I admit, I was beginning to harbor some serious regrets about this plan. Even after the hour spent reviewing it while Slick and Trick made final preparations, I found myself faltering.

No, I already do regret it. My nerves were getting the better of me. The rain and fog wasn’t helping, either.

I felt a little push on my flank, and twisted my neck back to glare at the offender. Slick was standing behind me, waving a hoof forwards with a reassuring smile. I narrowed my eyes at him. I was not reassured.

Nonetheless, there was a schedule I had to stick to. There was a job to be done. According to the recusants, who apparently could sense weather, the fog and rain would last only till a little bit after sunrise. All the more reason to strike now.

Pulling my bandanna up, I stepped out of the sheltering alley and into the rain. I tugged at my recently bought black cape nervously, making sure it was still there. It was an interesting fact that while black capes couldn’t be found anywhere within the Baron’s district, they were sold everywhere else in the city practically free.

I trotted across the empty street, stopping before a tall wooden building that advertised itself as The Baron’s Keep. Taking a deep breath to compose myself, I placed a hoof on the door and pushed.

Where The Hub was an inn, The Baron’s Keep was a full-on tavern. It was also the main hangout of the many black-clad griffons charged with defending The Baron’s hostile border with The Jackal. The patronage was almost exclusively griffon, all laughing and drinking loudly, with the only exception being a small band of vicious looking bears, sitting at a corner table and giving mean looks to any drunk griffons that tried to harass them.

I stood in front of the door a good minute, overtaken by a deadly relative of stage fright. Slick’s instructions ran through my mind.

“Some of them will be skipping night patrol because of the rain. Most of them will be drunk. All of them will be ready for a fight. You just have to give them a direction.”

I gulped. “Hey, guys,” I said weakly. The bandanna muffled my voice, and all that came out was a sort of dull mumble. Nobody noticed me.

“Ahem.” I cleared my throat. No results.

“These are gonna be mercs. They deliver and deal with death every day, and if you’re not of their flock, you’ve gotta be rough to gain their respect. Be loud. If you talk like you own them, then you’ll soon find that you do.”

I closed my eyes. Talk like you own them. I needed to speak like an officer of the Baron. Like I didn’t give a shit about what they thought. Like I had paid for them, and I wanted my money’s worth, and I felt like going out on raid. Yeah! These are your mercs! I pulled my bandanna down, opened my eyes, and took a deep breath.

Suddenly, I felt a strong hoof wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“Change of plans,” Trick whispered. Keeping her hoof around me, she gently pushed me forwards, walking us towards a curtained off area in the back.

“Wai- what?”

“Old plan isn’t gonna work. We need to get hold of one of the real lieutenants.”

“Can’t we just bail?” A crowd of griffons in front of us parted respectfully. Wearing a black cloak had its perks when you were a unicorn.

“No. Slick’s working onnit. Just gimme some time,” she breathed. “Now be quiet!”

I was forced to withhold my protests as she walked us through the curtain. Five ponies and a griffon sat around an oval table, eyeing eachother over their cards. A cloud of smoke hung in the air, stinging my eyes, and a zebra mare was gently playing harp in a corner.

The ponies looked up from their cards. With the exception of a single pegasus, they were all unicorns. One of them, with a dull bronze coat, cocked an eyebrow as he smoked his cigar.

“Who’re you?” he asked.

I resisted the urge to look to Trick for help, instead going off what I remembered from the old plan. “Just sitting in for Gem Lights.” Please tell me I remembered the name right.

A green one with a brown mane choked out something that sounded vaguely like a laugh. “Heh. I told y’all she was jus’ outta town. Worryin’ over nothing!”

The pegasus twitched his ears thoughtfully. “Not like her to get somepony else to cover, though.”

Another unicorn, a mare, squinted at me through the smoke. “Hey, I don’t recognize you. Anybody know this colt?”

I felt myself starting to sweat nervously. “Oh, uhm, I’m new. Just came in last week.” I stretched my mouth into a smile.

“Last week? There weren’t any unicorns in last week’s replacements. Saw ‘em myself,” the last unicorn said. He had blue fur and a white mane.

“I was late!” I improvised. “Left something on the ship.”

The pegasus played with the poker chips before him idly. “What’dya leave?”

“Just…” I trailed off, thinking. “My bandanna! I left my bandanna. It’s very important to me.” I ran a hoof over the cloth, in case they hadn’t seen it yet.

The whole table shared a little chuckle at that. “Sentimental value? Hah! Welcome to the Outer World, newbie,” the unicorn mare said.

The bronze unicorn nodded to Trick, who was slumped over my shoulder. “Who’s the mare?”

I looked at her, unsure as to how to respond. Luckily, she spared me the task of having to make up an explanation.

“Just a lil’ present for you colts!” She smiled sweetly, tossing her mane. “Mind if we join you?”

The stallions wasted no time in accepting, quickly levitating a chair up to the table for me and clearing a space in the middle of the table. The unicorn mare, meanwhile, rolled her eyes with exasperation and fiddled with her cards.

I sat down in the offered chair as Trick climbed up onto the table, the thin dress she wore sliding over her curves as she moved. The pegasus stallion next to me jabbed me with an elbow.

“Buy-in’s ten bits.”

I opened my saddlebags and floated the required fee out onto the table. The griffon deftly snatched them up before pushing a pile of chips my way. “Enjoy your game, sir.”

I nodded, organizing the chips before me like Storm had taught me to. My heart clenched briefly as I thought of my crew, but I pushed it aside. Now was not the time.

Trick began to dance, much to the delight of the stallions at the table. Another hand was dealt, and I took a peek at my cards. A seven and a two, unsuited. Great.

Worse yet, I had the big blind. I pushed a solid tenth of my chips into the pot, grumbling to myself inwardly.

The unicorn mare cleared her throat. “So, what brings you to the Outer World, newbie?” She levitated a few chips forward.

I shrugged. Luckily, I had worked out my story ten minutes ago. “I like going where other ponies haven’t gone, and I don’t really have any ties in Equestria.”

She nodded as the griffon dealt the flop. Nothing good, of course. Though there wasn’t really much I could hope for with the hand I had. I tapped the table with a hoof. Check.

The pegasus nudged me again. “How’d you find the Baron?” He folded, leaning back and focusing on Trick’s barely veiled flank as he puffed on his pipe.

“I think it’d be better to say that he found me,” I said. Some nods of appreciation went around the room, accompanied by the restless clicking of chips.

“Former slave, then?” the blue-coated unicorn asked. The griffon slid the turn onto the table. No luck with that card either.

“Yeah, you could say that,” I said. I ran a hoof through my mane. I had nothing in this hand. Yet, I still felt confident that I could win. Bluff like Silver does. I leaned forwards as if I had seen something interesting, levitating a small pile of chips forwards.

By now, most of the table was more interested in Trick’s body than the cards. Three of them had simply folded, contenting themselves with the recusant dancing before them.

The green stallion folded, joining his companions in the ever-popular task of eyeing the swaying mare. Only the unicorn stayed in the game with me, looking at her fellow lieutenants disapprovingly as she called my bluff.

Out came the river. A two. My hand now summed up to a grand total of a pair of twos. I pushed half of my chips forward, struggling to keep a straight face. Silver always told me I was too easy to read.

“So, what’re your names?” I asked, hoping the small talk would keep my face from revealing any information about my cards.

The stallions at the table didn’t seem to hear me, too engrossed in Trick’s dance. One of them reached out a hoof to pull at her dress, and she kicked him away coyly. The unicorn mare, to my chagrin, called my bluff. My little pair of twos didn’t stand a chance against her full house.

She reached out to scoop the pot from under Trick’s legs. “Don’t worry about names just yet, newbie. We’ll introduce ourselves next week, if you’re still alive.”

I gulped. Well, okay then.

Another hand was dealt. I had a queen and jack suited. I failed to stifle a little smile. Better. Reluctantly, I paid the small blind and pushed some extra chips forward to stay in the game. I looked down at my pitiful little pile regrettably. How am I supposed to stall for Trick if I can’t even survive three rounds?

We continued to play in silence, with all but one of the stallions once again folding so they could focus on the dance. By the time the griffon dealt the river, I was feeling pretty confident with my hand. I had a flush. Unfortunately, the unicorn mare had used her winnings from her last win to outbid me. I would have to go all-in if I didn't want to fold. Risk it? I narrowed my eyes at her.

Trick suddenly spoke up. “Hey, sweetums, you runnin’ outta chips?” she asked me. I looked up at her, surprised by the question.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said.

She stepped off the table, inspiring a slight moan of dissatisfaction from the watching stallions, and slid up to my ear. “Why don’t you bet me instead, then?” she whispered loudly.

My ears twitched. Thank Celestia I’m wearing something. I looked around the table. “Are you guys okay with that?”

The bronze stallion, who was also in the hand, nodded enthusiastically. “Yessir, Ah’ll take that deal!”

The unicorn rose out of her chair. “Hey, wait! That’s not fair, I’m not interested in her!”

The other stallions rose their voices, quickly talking over her as they expressed their approval of the new betting chip.

“Let ‘em do it!”

“It’s fine!”

“I wanna see what she can do!”

The mare glared at her opponents before spitting on the floor in disgust. “Fine! Fine! Be that way. I’m out of this one.” She tossed her cards away spitefully.

That left me and the bronze stallion. He narrowed his eyes at me with such complete, savage bloodthirstiness that I found myself slowly sliding under the table. In the background, the zebra continued to play her harp. Trick probably wants me to lose this anyways, I reasoned. I valiantly folded.

My competitor broke out into a wide grin. “Hah!” He laughed. “The mare is mine!”

Trick walked around the table, her hooves clopping loudly in the stallion’s anticipating silence. She reached out with her neck and, ever so softly, bit the bronze stallion behind his ear. He visibly relaxed, snorting with pleasure.

“You’re comin’ with me then, big boy.” Wrapping a seductive wing around the stallion’s trunk, she gently led him towards a door in the far wall. She opened it, revealing a simple bedroom on the other side and, with one last flutter of her eyelashes, disappeared them both within it.

The unicorn mare stomped a hoof on the table angrily, snapping the remaining males out of their envious reverie. “Hey! Control yourselves, for fuck’s sake! I’m tryna play a game here!”

The moaning had been going on for half an hour straight now.

I was sitting on the floor in the curtained off section of The Baron’s Keep, leaning against the wooden wall as I divided my attentions between the ongoing card game and the constantly vibrating door. I looked down at the bottle of vodka in my hooves idly. The other lieutenants had decided to order a round of drinks, and I hadn’t wanted to look like some soft Equestrian and blow my cover, so I’d ordered the only drink I knew: Stalliongrad Swan Song. Cleaver’s vodka. Luckily, I’d been having trouble drinking it and, despite half the bottle being empty, I still wasn’t even slightly buzzed.

I raised it to my lips, hoping to take a sip, but was rudely interrupted by a loud banging from the other side of the wall. The bottle swayed uncontrollably, spilling more of its insides into the little puddle it had already made on my lap instead of my tongue.

Luckily, nopony else noticed. With the exception of the unicorn mare, who was still futilely trying to keep the game going, everyone was focused on the commotion inside the nearby bedroom. Except the griffon and zebra. Whether from a lack of interest or an excess of discipline, they stalwartly kept to their respective tasks.

Finally, the bedroom fell silent. All of the stallions hurriedly turned their attention back to the game. Some of them abandoned their eavesdropping positions and returned to their seats at the table. When Trick emerged from the bedroom, mane slightly ruffled and dress somewhat dirtied, it almost looked like they had actually been playing poker the whole time.

She walked by me without a word, running her tail over my muzzle as she passed. My ears twitched. Climbing to my hooves, I set the vodka down and turned to follow her, trying to ignore the jealous stares I felt boring into my back. Bunch of horn dogs, is what they are.

We soon found ourselves outside of the tavern and back into the rain. As soon as the door closed, she shook the dress off and pulled a brush out of her saddlebags, running it through her disheveled mane.

“What was all that about?” I asked.

She began to walk towards the nearest alley, and I followed. “Just needed to incapacitate somepony for ya to impersonate,” she explained.

I frowned. “Incapacitate? You had sex with him!”

She looked back, grinning. “Yeah. I call that one the Balmer Series. He won’t be getting up for at least six hours.”

“What? But what was the point?” She stopped walking, turned to face me, and sat down. We were in the alleys now, out of sight from the street.

“So he couldn’t interfere. Here, put these on.” She reached into her bags, pulling out a nametag, wallet, shoulder patch, and badge. She held them out to me one by one, and I grabbed them with my magic.

I looked at them awkwardly. “Uhm…” I began.

She rolled her eyes. “For blood’s sake.” She pulled me closer, picking a needle and thread out of her mane. I stood there silently, trying not to look at her disconcertingly close face as she worked with my barding. After a few minutes of fussing, she stepped back.

I looked down. The patch newly stitched onto my shoulder displayed the image of a crossed horn and wing. On my chest was a badge of a black pony on a red background, rearing up, and the nametag had the name “Apple Waffle” printed on it.

I looked up, mouth already open for questions, and found the wallet being held aggressively close to my face.

“Here,” Trick said. “This is you. Head towards the warehouse and pretend you own it.” She flared her wings, bending her knees in preparation for takeoff.

“Wai- wh- why!?” I raised a hoof to protect my eyes from the dust she kicked up as she flew away. I looked after her, lost and confused. What the fuck?

I sighed. Only one thing to do now. Not yet familiar with the alleys of New and not wanting to get lost, I retraced our path to the street. I closed my eyes briefly as I reviewed my mental map of the city. The Jackal’s district is… northeast.

Looking up to the nearest skydock, still swarming with airships even at this hour, I set off for my new destination. There were black-caped griffons everywhere, eyes peeled for trouble. There was a patrol on every street corner. This close to the border of the Baron’s district, there would be a curfew in place, but my patch and badge seemed to excuse me from it. Some of them even raised a talon into a casual salute, and I responded with a polite nod as I passed.

It’s too quiet in this city…

Turning a corner, the checkpoint between the Baron’s and Jackal’s districts came into view. There was a roadblock set up, stretching across the street and manned by both black-caped and red-capped griffons alike, each side leering at the other suspiciously. I slowed down, uncertain of what to do.

Suddenly, I felt a tug on my collar. I opened my mouth to shout, but the hoof over it only let strained mumbles through. The hooves turned me around, and I saw Slick’s dark brown eyes looking into mine.

“What are you doing!?” he hissed.

“I’m going to the warehouse!” I whispered defensively.

“Through the checkpoint?”

“Well, ye-“

“Are you crazy?” He shook me for extra emphasis.

I pulled myself away from him. “Well, why not? Aren’t I some type of officer or something?” I gestured at my badge.

He sighed, putting a hoof to his forehead. “No, no, no. Well, yes. But you can’t go through the checkpoint.”

“But why not?”

“Because they’ll catch you! You’re not supposed to be here. Or over there, either.” He looked around suspiciously, checking to see if any of the guards that patrolled the alleys were nearby.

“I thought I was an-“

“Yes, but the Jackal and the Baron are not friends!” he interrupted. He narrowed his eyes as he looked off into the middle distance. “They are enemies.”

I took an incredulous step back, confused. “But then, why am I disguised as-“

“Because nobody is supposed to know about this whole thing,” he explained.

My brow furrowed with bewilderment. I shut my eyes tight, taking a few seconds to try and figure things out. “But isn’t that what the disguise is for?”

He sighed the sigh of a professional working with a foalish amateur that couldn’t even understand the plan. “No. No, that’s not right. You, like disguised you, are not supposed to be there either.”

My ears twitched as I worked it all out. I perked up. “Oh! So I still need to be sneaky!”

He smiled, nodding. “Yes, that’s it! Stick to the alleys.” He flared his wings, and I my eyes widened as I recognized a pegasus about to take off.

“Wait, stop!” I jumped on him, knocking us both into the mud.

He pushed me off and climbed to his hooves, looking over his mudstained outfit with disgust. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“I don’t know these alleys,” I hissed.

“Ugh,” he sighed. “Fine. Listen up.” He closed his eyes briefly, tracing out a mental path through the alleys with a hoof. “Go right, then left, left, right, right, up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, back, across, right, right, straight, up, across, down, left, right, straight, and corner. Got it?”

I blinked.

“Okay, great!” He flapped his wings, and he was gone.

I blinked again. Looking up to the night sky, I raised a muddied hoof to block the drizzle.

“What?”

I breathed a sigh of relief as, cresting the angled roof of yet another building, the warehouse finally came into view.

Squinting, I scanned the area around the structure. A wide street surrounded it, making it the only building I’d seen in this city that wasn’t suffocating under the weight of its peers. Sizeable patrols of griffons led by winged gargoyles, or wahrgoyles as the recusants called them, guarded every entrance. A small tower in the center of the building lit up the dark streets with a collection of fiery spotlights, and a line of steel obstructions spread across the courtyard prevented any unwanted vehicles from approaching the main entrance.

I ran a nervous hoof through my mane. The warehouse wasn’t the sort of building to be trifled with.

I felt a hoof tapping on my shoulder and jumped, twisting around.

Pick was crouching behind me, black stripes painted on his face. “What took ye so long?”

“I got lost in the alleyways. A few times,” I explained.

He cocked his head. “I thought Slick gave ye directions?”

“He gives terrible directions!” I hissed.

He waved me away defensively. “Okay, okay. Ye know the plan?”

“No, I don’t know the plan! Nobody ever told me anything!”

“Ey, ey, calm down. Ye gotta get me in there ta meet our contact.”

“Contact? What contact? When did we get a contact?” I asked. I ran a hoof through my mane again, shaking my head incredulously.

He peeked over the roof again, scanning the warehouse and its surroundings. “Listen. Ye’re here on a secret deal. Ye’re gonna exchange me fer some of the Jackal’s gems.”

“Wha-“

He put a hoof to my mouth, shushing me. “No time fer questions. We’re behind schedule already. Follow me.”

He trotted to the edge of the rooftop and jumped into the alley, bracing his hooves against the constricting walls to slow his descent. I followed, looking down after him reluctantly. Scraping my hooves against the walls like that looked like it would hurt.

I hopped off the rooftop, clumsily sticking my limbs out and sliding down in a sort of sideways half-tumble. Holy fuck, it does hurt! With a strangled yelp, I landed face-first in the mud.

“Yeegh, gross.” I climbed to my hooves, shaking some of the clingy mud off, but most of it stayed stuck to my coat. Pick beckoned to me from where he stood deeper in the alleys, his black clothing and body paint making it hard to pick him out amongst the shadows. I nodded, and together we made our way through the intricate network.

“Why are we doing this?” I asked.

“Cause I need a wey to get in,” he responded.

“What about Slick and Trick?”

“Trick will talk ‘er wey in. Slick is, well, slick. Don’t worry ‘bout ‘em.”

He suddenly stopped, blocking my path with his body as he stood at alert. Slowly, he raised a hoof to his mouth, signaling for silence. I strained my ears, and just barely picked out the sound of someone splashing through the muddy alleys ahead of us.

He carefully positioned his wing over the sheath strapped to his side and, taking care to not make a sound, drew a long and curved black dagger. He tiptoed forwards, turning the corner ahead of us and out of my sight.

A minute passed in relative silence. Only the occasional sound of griffon wings overhead and the quiet splash of a guard in the alleys broke the calm.

The sound of racing hooves sprang into being, shortly followed by a brief shout and a strangled groan. Pick poked his head out from around the corner and beckoned to me. I followed, and was treated to the sight of a red-capped griffon, bleeding out into the mud.

“You killed him!” I hissed.

Pick looked to me curiously, cleaning his blade on the griffon’s feathers. “Well, ye, I did.”

“Why did you kill him?”

“Was in our wey. Had ta be taken care of.”

“But you didn’t have to kill him. You could’ve, I don’t know, choked him out or led him away or something!” I protested.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Ye, I guess I coulda. Jus didn’t occur ta me. This is quicker and easier enyways. Now c’mon.”

He trotted away, and I had no choice but to follow. Still, I was careful to walk around the griffon’s corpse. I didn’t want any blood on my hooves.

We soon reached our destination. Pick peeked around the corner briefly, squinting, before turning back to me.

“Now remember,” he said. “I’m yer prisoner. Yer here fer gems. Ye don’t care what they want wit’ me, and yer not supposed to be here. The guard in front of the door there is expectin’ ya, but thas it. Don’t let enyone else see ya, and stay in character!”

I nodded, preparing myself. Pick pulled a rope and a set of hoofcuffs out of nowhere, quickly tying a noose around his neck and slapping the cuffs onto himself. He bent down and rubbed his face in the mud before signaling for me to proceed.

Grabbing the noose’s lead in my magic, I stepped around the corner with feigned confidence. Before me was one of the streets that surrounded the warehouse, and on the other side was a simple door with a pair of griffon guards. One of them was sound asleep, and the other was eyeing the alleys nervously. He jumped when he saw me and, glancing up and down the street one more time, beckoned to me furiously.

I trotted forwards briskly, crossing the street in the span of a few seconds and stopping before the fidgety griffon. He examined my nametag, badge, and patch briefly before breaking into a wide smile.

“Hey. So you’re Apple Waffle? I imagined you being more… country,” he said.

“Heh, yeah. Ah get that a lot,” I said. I did my best to improvise a southern accent.

“What happened to you? You look like you got in a fight on the way here.” He poked at my cloak curiously, pointing out the mudstains that had accumulated over the past couple hours.

“Uh, nothing. Nothing. Ah just tripped, is all. Are yo- y’all gonna let me in?”

He jumped into action. “Oh, right. Right! Yeah. Go ahead and check out the gems. I’ve got ‘em laid out for you. Take ‘em and leave the recusant tied to one of the shelves.”

He nodded, more to himself than me, and opened the door with a bronze key. I stepped through, pulling Pick after me. The griffon kicked him as he passed, and he made a big show of stumbling over the threshold.

The traitorous guard closed the door behind us, and Pick quickly slid out of the noose and cuffs. They weren’t even small enough to stay on his hooves unless he spread his legs out. He scanned the dimly lit warehouse interior, squinting.

“They should be here. C’mon, follow me,” he said. He trotted away on sure hooves, and I took in my surroundings as I followed.

The warehouse had a very basic design to it, being nothing more than a large rectangle. Starlight shone through the skylights spaced across the ceiling, providing all of what little light there was. Row upon row of wide crates and barrels were stacked on top of eachother, splitting the room into a grid of pathways, all branching off of a larger one that stretched through the middle of the room.

Pick led the way to the main path and glanced down both sides. He quickly ducked back, and my ears twitched as they picked up the sound of hooves and talons approaching in tandem.

“Oooh, you’re so sweet, and just the cutest feathered friend I’ve ever seen. What kind of things do you keep in here?”

“Oh, hehe, y’know. All sorts of stuff. Hey, have you ever held an Equestrian gemstone? I can get you one.”

“Aww, that would be simply amazing. C’mon! I wanna see them!”

Trick skipped into view, leading a flustered griffon as they walked down the central path. She picked us out from where he hid in the shadows and winked at us, but the griffon was too caught up in his fantasies to notice.

“Hey, you wanna do me a favor, baby?” Trick asked.

He grinned. “Sure! Anything.”

She smiled at him coyly. “Then close your eyes. It’s a surprise.”

The griffon wasted no time, obediently closing his eyes in trembling anticipation. Trick didn’t waste any time either. With one smooth movement, she reached out and snapped his neck.

Gently, she lowered his lifeless body to the ground. “Good boy,” she whispered.

Pick smiled, walking up to his sister and pulling her into a quick embrace. “Ye’know how long till Slick arrives?”

She shook her head. “No. I think he’s arranging something else somewhere. An escape plan or something. Hey, what’s wrong with our unicorn?”

I’m stuck with a bunch of psycho murder-burglars, that’s what’s wrong! I was crouched in the dark, trying to keep myself from panicking. Two! That’s two now! Why do they keep pointlessly killing people? The Stygians weren’t like this; they only killed when they had to!

“You okay, partner?” Trick was standing over me, a distant cousin of concern in her eyes. She placed a kind hoof on my shoulder, and I twitched nervously.

I rose to my hooves, stepping out her reach. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said.

Picked walked over. “Ye still good fer the job?” he asked.

They’re just worried about the job. They don’t even care about me.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” I waved a hoof reassuringly. “It’s just… I wasn’t expecting you to just kill the guard.”

Trick cocked her head at me. She looked back to where the griffon lay curiously. “Wait, do you think we’re gonna do that to you?”

I scuffed at the floor nervously.

Pick laughed. “Please! We’re partners. We’d never betray a partner.”

“What about him?” I nodded my head at the corpse aggressively.

Trick shrugged. “He was an entry point, nothing more. Not a partner. A liability, if anything. Don’t worry, you’re safe with us.”

They walked away without another word. Apparently the matter was settled. I followed, hesitating by the griffon’s body. I cringed. She didn’t have to do that.

My ears twitched at a small, barely audible squeak above me. I looked up to see a familiar recusant closing a skylight panel behind him as he hovered beneath it. With a quick few flaps of his wings, Slick landed before us.

“Are we good?” he asked.

“We were just waiting on you,” Trick said.

He nodded. “Alright, great. Trick, we need two more boyfriends. Dissy, go with Pick.”

“My name is n- ugh, fine.” It doesn’t really matter anways.

I followed Pick as he walked towards the back of the warehouse. There was another room there, a smaller area in the corner sectioned off by a couple thick walls and an intimidating steel vault door.

Pick crouched before the door, pulling a small sheet of paper out of his collar. He looked to me expectantly. “Hey, kin I get some light over here?” he asked.

I walked closer, lighting up my horn for him. He squinted over his paper, mumbling to himself as he carefully rotated the a dial on the door. His ears twitched at the soft click that came from the other side, and he proceeded to the next part of the lock.

Within a few minutes, he had it cracked. The heavy door swung open ponderously, revealing the shiniest, most expensive collection of jewelry I had ever seen.

Three shelves lined the walls, with two more built in the middle of the room. Each one was crammed full of glittering gems. Sapphires, rubies, diamonds, emeralds, all the colors of the rare stone rainbow were represented.

“What does he do with all these?” I asked. I stepped into the room and spun around in awe, trying to take it all in.

“I dunno. E’s an arms dealer. I think ‘e uses ‘em for barter or investment or… something,” Pick said. “Help me unload these.”

Reaching into a small pocket on his shirt, he pulled out a carefully folded sack and shook it open. He looked to me expectantly.

“Oh, right.” The light brown magic of my horn was reflected a thousand-fold as I grabbed the gems, levitating them into the bag in groups of twos and threes. “Are these very valuable?”

He shot an appalled look at me. “Are ye stupid? They’re gemstones!”

“Well, yes, but you can find these practically everywhere in Equestria…” I trailed off, feeling like I was saying something completely stupid.

“Ye well, this inn’t Equestria.” He shook his head, muttering to himself. “Damn Equestrians…”

The bag was by then full to the brim with sparkling gems. He tied the top off and pulled out another. Once again, he held it open while I levitated our loot. With the help of my magic, we were able to fill six bags within twenty minutes.

“Okey, time to bail.” He grabbed a pair of bags and tied them together, sliding into them like a saddle. With visible strain evident on his face, he rose to his hooves and began to walk away. At the same time, I grabbed the remaining four bags with my magic, trying my best to keep them in one easy-to-manage bunch. They were heavy, and I almost couldn’t handle the load, but my horn had been strengthened from my time working the furnace under the Baron.

We made our way down the central path, stopping before the main entrance. Three large, wagon-sized doors waited in front of three similarly sized wagons. One of the wagons had a team of three wolves and a zebra strapped into its harness, with Trick slumped over the driver’s seat delicately.

Slick approached us, grinning. “Good! You got it. C’mon, load her up.” He grabbed one of Pick’s bags in his teeth, taking the weight off the tired recusant, and tossed it into the back of the wagon. Pick shoved his own bag in, and I levitated the remaining four in last.

I glanced over to the males strapped into the harness. “Who’re they?” I asked.

Trick looked back to grin at me. “Just my boyfriends,” she said. The wolves wagged their tails enthusiastically.

I bent my head closer to Slick. “Why are they helping us?” I whispered.

He grabbed me, pulling my eyes up to his. “You have no idea how good she is in bed.” He let go, leaving me off balance. I stumbled backwards, brow furrowed.

“How good could she be?” I asked.

“It’s my special talent, dearie,” the mare called back.

Slick tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, over here.” He led me to a stack of red barrels, labeled with yellow letters that spelled out CAUTION.

He pointed to them. “Get about ten or twenty of these. Put ‘em in the wagon. Then put five more in that garage over there.”

“Why do I have to do all the heavy lifting?”

“Because you’re not actually lifting anything.”

I followed his instructions, levitating some of the barrels into the back of the wagon and a few more into the garage area he had indicated, furthest from where our wagon was parked.

“Okay, you better get in the wagon,” Slick said. “This is where things get iffy.”

Pick held out a hoof to help me up, and I climbed into the back with him. It was a fairly large vehicle, designed for carrying trade goods across the Outer World. The deepest part of the wagon was dominated by the six brown sacks full of gems and the collection of red barrels. With the exception of a small space left for Trick to look back through, the entire back half of the wagon was full. My eyes widened as I noticed three crossbows piled together in one corner, next to a bucket full of bolts.

Pick grabbed one of the crossbows and loaded it, holding another out to me. “Here,” he said. “Ye’re gonna want one o’ these.”

I grabbed it in my magic, running a hoof through my mane. My heart was starting to speed up. What are we doing?

Slick hopped into the back of the wagon with us, pulling the tailgate closed. “Alright, everyone get ready,” he said. He grabbed the last crossbow and loaded it.

“Slick, what did you mean when you said things this is where things get iffy?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Well, I figured out how to get us in and how to get transportation, but this is about where I drew a blank.”

“What!?”

He leaned back, fidgeting with his crossbow. “Our escape plan goes something like this: drive this wagon out of the city. That’s it.”

“Oh, shit.” I sat down. My heart was pounding. Why couldn’t we stick to the first plan? The first plan was good! Sweet Celestia, save me!

Pick put a comforting hoof on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, e’s better with plans ‘e makes up on the spot. Less subject ta sudden changes, ye’know?”

Cleaver woke up.

He reached out a hoof, blindly searching his end table until it closed around a fresh bottle of vodka. He sat up, popping the cork on the bottle, and took a deep, long drink.

He sighed with satisfaction as the bottle left his lips, and grabbed the little clock that had been next to it. Marvelous things, those clocks. Didn’t have those in Equestria. Little gears everywhere instead of the magical devices he was used to.

He squinted down at it, struggling through his morning stupor to work out the time. His eyes widened. The sun doesn’t rise for another hour! Why am I awake?

He shrugged and put it back in its place. He would take advantage of the unexpected early morning by making a large breakfast. Something nice. He wasn’t sure about what to make yet, though. He needed some thinking time. Some drinking time.

Holding the bottle with one hoof, he walked out of his room with the three-legged gait he’d perfected many years before. He came out in the hallway that connected the six crew quarters Ember had carved out of the airship’s interior. Taking another sip, he walked into the lounge and up the stairs into the navigation room. It had been some noise that had woken him, he was sure of it. But what was it?

He climbed up the ladder to the roof. The roof was a good place to think. Quiet, and just him, his drink, and the stars. A good place to come up with a breakfast meal. He squinted slightly at the edge of the airship. He couldn’t see the city from here, as it was blocked from his view by the ship’s body, but the light rising up from the settlement seemed wrong. Off, somehow.

He walked up to the railing and looked down. He cocked a brow and took a ponderous swig of his vodka.

“Hrm.”

Why is that building on fire?

“Luna save me!”

I was having trouble breathing. I had to calm down. Calm down! Now! Why couldn’t I calm down? Because you’re about to die!

I almost fell as the racing wagon hit another bump. The rickety banging of the wheels was overpowering. I could barely think. I pulled myself up and looked back at the warehouse, rapidly shrinking in the distance as a team of griffons splashed the newborn fire with buckets of water.

The wagon turned, and I rolled sideways, powerless to resist the inertia. Pick was crouched behind the tailgate, loading his crossbow. He beckoned to me, and I desperately crawled to his side.

“What’s happening?” I had to shout to be heard over the wheels.

“Get ready! They’ll be sending some teams ta chase us!” he yelled back.

“What?”

I was flipped over by a strong hoof, and found myself face-to-face with Slick. “You can lift those barrels, right?” he asked.

I nodded. In my current state, coherent speech was out of reach.

He grinned wildly, and I closed my eyes in terror. I recognized that grin. That was Silver’s grin. The grin he grinned when he was about to do something terribly, terribly stupid and he knew it.

I opened my eyes again as I was pulled violently to my hooves. Slick pointed to the back of the wagon, and I looked to see a pair of smaller, open-topped wagons behind us. One was pulled by a chained up bear, and the other by a team of zebra. Both of them were occupied by bloodthirsty griffons and wahrgoyles, weapons drawn as they howled for our blood.

“Throw one of the barrels at them!” he shouted.

Stricken with fear, I rushed to obey. I squinted, having some difficulty focusing amongst all the noise and movement, and levitated one of the red barrels to my side. With a heroic effort, I tossed it out the back of the wagon.

It hit the ground and bounced, spinning through the air as it flew for the chasing vehicles behind us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pick raise his crossbow, take aim, and fire.

Boom!

The barrel exploded as the bolt hit it, engulfing one of the wagons in fire and sending the other veering off to the side as half of the zebra pulling it were killed. I stared in shock at the carnage. I didn’t mean to do that! I didn’t want to kill them!

Slick pat me on the back. “Good job!”

I transferred my stare to him, mouth open. “Good job? I just killed ten people!”

He nodded, smiling. “Yeah, good one!”

I felt Pick’s hoof poking at me. I turned to face him, and he nodded up to the sky. I followed his gaze. A flight of six griffons was flying above us, ready to dive down upon us.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Shoot ‘em!”

I looked down at the crossbow in my hooves. I had almost forgotten it was there. I looked up and shook my head furiously. “No, it’ll kill them!”

“Thas the idea!” Pick fired a bolt up into the air. With a loud squawk, one of the griffons fell out of the air.

Slick shot his crossbow, but his aim was thrown off as the wagon hit another bump. “You gotta shoot ‘em, Dissy! It’s them or us!”

I dropped the crossbow, curling into a panicky fetal position. This isn’t right! I can’t shoot them! Why is this happening to me!? I ran my hooves through my mane over and over, trying to calm myself.

I felt a hoof on my shoulder, and Slick bent down to talk to me. “I’m sorry, partner, but you have to take life if you want to make your own. That’s how it works in the Outer World!”

I peeked an eye out from under my hooves. He was right. I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to accept it. The Outer World was changing me, and it was changing me too fast and too much. I have no choice. I have to do it.

Climbing to my hooves, I shook myself. I can do it. I’m not some weak Equestrian. I can survive. I grabbed the crossbow in my magic and shakily rose the sights to my eye. There was three griffons left, and they were closing fast. Any moment now, they would land on the wagon and tear it apart.

I pulled the trigger.

The crossbow didn’t have much kick, but nonetheless, it felt like I was shooting myself more than I was the griffon. I watched as the griffon tumbled out of the sky. I had killed him. Another life lost. What is one amongst two dozen? Plenty others had died tonight anyways. What does one more matter? I’ll take my place in the chaos.

Pick cheered as he and Slick killed the last two. “Good shot, Dissy!”

I turned on him. “My name is not Dissy! It is Dissero, for fucks sake!”

He backed off, shaking his hooves defensively. “Alright, alright, gee.”

“Your name’s not Dissy?” Slick asked. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“I did!” I shouted. “I told you my name was Dissero the first time we met!”

He shook his head. “I didn’t hear you, sorry!”

“Then where did you get ‘Dissy’ from? Where did you get ‘Dissy’ from if you never heard me say ‘Dissero’?”

“I just thought you said Dissy, I’m sorry!”

Trick’s voice floated back to us from the front of the wagon. “You three stop arguing and get to fighting or I swear on Mother I will turn this thing around right now and we’ll all end up dead!”

We quieted down, each of us focusing on reloading our crossbows. A few mumbles drifted around, but nobody dared to challenge her out loud.

A few minutes later another wagon came onto our tail. We dispatched it just like we did the first two, with an explosive barrel and a crossbow bolt. I tried to not think of it as me killing them. I wasn’t the one shooting the bolt, after all. Every now and then another flight of griffons would appear from the fog, and I would help shoot them out of the sky. I tried aiming at their wings or legs, so as not to kill them, but I didn’t feel any better for it.

I didn’t like how easily I was shooting them, either.

The sun began to rise as we reached the outer perimeter of the city. We raced past the merc camps, and a few griffons stepped out of their tents to watch curiously. Thankfully, they didn’t try to catch us. It wasn’t their job. It wasn’t their place.

Slick dropped his crossbow and let out a wild whoop as we escaped the city. “We’re almost there! Once we get to the treeline and hide it there’s no way they’ll catch us!”

He and his brother shared an ecstatic hoof bump while I grinned weakly, breathing hard. I hated myself. I hated this world. I hated everything.

The trees engulfed us, and after another ten minutes the wagon rolled to a gentle stop. Slick and Pick hopped out, and I followed suit as they trotted to the front of the wagon.

The three recusant siblings embraced in celebration of their success, laughing. Trick turned to me.

“Hey, Dissero, you better head back to town. We’ll finish up here with hiding the cart and uh… tying up loose ends.” She winked at me as she said the last bit, nodding at the panting wolves and zebra that had pulled us throughout the chase.

I stepped closer. “What’re you gonna do with them?” I hissed.

She frowned. “You know what I’m gonna do. Same thing I do to all my boyfriends.” She lowered her voice. “We can’t let them snitch, or be caught. All the mercs in New have seen their faces.”

“Ugh! So why can I go back to town, then? Won’t they have seen me too?”

She shook her head, smiling. “Nah, you were in the back of the wagon. You had a black cloak on and were wearing that bandanna of yours. It was a foggy night. Nobody knows you.”

I closed my eyes, straining to keep calm. I didn’t want to break right in front of them. I had to fight the urge to fall to my knees and cry. How could I have killed so many?

“Fine,” I said. I turned back towards the city and began to walk away, ears down. I would head back to The Hub and take a nap. Or cry. Or maybe try my hoof at getting drunk. Whatever. Maybe Exe knew something that could help.

“Meet us at our hideout in a couple days!” Slick called after me. “There’s still a little more to be done before we’re finished!”

I heard him, but I didn’t respond. I walked on in silence, lost in thought. Colonel’s warning was coming true.

Author's Notes:

Phew, that was a long one.

Comic relief chapter, yay! Even though there's still a kinda dark undertone here...

There's two big references I put in. One is a physics joke that requires some decent knowledge of nuclear physics. The other is a gaming joke, and any real gamer should get it. Unless you're one of those young 'un modern gamers. You might not get it, because you're uncultured, y'know?