Rarity tapped her toes impatiently, glancing at the gathering crowd around her. Her eyes turned back to Spike, next to her, as he continued messing with his transmitter. He didn't appear to be having any more luck since speaking with Pinkie.

Her heart racing erratically, Rarity tried to find something to distract her. But as it had gone for the past twenty minutes or so, she was having no luck.

The same question played in her mind, again and again: Were Jack and Dash alright?

The strange, panicked message from Jack had broken the spell of peace Spike had brought with him. Now he was desperately trying to restore the signal to find out what--if anything--had happened to their friends.

In the meantime, the pair had taken a secluded seat on the far side of the mansion’s auditorium, where the entirety of the party was gathering in preparation for the main event. The First Royal Auction.

Amongst the rainbow sea of frilly dresses and the tidal rocks of black suits that appeared here or there, they had had no luck in finding Twila, or that boy Nate. Rarity didn’t know what Twila’s plan was, but between her disappearance and Jack’s strange transmission...

She wanted them all to get the List and get out, as soon as possible.

“Spike...” she whispered for the hundredth time. “Any luck?”

“I’m working on it, I’m working on it,” he quickly said, swiping at the tool. “If I could just get some Goddamn reception though this piece of crap.”

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get them, Spike. I know you will.” Lightly rubbing at the nape of his neck, she added, “You just need to calm down, keep your head.” She admitted, “We both do.”

Rarity’s action would have normally turned him into a stuttering, beet-red mess. But right now he was too focused on the job. “I wasn’t expecting them to trip an alarm. I thought our schematics were bulletproof. That’d it be an in-and-out job.” He bit at a knuckle. “Damn,” he whispered, swiping at the screen yet again. “If her or Dash got hurt...”

“I’m sure they’re fine--you know that pair, dear. Yes, they can get themselves into all sorts of trouble. But they can get themselves out just as well.”

“We haven’t had radio contact since I guided Jack towards the vault doors--between the alarms and the guards chasing her, I...” He couldn’t find any words he hadn’t already said, so he trailed off into worried silence.

The tell-tale voice of Jack cut through from his phone, hard and uneven thanks to the static, but at least intelligible. “--of ‘em on the way!” she called out, presumably towards someone. He heard a small beep, signifying her earpiece was pressed down. “Drake! Can ya close the shutters ta the Goddamn vault?”

“She’s alright!” Rarity breathed, clapping her hands together.

Spike looked close to crying in relief. He glanced at Rarity with a sickly smile, then briskly nodded towards the screen, even though he knew Jack couldn’t see it. “I opened them, odds are I can reverse my steps to shut it. It’ll take just a few minutes.”

“I don’t think we got a few minutes,” her voice grew quieter as she continued to talk not directly into the mic. “Any of y’all got more bullets?”

Spike ran a hand through his hair as Jack continued to talk away from the mic; the man could only pick up a few words at a time. He swallowed, just as another beep came over his phone, alerting him of a direct message towards his system.

“Drake! Any sort of weapons locked up in display?”

He spared a bewildered glance once more at Rarity, then ran a finger over his system, pulling up an inventory list. “There’s gotta be at least--ah! How about a blade once carried by King Pyth?”

“Whatever’s fine--where is it?”

He mouthed an expletive, bringing up a small map of the area. “If you’re entering the vault, farthest left aisle, very last exhibit.”

She spoke once more away from the mic--Spike covered his own. “What the hell is going on? S-she isn’t going to try a sword against the guards, is she? That’s suicide!”

Listening close, Rarity pushed down the knot of fear that had been growing in her stomach. “Isn’t there anything you can do to find out more, Spike?!” Some of the nearer crowd members were giving her odd looks, so she lowered her voice but not her urgency. “Anything at all?”

He threw his hand across the screen, then tapped a button at the phone’s side, bringing up a holographic projection of a keyboard. He tapped dozens of keys, squinting his eyes shut in thought. “If there is, I don’t know what. Only thing I can do is shut those doors as fast as I--”

There was a few pops from Spike’s speaker. Gunshots.

“Elondrie...” Spike waited, staring almost desperately at his screen.

“I ain’t sure if this thing can cut butter, Drake,” Jack said.

Tension relieved, he let out a breath, feeling weak at the knees. “Stetson--that thing’s cut car engines before. Might not look like much--functional blades never did back in the day.”

A small, red exclamation point appeared on the corner of the screen. Spike enlarged it with a pinching motion.

“She broke through a display case. We’re hot now,” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Well, hotter, I guess. Cops’ll be involved now, if they don’t hustle.” Spike threw that notification to the side, looking instead over a river of numbers that seemed to rain across his screen. “Alright. I’m in on the system, looks like I shouldn’t have a problem reversing it. I just--” His eyes widened. “Not now! I’m losing reception again!” He frantically swiped across the phone, leaning desperately towards the screen. “OK, OK.” He held down a button, wincing as he heard the static overtake the transmission. “It’s reversing--get inside! It’ll be closing in--” Another hard blast of static. He clutched the tool, lifting it with a scowl and standing, only barely stopping himself from throwing it across the room. “Damn! They’re gone.” He sank back to his seat, putting his elbows onto his knees and staring down at the floor. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about this--I should've stayed wired.”

A grim look on her face, Rarity said, “They’re still alive--we know that much now. They’ll get through this, Spike.”

“You’re right.” Spike weakly smiled, offering his hand to her. “Thanks, Rarity. As long as they’re alive, nothing’s going to stop them.”

She took his hand in a firm grip, giving him a smile more confident the she felt. Somewhat relieved in knowing Jack and the others were at least alive, she remembered that they weren’t the only ones in trouble. “Now if we could only get some confirmation on Chylene...and Elondrie only knows where Pinkie went.” She shook her head sadly. “I hope I didn’t send Chylene to...to...be violated by that bastard. I don’t know if I could take that kind of guilt, but what choice did we have?”

Spike shook his device once more half-heartedly, then put it to the side, turning to face her completely. “We’re all having to make hard calls here. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” His expression darkened. “But if, if Chylene was... he’s not going to get away with it. We’ll be sure of that.”

Giving him a wicked grin, Rarity replied, “It’s a date.”

The young man laughed quietly. “A date...” he said to himself with a small, unbelieving shake of his head. Sure, Rarity didn’t mean it like that, obviously, but the word still stirred something in him. He hadn’t felt such a strange mix of emotions in his lifetime. A deep dread for his friends’ well-being, all the frustration of their plans going wrong, the tense feeling that they were going to get caught...alongside floating on cloud nine at the same time as he looked towards the violet-haired beauty sitting almost painfully close to him.

Looking at her watch, Rarity tsked, saying, “And where on earth could Twila be? You sure you didn’t hear anything from her?”

“Positive. I’ve been looking at my coms since Jack tripped that alarm.”

Biting her lip, the tailor unconsciously scooted closer to Spike. “We may have another hard decision ahead of us, Spike. If that alarm brings the trouble we expect...” She raised her hands in exasperation. “We might have to leave without her, especially if Chy is successful.”

Spike was about to protest, but instead deflated. “The girls would fight you tooth and nail over that, but I know what you mean.” He stared hard up at her eyes. “But that’s a last resort. We’ll do our damndest to not leave anyone behind.” The man moved his hand forward, then gave a hesitant rub to Rarity’s shoulder. “I’m sure we can think of something.”

“Hopefully Twila already has,” she said, though still unsure.

“Probably has planned two or three times by now,” Spike reassured, doing his best to comfort her. “A plan, then a plan for if that plan doesn’t pan out--it’s just like with her lists.”

Despite her worries, Rarity gave a small laugh. “Too true! If anyone can be counted on to the absolute last, it’s her.”

“So don’t worry,” Spike said, partially to himself. “We can count on her.” He gave a small, nervous smile Rarity’s way. “And maybe after this, I could cook dinner for you. Grilled honey-rosemary chicken. I remember you loving that dish.”

“That would be delightful. I know just the wine to pair with that. Oh! And a wonderful raspberry cream tart for dessert.” She gave Spike a kiss on the cheek. “My boutique--that is a date!”

He blushed heavily, looking towards her as shy as a schoolboy. “Shame the wine’s still off-limits for me for a bit longer. Twila would kill me--she’d kill me twice, I’m sure.” And she’s going to kill you for this business with Rarity too, he added mentally.

Waving a hand at him, she replied, “Oh please. Nothing wrong with a glass during dinner. Besides, what she doesn’t know won’t kill her.” She winked at him, adding a little heat to the gesture. “It can be our little secret, darling.”

“Deal,” he conceded quickly, once more breaking into an open-toothed smile. “You’re a fantastic negotiator.” Or I’m already whipped. Maybe a bit of both.

“Give a little, get a little, Spike,” she stated matter-of-factly. “A little generosity goes a long way towards achieving your goals.”

Through all the hustle and bustle of the party life, a high pitched chirping cut above the rest of the din. It sounded as if Rarity’s name was being repeatedly chanted like a mantra. Soon enough, Pinkie came out bouncing from the crowd, dragging along Chylene. “Rariiiiity!!!”

Her face lighting up instantly, Rarity forgot herself, rising and rushing past Pinkie to wrap her arms around Chylene tightly. “There you are, dear!” She grabbed the woman by her shoulders, pushing her to arm’s length and giving her a once over. “You seem OK. Oh, did he hurt you? You didn’t...” She looked left and right, lowering her voice to a whisper. “You didn’t have to...you know...with him, right?”

Chylene looked down slightly, her hair covering her eye. “He... tried.” She shook her head, then reached down into her dress and pulled out a manilla envelope. “But I got it anyway, so, it’s fine... I guess.”

“Y-you got it! You really did it, Chylene, you did it!” Rarity breathed. Relief and amazement flooded her. Her shoulders sagged some as the efforts of the entire night rushed into her. With their goal within their grasp... “We did it, girls. We’re home free!”

Spike rose, taking a few steps towards them. “Not all of us yet.” He moved to stand beside Rarity and glanced at Chylene and Pinkie. “Either of you seen Twila?”

Chylene opened her mouth to speak, but Pinkie beat her to the punch. “No, actually. It’s like she disappeared or something! I hope she didn’t, ‘cause that’d mean either A, she ditched, or B...” Her eyes widened. “She’s in trouble! And B seems far more likely!”

Spike rubbed at his mouth, then glanced towards Rarity.

Shrugging, she said, “She didn’t tell me anything except she had another plan. Then she disappeared with a nobleman named Nate. I suppose we just wa--?” Stopping, a thought occurred to Rarity. “Chy, dear,” she began calmly, “how exactly did you get the List?”

“Oh, um...” She stared at her shoes, folding her arms and almost squeezing herself. “I kinda... knocked him unconscious--”

“Yeah! He was all like ‘Grrrr, come to bed with me’, and she was all ‘No way, mister’ and then she slapped him and then knocked him down! And then I came down from the ceiling and landed on top of the fool!” Pinkie explained, nodding to herself, satisfied.

“I’m not sure how to feel about that,” Spike said, blinking. Rarity just stared. “But the fact you got what we needed to is all that matters. Now it’s just a waiting game for Twila and the girls.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Rarity said with a shake of her head, “but it might not be that simple, Spike.”

He crossed his arms, glancing to the side. “I think we’ve still got some time, Rarity. I mean, I don’t think he’d try to hunt us down right off the bat--I know I’d be a bit reluctant to admit I got beat up by a girl.”

“He might not, yes. But what about his guards? How long before they find out what happened?” She gestured at the crowd around them. “The auction is to begin any moment now. And who do they need for it to begin?”

There was a pause. Pinkie broke it very quickly. “Me!!!”

Spike opened his mouth, pointing at her, then, after a pause, shut it and let his hand drop down to the side. “N-no, Diane. Blueblood.” He scowled after a moment. “But we can’t just leave ‘em... even if it’s the smart thing to do now.” The young man’s expression softened when he glanced towards Rarity again. “Y-you guys go. You’ve got what you need. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for Twila, and hope to God Dash and Jack get back to me.”

Shaking her head more forcefully, Rarity said, “I don’t think you fully get why that’s not an option, Spike!” She waved a hand at Chy. “If they find out Chy knocked Blueblood out cold--and he’ll know she took the List--we won’t have time to wait around.” She pointed to the List in Chylene’s hands. “Think about what Twila would say about that. Our primary target.”

“Which is why I want you guys to go with it--Blueblood doesn’t know about me all that much. It’s not like I was lauded as a hero with you guys,” he said, a small bit of resentment in his tone. He quickly brushed it away. “If you guys leave with the List, I’ll sweep up the rest of the pieces. We’ll have our primary objective complete, and... I’ll know you’re safe.”

Rarity gave a small exhalation of frustration, then moved right next to Spike, leaning down next to his ear. She whispered, “If you think I’m taking that risk and leaving you behind, you’ve got another thing coming, mister.” Her tone softened. “Not only for myself, Spike--think what Twila would say to me if I let you do that.”

“Rarity...” he trailed off, not sure what else to say. “I...”

Louder, she asked, “What do you say, girls? Are we really going to leave Spike behind, alone, in enemy territory?”

“Nuh-uh! He should come with us. Either way, it looks like we’re going to have to leave at least one person, so...” Pinkie grabbed Spike, then started ruffling his hair. “The more the merrier, I say!” she exclaimed, Chylene nodding in agreement.

“Well that settles it, right, Spike?”

“Drake,” a country twanged voice called out from his phone. He let out a breath of relief, fumbling it out of his pocket and pressing a button.

“Reading you, Stetson. Damn connection won’t hold between all the channels since I moved. I’m having to retune and drop a couple every now and then. Thank God, you and Bolt are both OK, though... Right?”

The three girls held their breaths, waiting for a response.

A raspier voice promptly chimed in. “Oh yeah, fine, Drake. Not like we’re dealin’ with Goddamn zombies and shit.”

Spike spared a confused glance towards everyone, mouthing the word zombies. He dubiously continued. “Oh...uh... Sorr--did you say zombies?! N-nobody’s been bit, right?”

He continued to converse on the phone with an exasperated sounding Jack, as the girls talked amongst themselves.

“I’m sorry, but it sounded like you said zombies?” Rarity asked, quietly. “Did she finally take one too many apples to the head?”

“What kinda zombies? The slow, shambling ones that kill with one bite, or the really really fast ones?” Pinkie asked.

“B-But they don’t exist...” Chylene looked at everyone, biting her lip. “Right...?”

“Well, of course not, dear. It’s completely ridiculous,” Rarity scoffed. “Isabelle has been making you watch too many scary movies.”

“But movie night is the best night!” Pinkie shot back, pouting.

Spike seemed to flinch from his phone’s screen “T-the wall?!” he exclaimed. “How did y-- Nevermind.” He looked over a small list. “OK, next will be a bit problematic. It’s the clothing-slash-armor of an infamous Kvaat pirate, caught, tried, and executed by the royal family. Over in Kvaan, she is instead seen as something of a martyr. Giving that to them should secure their loyalties in our favor.”

“Yeah. That’s what we need--we need to deal with the fuckin’ Kvaats,” Dash grumbled over the comms as Drake continued issuing orders.

Chylene flinched at the mere mention. “Are you sure we need to, um, ‘deal’ with them?”

Putting a protective arm around the timid woman, Rarity consoled, “Don’t worry, dear. Dash learned her lesson the last time. She’d never let one of those brutes anywhere near you.”

“I dunno,” Pinkie said. “She was kinda funny--she found all my party surprises! I’m kinda sad how she just upped and left like she did.”

“She should have been run out of town on a rail!” Rarity sniffed. “Just letting her go, after what she did? Too good for her, if you ask me.”

Spike nodded, covering up the phone’s mouthpiece. “We have the stones,” he announced, then frowned. “Bad news is they’re going up against people on a pretty crazy drug, from what I can tell.” He let go of the phone’s speaker, just as Dash’s voice kicked in.

“Some of us don’t have forty pounds and a good half-a-foot on people, Stetson.”

Spike smiled slightly, despite the gradually increasing tension in the atmosphere. “They’re really an odd couple to me. She’s just so short and wiry compared to Jack--it’s a miracle the poor girl isn’t crushed sometimes.”

Giving him a slight elbow, Rarity directed a wink at Spike. “Oh, I don’t know, Spike. It doesn’t seem to faze them much, wouldn’t you agree?”

Pinkie and Chylene exchanged confused glances. Blinking, Diane pointed at the two of them. “So... you two are like a thing now?”

Heat flooded Spike’s face at the direct question, he seemed to grow even more intently focused on his phone, listening to every word, every letter that came onto his screen. “W-well...” He finally broke away, giving a pleading look towards Rarity.

“I don’t really think we have time for silly jokes, Pinkie,” she said evenly. Spike let out a hard breath in relief, just as another direct message came through.

“Drake?” Jack voice rang out.

“Yes?”

“Open the shutters. We’re goin’ through.”

He tapped a few times on his phone and nodded. “Should be dropping any time for you girls. Good luck.”

There was a moment of silence, broken by Rarity asking, “Well, Spike?”

He sighed, nodding. “We’ll just have to trust Jack and Dash to catch up. But we’re giving one more quick run on the grounds before getting out of here.” He lowered his voice. “That fair, Rarity?”

“More than,” she replied with a smile. “OK then, you heard the man. One last look on our way out, girls!”

“Let’s go, gang!” Pinkie cried, leading the charge.

The rest scurried to catch up to the enthusiastic baker, all the while keeping a close eye out for their missing friend. They moved as fast as they dared, while still giving each room a careful search. The mansion was almost completely empty, save for various servants cleaning up. All the guests had made their way to the auditorium by now.

As efficiently as possible, they circled from the foyer to the east wing, poking their heads into every room, closets and bathrooms included. They then circled back to the west wing, which had most of the larger rooms, and so took longer.

Finally, they returned to the end of their circuit, back in the auditorium. Guests stood or sat all over, enjoying late night conversation, checking bank statements in preparation, and being loosened by the staff with champagne and harder liquors flowing free.

They hadn’t found Twila anywhere.

“This is just getting odd now. She couldn’t have just turned invisible or something!” Pinkie exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.

Frowning, Rarity said, half to herself, “Did she really just abandon us?”

“No, that doesn’t seem like something she’d do,” Chylene replied.

“Which would mean that something happened to her!” Pinkie grabbed Rarity’s arms and brought her face to hers a little too closely. “What do we do?!” Rarity’s eyes bugged as she opened her mouth to speak, but remained silent in shock.

“We...” Spike bit his lip. “We...” He ran his hands through his hair, unwilling to say what needed to be said. “Goddamnit,” the boy said under his breath. “We’re going to have to leave her.”

“But! Wait—no, we can’t—” Pinkie frantically shouted, letting out a cry of frustration.

“You think this is easy for me?” Spike snapped, glaring hard at her. “You don’t think I know how you feel? If all of us end up here when shit goes down, this entire night, this entire job will have been worthless! She wouldn’t want that.” He briskly wiped at his eyes with an arm. “She wouldn’t want that,” he repeated.

Grabbing his shoulder, Rarity said, “You’re right, she wouldn’t. Real heroes make the tough choices, Spike. We’re with you.”

He stared up at her, on the verge of crying. He took her hand and lightly squeezed it, her delicate, silken palm keeping him from having a panic attack. Spike sucked in a breath and shut his eyes. For a brief moment, came harmony. He opened his eyes and gazed at the others. He wasn’t much of a leader--more of a guide at best. But he’d be damned if he was gonna let anyone else down tonight.

“Let’s go, girls. I’m sure Twila... I’m sure she just had something come up.” Like how Rarity had those thugs ‘just come up.’ What if Twila was in the same way? he asked himself, painfully aware he didn’t have an answer.

Feeling defeated, though their mission successful, the group forced their feet towards the doors that would lead them out. The List between Chy’s breasts weighed heavily, the fearful cost... She shook her head. Similar thoughts passed amongst the others. Where was Twila? Was she safe? It wasn’t fair, for them to escape unharmed, loot in hand, and her potentially trapped or hurt or...dead.

None of them were thinking that fate might plan on evening the odds.

“THIEVES!” a voice roared from above, silencing both the crowd and the music. “Don’t take another STEP, you insolent traitors! Guards!”

The group looked up to see Blueblood, his hair and clothes disheveled, a black eye glaring aside his normal at them. From the doors they had been walking towards and from a wall-side staircase came over a dozen of Blueblood’s private security. Before they could react, Spike and the girls found themselves surrounded by large, violent-looking men--the muzzles of their sidearms glistening and directed at them with lethal intent.

Pinkie growled in return, clenching her fists and directing all her frustration at them. “You’re the traitors, not us, you big dumb meanies! You ain’t gonna stop us!”

Spike slowly raised his palms up to his head, glancing at the armed men, the cogs in his head turning desperately, trying to think of anything that could get them out of this mess. “What are you talking about?” he bluffed. “Who’s a thief?”

Smirking, Blueblood replied, pointing his finger at Chylene, “That harlot there, whom I so graciously invited for a friendly drink in private, attempted to seduce me! When I proved too much for her limited prowess, she assaulted me. The dirty bitch attacked me from behind, knocking me temporarily unconscious. She then wasted no time in ransacking my room--and stealing something immensely valuable.”

“Your dignity? Because you didn’t have much of that to lose,” Spike replied, the quip already out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Rarity was right on top of him, her face twisted in rage, her voice pitched high. “You callous ass! Accusing Chylene of all people! No doubt to hide your own patheticness.”

Chylene herself seemed to be unaware of Blueblood’s insults towards her. All she saw were hundreds of eyes locked upon her, looking directly at her, judging her. Her breathing became quicker, in shorter bursts.

Blueblood recoiled at the insult, his face blotching with rage. “You dare make accusations at me? I should have you all shot where you stand!” As if in waiting, there was a wave of movement amongst the guards. Impossibly, they seemed even more intent on lethal action than before.

“So you mean to tell me a meek girl bruised you like that?” Spike asked, glancing about at the audience, hoping desperately for anything to stick at this point. “Seems surprising a featherweight could do that to a man. Doubtful, even. How can we know what you’re accusing is true?” He narrowed his eyes, continuing to play his part. “How do we know this isn’t an ulterior motive?”

A dirty grin split Blueblood’s face. “Easy.” He snapped a finger and pointed at a guard. “You--search the pink-haired one.”

“Don’t even touch me or—or...or I’ll snap and do something really bad!” Pinkie cried at the approaching guard.

He glared at her, shaking his head. “Not you, imbecilic child. The other one. And don’t be gentle.”

“Oh no you don’t!” Pinkie zipped across to stand in front of Chylene, standing firm, her expression steadfast. Chylene just held her head, further descending into her panic.

“This how you get your rocks off now? Having other people grope women?” Spike glanced once more at the crowd, doing his damndest to appeal to their better natures. “Is this how he treats esteemed guests? Bona-fide saviors of the country?!” He spat to the floor in disgust, leaving a wet mark on the marble. “I think we know who the real villain is here--who’s man enough to stand with me at this outrage?”

Much of the crowd stood, shocked and unused to such outbursts. A few threw glances back and forth, whispers trailing after. But none moved to help.

An outburst of laughter brought Spike’s attention back toward Blueblood. “You honestly thought someone of your limited means could appeal to your betters?” He waved a hand at the crowd. “I assure you all, I am justified. She must be searched. If I’m wrong,” he said, smirking, “I’ll personally apologize.” His eyes pointed daggers. “But I’m never wrong, you understand?”

“Which is why you’re borderline destitute and having to sell pieces that belong in a museum.” He crossed his arms and gave a defiant sneer that only teenagers could pull off with any conviction. “Or do you mean to tell me that you were right about those investments?”

Waving a dismissive hand, Blueblood replied, “Pah! Just because others fail to see my genius... As for the auction itself, have you forgotten, brat? Your Queen herself honored me as host. But the idea itself was hers. To fund the country’s recent peacekeeping ventures both here and abroad.”

It was the usual byline for the Queen’s new policies, used by every major news channel for months. But even still, there was the murmur of agreement through the crowd--many naively agreed with the statement. Spike gritted his teeth, knowing he had fully lost any chance to appeal to the crowd.

The boy began to sweat, any ideas he had at smooth talking his way through this gone and crushed under the man’s convincing lie. If he spoke ill of the Queen, they were hosed--treason wasn’t taken lightly, after all. “She’s using you. She’s using you like a butcher uses a cow. And you don’t even know it.” He swore inwardly at his slip-up. He wasn’t used to being the group’s voice by any means.

“Ah hah!” Blueblood cried. “Treason, if I’ve ever heard it!” He raised both hands, asking the crowd, “Now do you see? Is anyone here against my search, hearing those words?”

A few individuals looked as if they were, but the vast majority of the crowd either supported the search or apathetically stood, watching the situation with great interest.

“Remember this moment, people--when nobody stands up for you, you’ll know why,” Spike warned, glaring hard at the crowd.

The guards looked to their employer questioningly. Satisfied, he nodded once; a guard approached Chylene, holstering his weapon. In a low grumble, the man said, “If ya’ve got somethin’, give it. Don’ make it harder than it needs, girl.”

“You can have something, alright! My boot so far up your privates that you’ll be peeing shoe polish!” Pinkie cried, and with that swung her foot up right between the man’s legs.

With a practiced sweep of his arm, the man blocked her kick. Strong though it was, he was still stronger, being a professional. “That wasn’t too smart,” he said.

“Leave her alone!” Spike called out in warning, taking a step towards him.

Another guard lowered an arm in front of him. With one murderous look, he shook his head in a small negative. “Will you just fucking stop your hotheaded act and let us do our job? Or we will make you stop. Your choice, slick.”

Leaning in close, Rarity whispered, “Keep your head, remember, Spike?”

Spike scowled, but relented with a heated tsk.

“What the hell am I paying you for? Get on with it!” cried Blueblood.

“Yes, sir,” the first guard said. With a twitch of his head, he gestured to Pinkie. “Move or be moved.”

“Oooooor you could possibly help the poor woman behind me who’s clearly in distress?” Pinkie said, folding her arms.

“Not my orders,” he rumbled, uninterested. With absolute certainty, he moved a hand to Pinkie’s shoulder, gripping tight. “So move.” With a small grunt, he threw her to his right hard, sending her sprawling to the floor.

“Wait.” Chylene’s voice was quiet, but had an edge of firmness to it. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. “I’ll h-hand it over...” She spared a timid glance at her friends. “I’m sorry...” Reaching down her chest, she pulled out the envelope and gave it to the guard, her hand trembling.

The guard raised the envelope towards Blueblood. “This what you wanted, boss?”

“Keep that safe! It’s worth more than your life ten times over.” Turning his attention at Spike and the girls, he sneered. “Game’s up, children. Master Blueblood has been more than patient with you, but now it’s over!” He slammed his fists on the banister, screaming, “That envelope contains extremely sensitive information--royally sealed for the utmost secrecy and entrusted to me by the Queen herself. Trying to steal it is no less than an act of sedition against the crown. Once you are found to be the traitors you are, you will be executed--hung by the neck, I believe.”

Gasps and exclamations of disbelief spread through the crowd, but Blueblood pressed on. “As for your personal crimes against me, when the authorities arrive--and they are already on their way--I will see to it that whatever little you have to your name is destroyed in its entirety! Reputation? Possessions? Friends? Family? You will have nothing left when I am through with you!”

“...--ake...” came a faint voice in Spike’s ear, almost drowned out by the static.

He froze, letting Blueblood’s continued rant pass over him and listening intently as he stole a glance at everyone around him. “Hearing you,” he quietly whispered, doing his best not to even flinch his lips.

“Dra...” A painful buzz of static. Then clearer, “Drake! Are...ou... --ere?”

He recoiled, wanting to shout in surprise. “T-Twila! We’re in a tight spot,” he frantically whispered.

The signal was thin, the volume irregular. But he could tell--it was Twila’s voice. Her tone was steady, but urgent. “When is the...--xt... so--…--pse.”

“So... pse...” He mulled over the words. “So.. clipse...” Insight dawned on him. His mind went back to the pre-planning of this entire evening. How they had a cop out--an escape, armed and ready for their use.

“I have a question for you, Blueblood.”

Snarling, the noble replied, “I care nothing for what a criminal has to say. Save the questions for the police.”

The boy began to glower, his presence seeming to grow as he became more and more hot under the collar. “You’ll listen to me and you’ll listen to me now, you inbred, impotent son of a bitch!” Spike roared, stomping a foot and all but ignoring the raised guns pointed with intent towards his body. “When is the next solar eclipse?!”

His outburst, though honest, had distracted both Blueblood and his guards long enough for him to slip one hand into his pocket in search of his phone. Four moves, that’s all it took; tap, swipe, tap, pinch.

Before anyone could process Spike’s non sequitur question, the entire mansion’s lights went out, shrouding everyone in pitch black darkness.