’t go away. She stared at me, I stared at her, and then that was it. We tumbled in the bath and got so wet that we had to sit together in a big, old towel for fifteen minutes or something. Grapevine . . . she was really good, okay? I liked it a lot. Don’t give me any of that about mares not being into sex, either. If the partner is good, I’m going to want it.

I felt awful about it afterwards, at least. Not the sex, that was great. But the guilt about actually doing it with somepony did hurt a lot. I just kept picturing Sterling, sweet Sterling, and how he would feel after he found out. It didn’t stop me from doing the same thing the next day, and the one after that. Scout and I started bathing together. She wasn’t as good as Grapevine, but tasted better.

Why was I doing this? I kept asking myself that question, over and over, like a hellish parade in my mind that never ended. When I clutched on to Scout at night, sandwiched between her and Grapevine, I would think about it. I felt happy. So damn happy. I hated myself for it.

Night after night, I slept with them. Day after day, we did it in the bathroom. It was my life until my leg started to heal. I was on sick leave from work, after all, and Scout was homeless and jobless, so what else did we have to do? Sex between two injured mares is an awkward, slow affair, but it wasn’t bad.

Sterling came back about two weeks after I got out of the hospital. Apparently he had been to a big conference about his engine, and then had gone to Germaneigh with Ivory or something. He didn’t talk about it much. I didn’t say anything to him, but I think that, somehow, he knew. We couldn’t even share the same room since Scout was in the bed with me all the time, so he ended up sleeping downstairs. Grapevine still came over a lot, but she didn’t stay the night no more.

Sometimes I would think about Sterling and almost not go down on Grapevine or cuddle with Scout at night, but I never stopped myself. How could I? They were so warm, and they just knew what I was going through. They knew the pain and the misery I had been through, so I drew toward them. I didn’t mean to, it just happened. I felt real bad about it, too. Trust me. I still hugged him and kissed him and he did his damn best to make me feel good, but I went back on him every time.

I feel bad enough about it, okay? I mean, I didn’t mean to . . . I didn’t want to hurt him. A few times, when Scout was out downstairs, we would cuddle and share the bed and I’d tell him that, boy, I just loved him so much. And I did. But I loved Grapevine too, and I was starting to with Scout. It was new, twisted love that was bold and brash and largely based around sex, but it was there.

So anyway, life went on in that weird mishmash of love and sex for a few weeks as my leg healed, until one day Starshine stopped by again. Well, she had stopped by a number of times during the time between Shuya’s death and that day, but she’d mostly just chit-chatted and hung out with us. I thought about asking her to join in the sex, but decided not to. It would have been too much, I think.

This time when she visited, though, she wasn’t acting all happy and playful. Her face was set hard as stone when she walked in the room. I was still laying in bed, and kind of tired from another cardio session that day. I’d been able to walk for some time, but all the stretches and exercises still really took it out of me.

“How are you feeling?” she asked as she walked in, shutting the door behind her. I was alone in the room, so we had it all to ourselves.

“I was on my feet for three hours today,” I said. “The stupid doctors keep telling Grapevine more exercises to give me.”

Starshine walked over to my side of the bed. “Well I hope you’re not too tired,” she said, “because I need to ask you something.”

“Yeah, shoot,” I said, looking at her wing holes. They never really grew on me, and I always couldn’t help but look at them when she came over.

Starshine cleared her voice. “You’ve been out of work for almost four weeks now,” she said. “Ornate Vision is going to want you to come back soon, and you’re going to need a new story for when you come back.”

“I suppose I will,” I said. “What about it?”

“Well, I’ve got a story for you,” she said.

I mulled it over in my head. I was in need of a story, yes, but the way she said it had me a little nervous that everything was too easy. Still, I decided to bite.

“Alright, what is it?”

Starshine smiled. “It’s simple. We report on Fillydelphia’s most popular sex hotline operator.”

“Sex what?” I asked.

“Sex hotline,” Starshine said, pantomiming holding a phone in her hoof. “You call him, and he is anything you want him to be. You have sex over the phone.”

I stared at her. “So it’s like sex . . . but you do it to yourself and tell the other pony about it?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Celestia, I was suddenly glad that I didn’t like using the accursed things. I mean, what was the point of talking to a pony if you couldn’t see them? Now ponies were having sex over them? Celestia, I don’t think I was ready for that kind of information. If I had been back in Derbyshire, I might have had a heart attack at the idea. Now, I was the mare sitting in a bed with damp sheets that weren’t there because I had been splashed with water, if you know what I mean.

“So what sort of story is there to do on him?” I asked. “I mean, this sounds like something you’re familiar with, so it’s not new or nothing. What’s the scoop on it?”

At that Starshine paused. “Well . . .”

“Well what?”

She rubbed the back of her head. “He has some ties with Amethyst, and he’s afraid that she’s trying to get rid of him.”

If you’d cut my hoof off right then, you would have found my blood frozen in their veins. My head felt foggy all of a sudden, and I wavered a bit. “A-Amethyst?” I asked.

“Don’t play dumb, Minty,” Starshine said. “You know exactly who I’m talking about, and why I’m coming to you with this.”

“But why come to me with it?” I asked. “Why don’t you go to Grapevine? Why do you want me to cover some sex line operator who’s in trouble with Amethyst?”

Starshine jumped up on the bed and stood over me. She was short, but could be intimidating when she stuck her snout in my face. I could feel her breath wash over my face, hot and tasting like grease.

“Because you and I are the only ponies here who are fit to do anything about Amethyst, and have a reason to. Grapevine wants nothing to do with her, and Scout is halfway in a coma right now. It’s just me and you, Minty.”

“Find somepony else,” I said. “Heck, get the Assassin to do this. I’m done.”

Starshine loped around on the bed, her hooves pressing into the thick fabric. “I thought you might say that, Minty,” she said. “I can call on you for favors all I want, like you did me, but I can’t get you to do anything. So, I planned a different story to drop if you don’t go through.”

“What kind of story?”

“The kind that reveals a certain newsmare was shot in a drive by aiding rebels against Amethyst.”

I started to shake. “She’d . . . she’d kill me!”

“I know,” Starshine said. “Minty, I quit my job for you, I offered time to train you, and I even kept the Assassin and Shuya from having you gagged or killed for finding us in the Heights. If you can’t do this one thing for me, you’re through.” She slammed her hoof on the wall next to me. “Through!”

Her hooves were quivering, and her breath washed over me in short gasps. She looked like she might either tear through the wall or break down crying, and it wasn’t a gamble I wanted to take. I didn’t want to die, either, which may have influenced my decision a little.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” I said. “Just for the story.”

Starshine’s smile returned, like a switch had been flipped. “Great! We need to leave in a few minutes.” She jumped off the bed, and reached into the hallway, then pulled in a green paper bag. She reached inside it, and tossed me what turned out to be a white sweatshirt with a hood.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“A hoodie,” she said. “Put it on. Where we’re going, either you want to be noticed by everypony, or not at all. The both of us fall into the latter.” She took out a similar piece of clothing in gray, and wrestled it over her head. It was too big on her small frame, and hung loose around her middle.

I had to fight to get my own “hoodie” on. The thing was bulky, and I had to pack my wings even tighter against my back to fit it on me. The hood hung against the nape of my neck, and two drawstrings down the front. It was comfy, at least.

“How do I look?” I asked.

Starshine snickered. “Like a marshmallow. Now, come on. I know you can at least walk.”

I sighed and swung myself up so my back legs were hanging over the side of the bed. I lowered myself onto my good leg first, then gently onto my bad hoof. I whimpered beneath my breath as my weight shifted onto the injury for a brief moment before I slid all the way off and balanced on my three good legs.

I followed Starshine out of the room with small, measured steps. I had to be helped by her down the stairs, but we did manage to make it down to the bottom floor of Joya’s shop. It was empty, as fit the early time of the day. It was only ten, when I looked at the clock.

Joya herself bounced over to us and smiled. “Don’t you both look adorable!” she said. “Where are you going?”

“We’re going to go for a walk in the park,” Starshine said.

She bumped me with one hoof, and I nodded. “Y-eah, we’re going to go walking,” I said. “The doctor said it was good for me to, uh, exercise my leg lots.”

“Alright, well have fun!” Joya said. “Good you two have jackets on. It’s getting mighty cold out there. Fall’s here now.”

I nodded. Before I had known it, the world had passed into October. I had been a regular in Fillydelphia for five whole months now, though it felt like a lifetime to me. At least almost two years. Me and Starshine said goodbye to Joya and made our way out the door, onto the sidewalk outside. Joya had been right, as a stiff, cool breeze blew over us and I was glad to have my hoodie.

I wasn’t sure exactly where I stood on the fall, to be perfectly honest. It had always been harvest season back home, and it hadn’t been a whole lot of fun doing it in colder and colder weather, up near the Germane border. But once the work got done, fall wasn’t so bad. The leaves falling were always pretty, and the way smoke drifted out of our chimney on a cool morning had something special to it.

In Fillydelphia, city of the factory workers, fall was just when the weather got colder. For me, at least, it just meant waiting for Nightmare Night and Hearts Warming while cranking out stories once again. I just hoped I could still write, after so long away from it.

Starshine and I took the trolley toward downtown. It was funny to ride it again, especially with her. She held my hoof a little on account of us having to sit so close on the crowded trolley, and I didn’t really mind too much. Sure, she had threatened me a bit, but she wasn’t too bad. I don’t know, I guess I saw a little of myself in her, but while I was lucky enough to have Grapevine, Scout, and Sterling, she didn’t have anypony.

It helped that I was feeling awfully guilty about the whole snug I’d given her. Whenever I looked at her back and saw the holes in her back all the way down to her spine, I felt a twinge of regret that I’d ignored her for months. She’d quit her job for me, and only for me to pretty much do nothing with her, except one time in downtown Fillydelphia.

So, it was pretty okay that she was going to hold my hoof if she was scared or whatever. We rode the trolley through downtown, stopping to let off shuffling ponies to be replaced by their similar-looking replacements. Things kind of blended together for a while, until Starshine pulled me up out of the seat and stood us in the aisle.

“Next stop is ours,” she said.

I looked around for where we were, and my heart practically skipped a beat. The buildings we passed were on their last legs, and looked like they were going to heave up broken furniture and junkies. Soot stung the air and plastered itself to every available surface that had once been white. Most of the homes had been converted to businesses of some sort, with neon signs to mark them: ALCOHOL, CIGARETTES, and XXX. I may have been kind of wet around the ears as far as city things came, even now, I knew full well what the last one stood for. What made me wonder was why exactly Starshine was leading me into that place.

I didn’t get a chance to ask her, though, as the trolley came to a stop and Starshine dragged me out. We emerged back into the cold in front of a rusted trolley stop occupied by a few shady ponies and even some stallion in a slick suit. It wasn’t hard to guess why he was there.

“So we’re in the underbelly of Fillydelphia’s underbelly,” I said, passing beneath the tightly-packed tenement houses.

“Hey, it ain’t all bad,” Starshine said. “At least there’s stuff to do here.”

“Well I guess I figured that a sex line pony would be in a place like this.” I looked around. “So where do we go from here?”

Starshine pointed to a leaning building just down the front of us. “BAR” flashed in bright green neon in the window. It was early in the day, but ponies were already walking in and out of it. The whole place looked like a stiff breeze would knock it over, but it managed to stay upright anyway.

“Do we really have to go in there?” I asked.

“We’ll be safe in there,” Starshine said. “Anonymity and all that.”

I watched a well-built stallion walk out of the building with a sneer on his face before stalking off in the direction opposite of us. “I’m not sure safe is the best word . . .”

Starshine nudged me and I followed her anyway toward the bar. The front door leaned against the frame, and its hinges were so worn that when Starshine pushed it, I could see the strain of the screws to keep it in place.

The inside of the bar was dim and hazy, filled with cigarette smoke and the smell of booze early in the morning. It was pretty nasty, to tell the truth, but probably better than seeing the place in the light. It probably was covered in more fluids than I wanted to see in my life.

Anyway, the bar was comparatively deserted, but Starshine still moved toward a booth far back in one corner. It wasn’t until we had neared the table that I realized a pony was sitting at it. He was a gaunt stallion with fur the color of worn parchment wrapped around himself beneath a thick, brown trenchcoat. He looked around nervously, tapping his hoof against the table and biting his lip. When Starshine walked up to him, he practically jumped out of his skin. He swatted away some midnight-blue pieces of mane out of his face and tried to smile at us.

“Oh, Starshine, it’s you,” he said, eyeing her. I was getting the uncomfortable feeling that he really didn’t want to have a look at me, and I wasn’t sure why.

“It’s been a little while,” Starshine said. “Had to come all the way out from West Fillydelphia for this.”

“Well I’m, uh, really glad.” He poked his head at me. “Who’s she?”

Starshine nudged my side. “This is Minty Flower,” she said. “You might have heard of her. Minty, this is Dirty Joke.”

He stared at me blankly. “Should I have had?”

“She’s a reporter. Kind of famous around here.”

“I don’t read the newspaper.”

I groaned. The way the guy looked at me, it was like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to scoot closer or farther away. He looked half-drunk, and like he spent his time in the bar playing pocket pool beneath the table.

“I’m the one that’s here to help you,” I said.

He nodded. “Right, right, and I’m glad for it,” he said. “I assume Starshine has filled you in on everything?”

“No, she hasn’t,” I said. “This whole thing’s been a wild ride this whole day, so would one of you mind catching me up on what’s going on?”

Starshine helped me into the booth, and I had to slide in next to Dirty Joke, which was really lousy. He didn’t smell too good, like he weighed twice as much as he did. Starshine kept her distance, and the two kept looking at each other like a cheap romance book, and I wanted to roll my eyes.

“Tell her,” Starshine said. “Don’t leave out the details.”

“Alright.” Dirty Joke cleared his throat. “I guess if you’re here, then you probably know about Amethyst. Well, see, some of the ponies that work for her have . . . urges. I provide them a service.”

“Right, Starshine told me,” I said.

“Yes, well, some of them get very blabby when they’re done,” he said. “I think they just want somepony to talk to, really. This isn’t a problem, normally, but there’s this one pony who kept blabbing all these secrets about Amethyst to me. Now, he called and told me that Amethyst found out. I try to come home the next day, and there are police ponies outside my door.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re in some deep crap for listening to a blabbermouth on the phone?”

“Basically, yeah.”

I whistled. That was a new one. I felt like Dirty Joke or Starshine would nudge me at any moment, telling me they were kidding, but if they were they didn’t show it. I nodded like it all made sense in a sane world and told him so.

“So why don’t you just tell us what that stallion told you over the phone?” I asked. “Could save us a lot of trouble.”

He looked down and mumbled something I couldn’t hear.

“You’re gonna have to speak up,” Starshine said.

“I don’t remember, okay?” he said. “I usually just zone out when my client talks to me, and don’t really pay attention. He could have told me the combination to Fort Fetlock and I wouldn’t remember now.” He paused. “But, as a little bit of insurance, I write down what the client is saying in a journal and store it away for later.”

I sighed. “So we have to go back to your guarded apartment to get your notepad? You couldn’t have brought it when you left?”

“Well I didn’t know I would return home to find it guarded,” he said. “So will you help me? If I have that journal, I can keep myself safe with blackmail.”

Starshine looked at me. “There’s bound to be some stuff in there for important eyes. Marshmallow’s eyes. We have to do this, Minty.”

Oh, of course we did. The last thing I really wanted to do was go into some strange pony’s apartment because he was in trouble, but even I had to admit that getting at Amethyst was important. She was the Queen Bitch of Fillydelphia, and helping Marshmallow oust her would be sweet. It’d be some way to make up everything to Scout, too.

“Alright, alright,” I said. “We’ll help you.”

“Great,” Dirty Joke said. “My apartment’s not far from here.”

Not far turned out to be a mile and a half through one of the worst parts of the city. Somehow it always did with ponies in Fillydelphia. Same with the idea that I had found the worst part, then I kept finding someplace worse. Most of the apartment blocks farther into the red-light district were barely standing, full of chips and cracks in their sides. Hardly anything at all was intact, including the ponies.

Most of them bore scars of one sort or the other. The mares that stood on street corners bore a very different scar, one on the inside. Dirty Joke walked right past them without a glance, though I suppose he was doing their job anyway, just not so physically. I noticed that, when he walked, his hips swayed from side to side like a mare out on the town. It was a little unsettling to look at, I had to admit.

Dirty Joke announced we had arrived at his apartment building when we stopped in front of a crumbling building that was identical to all the buildings beside it. There were only small alleys separating buildings, and most were filled with trash and rancid water.

“Ponies live here?” I asked.

“The kind that consider West Fillydelphia upscale,” Starshine said. “Dirty, which is yours?”

The stallion pointed to a window near the top, four down on its row. The window overlooked the building next to it, and the alley below. It wasn’t a very pretty view.

“That one,” he said. “You’ll never get into it from the front, though.”

“That’s not what I had planned,” Starshine said. She nodded to me. “Can you fly?”

I shrugged. “Reasonably.”

“Good, let’s get up there. Dirty, do you lock your windows?”

“Windows can have locks?” Dirty asked.

Starshine just shook her head and nodded to me again. Feeling more than a little like a pack mule, I lifted the back of my hoodie and flapped my wings a little. It felt sort of good to have them out in the open again. Dirty looked at us all crazy when Starshine offered a hoof to him.

“I can’t go,” he said. “I’m, ah, afraid of heights.”

Starshine rolled her eyes. “Really?”

“We could fall!”

“You know what? Fine. Just tell us where the notebook is and we’ll get it.” Starshine sighed. “We’ll have to search through that pigsty you call an apartment, but we’ll do it.”

“It’s right next to the red phone in my bedroom,” Dirty Joke said. “It’s the one I use for, well, you know.”

“Got it.” Starshine turned to me. “You ready?”

I flashed out my wings. They made a whooshing sound, and I felt proud that I still had it. I had flown in little bits while recovering, but never quite all at once. I was still pretty confident, though.

I grabbed Starshine around the waist and began to flap, carrying me off the ground of the alley and up toward the window Dirty Joke had pointed out. She was heavy, but I managed to keep a good hold on her. It wasn’t too bad.

“You know, your form is sloppy,” Starshine said.

I grunted. “Well I don’t see you carrying us. When are those wings going to be fixed anyway?”

“They told me soon.”

“Some idea of soon.”

We reached the window, and Starshine pressed a hoof against it. With a push, it opened and I flew in. I damn near clipped my wings, but managed anyhow. I landed on a hardwood floor and looked around, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness.

The air inside the apartment smelled musky, like stale sex left out too long. We were in the living room, with a big bed in the middle of it with the sheets all over the place. Magazines were strewn around, many featuring scantily-clad mares, and even a few stallions. If Starshine noticed, she didn’t say anything about it. What irked me more, though, was the pile of sex toys near the bed. Disturbed me enough that I won’t even describe them. Just trust me, they were . . . nasty.

“And ponies have sex with this guy?” I asked.

“You would be surprised,” Starshine said.

I raised an eyebrow. “How do you know him, anyway?”

Starshine started picking around the room, stepping over bottles of lube and empty plates. “How do you think, Minty? Being a wingless freak without a job really takes it out of me, and sometimes I get lonely.” She looked around a desk next to the bed. “Sometimes I just want to get off without the whole ‘relationship’ thing.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said.

She stepped over the floor with the air of an expert, and easily navigated around the place, checking all around the bed for the phone Dirty Joke had told us about. The way she moved was almost like she was familiar with the place.

Then, I got it. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

She looked like she almost had a heart attack.

“No, I have not!” she said. “That isn’t any of your business even if I had.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t really object to her having a thing for a prostitute. After all, I was banging three ponies at once, only one of which I was officially attached to—I was in no right to judge. But just the thought of the stallion waiting for us going down on and into Starshine . . . I just couldn’t picture it, and I didn’t want to. Either he had a silver tongue or a mighty big cock, I was sure of that.

“Right, right,” I said. “So where is that stupid journal of his, anyway?”

Starshine brushed away some kleenexes from the bedside table. “I don’t know, he said it would be here.”

“Well, he did say it was in his bedroom,” I said. “Maybe there’s another room?”

“But the bed’s right here.”

“Would you really be surprised if a guy like him was quirky like that?”

Starshine relented, and walked toward a door on the far wall that had sat there all suspicious-like while we searched. I followed her over, still gritting my teeth when I put pressure down on my bad leg. Boy, what I would have given to have been back in Joya’s house, in the bath with Grapevine and Scout instead of in a dirty apartment in Assfuck, Fillydelphia.

The far door clicked open, and we walked inside. To my great surprise, the room we found inside was, to my great surprise . . . normal. The walls were creamy white, and a fashionable light fixture hung from the ceiling. Against the wall was a wooden desk with a lamp and red telephone on it. Next to it were a number of notebooks.

“Well this is a surprise,” I said.

“It is to me, too,” Starshine said. “He never took me in here.”

She walked to the desk and rifled through the gathered journals. She looked in them real quick, then grabbed one and loped back over to me. “Got it,” she said.

“You sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure. It’s the thick one with a lot of names in it. Now, come on and let’s get out of here before somepony figures out we’re in here.”

I nodded and followed her back to the window. Just as we reached it, I heard marching hooves in the hall outside the apartment, and from the sound of it they were coming our way. My heart started to race, and I spread my wings.

Grabbing Starshine against my chest, I practically jumped out the window just as somepony started to jiggle the lever on the door. I drifted down through the tight confines of the alley until we reached the street below.

I practically had to shove Starshine off me before I collapsed to the ground. She felt a lot heavier on the way back, but maybe I was just getting tired. My injured leg was real sore, but I could deal with that. Getting sliced up by the Assassin had hurt worse, after all. The scar now went almost unnoticed below my coat, though, compared to the bullet wound. That thing was looking to be permanent.

Starshine pulled out the notebook and Dirty Joke snatched it from her. He produced a satchel reading “Fillydelphia Times,” and put the notebook inside.

“Uh, where’d you get the satchel?” Starshine asked.

“Newscolts have remarkably stubby legs,” Dirty Joke said. “It’s amazing how slow they run.”

Well, petty theft—emphasis on petty—was the least of our crimes at the moment, and at any given moment, so we let it go. We resumed walking, thankfully away from the rat-infested hellhole that was the apartment buildings. Then again, our path was taking us right back to all the whorehouses and strip clubs in Fillydelphia, so I wasn’t sure which was better.

With the notebook now with him, Dirty Joke walked with a kind of saunter, like he owned the whole town. He flicked his tail around and showed off his tailhole like it was everybody’s business and we were lucky to have him. Or maybe he was just trying to make Starshine randy. You know, either/or.

The only thing somewhat normal in the whole place was Serenity, that drifted high above us. I could really start to see the meaning of the name, as the city floated above the wastes of the city on silent air, like a steel angel. I caught Starshine sneaking glances up to it, but I guess I knew why.

To tell the truth, I wasn’t sure whether I was enjoying our little outing. I was helping Starshine and all, and felt pretty good about that, but I had to deal with a new character who smelled like stale semen and who made me feel like I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kick him or pin him to the ground and thrust—I mean, bad thoughts.

“Good ol’ horny Minty, that’s me,” I said under my breath.

Dirty Joke turned his head. “I heard that.”

Of course he did.

Anyway, we showed up in front of yet another pink-colored building laced with neon signs and posters advertising sexual endeavors just beyond the door. Even though it had windows out front, it was hard to see inside. Dirty Joke looked up at it for a moment, then started to walk around back. We followed him, and I kept close to Starshine. The alleyways between whorehouses were even worse than the streets out front.

We came to a garbage-ridden back alley behind the building, with a small porch stoop that led up to a steel door. In front of the door was a burly zebra, with eyes hidden by wraparound sunglasses. He snarled at us, then noticed Dirty Joke.

“Hey, Dirty, haven’t seen you in a while,” he said. “Where’ve you been?”

“Been selling my ass out over the phone,” Dirty said. “Pays good and hurts a lot less, too.”

The zebra nodded. “Sure, sure, I hear ya. You ever want to come on by for me sometime, though, you feel free. Though I guess that’s not why you’re here?”

Dirty Joke pointed to us. “My friends need a place where they can stay.”

“Permanently?”

“No, no, they’re not here to work. They’re my guests and we need a place to hold up for a while.”

The zebra sighed. “Dirty, this place ain’t a safehouse.”

“I ain’t lookin’ for a safehouse, I’m lookin’ for a place to spend the night with these two lovely ladies, you got me?”

“Yeah, fine, I got you, Dirty,” the zebra said.

Dirty Joke smiled. “Good.” He waved to us to follow him, and together we walked inside to whorehouse.

I was mighty sore about him calling me a lady, and about implying that I was there to have sex with him—being horny and wanting it are different!—but I was most surprised at the place we stepped into. We walked into a spotless, if small, waiting room for what looked like a homely hotel. A chandelier hung from the ceiling and the wallpaper was real and everything.

A mare at a worn oak front desk smiled at us from behind pale green fur and bright red lipstick smeared on her face. “Welcome to Tailor Made’s whorehouse,” she said in a bright voice. “You got the dough, we got the ho’.”

I was really starting to hate this day.

Author's Notes:

Roxxxaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanne (Put on the Red Light)!

Episode 3: The Dirty Joke - Part 2

It took the lime green mare behind the counter of the claustrophobic waiting room a second or two to recognize Dirty Joke. When she did, though, it wasn’t pretty. Her expression soured and her eyes curled up into a menacing stare. One lip quivered while she watched him.

“And what exactly are you doing here?” she asked.

“I needed a place to go and this was the last one left,” Dirty Joke said. “You guys were like family to me once, and I just need to stay for a little while, and—”

The mare reached across the desk and slapped Dirty Joke across the face, leaving a red mark on his cheek in the shape of her hoof. She grinned and shook her hoof with a look of exhilaration on her face. I couldn’t blame her, really, as I imagined it probably felt pretty good. Then again, if there was anypony who really deserved to get slapped, it was probably me. That was going to suck when it happened.

“I’m not entirely sure I deserved that one,” Dirty Joke said. “I assume that you are not . . . satisfied with how I left here last time?”

“You’re damn right I’m not!” The mare shook a hoof at him. “You can play with the heart of many mares, but you never play with the heart of a whore, you hear me? I took all those extra clients and hours for you, and then you just leave!”

Dirty Joke cringed. “Okay, I did deserve that one.” He sighed. “Look, Dare, I got an exclusive job opening and I . . . I just took it. I didn’t think about it, I only wanted to get out of this place, but I couldn’t have brought you.”

“So is there a reason why you never came back?”

“Probably so I would avoid this talk.”

Dare’s gaze hardened. “Well if you want to stay here, then you better start talking, or I’m going to throw you out on your ass personally.”

Okay, I had to admit, it was pretty fun to watch the two of them. They almost reminded me of my parents, in a way, except for the whorehouse. And that they were both sex workers. And anything to do with sex. My life had really started to become all about sex, hadn’t it?

Dirty Joke leaned against the counter and hung his head. “Look, Dare, I screwed you in a way you never had before, and I’m sorry. I know what we had . . . I didn’t deserve that, alright? But right now I really need your help, and I’m not the only one. See the two mares with me, they’re in danger too.”

“What, did you sleep with them too?” Dare asked.

Starshine sighed. “Only a few times.”

“No, never—” I said, then turned to Starshine. “Really? Him?”

She spread her hooves wide across her chest and waggled her eyebrows. I just shook my head and turned back to Dare. The little waiting room, despite the cleanliness of it, was cramped and felt like we were in a walk-in closet. There was only a wooden door at the other end that led to the other areas of the brothel, and I was almost pushed up against it.

“I apologize for Dirty Joke dragging you both into this,” Dare said. “Trust me, it’s his signature move.”

Well, he hadn’t really dragged us into it, but I wasn’t about to correct her. Instead, I said, “Tonight’s not really the night that we’re looking to blame somepony. We just need a room so we can lay low for a while.”

By the look on her face, I could tell she really wanted to kick Dirty Joke out, but then she didn’t want to screw us over. Ironic, given the locale. I watched her toss around the two ideas in her head, and I really hoped she would come to the right one. Amethyst knew where I lived, and I had no doubt that she’d put somepony outside Joya’s ready to pounce as soon as we arrived.

Dare sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll give you all a room, but you’re going to have to talk to Miss Tailor Made in the morning if you want to stay here longer than that. You’re lucky she’s already in bed or you might not have even gotten this far.”

“Thanks,” Dirty Joke said. “How much for the room?”

“Well, that one’s easy.” Her eyes sparkled. “The cost of two mares for the whole night, of course.”

I thought I saw Starshine blush while Dirty Joke grumbled and pulled a wallet from out of his heavy coat. He shoved bits toward Dare until she looked satisfied, then she finally gave Dirty Joke a room key. They parted without a word, though the way they stared at each other, I knew it was just another conflict that was going to erupt at some point. Great.

Dirty Joke took us through the wooden door, and immediately to our right up a very narrow, winding staircase. The whole place felt like it was trying to be the size of a hotel in half the space, and it showed. I wasn’t even claustrophobic, but my pegasus instincts didn’t like it one bit.

At the top of the stairs was a hallway that ran the length of the brothel. The wooden floor sagged and was scuffed up by hundreds of hooves that had worn away at it. The walls were a sickly yellow tint, too, but I didn’t think anypony came to the place for the aesthetics.

That idea was confirmed by the sounds coming from the rooms we walked past. Moans, grunts, and even a few squeals all filled the hallway like a hellish symphony. I felt a little sick hearing it all at once, and remembered why I didn’t go to brothels. I cheated at home, dammit!

Our room was at the far end of the hallway, which we trotted to as fast as we could without running. Even Dirty Joke seemed to be a little uneasy that night, not that I could blame him. He still managed to shove the key in the hole and we all tumbled inside, practically falling all over each other. I think our nerves were pretty shot at that point, and there was nothing any of us wanted more than to get inside and relax.

Of course, that would have been easier if we weren’t in a whorehouse. The room we all piled into wasn’t very big or neat in any sense of the word. In fact, it was downright dirty, with wallpaper that was peeling and a ceiling that was chipped and sagged worryingly. That wasn’t the worst part, though. The worst part was that there was only one bed that took up most of the floor. The sheets were at least clean, but I could count pretty well and knew that the one bed would be a tight fit for three ponies.

“Well this is going to be interesting,” Dirty Joke said.

“Oh no it ain’t,” I said. “I think we all know that we’re not sharing the bed. No way, no how would that work.”

Dirty Joke hopped up on the bed. “Oh, I agree. Which part of the floor will you take?”

“Dirty, now isn’t the time to joke,” Starshine said. “Just get on the floor and we’ll take the bed. You always complain about that back of yours anyway, so it’s not like it would be be worse.”

“Fine, fine, have it your way,” Dirty Joke grumbled, but he didn’t seem like he was going to make more than a small protest. He trotted into a narrow bathroom next to the bed and shut the door. Then, it was just me and Starshine in the room, all by our lonesome.

“Starshine, what in Celestia’s name are we doing?” I asked.

“I believe we are about to go to sleep in a whorehouse without sex,” Starshine said.

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, you do too. What am I supposed to say? Yeah, this whole thing is kind of insane, just like everything we ever do.”

I rubbed one hoof over the other. I was a big fan of doing that, especially when I felt awkward or bad about something. My mom had tried to stop me from doing it, but that had worked about as well as getting me to not go to Fillydelphia. “So, I guess, we’re going to share a bed for the night?”

Starshine walked around to the other side of the Alicorn-sized mattress. “Yeah, looks that way. You got a problem with it?”

“Not really,” I said. “Just, I mean . . .”

“Look, I know what you’ve been doing with Grapevine and Scout,” Starshine said. “Trust me, I wouldn’t want to get caught up in all that if you paid me. I’ll keep to my side and you keep to yours.”

I felt pretty bad about my cheating at that moment. I mean, not that I never felt bad, but the way she had said it like I was tying them down emotionally and forcing myself on them, well, it didn't make me feel very happy, I’ll tell you that. Not that I was going to tell her that she was wrong, though. I honestly wasn’t sure she was.

Starshine looked up. “Oh, and you might not want to sleep anywhere on the floor, should you decide you don’t want to share the bed with me. Dirty likes to . . . explore.”

With that, she pulled back some of the sheets and climbed into the bed. Dirty Joke emerged from the bathroom and prepared a little bed for himself on the floor with extra pillows and sheets, and curled up himself.

Before I got into bed, though, I stepped into the bathroom and made sure to lock the door behind me. There wasn’t much in there, just an old toilet and a sink with dirty mirror above it. I looked myself over in the smudged glass. My orange mane looked much more frayed than when I had last looked, and there were big bags under my eyes. I didn’t look very attractive, that was for sure. The hoodie helped a little, at least, but not a ton. It felt more like a safety blanket than anything else. Not that I was going to complain.

I relieved myself on the toilet in the least mare-like way possible, then trotted back into the main room. Starshine was already lying face down on the bed, with her head pressed deep into the confines of her pillows. I scooted into the bed on the opposite side from her and did my best to keep away. It wasn’t easy, since I wasn’t used to the feeling of sleeping all alone, but it would do. Honestly, I just didn’t want to upset Starshine.

I don’t know know what I expected, really. It was late at night and we were all tired, so we all just kind of . . . ended. No big conversations or actions, just falling asleep in a dark brothel room. It was kind of anticlimactic to me, but then again it was better than fighting for my life like I always seemed to do. The room was dark, the bed was fairly comfortable, and I was tired.

So, sleep should have been no problem, right? Well, it probably wouldn’t have been in a normal place that wasn’t a whorehouse, but here it was not. Just as I started to fall asleep, I began to hear the noises coming from the other rooms. The screams, the moans, and the squeals of rough fucking that permeated the air in the little brothel.

I could have dealt with all that, had it not been for the banging.

I could hear it from the next room, the bed hitting the wall. Bang. Bang. Bang. It was a hard tapping sound on our wall, and I couldn’t get it out of my head. Every little bang hit deep into my head until I felt like I was swimming in my own emotions.

I wanted to throw up, I really did. I wasn’t even sure why until I realized what I was hearing. I wasn’t listening to some whore getting slammed into the wall again and again, but a gun going off, over and over. Bang. Bang. Bang. Lying there in that bed, I was back in the Heights, stuck inside a factory under siege. I could almost hear the bullets hitting around me, and smell the copper in the air.

There were bodies everywhere. The two stallions who had been killed in front of Amethyst’s headquarters were among them, and Shuya was placed on top. He had a gaping hole where one eye should be, covered in blood and brain matter. I started to shake, too, when I saw who was lying next to him. Scout, with half her body looking like it had been in a meat grinder, and me, a clean shot right through my forehead.

I think Starshine was shaking me in real life, or was it fantasy? I’m pretty sure I was screaming, though. Almost completely sure of that. A loud, long scream not unlike an orgasm, luckily for me, so it wasn’t exactly out of place in a brothel. Still, I managed to finally come to when Starshine literally started beating me in the face, screaming, “Wake up you stupid bitch, wake up!”

It was very rude of her.

I shoved her off me once I had managed to stop yelling my head off. “I’m up, I’m up!” I caught my breath while my chest heaved, covered in sweat. “I’m okay. Just had a nightmare, alright?”

“You were screaming.”

“It was a scary nightmare.”

I noticed Dirty Joke was staring at me with a mix of sleep and malevolence in his eyes. “Are you quite done?” he asked. “I couldn’t tell if you were getting yourself off or if Starshine was stabbing you in your sleep, but all I know is that it was keeping me from sleeping. So thanks for that.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t some kind of nightmare, Minty,” Starshine said. “Not a normal one, at least. What’s going on?”

“Just bad memories, alright?” I said.

“Memories of what?”

I pointed to my leg. “What the hell do you think?”

“Oh.” Starshine looked down while Dirty Joke grumbled and went back to the floor. “Look, I know it isn’t exactly my place, but what in Celestia’s name happened that’s got you screaming when you go to sleep? Have you done this before?”

I tried to think, and I realized I had felt bad before, but never like this. I had never just exploded like that. I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. But usually where I sleep it’s . . . quiet.”

Starshine tilted her head like she was just now hearing the moaning and banging in the whole place for the first time. I think I saw her eyes widen a little, which was pretty funny. After that, she just nodded her head. “Yeah, I guess I can understand that. The quiet thing, I mean. Not the screaming your head off in the middle of the night.”

I shrugged. “So what now?”

“Why don’t we go somewhere?” Starshine asked. “It’s not like this district has a bed time. There’s bound to be somewhere interesting open.”

I almost refused, but then a stallion in the next room started yelling: “Take it, bitch! Yeah, take it like that you sexy slut!”

“Let’s get out of here right now,” I said as fast as I could, moving toward the door. I still had on my hoodie, which was pretty comfortable to sleep in, and I put the hood up over my head. Anything to drown the noises out. Starshine followed me out the door, and together we trotted down the hall back to the stairwell.

When we got to the bottom, though, we were met by a mare standing in our path. She was colored a neat seafoam green that matched her lipstick, with a mane tied into a bun that resembled a dark green bush. She wore a see-through dress and had a pouty look on her face when she approached us.

“Since you’re not any of the lesbians who check in here, and you’re definitely not one of my girls, I guess you two are the mares who came in with Dirty Joke?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, and who are you?”

“I’m Tailor Made, of course.” She grinned. “I’m the mare who runs this place, the place where you were making such a racket that I was about to come up there and tell you to quiet down. Has neither of you ever heard of a quiet orgasm?”

“I wasn’t cumming,” I said. “I didn’t have a good, uh, dream.”

“You’re telling me.”

She swished her tail and motioned for us to follow her farther down the hall. With a look at Starshine, I figured it was best to obey her, so I let her lead me to a room near the back of the hallway, which was near the front of the brothel.

It, like the rest of the whorehouse, was cramped, with a large oak desk taking up most of the room. Tailor Made had to hope over it to get to her chair on the other side, which she plopped down on. She motioned for us to sit on a couple stools in front of her.

“So you two girls decided to show up with Dirty Joke,” she said. “What, does he owe you money or something? Or is it the other way around? It’s been a while since two mares as half-decent as yourselves have gone anywhere with him.”

“We’re helping him out because he’s a friend,” Starshine said.

Tailor Made snorted. “Ponies don’t just help each other out in this business,” she said. “We do it for money, or sex, or better clients. What in the world would you do for him just as a friendly favor?”

“A lot more than you might think,” I said in a grumbling voice. “So far, we’ve had to stick out our necks for somepony that my friend here slept with a few times, and that I just met today.”

“And you two are both not insane, right?” Tailor Made asked. “Like, you didn’t escape from a mental asylum, did you? We’ve got a few girls here like that.”

“No,” I said, “I’m Minty Flower.”

“Who?”

Naturally we would come to the part of the city where nopony knew who I was. Then again, I had been gone long enough that maybe my stories had been forgotten about already. It wouldn’t have surprised me. The big city was a place that never really stopped moving and falling behind meant obscurity and nothingness. In small towns a little scandal could last for years and never go away, but here it was just a drop in an endless ocean.

“I’m a reporter,” I said. “I’m going to do a story on Dirty Joke and the whole thing about phone sex. I‘ll do anything to get my story, so it’s not like this is such an extreme thing.”

Tailor Made chuckled. “A reporter, huh? I haven’t had one around here in quite some time. Last one was this real nice filly . . . Grape-something. I ain’t sure Dirty Joke is worth a story, though. Trust me.”

“Well I do,” Starshine said.

“Of course you do.” Tailor Made tapped her hooves against the desk. “Say, would you two care for a drink? It always helps me get through my day around here.”

I nodded vigorously. A drink right then sounded just about great. To tell the truth, I didn’t even care much for alcohol’s taste, but the effects more than made up for it. The mare got up and took a bottle out from a drawer in a filing cabinet. The smooth, brown liquid sloshed into three shot glasses, two of which she pushed over to me and Starshine. I took mine in my teeth and threw back my head as fast as I could, downing the whiskey in one swallow. I shivered a little, but it was oh-so worth it.

Starshine slammed her drink at about the same time Tailor Made did: a few seconds after me. Without hesitation, she poured us all another shot and we drank that one too. It was pretty fun, just sitting in silence and drinking. It was so rare to have silence those days that I was surprised whenever it came. Peace. Tranquility. Whatever bullshit you wanted to call it, it was pretty nice.

“You wanna know how I got to be in charge of this place?” Tailor Made asked after a third drink. Her voice was slurred and a big smile was plastered on her face. “It seems like you two girls might need to have a little help getting anywhere if you’re going with Dirty Joke these days.”

Starshine hiccuped. “Yeah, sure Tailor Paid. Anything you wanna tell us.”

“Oh, then you’ll love this one.” Tailor Made grinned and hung onto the bottle of whiskey like it was her foal. “You see, there was an old stallion that ran this place named . . . shit, I can’t remember. He was a douche, okay? Anyway, a douche used to run this place when I was a whore for him.”

“So you’ve seen a lot of dicks in your time, huh?” I asked, giggling.

She grinned. “Of course! Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, I was a whore here for that douchey stallion. But see, I didn’t want to stay a whore for the rest of my life. I wanted to run things, by Celestia! So do you want to know how I did it? It wasn’t by violence or anything.”

“Sure,” I said.

“It was by being the biggest slut in this whole place! I wasn’t going to just be another passable whore who had her own room and didn’t make waves, I wanted to be known. So I took one client after another and always gave them the best sex their money could buy. Sometimes I took on three or four at a time, and always made them cum everywhere.” She giggled. “I slept with the boss, too. I listened to his secrets and soothed him when he was in trouble.

“I made myself useful, girls. Violence can only get you so far before everypony hates you. By making myself wanted and loved by my boss and my clients, it wasn’t hard to be given more and more privileges. Before long, I was in power. Don’t be afraid to act like a dumb airhead if you’re moving in for the kill.”

“What happened to your boss?” Starshine asked.

Tailor Made smiled. “I bit his dick off when I didn’t need him anymore.”

“I wonder what it tasted like,” I said in my head. That is, until I realized a few moments later I had said out loud. I tried to grin and took another shot real fast so that I would seem more drunk than crazy.

“I loved the taste,” Tailor Made said. “It tasted like victory. Like one day this whole thing will be over and I can retire somewhere in the country. I’ve yet to make the money for that, though, but it’s a hope that I still keep.”

Starshine nodded sagely. “I would have done the same thing to get ahead.”

“She sure got a head alright,” I said. my voicing starting to slur along with theirs. The unwashed swine of my journalistic endeavors. I was feeling very fashionable at the moment, like I was just a pure genius at whatever I wanted to do, and nopony could stop me. I’m not the best drunk, you see. Then again, I’m not that great sober, either.

“So what are your plans for Dirty Joke?” Tailor Made asked, finally putting the bottle of whiskey away.

Starshine cleared her throat. “Right now, we have to keep him safe,” she said. “This whor— er, establishment is the best place for him right now until we can figure out what to do.”

Tailor Made brushed back a strand of her hair. “So he’s in trouble, huh? Who with? I would assume the police or government, since you haven’t gone to the cops yet. Not that I’m surprised. That new bitch of a mayor’s been cracking down on all of us something fierce.”

“Marshmallow?” I asked.

“Yeah, I guess that’s her name. She’s been having the police snatch up girls off the street left and right. I get two or three mares a day wanting to join my little brothel since the cops don’t touch us, just the working girls. I’ve taken on as many as I can, but it’s never enough.”

“And she’s just doing this because . . . ?”

“Because she doesn’t think the girls here are fit for her streets.” Tailor Made sniffed a little. “My mares are good, alright? I know you two aren’t from around here, but I’ve got the best in the whole city. They are sweet and kind and didn’t ask to be like this, but they make the best of it anyway. I won’t let them get taken away because some wet-behind-the-ears mayor thinks she can do whatever she wants.”

I paused for a moment. She was talking about Marshmallow, my friend, in a way I had never heard her described. The mare was one of the sweetest, most innocent girls I had ever been friends with, and I knew Amethyst was only playing on that kindness. She was probably be played on this, too. I was sure of it. Still, it also gave me a chance to make a deal.

“What if we could get all that pressure off of those girls?” I asked.

Tailor Made snorted. “What, are you going to wave a fairy horn and get it all to go away?”

“Better. We know Marshmallow.” I smiled. “Personally. She sent donuts last week that she made herself. Starshine can attest to it, too. We can get an audience with her, but only if you help us.”

“Okay, assuming I believe you, what sort of help would you want?”

“The kind that keep Dirty Joke out of trouble. We just need your cooperation for a day or two and then we’ll be fine. All we need is your help, Tailor Made. That’s all we ask.”

She looked like she wasn’t sure if we were bullshitting her or not, but Tailor Made eventually nodded. “Alright, I’ll give you a little help,” she said. “Just don’t fuck me over, or I will bite your dicks off.”

I wasn’t really sure what to make of that, but I guess it was a threat. Probably metaphorical, really, but I wasn’t entirely sure. I’d seen mares of her type before, and you could never really tell with them. You had to stay unsure about them or they’d lash out at you when you had just become comfortable. She was alright, I guess.

We shook hooves and she let Starshine and I go back to our room. The moaning wasn’t so bad the second time, though whether it was because of the time of the night or because I didn’t notice it, I wouldn’t know. It might have also been that I was more than a little drunk.

Starshine somehow managed to not slur her words. “So what will we do tomorrow?” she asked.

“I dunno,” I said. “We’ll go see Ornate Vision, I guess, and see about him publishing that journal-thing Sexy Joke has. Ya think he’ll do it?”

“I’ll make sure he does.”

“Good to know!”

That one line sent me into a fit of giggles. I barely made it to our door and all, and practically fell on the bed once we got in. I was too tired to care about anything but sleep at the moment. Well, and Starshine too. Warm, fuzzy Starshine. I ended up curled next to her, my hooves gripping her around the waist and her head nuzzling beneath my chin. I guess I was into that. I held her there and fell asleep just about instantly.

To tell the truth, it was one of the best nights of sleep I’d had in a long time.

We took a trolley the next morning to the Fillydelphia Chronicler building. It seemed like ages since I had last been there, and it showed. Somepony had redone the wallpaper on the inside and all the typewriters looked shiny and new, so my eyes popped out of my head every three seconds or so. Starshine had to keep dragging me around. I noticed that more ponies stared at me, but most said hello to her. I guess by then I had become less an actual pony who worked there and more a legend. I could only imagine what Grapevine was to them.

Ornate Vision wasn’t in his office, but some new filly told us in a sparkly voice that he was on the roof. She looked like she didn’t know who I was, but that didn’t bother me too much. I was just glad I didn’t have to hang around the office much.

We threaded our way through the new rows of printing presses and desks to the door on the far side of the room that led to the roof. There were a couple stallions in the stairwell passing a joint between themselves who didn’t look very concerned when we came in. They just stared at us while we trotted up the stairs.

It felt strange to push through the swinging metal door onto the roof again, after so long having been away from it. It was like going through a completely different world only to find something wholly familiar. It was the same roof as always, with the same little bits of trash scattered around blank concrete that ended suddenly at a drop that spanned two stories.

Ornate sat on the edge, his hooves dangling over the side. He had a bottle of wine sitting next to him and a bunch of plastic cups all spread out around it. He was whistling in the wind that swept over the Fillydelphia rooftops, but he wasn’t very good at it. Me and Starshine approached him from behind all quiet-like, though with hooves that can only amount to so much.

“Hey, Ornate, I’m back,” I said.

He turned and stared at me for a moment, then the old pony put a smile on his orange face. “Minty! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. I haven’t seen any of my senior staff in what feels like forever. Only got the new kids around, and they’re annoying as all get out.”

“I was a kid once, you know,” I said. “I mean, what, I’ve only been here a few months. It’s not like I’m as much a veteran as Grapevine or any of the rest. I barely qualify on that account.”

“No, but what counts is experience, and you’ve had plenty of that.”

Starshine stuck up her hoof. “Uh, so if experience counts does that mean I get a raise?”

“You say that like I plan on giving raises anytime soon.” Ornate got to his hooves and offered us some wine. Starshine took the bottle and started to drain it. “So what can I do for the both of you? I know you wouldn’t come back to visit unless it was something important. At least, I hope not. Is it a story, or what?”

“Oh, it’s a story alright,” I said. “A big one, one that will get some major headlines.”

“Then say it already and don’t waste my time, Ms. Flower.”

I blushed. “Right. Anyway, we have in our possession—not on us, but where we can get to it—a journal kept by a sex hotline worker that details some very personal details of a high-level Amethyst Lines employee. Some information that could prove very intriguing for the ponies of Fillydelphia to hear.”

Ornate’s eyes narrowed. “Information on Amethyst Lines? What kind?”

“Damaging,” I said. “The worst kind.”

I didn’t actually know what was in that journal of Dirty Joke’s, but I was going out on a limb with it. It felt like something Grapevine would do, anyway, and I still based a lot of my being a reporter on her. Sometimes I wondered she felt proud her former photographer was a reporter, or jealous that I had climbed to that rank so fast. Probably a little bit of both, really.

“So you want me to publish something that would hurt both the largest remaining corporation in the city, and a personal friend of the mayor’s,” Ornate said.

I nodded.

He snorted and shook his head. “You’ve got balls, Minty, but I never knew you were crazy. I mean, literally crazy. What the hell do you think would happen if you published a story like that? That you’d get famous? No, you’d be found gutted in some back alley a few days later.”

“What, so you won’t do this because you’re scared?” I growled. “You didn’t have any problems publishing my Pullmare story, though.”

“Pullmare was dead by the time we published that,” he said. “Unless you bring me Amethyst’s head on a pike, I don’t want to risk pissing her off. We’re still a small newspaper, Minty, and can’t take on the heavyweights.”

I must have looked really downtrodden, because he put a hoof on my shoulders and looked all hurt at me like he was real sorry he couldn’t help. And the thing was, I knew he couldn’t either. It had been a suicidal plan, to try to stop Amethyst using a small-time paper. She was a megalomaniac and wasn’t going to be cowed by the Chronicler. Still, I felt like I had to try, no matter how stupid of me it was.

“Is there anypony we can take this too, then?” I asked. “Somepony worked for a bigger paper? I know I’m supposed to stay loyal to the Chronicler, but is there another way?”

“Is there another way, she says . . .” Ornate sighed. “Yeah, yeah there’s another way. If you’re really that insane that you want to publish it anyway, there is another way. See, we may not be big on publishing those kinds of stories, but Newsday is. They’re based right here in Fillydelphia, and the head editor is a bit of a nutjob like you.”

“Great, how do I talk to her?” I asked.

“To talk to him,” Ornate said, “you’d have to find him, and he is not an easy pony to find. The only place you could maybe talk to him will be at, well . . . a place of ill repute.”

Starshine snorted. “If you knew where we’ve been, you wouldn’t be so slow to offer it. Where is it?”

Ornate coughed. “An orgy party.”

“A what?”

“An orgy party,” he said. “It’s where a bunch of rich and famous ponies in the city get together and have their way with, well, the whores of Fillydelphia’s underbelly. It’s a big event, and the editor of Newsday likes to frequent there. If you could get in there, you’d be able to talk to him. Just be warned, though, since you two are mares . . .”

I felt a little sick to my stomach, but I wasn’t overly surprised. The way this city treated sex was the way a foal treated matches. They kept playing with it until they burned themselves. Better for me, though, as I was almost certain I knew a way to get in. I nodded to Ornate.

“I’ll figure something out.”

“I hope you can,” Ornate said, snatching the wine bottle back from Starshine. “Good luck to you, Minty. I sure hope that you can take her down, I really do. I’ll even give you the money for the story if you can get it published.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to do, so I reached over and gave him a hug. I then trotted off with Starshine, back down the stairs. We stopped by her desk first before going out, though. Her desk was still remarkably clean, despite her going to the office every other day or so.

“Call Tailor Made,” I said. “We’re going to need a couple tickets to an orgy.”

Episode 3: The Dirty Joke - Part 3

Tailor Made wasn’t exactly amicable to the idea of us going to the orgy on her account. You see, apparently she sent girls there every year to give a good name for her brothel and keep the politicians and lawyers from shutting her down. It was a stupid and flimsy arrangement, but it kept her in business. So, the idea of sending Starshine and I in their place was a bit . . . unnerving for her.

“You want me to jeopardize my entire business for . . . for Dirty Joke?” she said, barely keeping her voice down below screaming.

We were in her office, sitting the same chairs as the night before. Only, this time, there wasn’t any drinking or smiling going on. Tailor Made was staring us down, with her head in her hooves and her mane all flopping about. Dirty Joke was still up in the room. Somehow, he didn’t want to face a mare so pissed off at him.

“I’d be putting myself on the line for two mares I barely know,” she said. “How do I justify doing that? How do I risk putting so many girls back out on the street? For most of them, being in a brothel is their escape. They get a place to live, steady work, and girls that they know and can count on. They count on me.”

Starshine sat up in her chair. “You’re not the only one risking all this,” she said. “Half my friends are dead now and the rest are Celestia knows where, all because of Amethyst. This whole thing is her fault, and we need to get back at her however we can.”

“Amethyst isn’t our concern.”

“If she keeps having her way, she will be. She’s got the ear of the mayor, and she’s not one to let this city have brothels all over the place. She’ll come for you eventually.”

“I’m ready to take that risk.” Tailor Made’s eyes narrowed. “I just can’t do it, girls. Maybe if you two were actually girls here, but you’re not. I’m sorry.”

I bit my lip. I wasn’t just about to let her walk away, but what exactly could I do? I couldn’t make her any promises, since there was no guarantee that we could get away with our plan, but I wanted to make her feel sure that the whole thing would work. I decided to go for broke.

“What if, instead of just asking for the stallion’s approval for the story, I slept with him?” I asked. “I mean, that’s what he’s there for, and if it doesn’t work out we did the duty that your girls always do. It’s a win-win, right?”

She stared at me. “You’re serious.”

“Completely.”

“You are willing to get dolled up and go fuck a bunch of stallions so you can get a story out there?”

My stomach flopped. “A bunch?”

Tailor Made snorted. “You didn’t think it’d be just him, did you?” she asked. “This is an orgy, girls. You go there to serve a bunch of creepy, pent-up rich stallions so that they don’t force us out of business for not giving them sex. It’s not a pretty business.”

“Minty, I don’t know—” Starshine began, but I interrupted her.

“We’ll do it,” I said.

Tailor Made took a moment to answer, then sighed and lowered her head. “I think I must be insane, but if you two will really do the same job as my girls, if you’ll really fuck . . . then fine, I’ll let you. But only if you promise to make that mayor give us all-time immunity once your story is published.”

“Deal.” I reached over and shook her hoof. “We won’t let you down, Miss Made, I promise.”

“You better not,” she said, “or I’ll take you both down first.”

Starshine paced around our room in the brothel. She had on a long, white gown, same as me. They were the getups we were supposed to wear to the orgy/party/thing. They billowed when either of us tried to walk and were tight down the middle. More worryingly, they split right above the flank so our rears always hung out of them. It was an . . . odd . . . feeling, to say the least. Dirty Joke kept watching us with this stupid grin on his face that I kind of wanted to smack off.

“Why did you agree to this again?” Starshine was saying. “Why oh why are we doing this?”

“You’re the one who wanted to do all this for Dirty Joke,” I said. “So now here we are, going to an orgy. Did you really think this whole thing wouldn’t involve sex at some point?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t figure I would get passed around like a collection jar,” Starshine said.

Dirty Joke scratched his head. “I’m still very vague onto the details of how, exactly, dressing up and going to have sex is going to help you in any way but loosening yourselves up.”

I sighed and rubbed my head. “The big thing is that we are going there to see the stallion from the Times. He goes to the orgy to have sex with mares. We get him alone in the room and I can talk to him about the story. Most stallions think with their little heads anyway, so I can probably convince him easier if he’s turned on.”

Dirty Joke looked me up and down. “You think you can turn him on?”

“At a place like this, I don’t think they’ll care much about what we look like. Stallions like this are randy and needy and as long as we shut up, they probably won’t care.”

“So why do I have to go, then?”

“You got us into this,” Starshine said. “Besides, we need you there as a guarantee to us that we won’t get into something we can’t handle. You’re the one who knows all about Amethyst, so it’s up to you to help us with it. Got it?”

Dirty Joke sighed. “Got it. So when do we leave?”

I pulled out two masks that Tailor Made had given us. “Right now.”

We were taken to the place in a car that had arrived in front of the brothel for us. It was an all-black steam limousine with chrome highlights and a bar in the back. The front seat was partitioned from the back with a window that remained closed the whole time. Instead, me and Starshine had the back to ourselves. It was a little cozy, but a lot bigger than most cars I had been in. I looked at the bar, though my stomach was doing too many flip flops to even think about drinking.

I felt like I was going to throw up, but I couldn’t get the bile to come up. Instead it was like my stomach was an angry hurricane of self-loathing and disgust that wouldn’t quit and I had to try to balance in the eye of the storm. That, and shame. Shame was there, too. It wasn’t really a part of the storm, though, as much as a boiling ocean washing over my brain.

Even with my eyes closed, I kept seeing spots that I desperately tried to keep from turning into more ocean metaphors. All I wanted to do was get to the stupid party and then get as far away from that part of the city as I could. The only thing I was grateful for at that moment was that Dirty Joke had to take a separate car because the limo was only for girls. Then again, that wasn’t exactly how I wanted to be treated, but I wasn’t really expecting the stallions organizing an orgy to be egalitarian.

“Minty, are you okay?” Starshine asked, putting a hoof on my shoulder.

I shook her off. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t give me that, Minty. You were screaming in your sleep, signed us up for an orgy, and now you look like you’re going to vomit all over this limo. What is up with you? Ever since that day you got back from the hospital, you’ve been worse and worse.”

“I’ve just been having some problems,” I said.

“That’s a bit of understatement, don’t you think?”

The limo lurched forward and we were on our way. The driver didn’t seem to care much for the other cars, because he swerved around them and in and out of the traffic like it wasn’t there. The constant movement of the car didn’t do wonders for my stomach, and I ended up leaning against Starshine. Not that I quite wanted to, but I just had to do something. I basically ended up with my head on her lap, and her hooves on top of my head.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Starshine,” I said, my voice just barely above a whisper.

“I know,” she said.

“I’m so scared . . . I can’t stop doing bad things, even if I don’t want to. I just keep doing them because they feel good . . . what does that make me?”

She rubbed her hoof in my mane. “That makes you a pony, Minty. None of us can be perfect all the time, even in the best of circumstances . . . and I don’t imagine you’re anywhere near that right now.”

“I have it better than a lot of ponies do,” I said.

“Really? Because we’re going to an orgy to get a story made by some stallion so we save another stallion’s life. I wouldn’t say what we’re doing is all that great right now.”

I looked down. “What, you’re not going to joke about how I like sex so much that I shouldn’t be bothered?”

“Having sex because you want to and because you have to are very different things,” she said. “You know . . . I don’t blame you for all you’ve been doing. I don’t think it’s good, but I’m not going to judge you or anything. After I lost my wings, I did a lot of bad things too. Things I’m not so proud of. So it’s not like you’d be the first.”

I looked back at my leg, the one that had been shot. I had it curled up on the backseat with me while I lay on Starshine’s lap, and I could still see the scar that would mark it forever. It still ached, though it was slowly getting better. The doctor had still said I’d walk with a little bit of a limp for the rest of my life, though.

“I guess part of it is just regret,” I said. “I feel regret all the time toward practically everypony. I do things with Scout because I feel guilty about Shuya, and with Grapevine because I feel like she’s been snubbed and left out on her own otherwise. But I do all this, and Sterling’s left in the dark.” I sighed. “There’s no way to win.”

“Well, you made me happy, at least,” Starshine said. “I didn’t think you’d even come with me on this . . . I didn’t write up that stupid story about you, by the way. I just, I don’t know, you’re the only other pegasus I know and it’s just been lonely without somepony else to talk to. It’s been nice.”

I gave her a small smile. “Even with this orgy thing?”

“Well, if it gets an old friend out of trouble and takes down Amethyst too, well, I’m alright with that. I’ll do anything to get her, you know? She’s going to pay for what she did to Shuya and the rest.”

I paused for a minute and just watched the city pass by outside the window. We were heading out of the grimier parts and into what looked like a dirty version of suburbs. Actual houses instead of tenement buildings, though they still looked like they were falling apart. There was one larger than the rest, and had limos parked all around it. We drove toward it.

“Do you think we can really do this?” I asked.

“No,” Starshine said, “but we’re going to have to anyway.”

“Whatever happens . . . I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I got myself into this just as much as you did. I guess we get to reap what we sow.”

The car stopped outside the house, and I squeezed her hoof. “Am I a good friend?”

“You’re getting there,” she said.

Then, the door was opened by a pony in a black suit and it was time to go. It was late in the day and the sun was going down, so the house was lit up from the outside and inside by Hearths Warming lights. It was still a couple months away, but I guess they wanted to add a festive touch to the debauchery.

I don’t know why I was being so grim about the whole thing, really. It wasn’t like they invited me specifically, really. I came on my own. But I don’t know, there was just something so . . . off about it. Maybe it was because all the mares that joined us on the sidewalk as we walked up toward the house were done up like us, while it was the stallions that were clearly the dominant ones at the house. I guess it was some sort of power fantasy for them. I had heard about stuff like that, since the Elements of Harmony and Princesses were all mares, it must have been a blow to them to lack so much power.

Still, that was little comfort when I had to walk with my flank practically hanging out of the dress, wagging at anypony who happened to look my way. The worst part was that I had to keep telling myself over and over that nothing about it excited me or made me feel a little sexy. Nope, nothing at all. Minty Flower the abstinent, that was me. Because obviously going to a consensual orgy was much worse than openly cheating on the one pony who had ever unconditionally loved you.

Celestia, sometimes I don’t know how anypony puts up with me.

Starshine kept close to me the entire time that we walked up to the house. I felt almost like her big sister, walking beside her since I was so much taller than her. Funny, since I was fairly sure she was older than me. And also the mental image of a big sister leading her little sister to an orgy disturbed me enough that I wanted to scrub my brain out with soap.

I was so desperate to keep talking to myself that I was just rambling in my mind. I was trying to block it out, to keep it from seeming real to me. I wasn’t some Rainbow Dash, the kind of mare who could be all professional but sleep with everypony around and not be judged for it. I was a self loather, a real tragic work. I wouldn’t be surprised if my pine box fell off the hearse.

We made it up to the house, and a couple ponies in white suits ushered us on with soft, slightly-menacing smiles. They were predators, and us fishes were swimming right into the school of sharks.

The interior of the house was made up of a wide parlor with doors all along the walls that presumably led to where the real action was. I saw a lot of girls there already, and even more stallions. The ratio wasn’t exactly in our favor, but then again I wasn’t surprised. Just as soon as Starshine and I walked in, gazes were fixed on us. I felt embarrassed and excited at the same time, all beneath a vague layer of revulsion.

We stood near the front door, unsure of what to do. No stallions had approached us yet, but by the look of it they expected us to come on to them, or something. The masks that everypony were wearing made it hard to tell, really. My and Starshine’s were simple, but some of the stallions had really elaborate masks with feathers and jewelry and gaudy colors.

I was about to try to make a move and start finding out where that head editor for Newsday was when somepony tapped me on the shoulder. I whirled around to find Dirty Joke standing with us, a cheap mask covering his face. Even with that, I could tell he was grinning.

“Some party, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’re just having a great time,” I said. “Fantastic, even. Can’t you tell?”

He laughed. “And here I thought you might stop being sarcastic for even a minute. Silly me.”

Starshine nudged him. “Hey, now that you’re here, can you help us?”

“Help you do what?”

“Tell him, Minty.”

I sighed. “Alright, here’s the thing, Dirty. We need you to look around this place and try to find the editor of the newspaper Newsday, got it? We need you to find him and send him to us. Starshine and I are going to try to woo him and get him to publish the stuff from your journal, setting all his readers against Amethyst.”

“So you expect me to spend an orgy talking to stallions,” Dirty Joke said.

“We’re the ones that have to go into one of those rooms and ‘wait’ until he arrives,” I said. “Unless you swing in the direction of stallion on stallion, I wouldn’t start complaining.”

Dirty Joke sighed, but nodded and hurried off. Hurried off faster than I would have liked, of course. I wouldn’t have minded if he had stayed with us all night. It would have at least given us some reason to stay away from the rooms.

Our relative peace didn’t last long, however. A trio of stallions in high class outfits and masks approached us. They walked with a stride that said they were used to getting their way, and would make trouble for anyone that tried to bother them. Perfect.

“You ladies found a room yet?” the lead one asked. “There’s an empty room near the back and we’re just . . . dying . . . to try a couple young mares like yourselves out. What do you say?”

With every last part of my body telling me not to, I answered: “Sure.”

I’m not sure how I could tell with them having masks on and all, but their smiles just got creepier. They led me and Starshine down the large room to the end, where a plain white door awaited us like the gates of Tartarus. There was a particular thing, walking to that door. I guess it must be how prisoners feel walking toward the gallows. I couldn’t really back down, so I had to make myself go forward instead of curl up in a ball on the ground. I had done worse things physically for a story, I suppose, but they hadn’t felt this bad on my brain.

At least they didn’t make us wait. Pretty much as soon as we got in the room, they were leaping into action. They were like racers pent up at the starting gate, all pawing the ground and snorting. They didn’t even bother to undress us, though I suppose the open backs of our clothes were there for that purpose. It might have been kinky if it were any sort of romantic.

I won’t describe what happened afterward, because anyone who’s ever had sex before knows what it’s like, and personally I didn’t like to think about it. It wasn’t graceful, it wasn’t pretty, it was just . . . sex. I learned something important that night, too. See, I had always thought sex was about romance and love and the intimacy of it . . . but that wasn’t true. At least, not all the time.

Those three stallions weren’t out to be intimate, or even really to get their rocks off. No, they were having sex because of how it made them feel. They say everything is about sex, and I say that’s true, except for sex. Sex is about power.

The power that those three wanted so bad was what they took out on us. I don’t know what they did in real life, but it must have been demeaning. More than likely, they worked under a mare. I guess it gave them a rush to be able to dominate me and Starshine, to make believe that they had absolute power over us and could do whatever they wanted.

The sex wasn’t any good, sloppy even. None of them were skilled or any big, but that was so far from the point that actually having sex with either of us was probably at the back of their minds. What were they thinking? Maybe about a marefriend, a wife, or a boss that they felt pressed under. Maybe it just made them feel like they had some control over their lives. I know that if I were in their position, I would want the same thing. Hell, I was in their position, in a way. Seemingly powerless against Amethyst who so deftly was able to walk in and sweep me aside like I was gutter trash.

It was at that moment, about the time two of them took me at once, that it started to dawn on me exactly what they were doing. They were acting like me. I thought back to how I had done it with Grapevine, and with Scout. At first, they had come on to me. They had both felt their lives out of control, so of course they craved that power. But then, I kept coming back. Again and again I would instigate it, I would control it, and I would have the power. That was my own power fantasy.

For the first time that night, the thing wanting to make me throw up wasn’t the stallions at the orgy. They at least finished after a while, and left us alone after that. It was just as well. I lay on the floor, panting, with sticky cum all over my coat that would definitely take forever to get out. I groaned.

“So can I vote for never doing that again?” Starshine asked.

“I’ll double that,” I said. “No, triple it. That was . . . no. Just no.”

“Just no?”

“Just no.”

I watched Starshine crawl over to me. She had been up on the plus couch in the center of the room, while the two who had gotten to me preferred the hard wooden floor. I could barely move, so Starshine had to practically drag me onto the couch to lay with her. It was funny, too. I wanted to laugh. Here Starshine was, acting all sweet, and . . . why? She had been sweeter to me than anypony else. In my mental state, she had never taken advantage of me. She had gotten me out of that house to help someone in need but also, I figured, to get me away from the downward spiral I was in.

And, even after I had been the one to suggest going to the orgy, it was she who held me on the couch while I started to shake. She had quit her job for me, taught me how to fly, and led me to stories that I got all the credit for. She had her faults, but I realized then that Starshine was one of the best friends I had ever had.

“So I guess they aren’t the kind of gentlecolts to leave a lady with a goodbye,” Starshine said to break to the silence. “I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” I said.

She laughed. “Did even one of them hit your spot?”

“Nope.”

“Same here. I’m not even sure they know you’re supposed to make the other feel good.”

“With those sizes? Please, they didn’t have a chance of it in the first place.”

We both laughed at that. Sure, we were both sore in places that you really don’t want to be sore in, but it was funny in the insanity of it all. Here we were, going from reporters one day to whores the next. Life was like that, I suppose. You never knew what it was going to throw at you. I probably should have been more upset, but I just couldn’t stop thinking it was funny no matter how hard I tried.

Starshine and I lied around on the couch for a while after that, still in a tumble of hooves and manes that probably made us look ridiculous. But, you know, I had spent so damn long being so damn serious that I just rightly didn’t give a fuck.

Because you know what? Fuck conventions, fuck normalcy, fuck monogamy, fuck sex, just fuck it all. I was honestly the happiest I had been in weeks, curled up on that couch. I didn’t feel guilty, I didn’t feel lousy, and I didn’t want to get up. I had found happiness at an orgy and you know what? I really didn’t care.

So, of course, it eventually had to end. It at least lasted a bit longer than I had thought, but the door eventually banged open. I was really hoping that it wouldn’t be more randy stallions, and for once I smiled when I saw it was Dirty Joke. He had managed to find a ridiculous mask and a rainbow-striped toga to wear. Next to him were a couple of stallions.

One was shorter and kind of fat, and was breathing pretty hard. I guess he’d been at it at least once that night, or was really bad at holding in his excitement. Dirty Joke nodded to him.

“This is Special Edition,” he said. “He’s the editor for Newsday

I stared at him and kind of wrinkled my nose. He wasn’t a looker, but was also the most important pony in the room, much to my displeasure. His gaze swept over the two of us, though I couldn’t see his eyes to tell what he was thinking. My heart beat faster until he settled on looking at Starshine over me.

“Well, well, you do indeed have two lovely ladies here,” Special Edition said, not taking his eyes off of Starshine.

“Yes, and they’d be more than happy to, er, accommodate you to help you decide if you want to run that story or not,” Dirty Joke said. “Right, girls?”

We both nodded our heads with varying degrees of authenticity. It was easier for me, because I wasn’t being stared at like a particularly green patch of grass. Starshine, for her part, didn’t seem to waver very much. I thought she was pretty brave to do that. Then again, if there was anypony I knew who was incredibly brave, it would be her. That much was evident when I looked at the holes in her back that went all the way to her spine.

Special Edition nodded. “Well very good, then. My associate and I do appreciate the offer from both of you girls. What’s to say we get started, yes?”

He didn’t really wait for anyone else to agree. He just moved toward Starshine in a lumbering way, and she got off the couch and went over to him. I felt bad for her and wanted to say something, but I couldn’t find the words and didn’t want to offend the one pony who could help us. He at least seemed pretty drunk, but I hoped he wouldn’t forget about helping us once he got sober.

I had barely noticed the other stallion that had come with Special Edition, which was strange because, when I looked at him, I had to admit he was good looking. He was tall and thin, but not too much. I could see the muscles in his totally-not-succulent flank and the hard lines on his jaw. The mask he wore was practically featureless, which only did him better. The only other thing he wore was a black cloak.

He didn’t speak to me for even a single word. I suppose that would have ruined it. Instead, he came over to me like I had asked, and sat beside me. That was the thing that struck me, that he didn’t just immediately throw himself upon me. I had an obligation to him, but he made it seem like he was giving me a choice. I was thankful for that.

I got up on his lap and wrapped my hooves around his back to steady myself. I won’t go into detail on him either, since it would be obscene, but he was a lot better than the last bunch. He was smooth and warm, like good alcohol going down. Not that he went down on me. I mean, I would have liked him to, but he didn’t, so . . . oh Celestia, I’m not good with words about him. It was nice, alright? He was very nice.

After we got into it, I really felt sorry for Starshine. I could hear Special Edition grunting and groaning as he laid into her with all the grace of a pig mounting a sow. I could see Dirty Joke watching, and he didn’t seem very happy. The worst thing, though, is that he just wouldn’t cum. Like, he just kept going like the little fucking engine that could.

I think everypony in the room let out a collective sigh of relief when he finally came. My guy followed not too long after, but at least he was nice about it. He sort of held me while he did instead of humping it into me, which would have been rude. I was probably over-romanticizing him, but I didn’t really care. Sure, he came to an orgy to prey on me because he knew I had to, but at least he was nice about it. At that point in time, I really didn’t care.

After everypony came—except poor Dirty Joke . . . oh, yeah, and us, but we were just girls!—we all kind of laid back and did nothing for a little bit. I didn’t really know what to say, and I wasn’t about to be the first to start talking. Not in that kind of crowd, no thank you.

Luckily for me, at least that time, I didn’t have to speak at all. The sound of a door caving in outside our room did all the talking for us. There were shouts and screams coming from outside, which were cut short by the sound of a shotgun going off. Even from the room we were in, the sound was deafening. I hoped it hadn’t hit anypony.

Then, I heard more banging on doors, the ones to the little rooms we were in. My stomach sank like a stone. I had hoped that, maybe, it was just some sort of minor dispute that would be solved quickly, but I knew we would have no such luck.

“Everybody out!” said one of the voices from outside the room. “All yo whores get out of those rooms before we start bashing heads in!”

I didn’t need any more prodding than that. Starshine was right with me as I scrambled off the couch and toward the door. I threw it open and piled into the main room, which had filled up with frightened mares and stallions both. I saw Dirty Joke come out, followed by Special Edition. The pony who had been with me, though, didn’t come with them. I didn’t see him in the room, either, so I figured I had missed him.

My attention was pretty quickly drawn back to the front of the crowd, however. I saw now that the enforcers weren’t just brutes, but police officers. They all had scowls on their faces and guns in their hooves. They scanned the room, while the pony at their head licked his lips and grinned at all of us.

He spoke with a booming voice, a voice that was all too familiar: “Where . . . is . . . DIRTY JOKE?!”

Behind me, I heard Starshine mutter, “I knew that guy was bad news . . .”

Red Rover looked over the crowd a few times, brandishing his shotgun. The look in his eyes gave me the feeling that he wasn’t all there, and he had a long scar going up from one corner of his mouth. I started to back away from the rest of the crowd toward the rear of the room almost involuntarily, desperately hoping he wouldn’t see me.

But, of course, that was just a fantasy. Red’s eyes locked onto me, and his mouth curved into a wicked grin in the direction of his scar. He brushed back his mane with one hoof and grinned. “Well hello there, Minty, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he said while walking toward me. The crowd parted in front of him, leaving me isolated to his desires.

He walked up to me until we were practically touching, that grin still on his face. “Well, well, Minty,” he said, “I always knew you were a whore, but I can’t say I expected to find you here. Having a good time?”

“I’m not a—”

He slapped me hard, right across the face. The room was so quiet that the sound of it was deafening, and I felt like my ears were ringing. One side of my face started to feel sore and I wondered if it would swell up. Despite myself, despite how much I loathed it, I felt tears start to well up in my eyes.

“Oh, did that hurt?” Red laughed. “Good. You see, Minty, I once thought we were friends. Once. Now, I know better. I should have known you’d be here with Dirty Joke. Did you not think we would find you? It was painfully obvious after we got a little . . . information . . . out of Miss Tailor Made.”

I spat on the ground, and saw blood in it. “What are you?” I asked, choking the words out.

“I’m just the product of the times, Minty,” he said. “The foam that’s risen to the top of this nasty city. I’m glad I was able to see that before it was too late.”

I shook my head. “No, this isn’t you,” I said. “You used to believe in honor, in respect, and in taking care of all the poor in Fillydelphia.”

Red reached down took a knife in his hoof and pressed it into my mouth. I could feel it weighing on my tongue, the sharp blade a reminder that if I so much as tried to talk I would cut my tongue to ribbons. I started to shake.

“Do you want to know how I got this scar?” he asked. “You see, after you and your ‘friend’ went out to go raid Amethyst’s office like the cowards you are, those fools in the warehouse decided to find out what they could get from me. They tried to beat me, Minty!” He started to laugh. “But no, no, I wouldn’t let them get to me. I didn’t let them break me no matter how hard they tried. When they weren’t looking, I escaped! They shot at me but, well, all they did was give me something to remember them by.”

He slowly withdrew the knife from my mouth and licked the blade. “When I led my stallions back to that warehouse, Minty, I wanted to crush them. To kill them all. But all it did was cost me some of my best officers and gave me a lot of dead rebels. So . . . many . . . died for nothing! Tonight’s different, though. You know why?” He pressed his head to mine. “Because I’m going to enjoy this.”

I shoved him away. He felt clammy, like a dead fish when he pressed himself against me. I wanted to touch him even less than any of the other stallions there. “Get off me, you’re crazy!” I said.

Red just shook his head. “A little fight in you, huh? I like that!”

From behind him came a deep voice: “Then you’re going to love me.”

A figure in a dark cloak sprang out from the crowd, smashing one of his hooves into Red, sending him to the ground. A few of the guards raised their guns, but throwing knives sliced through the air and embedded themselves in their foreheads.

It wasn’t hard to figure out who the cloaked figure was, and I had never been happier to see the Assassin appear. He nodded to me. “Get Dirty Joke and your friend out of here,” he said. “Now!”

Red was getting up off the ground, laughing. “Oh, I should have known . . .” He reached for his shotgun, but the Assassin kicked it away. The two of them squared off, the Assassin out of knives since they were all inside Red’s henchstallions, and Red with his knife between his teeth.

I didn’t see much more after that. There wasn’t much to do, anyway. I couldn’t find Special Edition, so I just grabbed ahold of Starshine and ran toward the front of the house. Dirty Joke was right on our tails, and I heard shouting from the back. I didn’t care. I just ran and ran, even after we were out of the house.

I didn’t stop running for a long time.

We were listless after that. There was too much to say, and at the same time nopony wanted to talk about anything. We were safe, saved by the Assassin, but what did it matter? A few more of Amethyst’s police officers were dead for no reason other than our stupid asses. They may have been working for her, but that didn’t make me feel any better about taking lives. They probably had families themselves.

I felt like a monster.

And worse, I was a monster who had made love to the Devil. I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed before, but that silent pony in the mask . . . a mask so close to what the Assassin used that I must have been blind not to see it. And I had ridden him like I was at a rodeo. I felt really great about that, let me tell you. I could hardly stand being in my own skin. And not because of disgust, either. Because I didn’t feel disgust at what I had done. To tell the truth, the horrible truth, I wanted to do it again.

We crept back to the whorehouse like rats returning to their holes. I don’t think any of us had anything to say the whole way. Even when we saw the smoke, we didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until we had come up on it, when we saw the flames erupting from the windows of the brothel, that one of us finally said anything.

“That journal was in there, wasn’t it?” Starshine asked.

Dirty Joke nodded. “Yep.”

“Do you think anypony made it out?”

“Do you see anypony on the street?”

There wasn’t anyone near us. Starshine hung her head, and Dirty Joke turned away. He was shaking. It was funny, because I had hated him for so much of our little adventure . . . but I don’t know why. When I saw him shaking and crying, I guess I finally saw who he really was. Better than me, for sure.

Dirty Joke turned out alright in the end. It was what he caught himself in, the cruel realities and ministrations of ponies more vain than he, that broke him. I never saw him again after that night.

Starshine and I eventually walked away from the burning brothel, leaving the work that had surely been Amethyst’s behind us. But, before we had gone too far, I looked back one last time. The last time I ever saw Dirty Joke was him outlined in the flames that crept into the night, like the final watcher of a fallen wall.

After that, we went home.

Author's Notes:

Until you travel to that place you can't come back,
Where the last pain is gone and all that's left is black...

Episode 4: Angels - Part 1

I was a bad mare. No, that’s not quite the word for it. I was a bad filly. Being a mare meant I was responsible for my actions and could keep a clear head and strong mind. I was not that. My actions had shown clearly that I was nothing more than a stupid little filly caught in a grown up’s world that I had no right to be in. Why was I even here? What purpose did I serve? To be just another villain in my own story, I supposed. Every day, it was getting harder to tell where the “bad” part of me ended and the “good” part of me began. Were there even sides anymore, or was I just a broken mess of good and bad, smashed together in the vain hope of creating something worthwhile?

Although, I might have been kidding myself about the good thing.

After coming back from the fire, things had changed, if only for a while. Scout had decided to move to Grapevine’s house, and Sterling moved back in with me. Sleeping in the same bed as him once again was a different experience, and felt a lot like the first time. Sleeping with a stallion is a lot different than with a mare, so I had to get used to it. He kicked a lot more, and took up more of the covers. Even his body shape was so different that it was odd. I sucked it up, though.

I tried, I really did. I tried to leave all the bad behind me as best I could. I wanted to try to be good Minty again. But it wasn’t that simple. I slipped sometimes. Other times I fell. I had let myself fall into a rut, one that was too narrow to just fly out of, leaving me to climb out. Every time I slipped, even just a bit, it felt like I’d fallen even further into this trench. Sex with Grapevine wasn’t fun anymore, or passionate. When I slipped and ended up with her, it felt like I was doing it for the sake of my sanity, because I just didn’t have the brainpower at the end of the day to keep myself from doing stupid stuff like that.

I remembered a story my mom had told me when I was younger. It was on a day that I was very stressed and could hardly go on, and I was crying because I kept trying but the more I had to do, the worse it felt. So, my mom took me by the hoof into my bedroom. I had been molting at the time, so there were loose feathers all over the place.

She gathered a bunch of them together and spread them on the bed. She said to me, “Remember what the doctor said, about how you’ll have moods like this your whole life. So each day will be hard, sweety.” She smiled at me, and had run a hoof gently through my mane. “So think of each of these feathers as how much energy you have everyday to keep those bad moods away. Each time you do something hard, they go away.”

I remember I had looked at all of the feathers, laying in a neat row on my bed. They had been a much uglier color of blue back then, so that had stuck out more than what it had represented.

“Now,” my mom had said, “when you have to get up for the day and get ready, that’s one feather.” She took one away from the pile. “Just getting to school is another, because it isn’t easy to prepare yourself for the day.” She took another away. As she took me through my day, the feathers kept getting taken away. Each time I had to push down my bad moods it took another feather, which was a little more of my will and energy that I had each day. By the time I had gotten home from school and done my homework, I had only one feather left.

“And this is where you have to choose, my dear,” my mom had said. “You can study and that will take away one, but you won’t have the time to and energy to write that letter back to your penpal. Or you can write the letter and ignore your studying, but that’s not enough to play around after your bath. Do you see what I mean?”

I had felt a little bad at that point, and had only nodded.

My mother had kissed me on my forehead. “I’m not trying to scare you, sweety. I’m trying to show you that you can only do so much, and that when you’re out of feathers it’s alright if you can’t keep up. I wouldn’t expect you to.”

She’d left me to let me sleep at that point, but I remember gathering all the feathers into a pile and laying with them tucked under my chin, her words going through my brain over and over again. Even years later, laying on my side one night in bed with Sterling, wide awake because of his snoring, I ran my hooves over my wings and thought of her little demonstration.

I thought that I had been out of feathers for a long time, and maybe that’s why I did so many bad things. I had to hope that was true. It was the only hope I had left. I liked doing bad things, and to keep myself from making it worse took a lot of willpower. I wasn’t perfect. I slipped up. I had been doing it since I was little, when my parents had to take me to a psychologist all the way in Stalliongrad who asked me a bunch of questions. He told me I had something that had a lot to do with mood swings and manic actions, and had explained to me that it wouldn’t go away.

Now, back in Fillydelphia, I wondered if that had been a curse, and that it was inevitable that I would eventually do nothing but bad after all my feathers had run out.

It was hard to think of all that so late at night, so I got out of the bed as quiet as I could. Sterling was too heavy a sleeper to notice, so it wasn’t very hard. I slipped on the hoodie Starshine had let me keep, then opened the window as softly as I could before climbing out and closing it behind me.

I glided to the ground below and landed with a gentle bump before closing my wings and sliding the body of the hoodie over them. Hearths Warming was just a week away, so it was freezing outside. The whole street outside Joya’s was decorated with lights and decorations, though, so that made up for it just a little bit. The radio inside Joya’s shop had been going all week with Hearths Warming music, which I had spent hours listening to while I edited a few articles for the Chronicler.

I wasn’t sure where I was going. Then again, I never really was in my whole life, so I wasn’t about to let that stop me. My hooves had grown out a little, so I was clumsier than I usually was. Part of me wanted to try flying, but my leg still ached if I did it for too long, so I was confined to the ground like usual. Not that I completely minded, but I wasn’t the happiest about it.

My path took me down the hills of West Fillydelphia and toward downtown, but not quite there. I walked the paths along the side of the Scullyhoof River, which looked black and sluggish under the cover of night. The cobblestone streets around that area were strange to walk on, almost reminding me of when I was a filly and could barely walk, and would flap my little wings as hard as I could to stay upright. I wasn’t the most stable little girl.

After walking far along the river, I came to a building that was lit brighter than the others. It was made out of sturdy stone and cement, and towered over the houses around it. It had two sweeping towers that ended in points and a big stained glass window in the front in the shape of Celestia’s cutie mark. I had heard of the churches dedicated to Celestia, but I had never actually been in one before. My parents had generally been with the whole “Great Spirit” idea that most ponies believed in, so I mostly had been too.

That night, though, something in that building called to me, like it was stretching out a hoof for me to take. As out of feathers as I was, I took it and walked inside. There were two huge wooden doors at the entrance, and pushing one of them open was enough to make me grunt. Once I was inside, though, I found it was worth it.

The inside of the church was, if nothing else, very pretty. The walls were carved intricately into murals of Celestia that reached all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. Candles were lit all over the place in spindly holders and in chandeliers that looked like they were made of gold. Their shadows flickered over the murals, making them seem as if they were coming to life.

A few ponies were inside, but most of the pews were empty. Some pony in a white robe was near the front and speaking to a spiky-maned stallion, and I assumed he was the head of the church. I hoped he wouldn’t come over to me, so I didn’t have to answer why I was there. Mostly since I had no real idea myself.

There was an open pew right by the doors, so I hurried over there and sat in it. I bowed my head, but I wasn’t exactly sure why. I thought that was what you’re supposed to do in church, so I just kind of did it. The pews themselves were pretty nice, at least. Soft wood inlaid with more carvings of Celestia as well as the Elements of Harmony. I wondered how it must have been, to be Princess Celestia and to have ponies literally worship her. It must have not been easy. I wondered how many feathers she started each day with, and how many she had by the end. Knowing her job, probably not a lot.

I almost started to giggle inside that church, as reverent as I was trying to be. I remembered that I had literally had a conversation with Princess Celestia and sat almost near her, just months before. I had met the god of these ponies. I wondered what they would think of that. Probably be jealous, I figured.

My mind drifted back to think of Pullmare, in my first days in Fillydelphia. The city had seemed so strange then, full of so much mystery and potential. I was sure it still was, but it had lost a bit of its gleam to me. Then again, so had I. Maybe we were one in the same that way, both so shiny and new once, but easily sullied and battered over time by the world that weighed so heavily down on us.

I missed the days of Pullmare and the time shortly after her, if I was being honest. Things had been harder back then, sure, but it had been an adventure. It had been the life fantastic, to be alive in a way that pulsed and throbbed in every fiber of my being. I could have lived forever or died in a moment, but I had been alive.

Now, months later, it didn’t feel like I was living the same story. It was like somepony had sucked the life out of me, had removed what had made this whole journey unique and special and replaced it with anger and bitterness. I severely wished I had enough feathers to handle the whole thing, but I didn’t think I had enough on both my wings for that.

I heard somepony breathing hard, then the pew I was on started creaking and I realized somepony was going to sit beside me. I sighed and tried to ignore whoever it was, even though they just had to sit right beside me. An entire stupidly-huge church and they decided to sit next to me. Story of my life right there.

Of course, I didn’t expect them to talk to me. Or tap me on the shoulder. Or whisper into my ear, “Good evening, Minty,” but they did anyway. That may have freaked me out a little. I may have jumped in the air so hard that my wings threatened to rip out of the hoodie. You know, maybe.

The pony beside me grabbed onto me and held me to my seat. “Stop freaking out or you’ll alert everyone to my presence,” he said, hissing into my ear.

I turned, and really shouldn’t have been surprised by what I found. His dark cloak and white mask stood out as well as it ever did, even in the dim light of the church. He seemed a bit more haggard than he had before, but still radiated strength and importance.

“What are you doing here?” I asked in a low voice. “What, did you follow me?”
“Of course.” Despite the mask, I could tell he was smiling. “How could I not keep tabs on my favorite mare?”

“Oh, so am I afforded that luxury now?”

“Quite the vocabulary you have, Miss Flower. Did I strike a nerve?”

“I get smarter when I’m angry.”

He chuckled and bowed his head. I wasn’t sure if he was praying or just trying to keep from being seen, but I did the same. I suddenly felt tired, like I had aged thirty years in a few minutes. I wanted to not move from the spot, and curse the whole world. But I couldn’t, of course.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I come here for the same reason you did,” he said. “Peace, and a refuge from the world at large.”

“But that’s not what I—”

He snorted. “You should know better than to lie around me.”

I sighed and and said nothing. I closed my eyes and wondered what he was feeling at the moment. Having an assassin keeping track of me wasn’t exactly ideal, yet at the same time I felt safer with him around, like his presence there was a piece of flotsam I could cling to amidst the wreck that was my life.

“To be honest, I wanted to see how you were holding up,” the Assassin said.

“What, are you starting to care about me?” I asked.

He grunted. “Well if you must know, you appear to be my last ally remaining in the city. Amethyst has done a good job of keeping me from former employers, and her police made short work of that burgeoning rebellion.”

“So I’m all you have left?”

“For the moment.”

I bit my lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “I played my cards wrong, and Amethyst seemed to meet them at every turn. Or, at least, we believe it is Amethyst.”

“Could it be anypony else?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Who knows? I don’t. How are you holding up, anyway. I would hope my only ally hasn’t fallen to madness since we last saw each other.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I started working on editing for the paper, since I haven’t really been well enough to be in the field lately. Starshine and I . . . haven’t seen her in a while. I’m afraid that she’s angry at me. Or sad. I don’t know.”

“The little one, yes?”

“That’s her.”

“She has quite the spirit. I would not think anything you did to her would have a long-lasting effect. I would still be careful, however, as you don’t want a pony like her against you.”

I smiled where he couldn’t see. “She’s getting new wings, I hear. When I see her again, she’ll be back to being the best flyer I know.”

Silence dropped between us again. I didn’t see the priest up at the front of the church anymore, so I assumed he had gone to bed. Somepony was praying fairly loudly, and there was a small family in the corner, with the mother talking softly to her foals. When I looked at her, I realized that she reminded me a lot of my own mom. Maybe it was the current situation I was in, but I found myself missing home far more than I ever had before.

“So are we going to talk about what happened between us . . . at the party?” I asked. “I mean, I’m not really asking for it to happen again—”

“It won’t.” His tone was firm, and the answer sudden. “That was a one-time thing, and I cannot say that I am proud of it.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what I was expecting, I guess.”

He laughed under his breath. “Were you expecting a compliment. What we did was not anything but an amateur passion that was caught up in that moment. Even I slip, Miss Flower. I am only sorry that it was with you.”

“I’m not,” I said in a whisper.

He paused. “It might be best to keep that to yourself, lest it spread to the others who toil and love alongside you.”

How he knew about Sterling, I didn’t know. Hell, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. It didn’t feel altogether comfortable having the Assassin being so familiar with me, but when he had literally been inside me I suppose there wasn’t any closer that we could be. Maybe it was just the moment or the combined stresses that had been building in me that week, but I found myself glad he was there all the same.

I had so much regret and anger and sadness that swirled inside me that it was eating me from the inside out. I hated myself, that was sure. I hated every little action I had done. Stupid Minty, proud Minty, foolish Minty. Minty who didn’t know what she was doing, Minty who had driven away those who loved her for the second time in her life.

Despite my conviction to be brave in front of the Assassin, I started to cry.

“I’m sorry,” I heard him say. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, it’s not you,” I said through hiccuping sobs. “It’s me, don’t you get it? I’m the horrible one here. When you cut me, you should have finished the job . . .”

I felt myself suddenly being grabbed by the shoulders and turned to face him. The emotionless mask was a little off putting, and yet the words that came through seemed to give it more emotion than if I had been looking at his real face.

“Don’t even start to think that, Minty Flower,” he said in a low voice. “I never cut you to kill you. I cut you to teach you the dangers in what you were doing, so that you could learn from them and grow. I do not want to see my time wasted, and they have not been on you.”

“I’m a horrible pony.”

“Are we not all horrible at some point in our lives? What makes you special? One of the very princesses that rules this country tried to overthrow it with evil magic. Why would she deserve redemption and not you?

“The difference between normal ponies and those like us, Miss Flower, is that we understand what it is like to fall to the dark side of things, the side that most don’t like to think about. It is difficult to pull yourself back, yes, but once you do it will make you stronger for having been there. Not all those who wander are lost.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that simple with me, it never has been. I like doing bad things. I can barely control myself on a good day and on a bad day, well, you saw what happens. How can I expect to be good again?”

He leaned toward me until his mask touched my forehead. I wasn’t sure if it was for intimidation or tenderness. To be honest, I didn’t really care which. “You have to find that strength within yourself,” he said, “but I know that you can. I will be here, watching and waiting for when you can find what you are searching for. Once you do, we can start making this city right again.”

“So now you want to save the city?” I asked.

“Oh, Miss Flower, haven’t you learned yet?” He chuckled sadly, before he stood up and looked at me one last time. “There is much you have yet to learn.”

With that, he was off, jumping over the pew and out the door like a whisper in the night. I slightly questioned my own sanity after seeing him, and wondered if it was just some sort of hallucination that I was having. Then again, maybe it was the one I needed to have. I had been lost, that was true, and it would be nice to find my way again.

Now, if only I could figure out how to do that.

I stayed in the church for about another hour, just thinking and yet at the same time trying to forget all my problems before heading back to Joya’s. I climbed back in my room with Sterling just in time to get around three hours of sleep before he woke me up.

Even though we shared the same room once more, there was a bit of tension between us. I wasn’t sure how much he knew about my affairs, but I knew it wasn’t exactly nothing. I think he kept a close eye on me, and every time I came back from Grapevine’s he seemed to avoid me.

That morning was no different. He got up and put on his usual vest that was perpetually stained with oil and grease without looking at me. He did it in silence, as if he didn’t even want me to hear him. His eyes looked at me from behind his green curls of hair in a sad way, and it hurt to see him that way. Just seeing him that way made me want to hide my head and wait for him to leave, but I forced myself up, trying to heed the words of the Assassin.

I stood next to our shared dresser and rifled through it for clothes while he brushed his mane. I decided on a white frock that Joya had made for me a while back, which seemed oddly appropriate for me at the moment. I fastened it around myself and tried not to think of how much it reminded me of the outfits Starshine and I had been given at the orgy. At least this one covered my flank.

“What are you up to today?” I asked, my voice sounding shrill even to my own ears.

He paused in his brushing. “Working.”

“On what?”

“Starshine’s wings. Today is the reconnecting of the nerves to the plates. It’s going to be a long day.”

“Oh, that sounds cool.” I tried to smile. “Would you mind if, maybe, I tagged along?”

“It’s really only a place for mechanics,” Sterling said.

“Please?”

He looked at me for a moment, like he was trying to see if I was joking. “No. Sorry, but not today, Minty.”

Inwardly, I sighed. Of course my first measure of goodwill in weeks would be for nothing. Still, though, it wasn’t the first time I had failed on the first try. Actually, the more I thought about it, I tended to fail on the first try a lot. So why should I let that stop me?

“Well, uh, I hope it goes well,” I said.

“Thanks,” he said in an even tone. “It should, more than likely. It’s much easier this time around than when I first fixed her wings.”

He started to walk out of the room, and I felt like I should do something to show that I cared. I wasn’t entirely sure what, so I leaned over as he passed me and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He stopped for a second, but said nothing and walked out without so much as a goodbye.

Of course, I don’t know what I was thinking. Well, I do know, but it was a stupid thing to think. I mean, really, how would he forgive me after just one little question, just a little bit of interest in what he was doing after so much crap I had put him through. And I didn’t even know if he knew I had been cheating, just distant. But, well, nothing in my life had ever been easy, so I figured I should keep trying anyway. At least for old time’s sake.

Not that I was really old enough to have one of those yet. Go me. Anyway, I watched him go and then just hit my head against the dresser a few times to punish my brain until I felt a little better. Then I trotted downstairs to look for something, anything I could do. It was a Wednesday, so there wouldn’t be much for me to edit, at least that I couldn’t put off until tomorrow. I had bigger fish to fry.

Joya was busy as a bee like always, zipping around her showroom to adjust the dresses and outfits there. She had been getting better since I had known her, and by now her clothes were considerably more upscale than when I first came to the city. I didn’t know if that was natural, or if her increased business after I got popular made her push herself. Either way, it was nice to see one of us being productive.

“Hey, Joya,” I said in a voice that sounded a lot more timid than I would have liked.

Her ears perked up, and she smiled at me. “Oh, Minty!” she said. “I almost didn’t see you there! How are you, dear?”

“I’m, uh, pretty good, more or less,” I said. “I was just seeing what you were up to.”

She waved a hoof. “Oh, nothing special today. It’s the middle of the week, so I’m just rotating the displays around a little. Why, were you wanting to do something?”

“Well, uh, sort of. I was wondering if you had, like, any work for me?”

“Work? Like . . . what, exactly? For money?”

I laughed. “No, no, just to help out, you know. I mean, I just thought it’d be good to pull my weight around here.”

I’m not sure she actually believed me when I told her. Though, I guess, she had good reason not to. I hadn’t exactly expressed a lot of interest in helping out for a long while, and besides paying the rent I had been interacting with her less and less. So I do guess that me coming out of the blue was a bit of a shock. I just wish she had tried to hide it a little bit better.

After a moment, she began to nod and smile once more. “Well, if you want to help, then sure!” she said. “I’ve actually got a shipment of clothes that I was going to have Ivory deliver later. Why don’t you go with him? I haven’t seen you two hang out in a while.”

“Sure,” I said. “I can do that. When’s he going to be here?”

“Oh, in just a few minutes. Why, in a hurry?”

“No particularly, no.”

She smiled. “Good.”

There was a certain flair in the way that she talked that I had always liked, but hadn’t noticed in long enough for it to seem almost new to me. She peppered every word with little flamboyant expressions that made the simple act of talking seem eloquent and precise compared to the usual talk. I was jealous of her a lot of the time, I had to admit, being able to speak like that. Also, not cheating on her coltfriend. That was another reason to be jealous of her.

I followed her around while she adjusted her clothing displays. A lot of it was exactly my taste, but I had to admit it looked nice. “So how have things been?” I asked her.

“With the business or me personally?” she asked.

“Both?”

She sighed and rearranged a pile of silk dresses. “I admit, things could be better. Marshmallow hardly ever comes around anymore, and I can’t take time to go see her, the poor dear is always at work. Not that I’m complaining, though, I’m glad she’s found success.” She put the dresses down. “Business is great, though. I think having the mayor, you, and Grapevine all connected to the store helps. The Elements of Generosity lines are still what the rich buy, but a lot of ponies are starting to look at mine too.”

“Well, that’s great,” I said. “About the business thing, I mean. I’m sorry about Marshmallow.”

“Don’t be. Like I said, she’s doing what she loves, and I’m happy for her.”

Joya gave me a sideways glance. “What about you, Minty?”

“Things are . . . fine,” I said. “I mean, they could be better, but they always could.”

“No problems with Sterling?”

“No, why?”

“Oh, he’s just seemed so distant lately,” she said. “I was starting to wonder if there was something between you and him. I could try to help, if you needed me to.”

“We’ll be fine.” I sighed. “Though I admit he is a little distant. Has he said anything to you? Anything at all?”

“Quiet as a mouse,” she said.

I decided not to press further, though I wasn’t sure whether it was good news or bad news. I mean, Sterling wasn’t the blabbing type, so I figured that was just natural of him, but it might also mean that he knew and was sad enough to hold it in. I swear, I would never understand stallions no matter how long I lived.

There was a knock on the front door, though it was open, and Joya stopped what she was doing to go answer it. I followed her and was greeted by the sight of Ivory. He was . . . bigger since I had last seen him. When we had first met he had seemed almost malnourished and starved, but now he looked not just healthy, but fit as well. Strong. I could see the muscles that filled out his bulky hybrid body. He did his imitation of a smile at the both of us.

“Here on time, as I said,” he said, looking over the both of us. “Nice to see you again, Minty. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A pretty long time,” I said. “I’m going to help you on the delivery today.”

“Is that so?” He turned to Joya and nodded. “I’ll make sure to take good care of her, I promise.”

Joya passed a bag filled with clothes to Ivory, who took it in one of his talons and nodded to her. She walked away, leaving me along with the hippogriff. I felt a little meek next to him, to tell the truth. It helped that he was gentle enough that I didn’t have to worry around him.

“You ready for the exciting world of fashion delivery?” he asked.

“Oh, you know it,” I said.

“There’s that Minty Flower sarcasm.” He chuckled. “Are you alright to fly? If I have to ride another streetcar, I’m going to go crazy.”

There were slits in the dress I wore big enough for my wings, which I fit them through and extended them to show off to him. “Fine with me.” I had been training my wings as much as I could lately, and my leg had stopped hurting for the most part, so I figured I could handle it.

We both went outside, stood for a moment on the ground, then began to flap. His wings were much bigger than mine, and it felt like a small hurricane when he started up. Because I was smaller, though, I rose into the air much faster, and hovered above Ivory until he had taken to the skies. We circled Joya’s shop before heading off toward downtown Fillydelphia.

To fly again, well, it’s hard to describe. Flying itself is a miraculous act, the closest I would ever get to touching the rim of the sky itself, and as mystical as how life itself worked. Doing it again, for real, after so long of not taking a single flight only doubled the effect. I let the wind rush through my mane and feathers, tucking my hooves close to my chest to the point where I resembled a bullet with wings more than a pony. Ivory wheeled above me, swooping through the air as if he were weightless. It made me smiled to see someone else having as much fun as I was.

Since I didn’t actually have any clue as to where we were going, I followed him all the way from West Fillydelphia to downtown, where we hovered around the skyscrapers. I could see Amethyst’s tower from where I was, and it wasn’t very far away, but at the moment I didn’t care. She couldn’t touch me.

Ivory swung himself over to me. “Having fun?” he asked.

“Yeah, the most I’ve had in a while,” I said.

“Good.” He looked me over slowly, suddenly almost looking like a cobra looking over its prey. “So, now what is the real reason that you wanted to come along with me? It doesn’t seem to be a story, so what could it be?”

“What, can’t a mare just decide to help out once in a while?” I asked.

“Every action must have a starting point,” he said, then his voice lowered. “Especially for a mare associating with the Fillydelphia Assassin.”

My blood ran cold. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Don’t lie to me, Minty. It’s only an insult to my intelligence and your own. I know that you’ve been with him. So why then, pray tell, would you, out of the blue, decide to go on a job with me?”

I looked down. “It’s complicated.”

“I can fly up here all day. You might as well get talking.”

“Alright, fine,” I said. “If you want to know the real reason, it’s because the Assassin isn’t the pony you think he is. All he told me when I last visited him was that I needed to be a better mare. So here I am, trying to do that by helping Joya. You happy? Or do you want to know about the infidelity too?”

“Everyone knows about the infidelity.” He tilted his head. “Though you say you’re trying to . . . be a better mare?”

“Is that really so hard to believe?”

“In this city it is.”

I sighed. “Alright, look, how can I do this? I just want someone in my life who I can actually help for once, whether it’s you or Joya. Is that so much to ask? To just be given a chance to pull myself up out of all the crap I’ve gotten myself into? It’s not like I’ve enjoyed being horrible.”

Ivory stared at me with a mixture of sadness and pity. He couldn’t make many motions with his beak, so his eyes told the real story. I felt like he wanted to say it was going to be alright, but he didn’t trust me all the way. That hurt a lot, especially because it was something that was completely justified. Really, he and Sterling shouldn’t have trusted me at all, not even for a moment.

I had fucked up too bad.

So that was why it was so surprising when Ivory only shook his head and said: “Well, come on, then, and let’s see if we can’t find you something to not screw up on.”

“Really, you mean it?” I said.

“Don’t test my grace,” he said.

He dove back down toward downtown Fillydelphia, and I followed him.

Author's Notes:

Special thanks to guest editor, Commonancestry!

Episode 4: Angels - Part 2

We headed past the glitz and glamor of the neighborhoods that clustered around the economic center of Fillydelphia like cows to a watering hole, and toward the outlying slums that looked like the rest of the city had gotten sick and thrown their guts out on the land around them. I’d been the slums several times already, but it was always a shock to see them from the air. It hurt a bit when I looked out over them and saw an ugly black spot where Tailor Made’s brothel had been. I knew that, in my heart, I had an ugly black spot just like it. Too bad mine wouldn’t heal as fast as the city would. In the slums, nothing stayed destroyed for long, and there’d be another place just like it in a few months. Were it so easy to mend a heart like that, I might have avoided a lot of harm in the past weeks of my life.

The air tasted like copper when we flew over the poor districts, and it burnt my nose. I had to try to ignore it as I followed Ivory out and out and out, farther away from West Fillydelphia than I had normally been. I was afraid we were going to fly right ot the sea, but eventually he started to circle around a smattering of apartment buildings and rowhouses that looked like everything else around them.

We banked in low over a narrow street that had clearly been converted from a dirt path to asphalt in a haste, since there were cracks and dust everywhere. It felt uneven beneath my hooves, which wasn’t exactly promising. The only thing that assuaged my fears was that there didn’t seem to be any cars on the street, so I got the feeling that whoever had installed it had a been on an overdose of wishful thinking.

There was a church just down the road from us, and it was where Ivory was headed, the bag of clothes swung on his back. Unlike the church downtown, this one better resembled a run down soup kitchen than a house of worship. The wood was sagging and the steeple leaned to the right. Several of the windows were boarded up, and the front doors were metal instead of wood. Even the front steps were cracked.

Yet, when we walked inside, that all didn’t seem to matter. There was a warmth inside, a kind of tangible coziness that the place had, which made it stand out from the rest of the slums. There were a number of ponies inside, and only about half of the main hall was made up of pews. The rest was filled with beds and tables, presumably for ponies that would otherwise be on the street. Most of the ponies inside were dressed in rags or even less, and there were a couple that even had patches of skin showing through their coats.

They didn’t pay much attention to Ivory or I. Really, I don’t think they could be damned to care about much of anything at the moment. I followed Ivory through the main hall and to a hallway at the back. It led down to a small office, which Ivory entered without knocking. Inside was a mare in an all-white dress with a large hood that hid most of her head, including her eyes.

She looked up when Ivory came in. Her ears twitched, and a smile spread to her face. “Ivory, if I live and breathe,” she said. “So you decided to come after all, is that it?”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Ivory asked, walking over to her desk—an ugly metal thing overflowing with papers and ceramic mugs. “Or did you just not have any . . . faith?”

“Very funny, Ivory.” She seemed to almost, well, sniff the air, then turned toward me. “And who’s your little friend? Don’t tell me you started dating ponies again.”

Ivory grew flushed at that, and I have to stifle a giggle. He managed to compose himself, then cleared his throat. “Patroness, this is Minty Flower, a friend. She’s come today to, er, help me on my rounds.”

“Minty Flower? That reporter girl, isn’t she?”

“Right on the first, Patroness.”

Patroness smiled at me. It was a bit disconcerting since half her head was hidden by her white hood, but nice enough. “Well now, how honored I am to have you in our humble little church,” she said. “From your silence, I take it that you haven’t been to a church quite like this?”

I shook my head, then remembered she could actually see that, so I answered, “No.”

“Most ponies out in the bigger city haven’t.” She chuckled. “We’re part of Celestia’s Church, but you could say a bit of a more . . . community-oriented sect. We all take the vow of blindness to become impartial servants to the ponies of Equestria. Not the most popular vow to take, I’ll tell you, and not the kind of place the rich folks seem to visit.”

Her attention turned back to Ivory. “Speaking of which, did you bring the clothes? I know it was a lot to ask, even of you . . .”

“Not a problem,” Ivory said. He placed the bag of Joya’s clothes on Patroness’s table and smiled. “We’ve got you enough to clothe fifty ponies, if not more. That should be good for at least a while in this winter. I’ll get more when I can.”

“You’re a dear, Ivory. Feel free to stop by if you ever want to take up that dinner offer. I’m told you look pretty scrawny for a big hippogriff.”

“Will do,” Ivory said.

He walked out the room, and I followed him. My cheeks felt a little hot as I figured I had just played observer to something that went a bit deeper than I really thought, and was well above my pay grade. I did want to ask him about it at some point, though. In the meantime, I had plenty to think about. I mean, Ivory was suddenly not just some grumpy hippogriff, but involved with a church in the slums.

It threw me for a loop. I had known Ivory as a kind of conniving figure who did what he wanted and got information through various means that I didn’t want to know about. Then again, most ponies seemed to assume I was nice, so appearances could be deceiving.

We headed out of the church and back out into the street. Ivory seemed to walk taller, his chest puffed up and eyes looking down at me like I was below him. Well, okay, I was, but figuratively as well as literally.

“Well someone’s happy,” I said.

“Don’t be dense,” Ivory said. “Besides, I didn’t bring you on this to brag about myself.”

“Then why?”

“To show you that you can be good, Minty. Like it or not, it’s obvious to everyone around you that you’re going down a path that isn’t easy to come back from.”

I shrugged. “So why are you helping? I mean, out of everyone I know, we’re probably the least close.”

Ivory got down on his knees and elbows so that he was eye to eye with me. It wasn’t until he was up close that I realized how different his eyes were from mine. Not just in shape, but how open they were, and how closed mine were, like a trap snapped shut.

“Because I’ve been down that same path, Minty, and I know what it does. Throw away your own life, fine, but don’t go hurting so many other ponies like you’ve already done.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me.” I turned away so he wouldn’t see the shame on my voice, even if my voice was laden with it. “Alright, so what is a day with you supposed to prove?”

“To have a good, normal day. You need more of those in your life before any of this can go away. Trust me on that one.”

I wanted to argue with him for the sake of arguing, or maybe because I didn’t want to admit that he was right. More right than I had ever been. He seemed to know that, too, because he took off before I even had a chance to get another word in edgewise. I didn’t really have any other choice, so I followed him into the sky.

We arrived first at a small coffee shop nestled between two skyscrapers close to downtown. It wasn’t exactly the place I would have picked to get leads on any cases, but I decided it was in my best interest not to argue. It was still morning enough that the place was crowded, though not too crowded. The shop was the trendy type, with low tables, comfortable chairs, and a bar instead of the traditional store counter. The coffee still didn’t smell any different from what my dad had made over the stove, though.

“Feel like getting some coffee, Minty?” Ivory asked.

“What, did we just stop here for a caffeine break?” I snorted. “We could have at least gotten something a little . . . stronger.”

“Yes, you’re right,” he said, “but I didn’t bring you here for the coffee. This place just so happens to be the favored place for Amethyst’s employees to come for a quick morning stop.” He rolled his eyes at me and pushed his way toward the counter. He came back with two cups of coffee, which he sat down at a table near the door. He sat nearest to the entrance, while I got a window seat.

It was strange, how Ivory managed to blend in better than I could despite not even being the same species. I tried to copy his relaxed posture and subtle looks of trust and innocence that, in ways I didn’t know were possible, made me want to tell him secrets.

His ears perked up when two mares walked in, chatting loudly. They had their manes up in buns and those tiny glasses perched on their noses, so I figured them to be secretaries. I couldn’t really make out what they were saying, but then again my hearing hasn’t always been the best. I got some infection in them when I was about three years old, and since I haven’t been the best listener.

The line, luckily, stretched all the way to where we sat, so the two mares were next to us for about five minutes. I sipped at my drink and watched Ivory. He made little motions and nods like he was talking to me, even though he didn’t say a word. Keeping up appearances, I supposed. When they had at last left, he did finally turn to me and start to talk to me.

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, I think I found us a lead,” he said.

“Really? What kind of lead?” I asked.

He smiled. “A big one. See, those mares were talking about how a security guard had to escort some ‘nut’ off their property yesterday morning. Says that he was yelling all kinds of things.”

“You think he knows something?”

“I’d wager on it. At the very least, we might have an ally in him, or, even better, somepony we can . . . persuade . . . some information out of.”

I grinned, but then my expression soured. “Uh, Ivory, that’s great and all, but how are we going to figure out where this pony lives?”

“Now you’re really starting to think,” he said, then pointed toward the front of the line at the register. “We’re going to need to pick up a box of donuts before we head out.”

As it turned out, one of Fillydelphia’s Finest was also a big fan of donuts, and was happy to let us hang out by his police steamcar once we came bearing gifts. He was a pudgy stallion that was probably only a cop because of family connections, but he was important at the moment. Like the way pigs enjoy their slop, he was shoveling donuts into his mouth like they were the key to immortality.

The only hard part about getting him to talk, really, was for him to stop shoveling food down his throat for five seconds. We were able to get what we needed, though. He didn’t really see any reason not to give us the information, after all. We were just compiling a story about crazies in Fillydelphia, obviously, so why would we cause any suspicion?

I didn’t talk very much while Ivory worked, just watched. It was nice to be the one that nopony relied on for once, and I found myself having fun. I’d almost forgotten that I was supposed to enjoy my job, that it wasn’t meant to be a hard slog through a sea of crap all the time.

We bid the police officer a goodbye and headed back out, leaving the whole box of donuts to him. I had to admit, seeing all of those made me hungry enough that I got Ivory to let us stop in a small cafe before heading out to where our “crazy” apparently lived. I got hay fries and a deluxe sandwich for myself, though Ivory told me he didn’t want anything. When I pressed for the reason why, I wish I hadn’t. Turns out, griffons are more fond of meat than ponies.

“This whole thing seems . . . odd,” Ivory was saying. “I mean, there is so little information on this guy, way less than there should be for anypony. Only your assassin friend might have less.”

“Hey, he’s not my friend,” I said.

“Fine, co-worker, whatever.” Ivory rolled his eyes. “The point out, this guy has so little on him that you would think I would have heard of him by now. Ponies like him don’t just live average lives.”

“So what was he doing, being out in the open and waving a sign in front of Amethyst’s building?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I suppose we’ll have to get him to tell us.”

I gulped down about half my hay fries in one motion. “And if he doesn’t want to?”

Ivory gave me a predatory smile. “Oh, he’ll talk.”

I was suddenly reminded of exactly how wicked sharp his beak was, and how Ivory’s front talons could probably gut me without breaking a sweat. Being a hippogriff, he also had the bucking power of a pony to back him up, which made him even more formidable. I was reminded how glad I was to have him on my side. At least, I hoped so.

“So where exactly does this guy live, again?” I asked.

“The cop gave me an address out in The Burb,” Ivory said. “Like I said, not exactly fitting for the type of pony he is. Folks out there never bother to hide anything, so you can get a mountain of evidence on any of ‘em without even trying. Especially their affairs. It’s like they want to get caught, most of the time.”

I snickered. “I bet.”

Ivory gave me a cold look, and I stopped laughing immediately as I realized the comment had been directed toward me. It really hurt, but I guess I should have expected it. Sterling was his friend, and it must have killed him not to tell Sterling all about what I had done. So, naturally, he was taking it out on me. My thoughts went back to those talons again.

Suddenly not hungry, I pushed my plate away. “Alright, let’s go. We should get up there before everypony starts leaving early for the day. All those rich ponies like to do it.”

“Seems like something a West Fillydelphia mare wouldn’t know.”

“Can it, you big bird, and let’s move.”

Ivory just shook his head and followed me outside.

I had to admit, I probably knew the way to The Burb a little too well for a mare like me, but then again I had visited Grapevine more times than I could count lately. Though, I had always taken the trolley, so seeing everything from the sky was a new experience. The roads were like squiggles in the landscape, and the steamcars like very large ants.

We swooped low over neighborhoods, schools, and small business, Ivory sweeping his head back and forth to scan for the right house. Even though we pegasi have good sight, griffons and their hybrids outclass us in every way with their vision. He could probably see the individual house numbers and street names on the signs, while all I could see was the general shape.

Luckily for me, we headed in the opposite direction of Grapevine's house. I hadn’t even wanted to imagine what would have happened if I’d run in to her out in her neck of the woods. Instead, we headed out toward the even richer parts of the already-rich suburb, almost to where Marshmallow used to live before she was mayor.

“Whoever he is, he sure has money,” Ivory said, flying almost directly over me. He banked to the right and I followed him, to a neighborhood at the base of a large hill. The houses were easily double the size of Joya’s, and built of better materials, too. No cheap wood or plaster; they were granite and brick.

It was still just past lunch, so there weren’t a ton of ponies around to look up at us. Or, so I thought, until I saw a bunch of stallions and mares staring at us from inside their houses. I had forgotten that, among the rich, only one pony in the family worked.

Ivory dropped to the ground on the soft grass of somepony’s front yard, and stared up at the house in front of us. It was a looming manor with an actual tower and a massive front door made of well-polished oak. In it were carved symbols that I had never seen before, but when I reached out to touch them my hoof started to burn.

“Wards,” Ivory said. “Powerful magic to keep out prying eyes. Whoever lives here isn’t just your average crazy on the street.”

“Is anypony we ever face average?” I asked.

He didn’t answer me, but rather knocked on the door. His talons made loud, hollow sounds across the mottled wood, and I waited while shifting from hoof to hoof. My experiences with truly powerful magic users was paltry at best, as Grapevine’s best claim to fame was a teleportation spell that worked perhaps half the time.

Sure, pegasi had magic as well, but ours was different. It wasn’t as subtle as the earth ponies’, but not nearly as overt as a unicorn’s. Besides the weather, we needed magic to fly, as our wings couldn’t actually hold us up on our own. Despite our appearances, we were teeming with magic at all times. I supposed that’s why the door had burned me.

The echo of hooves upon tile emanated from the interior of the house and grew steadily closer, the sound increasing in clarity as the pony within drew closer to the door. I thought about moving behind ivory to let his larger body shield me, but it wouldn’t have given the mysterious pony the best impression of me. To the ponies in Fillydelphia, I was supposed to be some sort of hero, though I rarely felt it. Still, appearances had to be kept. If this pony had some mastery of magic, he might be useful in taking down Amethyst.

About a dozen locks were unlatched on the other side of the door before the stained oak swung open. However, unlike most doors, it swung outward toward us, so that we had to step out of the way. Once it was open, I saw why: a thick line of salt ran across the doorway.

Scowling, a pony stepped forward out of the shadows within the house. His fur might have once been a bright shade of burnt yellow, almost copper, but had faded until it was almost white. His mane was thin and dry, though still retained much of its emerald color around the horn on his head. On his flank, a cutie mark of a pink and purple snail stood out against the soft background.

“Minty Flower,” he said plainly, like he had been expecting me. He turned to Ivory. “I don’t know your face, stranger. State your business.” I noticed that, though he seemed to be friendly enough, he had something hidden behind his back.

Ivory coughed. “I am Ivory, and we are here about the . . . display . . . we were told you participated in outside of Amethyst’s headquarters. We’re no friend of hers, I assure you.”

“Oh. That.” His lips curled up in a sneer. “That was the ill-fated product of too much to drink and not half as much sense as I like to pretend I possess. It is nothing for either of you to worry about. Especially you, Minty. Your allegiances are well known.”

My stomach sank. “Which ones?”

“It would be easier to name those you didn’t consort yourself with,” he said. “The ill-fated rebellion with even less sense than I, the mayor and her police, Amethyst herself, even the Assassin in Black. Strange to think there are those who thought you would save our city once Pullmare was gone.”

“I tried.”

“And you failed. All you left was a power vacuum that nastier ponies were quick to fill. You know nothing, Minty Flower.”

He moved to shut the door, but I stood in his way. What I may have lacked in knowledge, I always made up for in a combination of bravery and foolishness. My father had complained it would be my end, but it still proved useful when I needed it.

“Then teach me,” I said. “All of those ‘allies’ are dead, missing, or against me. Ivory and I came here today because we need new friends, and it seemed like a pony such as yourself could help.”

He snorted and didn’t close the door. “And if I refuse?”

“I might not be very bright, but ponies listen to me and will follow me if I say the right words. You, however, seem to be very isolated. This salt line won’t hold Amethyst back when she comes calling.”

The stallion’s eyes narrowed. I could see his cold, bronze eyes studying me, trying to decide if I was as right as I hoped. He sighed, then turned around and marched back into his house. “Don’t disturb the salt,” he said without bothering to turn back around.

Ivory and I stepped into the house, feeling a rush of cold air sweep over us from the rafters far above, moving across polished chestnut bannisters and beech fixtures inlaid with iron curled into leaves and stags.

“Where did that little speech come from?” Ivory asked.

“Don’t ask me right now,” I said. “Just be glad it worked.”

We were led, more or less, into what counted as a living room inside the stallion’s house. Rather than a radio or couch, however, the corners of the room were filled with antique bookcases that sagged under the weight of volumes as thick as two of my hooves put together. Many of them lay opened on a table in the center of the room, which also contained the only chair. Up on the ceiling, strange runes and sigils colored the formerly white plaster, and I could almost feel power emanating from them.

“I don’t get many visitors,” the stallion said. He looked around like he was about to clear out someplace in the room for us, then gave up and sat in his chair. “I usually have more important matters to attend to.”

“Like yelling at Amethyst’s building until the police had to take you away.”

“As I said, it was a foolish mistake, and one I don’t intend to make again.”

Ivory raised an eyebrow. “Be that as it may, it makes our job harder, as Amethyst will be on her guard from now on. No chance of getting that close to her building again as you could.”

“That is hardly my problem. Amethyst has concentrated her power already. She will be untouchable for some time to come. Her servants made short work of any who might have stood against her in the slums and whorehouses. I’m told she put ten brothels to the torch in one night, and entire tenements burned for an entire day. Conveniently, the fire department overlooked them until the last moments.”

My stomach clenched. It was my fault that Tailor Made’s whorehouse had burned, I knew, but I had no idea about the others, or the apartments. I hoped that Dirty Joke was still alive, though I was sure he wouldn’t come calling anytime soon, nor would I have wanted him to. Too many ponies had died because of me already, and I didn’t need another soul weighing down my conscience.

Ivory strode behind the stallion, picking at books and tomes older than all three of us in the room combined. Some still bore royal sigils that I could only assume meant they came from the Canterlot library. How he had acquired them, I didn’t know.

“Oh, I was told that if I were to meet you, to tell you that Trixie sends love to her daughter and yourself,” the stallion said, waving a hoof in the air.

“Trixie?” For a moment, I could not scarcely recall the name, then the memories of Las Pegasus came flooding back. “How do you know Grapevine’s mom? And how does she know that you know me?”

The stallion laughed languidly. “Everypony knows you, Minty Flower. As for Trixie, well, I’ve known her since I was a colt when she and made her first appearance in Ponyville, all those years ago. We keep in touch, occasionally.”

“Who are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“The girl asked you a question,” Ivory growled, “one I’d like answered as well. We risk ourselves just being in your home; the least you can give us is a name.”

“Snails,” he spat, like it was a sour taste in his mouth. “Not a name I wear proudly, but it suits. Here I am, crawling on my belly, protected by my home, while Amethyst does as she pleases.”

“Nopony could expect you to take her on by yourself,” Ivory said. “That’s why we came by, to try to gather allies. We have a common enemy in Amethyst, that’s plain to see, and it makes us stronger.”

Snails chuckled, and when he looked at us, his eyes were elsewhere. I wonder who he sees, in our stead. Somepony long dead, I was sure. There had been a few such ponies back in my village, and even in Fillydelphia that had it written plain on their faces. Those who grieved for too long eventually made it part of themselves.

“So what would you propose our little group do, if I were so inclined to help either of you?” Snails questioned, flicking away his look of grief like it was no more than a mask.

Ivory and I looked at each other, then shrugged. “We don’t know,” we said in tandem, eliciting a look of surprise from Snails. “What we mean is, we’re stuck,” I explained. “Amethyst has knocked us down and we lack the knowledge to get back up, even Ivory. Our choices were to either stumble around in the dark, hoping for a stray lead from one of the employees, or go looking for you. We chose the easier one.”

“So you think for the moment.” Snails stood up and walked to a pile of books in the corner. Unlike the rest, they seemed untouched and covered in a thick film of dust. Their covers were bound in thick, crimson letter and emblazoned with the city of Manehattan’s sigil rather than Canterlot’s. He stroked one hoof across them as he might have a lover, getting that same look in his eye once more.

“We just want to defeat our common foe,” Ivory said. “Surely, you must see that.”

“Do not think me such a fool, hybrid,” Snails said without turning his back. “Amethyst has grown used to blood on her hooves by now. She will not show either of you any mercy, even Minty, despite her supposed friendship with the mayor. Do not mistake me; I care little if two fools die for the lack of common sense, but Minty’s death would have far more of an effect on the city than just herself. Even though many have lost faith in her, many still see her as a savior and hero. Her death is exactly what Amethyst needs.”

Icy cold fear gripped me. He was right. I wondered who the fire at Tailor Made’s had really been for: Dirty Joke or myself. The same with the fighting at the rebellion’s headquarters. But, Amethyst was also well aware of where I lived. What was holding her back, or who?

Snails must have seen the look on my face, as he trotted over to me and lay one awkward hoof on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to scare you too badly,” he told me, “only to let you know the truth. Amethyst is not invincible, only very strong. Yet, every castle has a servant’s entrance.”

“What do you mean?”

“Amethyst is infamous for never concentrating her power in one place, not even her business. While it may help her by keeping her personal empire from being so easily overrun, it also leaves her vulnerable. If we take down each of her smaller elements one by one, then soon she will be left by herself. She is mighty atop her throne, but craven when faced with actual danger.”

Ivory puffed out his chest, ruffling the feathers on his wings like a tide coming in to the shore. His eyes gleamed and he seemed to stand ten feet taller just with the idea that Amethyst could be overcome. “So you have a plan, then.”

“A fool idea, more like, but the last plan got Snips killed. I’d like to see how Amethyst fares against three mad ponies with no plans or backup.”

He looked to me like he expected I would object, but I didn’t raise my voice. I had only had the vaguest notions of a plan for most of my adventures in Fillydelphia, and the rest had been made up. Most of the time, right on the spot. I had never admitted it before, but I rather liked the idea.

Snails rose from his seat and talked into his kitchen. I opened my mouth to ask him to get me something when I saw him standing in front of the icebox, but when he opened it all I could do was stare. Guns lined the inside where food should have been. Pistols, revolvers, rifles, shotguns, grenades, it was a cornucopia of weaponry.

They shone in the dull light in the kitchen and reflected in my eyes. I saw them for what they were. The lives that I had seen taken by guns were growing too many, and their sounds echoed in my sleep at night. I was not sure whether to laugh or cry upon seeing so many.

I wanted to grasp them and hold the guns in my hooves, I wanted to throw them away, I wanted to march up to Amethyst and plug her full of holes, I wanted to cower and cover my ears and forget they existed. I was Cadance, Starswirl the Bearded, the dark heart of Sombra; I was Fluttershy in the meadows, Twilight on her throne, Luna riding on the pale moonlight. I was zap apple cider, shaken not stirred. I was—

“Crazy!” Ivory interrupted, shrieking. “That’s what you are! Crazy!”

“—prepared. I’m no hero, but I’m no fool either,” Snails said. “I keep my weapons close because if I don’t have them, somepony else will.”

“But grenades? You really keep live grenades in an icebox?”

“And where else would you prefer I keep them? Do they grow less explosive if I keep them in my sock drawer, or in the wash basin?”

Ivory shook his head, while my eyes were drawn to the marks on the ceiling and the salt lines that covered every doorway and window. “What’s with all the . . . that stuff?” I asked, pointing.

“Anti-magic.” Snails lowered a grin to me. He picked up a shotgun and showed me a shell filled not with pellets, but salt. “You’d be surprised at the measures earth ponies came up with to combat unicorns in the days the three tribes made war to each other. Some of it is simple, but the rest . . . I’m not quite sure how far it goes, only that some of those who practiced it were found with their eyes burned out.”

“But really, a shotgun filled with salt? What, was throwing it at unicorns not enough?”

Snails loaded four more rounds into the chamber before cocking the gun and putting the safety on. “The ancient earth ponies aren’t the only ones who delved into dark magic. Amethyst has been drawing from that well, and it’s all I can do to keep her at bay. Now that I have allies . . . we might be able to stop her. We just need to make a short visit.”

“To whom?” questioned Ivory, selecting a pistol for himself.

“Why,” he said, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder, “Fillydelphia’s own resident assassin, of course.”

Author's Notes:

As with my other stories, I am sorry about this whole month being wasted. All my editors were caught up on Finals, so despite finishing this chapter two weeks ago, it was not finished until today. Hopefully this will improve in the future as school gets back to normal.

Episode 4: Angels - Part 3

It was night before Snails dared to do anything else. He told us about safety and having Amethyst watch the streets, but I got the feeling he just didn’t want to be seen with us outside his house. Maybe it was a rich pony thing. I didn’t know.

He was at least kind enough to fix soup for us all, and I gulped mine down in shared silence with Ivory. We hadn’t talked since making the announcement of traveling to find the Assassin, which was just as well. They seemed to know bits and pieces about him, but apparently him saving my life and meeting me in that church were unknown to them both. I didn’t relish the idea of having to explain that when the time came.

Then again, I wasn’t even sure what we were supposed to do when we found him, and I don’t think Ivory nor Snails did, either. To them, he was an almost mythical figure, or like an act of nature. There wasn’t anything behind the mask because all he was and could ever be was a symbol of rebellion and resistance to Amethyst. They had never seen him act out in anger or sadness and had never heard him talk in a personal way. Maybe that was better. Take away his mask and he would be just another stallion in Fillydelphia, but keep it on and he was a legend.

I wondered how much that applied to me, and if all my friends looking at me so differently lately was because I had finally taken the mask off.

Ivory appeared behind me, silent as a shadow. I could only feel him by the way his movements curved the air around my wings.

“Snails says we can move out now,” he whispered, as if Amethyst could hear us all the way across town. “He says he knows how to find the Assassin.”

“Do you think he really does?”

“I don’t know, but do you know any other way? Last time I checked, we were full out of other allies.”

I grinned. “We could always invite Grapevine to come along . . .”

“Grapevine has her own problems,” Ivory muttered. “We’ll get to her soon enough. For now, let’s just see where this Snails guy takes us.”

I followed him from the little kitchen alcove I’d found for myself without another word. We passed by the living room and into the front atrium once more, and I shivered when I stood in front of the open door.

Snow was falling outside, and gusts of wind periodically swept into Snails’ house to banish the life-giving warmth to the farthest reaches of the home. Even with my coat and feathers, I was shivering. Pegasi are supposed to be used to the cold so we can fly up real high without getting frozen, but I wasn’t exactly acclimated to flying much at all, let alone very high, so I was as vulnerable to the cold as anypony else. Worse, I didn’t have a jacket.

I was shivering and wondering what to do when I suddenly felt warm and realized a thick, woolen blanket had been thrown over me. It was one of the blankets with intricate patterns stitched into it, made of blues and golds and coppers. I wrapped it around myself and looked up to see Snails in the doorway, giving me a long, sad smile.

“You looked cold,” said he, his eyes like tempered gold.

“I was,” I said. “I suppose I owe you another thanks.”

“Thanks are for old mares and foals. You are in my keep now while we find your Assassin friend. Some of us still believe in helping our allies.”

He turned and stalked back out the door while Ivory snickered. I wasn’t sure whether to punch him or join in, so I settled for following Snails out onto the snowy sidewalk. The loose drifts crunched beneath my hooves and the air smelled stale, almost like a hospital, but more . . . magical.

There was always something about the days before Hearths Warming that made the whole world come alive. My mother used to tell me Princess Celestia added extra magic to the world around this time of the year, and I had a hard time disbelieving her.

The car that waited for us made me stop in my tracks, for it was like nothing I had ever seen before. It wasn’t as sleek as Sterling’s roadster or bulky as a steamcar. It was more like an elongated oval covered in small ovals that contained the wheel wells and passenger seats. It was colored all in black and, from what I could see, didn’t have any sort of exhaust or, by extension, an engine.

Except, when Snails’ horn glowed, a large door on the side slid open without a sound.

“What kind of car is this?” Ivory asked incredulously, as confused as me.

Snails gave him a wan grin. “I suppose an earth pony city like Fillydelphia doesn’t seem them often, but this is a magic car. Only unicorns can drive them, and powerful ones at that, but it’s a lot faster and stealthier than any of those steam-powered monstrosities this city loves so much.”

Ivory grumbled about that, but I wasn’t about to disagree. I swore that I coughed ten times more after coming to Fillydelphia than I had before, not to mention my vision seemed a lot more cloudy.

Snails beckoned to me and I climbed inside, getting behind the front cloth seats and settling against a soft bench that felt like it was made of silk. I laid down across it and felt like I wanted to go to sleep. Snails offered the same seat to Ivory, but he shook his head and told him something about flying watch.

Once he had taken off, Snails got in the car with me and closed the door. Inside, it felt much warmer than outside, though not too much that being under the blanket was uncomfortable. I supposed the car started up, but it was hard to tell. As Snails said to me, there was no real engine, but rather a system of gears and levers powered by magic, so it made no sound when turned on.

We pulled out of the driveway as silent as a shadow, practically leaping onto the road. Snails was silent as he drove, not even using his hooves to steer. The whole thing was under the control of his magic. If he wanted to impress, he was sure doing a good job of it.

I lay back in my seat and stared out the window. Fillydelphia was beautiful at night. So many times when I had been feeling down I relied on its nightcall to calm me. It was like the dark chased away all the sins that stained the very concrete the city was based on.

Far above us, I could see Ivory’s dark shape in the night sky flying just above us. His was certainly a shape that was hard to miss. The way he swooped effortlessly through the air, it was a marvel to watch him fly. Pegasi had to fight their way through the air on magic wings, but for him, it was like he was born to fly. Snails noticed me watching.

“Boyfriend of yours?” he asked.

I turned beet red. “What? No! I have one of those already.”

“Well there’s nothing wrong with a little playing around—”

“No,” I snapped, a little harder than I meant to. “I’m not doing that again. I won’t. Not now, not ever.”

There was a moment of silence between us. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any offense,” he said.

I sighed. “It’s fine. It’s my own fault, anyway. If I hadn’t been so reckless already . . .”

“We all make mistakes, you know. As long as your boyfriend is still alive, I would count yourself lucky. Some of us . . . some of us make mistakes that we can’t ever take back.”

I knew what he was getting at, but I didn’t want to answer him at that moment. I really wondered if I could take them back. Sterling would find out eventually, I knew. When he did . . . I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Nothing good, I knew. He wasn’t going to stay with me. No chance in Tartarus of that happening. Maybe we could stay friends, though. That would be almost bearable.

The car was gliding through the neighborhoods of The Burb but away from downtown Fillydelphia and everypony in it. Instead, we were climbing toward the mountains outside the city, and the suburbs out that way. Come to think of it, I had never been out this way before. The farthest I had been was the downtown area of The Burb, and that was months before.

“Uh, where are we going?” I asked.

“To see the Assassin,” Snails said plainly.

I pointed back the way we had come. “He’s back in Fillydelphia. What are we supposed to do out here, smoke signal him?”

“You’re right, he used to be back in Fillydelphia. However, from gathering what evidence I could, he’s moved out into the mountains and stayed there. I guess the city got too hot for him. Though, with half the police looking for him and Amethyst personally putting a hit out on him, I can’t blame him for moving away. I’m surprised he’s even bothering to stay near this city.”

My stomach turned a bit. If it was really so dangerous for the Assassin to be in the city, why did he come to see me? Was I really that special? I didn’t know, and I didn’t really want to. I just sat in silence as the car continued to climb.

The roads, even in the fancy Burb, got rougher as we moved toward the mountains. The houses grew shorter and more stout, and the terrain changed from rolling plains to tree-covered heights. I remembered when I had arrived in Fillydelphia for the first time through a similar mountainous valley, and smiled at the memory. I had been so full of hope and confidence. Where had the time gone?

A bright moon rose over the mountains. It gave light to the road in front of us where the headlights did not. It was very beautiful. I had always liked the moon. Since I was a little girl, even. The sun reminded me of showing all the bad things about myself in the light of day, but at night, I was a different pony. I was whoever I wanted to be. Not that it always ended up being a good thing, but I could be me, for better or worse.

As I gazed at the moon, I remembered even more how I had left Derbyshire. It had been so scary to go out on my own, but here I was, half a world away. Fillydelphia could not be anymore different. It was smelly, crowded, and corrupt. I had gone hoof to hoof with the most powerful pony in town and a host of other villains, and I still lived. Despite all my flaws, I was still alive.

I looked at Snails. He snuck glances at me every once in a while when his eyes weren’t on the road, and I knew what he was thinking. He was trying to figure out if I was like him, if I was really who all the papers said I was. For the first time in a long time, I was confident that, yes, I was actually the Minty Flower all the ponies talked about. Hold the applause, please.

I saw Ivory swoop down toward us. Snails saw it too, and he slowed the car to a stop. It was hard to tell if it had, though, from how quiet it was. At any rate, we came to a halt, and Snails opened the door, climbing out. I just pulled the blanket tighter around myself and wished that he would close the door.

Ivory was nice enough to come and knock on the open door before sticking his head inside. “You don’t look very heroic wrapped in blankets, you know,” he said.

“Commander Minty of Blanket Fort banishes you,” I mumbled, not entirely coherently. What could I say, I was more than tempted to let the competent unicorn handle the whole thing instead of risk my own life and limb to find the Assassin all over again.

I got out anyway, and shivered. Stupid cold. Stupid everything, really. Stupid Assassin, stupid Snails, stupid Ivory, stupid Amethyst, stupid city, stupid mountains, stupid mission . . . and most of all, stupid me.

Snails stared at me until I realized I had been talking out loud, and the skin under my coat turned beet red. “So, uh, what’s the mission for today?” I asked in my most innocent voice.

“The road up ahead is blocked,” Ivory said. “If were going to get the Assassin, we’re going to have to go the old fashioned way.”

“By hoofing it?”

He pointed to my wings. “Flying. Snails can teleport himself past the block, but the car is too much to transport. We’ll have to go slow to find him.” Ivory gazed up into the towers of stone and forest that loomed above us, cutting into the night sky. “There’s a lot of ground to cover and not enough time to do it.”

Snails nodded. “We’ll be faster if I can use one of my spells. It’ll let us track where the last few ponies in the area have been. The problem is, once we’re in the forest we’ll have to be on the ground. No flying.”

Ivory looked flustered, but I’d spent pretty much my whole life on the ground. I mean, my parents had never exactly been happy about my wings. My mom had been accused of cheating, of course, but it had passed pretty soon. Just another thing to wish their daughter didn’t have.

I pressed down the reasons I had left home and focused on the matter at hoof. Ivory and I took to the skies while Snails disappeared in a flash. We flew over a field of scattered rocks and boulders, high enough that I could see where the avalanche had occurred further up one of the peaks.

We saw Snails up ahead, down where the rockslide had stopped, but we stayed in the sky. Sure enough, a few moments later, a bright line appeared on the ground, snaking its way up the road before disappearing off to the side in the trees.

It shone brightly from the sky, but once it was in the trees, I couldn’t see it anymore. Ivory and I instead had to fly over to where the forest started and wait for Snails to catch up. Once he did, we all nodded wordlessly and plunged into the thick woods of oak and pine.

The air up in the mountains was much more fresh than back in Fillydelphia, that was for sure. My lungs felt light for the first time in months. Plus, being in the forest reminded me of the good times at home. The way the sun shone through the leaves was the exact same way as it had back in Derbyshire. For a moment, I could imagine I hadn’t even left. Then again, that wasn’t much better than my current situation.

Ivory wasn’t having as easy a time as me. In fact, he looked downright miserable. His form, at its best, wasn’t very wieldy on the ground, and in the trees it was even less so. Branches snagged on his feathers, and his wings kept getting caught. Brambles were caught on his hooves, and his talons slipped on wet moss. I wasn’t sure whether to feel terrible for him or laugh out loud at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

We followed Snails and his little magic trail. The spell was keeping him occupied, and hunting its trail like a hound dog. Whatever it was that was leading us on, they didn’t want to be followed. We crossed several streams, crunched through heavy patches of undergrowth, and had to leap across a small embankment. I almost slipped and fell until I remembered I had wings.

While we walked through the forest, I had plenty of time to think. As I said, Ivory was miserable and Snails was focused on the trail, so I was left to myself. I thought of a lot of things. Mostly, home, but also Sterling. I wanted to tell him, which was strange. I didn’t know if the natural urge was to confess multiple accounts of infidelity, but that’s what I wanted to do. It was strange because I knew it wouldn’t end well.

I think a big part of it was just the idea of getting it out there. To me, it was freedom. Once I revealed myself and all my guilt, that was it. I didn’t have to hide anymore or watch what I said. I could just . . . go on with my life. To me, that was valuable. Then again, I supposed, I probably didn’t have much life left, so I had good reason to want to live it how I wanted.

Since I was lost in my own thoughts, I ended up running into Snails’ rear. He was stopped before a grove of bent and broken trees. Except, when I started to look, they weren’t the normal kind of bent and broken. These trees were burnt and scarred by firearms and magic. Worse, it looked to be very recent.

Snails took off in a gallop, and I did my best to follow him. The glowing trail on the ground seemed to react to his emotions because the light flared up higher than I had seen it before. Ivory came crashing after us, mumbling and yelling curses as he went.

We followed a rough path that wove up rocky ground, up near the edge of the treeline. Beyond that was just rock, and not very climbable rock at that. I hoped that we would get to the Assassin before we reached that point. I didn’t want to have to fly up there on my own.

The closer we got, the more we could hear. There were shouts coming from up ahead and the sound of rocks crunching together. Magical retorts rang out, and I saw birds taking flight. They were smart enough to get away from the danger. Too bad for us, since we only ran faster.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when we reached the clearing, but what I saw sure wasn’t it. Four ponies were gathered in a semicircle around a cave that had collapsed. Large boulders guarded the entrance, though grew smaller with every magical attack the group’s three unicorns wielded on it.

The unicorns themselves weren’t anything special. Mangy and thin, they looked like cheap hires by Amethyst, probably meant to sniff out the Assassin. The fourth, however, was . . . odd. Something was just off about him. Something that made feel little tendrils of fear in my brain.

If Snails felt the same fear, he didn’t show it. In one quick motion, he slid a shotgun from his saddlebag and launched himself at the closest unicorn. I felt bad for the thug, who only had a second to look up before a round of buckshot met his face. He tumbled to the ground, and the others took notice of the shot.

Snails leaped at a second unicorn. This one had time to get his shield up to block the first shot. He parried and flung the pellets back at Snails, but he wasn’t as strong as the burly yellow unicorn. Snails grabbed the shotgun in his magic and brought it crashing down on his opponent’s head. The thug let out a cry and dropped to the ground. Snails stood over him and started to hit on him, again and again, letting out yells of rage as he did so.

I was about to yell at him to stop when Ivory leapt straight over me and into the third unicorn. Literally, into. Ivory’s talons sunk into the unicorn’s chest, who let out a cry and writhed on the ground. Then, the hippogriff used his beak to grasp the unicorn’s head. Ivory ripped the pony’s head off, and I was about to be sick.

Then, I was sick, but for a different reason. I was flung through the air from a blow to my stomach, and I retched as soon as I hit the ground. I landed on one wing. Pain spiked through me, but it was still serviceable. I looked up just in time to see the fourth pony standing over me.

Up close, he looked like an abomination. Less pony than machine, but still not totally either one. Large bits of metal were married to his flesh, outright growing into it in many places. His eyes glowed red, and most of his body was warped around plates of armor. I really hoped I was hallucinating, but I figured that I probably couldn’t hallucinate being picked up by the neck.

The grip was tighter than a vice, and I struggled to get air to my lungs. I could feel him lifting me off the ground like I was light as a feather. His eyes stared at me, not with anger or contempt, but . . . wonder? He looked like he was seeing a pony for the first time as a foal. All while crushing my windpipe.

I saw Ivory dive at him, but the pony whipped an armored tail around and swatted him out of the sky. Ivory landed with a hard thump just as Snails ran over. Whatever magic he tried to do, the mysterious pony shrugged off and crushed the unicorn beneath one of his hooves.

“P-Please,” I managed to stammer, not too proud to beg.

I didn’t want to die there. I didn’t want to die at all. To just be lost out in the wilderness, with nopony knowing where I’d gone . . . that was too much. I couldn’t do it. I had survived Pullmare and Amethyst both, and some no name pony wasn’t going to do me in. I had to live. I had no choice. Live or die wasn’t an option, just live, live . . .

Before I realized what I was doing, it was over. I let out a cry and flew back as a thick lightning bolt struck the pony. He seemed to pause for a moment before his eyes flashed and he slumped over as his chest imploded.

When I stood back up, I saw a single dark thundercloud over him, constructed from pegasi magic. My pegasi magic. I just stared at it for a few minutes, completely unaware, before Ivory limped over to me. He followed my gaze and chuckled.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I didn’t know I had it in me,” I said.

I looked down at the corpse in front of me. He somehow seemed . . . peaceful. Almost sad, in a way. His body was badly damaged as it was, I saw, and probably the only reason I had taken him down myself. The more my hooves shook, the more I looked at him. I realized that I had killed him. He wasn’t my first, but something about the way I did frightened me.

Snails grumbled and shoved the body off of him, which nearly caused me to jump in fright. He coughed and picked himself up. He rubbed his head. There was a bruise where the pony had hit him, but otherwise he looked okay. After surveying the corpse, he turned to me and shook his head. “So you can do magic. I thought one of your articles said you can’t?”

“I didn’t think I could . . .”

“Well, I’m glad you did what you did, or else we would have all died.” He turned and began to walk toward the boulder the unicorns had been smashing against. “Now it’s time to claim our prize.”

Ivory and I followed him to where Snails stood beside the large boulder. He pressed a hoof against it, and concentrated. The rock was swallowed in a field of magic that began to spin, slowly lifting the massive boulder from the ground and sliding it away from us, downhill. Once it reached a certain point, gravity did the rest. I heard it tumble and crash down the mountain forest.

“Not all ponies know the necessary magic to move things,” he said bitterly. “In a town like this, most learn to destroy rather than solve problems.”

I only nodded in response. Really, what could I say to that? I didn’t know for sure other than just mutter some sort of apology. Snails waved it off and flicked his head until his horn lit up. Shafts of pale green light colored the tunnel ahead. I realized, after a sickening moment, that said tunnel was slick with blood.

Bits and pieces of unicorns and pegasi lay around the tunnel entrance. They all seemed to be dressed in the same uniform, so I suspected they hadn’t been on our side. Still, I felt bad to see them all dead as they were. Nopony deserved to be cut to ribbons the way they were.

“I hope it really is the Assassin that we’re after,” Snails said. “If it turns out to be somepony else, we may be in trouble.”

He moved forward, and I forced myself to follow him. Not completely out of choice, but rather out of some misguided sense of duty that I always seemed to have at the worst moments. Being underground made it even worse, too, since every part of my winged brain told me it was too narrow and I needed to be able to fly.

We traveled deep into the tunnel. Along the way, we passed other, smaller corridors that branched off every which way. When I peered down them, I saw narrow rooms full of books and machine parts. Most looked ransacked, but a few seemed intact.

There was evidence that the tunnel had once been lit, but somepony had knocked out every single light. It made the place seem much bigger, like the hall in front of us extended on forever. Though, for all I knew, maybe it did. There were plenty of legends about places that ponies went in but never came out of. Just about everypony knew the story about Fluttershy and the Hall of Horrors.

We at last managed to come to where the tunnel turned, only to find . . . a dead end. A sheer wall of rock waited for us. Snails cursed, but he couldn’t do anything about it. We were completed blocked from going further. Trapped like rats in a dark cage, it seemed.

Then, there was little more than a whisper in the wind blowing through the tunnel. I wouldn’t have noticed it, save for the feeling of steel pressed against my larynx.

“We really must stop meeting like this,” a voice said.

The lights suddenly flipped on to reveal the Assassin standing in the middle of us, a knife to my throat. He held up a hoof to Snails, who was readying his magic. With one shake of the Assassin’s head, Snails bent his head low and sighed. I was impressed.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I could be saying the same about you,” I managed to choke out. “We saved you from the ponies outside, so you’re welcome.”

“You three killed all of them?”

“Yep, now do you mind telling us what you’re doing here?”

He put his blade away. “Well, you see, Minty, I am here with—”

From behind us came a girly shriek. I turned in time to see a mare loping toward all of us. No, loping toward me. The earth pony practically leapt and grabbed onto me, and it was when she did that my heart sank. Because, see, it was right then I recognize her for who she was.

Ivory and Snails could only gape in shock as the mare squeezed me into a hug and squealed, “Oh Minty, it’s been so long, we thought you were dead; your big sister missed you so much!”

Damn it.