By Coffeebean

“So, let me get this right, you want me to perform a job for you? After that little complication with P-L?” I asked, animating the manila folder placed in front of me and sticking to the acronyms that this client had requested be used. Drawing it near, I had a quick glance at the information within before closing it, waiting for the stallion sat across from me to speak up again.

“Well, whilst she was a little shocked with you bursting into her shower like that, she hasn’t given any indication that you’re to be dealt with. Heck, half of the guards think she enjoyed the experience. P-C was upset with you assaulting P-B-B...” he replied, still masked by the heavy brown robe he was wearing. I knew who he was, of course; he was Sir Duke of Canterlot, head of Her Majesty’s Armed Forces, knight of the realm, hero of the battle of Canterlot and a true professor of strategy and situational analysis. He’d also been a good mate of mine when we were in the guard together, although I had eventually left to follow a more... profitable career. As for P-C, or Princess Celestia as I’m sure you’ll know her better, that was a little complicated, and will be made more so later on by an experience with Luna, her sister.

“Well Dee, you know how much of an arse the guy can be. He tried to hire me once you know, wanted some filly disposed of after some upset at the Gala.”

Duke, or “Dee” only really came to me when he needed a job done. It was the same story with a good ninety percent of my clients, usually the job involved the complex and often stealthy assassination of those proving too difficult to be kept alive - bankers, highly respected merchants, criminals who stood no chance of conviction via the usual methods. The ponies with connections in all the right places, or wrong places, dependent on your point of view, I guess.

The job he was talking about at the moment however had been a very fun one, working on the training of the Castle Guard and Royal Protectorate, and any contract where I get to avoid taking a life is always a nice easy pay cheque. The “training” I had supplied had been a relatively simple exercise; get into Princess Celestia’s bed chamber and steal her crown, then escape and hand it in anonymously later - naturally, as the client, she knew that I was there for a reason and she had graciously allowed me to get away with the crown for a whole thirty seconds. Granted, she and I had been in the room together for a good couple of hours prior to the start of the exercise, and I’m far too much of a gentlecolt to tell you exactly what we did... But I will tell you that I hoped to “complete the set” at some point.

My name, for the sake of such things, is Chameleon. This is of course a nom de plume, a professional moniker and to be completely fair, I thought it sounded cool when I came up with it. The talent that earned me this nickname was one that had helped me evade a group of bullies at school at the age of ten; the focus of my magic as a unicorn was that of affecting my appearance, similar to the “Shimmer magic” employed by the guards and military, but not as drastic as the innate abilities of changelings.

I grew up in a rather large city to the northwest of Equestria named Manechester, it was a very green city, based partially within a forest, some three hundred miles north of Trottingham, where I attended boarding school with my brother. We both decided that military service was our best option, although he had three years and what at the time felt like a tonne more magical power than me. Sadly, he ended up shuffling loose the mortal coil around five years after I came into her Majesty’s forces, leaving behind a heavily pregnant wife who I still send money to, from time to time. I should probably remember to go visit her and the kid at some point...

There had been one or two “jobs” in the past that had required me to have my species changed, a very difficult and excruciatingly painful magical operation that required me to stay conscious throughout whilst my physical form was altered by an extremely powerful unicorn. In this case, with the client being the Equestrian government, that wouldn’t be a problem; although it would still hurt like hell, unless Celestia and Luna get involved.

“I assume you’re going to read and dispose of the intel in the folder following our agreed usual parameters. P-C has commanded that I ensure you understand the nature of the job in full, so I would like you to stay for a while to let me explain.”

I took a brief look around the decidedly shady drinking establishment. The Burning Lyre was not the sort of pub that offered a family friendly environment; usually I would have avoided it purely for the cliche of arranging assassination contracts in such a place, but the client had insisted. I knew that several of the rather large stallions stood at the bar were guards - a scar under the tail of one rust-coloured colt had identified him as Duke’s second in command, presumably he was not the type to watch strangers in the reflection of beer glasses hung behind the bar. Looking back at Duke, I agreed to stay for the explanation.

“Recently, there have been fits of ultra-violence within the city. I’m sure you’re aware of them, being the type to keep an eye on the news? Ponies going mad with blood lust, we had one perfectly sane stallion kill his parents and bake them into cupcakes - another tortured two children to death before meeting his own end. There have been others, but I shall spare you the rest of the details.”

This news had reached me, it’d have been hard to avoid the front pages of every news paper in Canterlot for the last six weeks even in if I had been in deep cover rather than a brief bit of R and R that I had been taking since the job up at the castle.

It had been blamed on a new drug on the streets called “Fury”; I had discovered that it was something that the gryphon clans had produced, made from the dust found on the underside of certain plant leaves. In small doses, it improved the users eyesight, and had become quite popular in academia until the side effect had been discovered - removing the need to sleep entirely in larger doses.

The problem with these “larger doses” was that they made the user hunger for blood. Unfortunately, this was quite often the blood of innocents.

“Don’t you usually have a contractor for these sorts of things, Dee? That Earth Pony in the bow-tie? With that gorgeous bit of pegasus traipsing after him?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He isn’t really suitable for this job.”

“You mean expendable.”

“Maybe I do. Regardless, you’re the best wet work asset in the business, Chameleon.”

“Please stop making cliches, it’s getting tiring. So you want me to get rid of a few drug dealers? Surely Snappy over there would be more suited for that sort of thing?” Duke face-hooved. He should have known that I’d be aware of his little bit of backup, and to be honest, I thought they’d have been better at it than sticking out like sore hooves. I saw Snapshot’s ears prick up before he copied Duke’s motion and went over to another booth with the five non-uniformed guards that had accompanied him.

Stupid bastard.

“Getting rid of the dealers wouldn’t solve the problem. They’re like weeds; you’d need to kill the root if you want to stop new ones from springing up. You need to kill the suppliers, if not the manufacturers.” I eventually said, having had a few moments of contemplation as to how I would deal with the issue.

“Which is where you come in.” Duke responds.

“Which is where I come in, of course.”

“What we need, is the head of one of the gryphon clans disposed of... specifically, the patriarch of the Whitefeather Mountain Clan; the foot of Whitefeather Mountain is where ninety percent of the crop comes from.”

“Fine, I assume he’s guarded, so it’ll be a little higher than the normal payment - one million bits directly into five different bank security boxes.”

“There is one more thing. We have a way for you to get in.”

“Yes?”

“The patriarch has a daughter. She was exiled for refusing to kill a childhood friend that had strayed into the clan’s airspace... naturally, we wish to sow the seeds of war between the clans. You’re going to need to become a gryphon.”

“Hmm, transfiguration magic again? You know that stuff is painful... Not to mention unreliable, you remember Manehattan, don’t you?”

“Of course, and we are very sorry that it ended up like that. This time however, P-C gives her personal promise that the spell would be permanent until your return.”

“Well, regardless, my costs have just tripled.”

“Deal.” Duke responded, sliding an envelope and a contract my way. I had expected the contract itself, and animated a pencil into signing it.

“Please, considering the nature of the contract, seal it inside the envelope.”

“...alright” I said, raising an eyebrow at this change of usual practice. Using my magic, I slid the sheet into the envelope and licked along the adhesive strip. It tasted weird, almost like a flavour that I knew from somewhere else... Exactly where I couldn’t be sure, because it felt like my brain was slowing down...

I managed to get to my hooves before the poison took hold, and I honestly thought I wouldn’t wake up, but I did - several hours later, aching from head to hooves and sat awkwardly on some sort of wooden chair.

As my senses returned to me and the pain dulled, the first thing I noticed was the weight of wings on my back. The melodic voice of Princess Celestia then filled my mind, almost like she had left a message there.

“Mister Chameleon, thank you ever so much for helping me to protect the citizens of Canterlot. It is ever so appreciated! My sister and I were able to give you a new body! Sadly, you won’t be able to use magic until you return and we change you back, but I’m sure you will find the opposable thumbs just as much fun!” her voice faded away for a few seconds, before returning, almost as if she had forgotten to give me important information.

“I don’t know if Duke told you, but there is a contact for you in Ponyville; I imagine you’ve dealt with him before and I suggest you start there when you begin your search for the patriarch’s daughter. When you can see, you will find yourself guarded. Wait until the anaesthetic has worn off fully, then you will need to escape, please don’t hurt the guards too badly! Hopefully a successful escape from the castle will help with the cover story Duke prepared for you - it’s in your saddlebag with the intelligence gathered for this mission. Good luck.”

Turning my head once my eyes got used to the light, I could see that I had a guard either side of me; they were obviously new to the job, having stood so close to their captive. Moving surreptitiously at my bonds, I felt a new sensation, being able to move parts of me that I hadn’t felt before. My escape being the primary objective, I decided to try and get the two guards to do something stupid.

“So lads, first time on prison duty?” I asked, looking at each one, standing at attention in their bronze armour. They tried to avoid looking at me, but the one on the left occasionally glanced over to his companion. I repeated the question, and the one on the right began to flick his eyes over at the one on the left. Eventually, their eyes met and moved down to me.

“C’mon, there are no rules about chatting to prisoners, I assure you I’m a nice enough chap. I’m just a little... down on my luck? What are your names? Surely that would be allowed?”

The one on the left eventually gives in.

“Alright, I’m Featherstone, he’s Leaf Sway... Would you mind being quiet? Please? We don’t want any trouble, we’re just doing our jobs.”

“You lads are with the protectorate aren’t you? I must be very important, if not dangerous enough to pull you away from guarding the princesses?”

“Yes.” Featherstone eventually replies. By this point, Leaf has began tutting under his breath.

“Ah, did they do that old hazing ritual? My old photo is probably on that board you know.”

Leaf finally breaks, laughing.

“A gryphon? In the guard?”

Oh, that’s right, I had forgotten that I wasn’t a pony anymore. Why is it that working for the government always involved me being drugged and having to escape from somewhere for the sake of maintaining cover? I realised that my wings weren’t bound. I wondered if this was done on purpose, but decided to run with it anyway.

“Alright, let’s change the topic of conversation. Who taught you lads knots? My wrist bindings are pretty secure, and I’m satisfied with the ones around my hind legs, but you forgot two rather important factors.”

“What did we forget?”

“Well, for a start, you tied my rather sharp claws close to each other, out of your sight and with what feels like incredibly cheap rope.”

They looked at each other again before checking my bindings. Leaf laughed again, seeing the knots still intact.

“I should also mention, that you didn’t bind my wings.” I finally said, coolly, as they checked again. Seeing both of their faces so close, I couldn’t help it. In one swift movement, I unfurled my wings, powerful muscles causing the feathery limbs to strike the two rookies in the face hard enough to knock them out cold - a lesson they won’t soon forget and will hopefully help them should a real prisoner be put into their custody.

Realising that I’m now on the clock, I quickly freed myself using my talons to cut the rope around my wrists and rear legs.

As I headed towards the door, I looked back at the two kids, feeling a little guilty. Fortunately they had landed in a way that wouldn’t have hurt them any more than the nicely bruised ego and thorough telling off they’d no doubt receive. Thinking about them being punished didn’t sit right with me, so I figured I’d need to track down Luna or Celestia before making good my escape.

I grabbed my saddle bag and pushed at the door, which swung open to reveal the guard captain with a key between his lips, obviously having just unlocked the door.

Grinning to myself at the convenience of this, I seized the startled guard by the edges of his chestplate before swiping his helmet off with single slash of talon as I raised his face to mine.

“Hello Snappy,” I started, my eyes staring into his as they changed colour, “The two lads back there were incredibly polite and upstanding guards. See to it that they’re not punished for my escape, even if it’s just to keep up appearances.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Seeing the wide frightened look in his eyes, I could tell that obviously he hadn’t been let in on this part of the plan. After the initial surprise, his eyes narrow and he tried to punch me with one of his forehooves wrapped in those damned armoured shoes. Normally this would have hurt - the captain was by no means a weak or small stallion, yet my new body seemed to be far tougher than it’s usual form. Cracking a smile, I smashed my forehead into his and threw him aside. Sadly, I didn’t manage to knock him unconscious, but he was dazed enough not to want to have a second attempt at trying to stop me. Laughing at having one upped the colt again, I trotted onwards and up the stairs out of the dungeon.

I found myself in a long corridor leading to the throne room of Celestia herself. Thankfully I appeared to have escaped during the changing of the guard onto the night shift, having noticed that it was dusk outside. A thought occurred to me - the guards were unaware of my escape as of yet, so why not pay someone a little visit?

It had been dusk the last time I tried to escape this place, and I knew the layout well enough, having served as both a member of the castle guard and as a member of the royal protectorate before retiring into self employment.

Smiling, I ran towards a staircase at the back of the hall and counted the doors as I passed them. I took the third set of double doors on the left and then continued down to a single wooden door on the fourth right. Oh yes, this was it - my chance to complete the set, finally here. Hearing hoofsteps from further back down the corridor, I fixed a cocky grin on my face and pulled the door open as silently as I could, closing and locking it on the other side.

I had always been impressed with how in touch with interior fashion Celestia was; I’d wandered into the very place I was hoping for, white marble tiles, an elegant sink and mirror at the back of the room next to a window... heck, even the toilet looked fancy. Steam holding a herbal scent was flooding out of the top of a curtained off bath tub on my right side, with a light young voice humming something I thought I recognised.

Slowly, I poked my head through the curtain. I was right, it was the pretty young alicorn I had stumbled in on during my last visit to the castle. Smiling, I slowly crept in behind her. She didn’t seem to be concentrating, looking up into the shower head and letting the water flow over her face and mane. I decided to go for it anyway, following the discussion with Duke in the pub, and just gently nipped at her neck with the tip of my beak.

She gasped at first, before realising what was going on. Turning her head, she looked at me like some sort of crazy pony.

“You again?”

“Hi there.” I said, with a wink.

“It’s not very polite to sneak up on somepony when she’s showering, you know.”

“That doesn’t sound like a ‘Get Out’ to me.”

She blushed. I grinned and tried my best to stroke her mane with my new claws, eventually finding a way that didn’t make me wonder if I was about to hurt the filly. From the “oohs” and “aahs” coming from her, she was at least getting something from the sensation and I was learning more about using my talons. I had an idea brewing in my mind, and slowly drew the tips up her flank, eliciting a gentle moan from her.

This was too perfect. I nipped at her neck again as I traced one claw around the larger dark blue part of her mark, and was surprised to find a pair of dark purple lips pressed against my mouth.

Now, one of the downsides of this body, as I soon learned, were that certain parts of me, specifically my beak, didn’t behave exactly as their equivalents had done and were nowhere as sensitive as they had been when I was a pony. Whilst the kiss was nice, it wasn’t one hundred percent effective until she started to use her tongue - for a mare who had been stuffed away in the moon for a few centuries, she certainly knew a fair bit of technique... probably more than her sister. By the time we broke apart, the tips of her wings were spanning the width of the admittedly large curtained cubicle, and I briefly considered leaving her like this, but when else would I get such a perfect chance?

I realised that I could wrap my talons around the base of her wing, and rubbed up and down... She definitely liked that, and after a few more strokes she was pretty much willing to do anything for me.

Understand this, my dear reader; I want to tell you more, just so that you know, but like I said near the beginning of this tale when referring to Luna’s older sister, I’m a gentlecolt. It’d be bad for my image in the professional world to go about graphically explaining how I managed to mate with both royal sisters within a month of each other.

I will say that she practically screamed the door off of the hinges when she climaxed though.

The feedback was great, and to be honest, she’d been the best shag I’d had in a rather long time... Don’t get me wrong, Celestia was great, but she wasn’t as emotive as Luna - nowhere near as passionate, and if it hadn’t been for my feathers, the bruises on my neck from Luna biting me would have been on show for weeks.

Her ecstatic response, together with her lateness for the moon-raising ceremony, caused a pair of guards to burst in. I’d had time to get out of the shower and hide on the other side of the door whilst they banged on it, thankfully. After a little discussion about exactly why Luna was screaming “Oh me, yes!”, which boiled down to the guards being told where to go, she dried herself and trotted out of the door shortly after them, of course making sure to wink at me and blow a kiss on her way out.

I sat in the bathroom for a few more minutes, watching the moonrise out of the window, before noticing myself in the mirror. I wasn’t sure at the time what constituted as attractive by gryphon standards, but the body was certainly in great shape. I was covered in white feathers from the top of my head to my chest, whilst my fur had turned a dark charcoal grey, close to black, a similar colour to that of a tuxedo I had once owned. My eyes were blue, which was a nice touch, my beak and talons being the usual shade of yellow associated with gryphons.

I trotted up to the window and looked out - just as a patrol of pegasus guards flew past. Realising I’d been made, I did what felt most natural at the time and dove out of the window. You should probably know that I don’t normally dive out of windows, but considering I was still riding on post-coital adrenaline and feeling invincible, not to mention wanting to try out my new wings, it seemed like the right thing to do.

I was correct, it was the right thing to do. Hurtling towards the courtyard, I opened my wings about ten feet before impact, immediately gliding to the ground. A flash of blue magic soared over my head and I saw a unicorn guard firing those damned signal flares at me; not exactly a killing blow, but being on fire is almost as painful as being awake for a transfiguration.

Still running on adrenaline, I flapped the massive feathery wings once, immediately launching myself back into the sky and over the battlements of the castle walls. I let one flare lightly graze my right wing, before wheeling back and diving at the guards whilst avoiding the pegasi trying their best to keep up with my new found speed and agility. Another flare got close to my saddlebag, which I realised hadn’t been removed for the entirety of my little session in the shower with Luna. Turning over mid flight, I managed to dump a good few litres of water that had collected in the bags over the unicorns firing at me... As well as the folder holding my intel. Thankfully, the paper was wet so it stuck together, with a small cloth bag landing next to it. One of the unicorns made a move - I wasn’t having that.

I dove again, flapping as I flew towards the ground at speeds far higher than I had been capable of as a pegasus those few times, my larger and more muscular wings obviously being far more suited to their job thanks to the gryphon’s naturally predatory evolutionary path. In half a second I held the folder in my mouth, retrieved mid-swoop, with the bag clutched firmly in my talons. It was quite heavy, probably around the same weight as a large bag of sugar, so I stowed it back in my saddlebag as I flapped over the castle walls.

One thing I will say about pegasus guards is that they don’t give up easily. Dodging the occasional flare from the city below the castle, I was pursued for probably a good ten miles before they eventually stopped trying to chase me.

I decided that I should make my way to Ponyville - another ten miles.

Where was I again?

Ah, yes. I’d just escaped Canterlot after having roughed up a few guards, stuck it in Princess Luna and been given a shiny new body.

It was close to one in the morning when I finally reached Ponyville. The first thought on my mind was to try and find my contact; usually those that feed me intel for jobs are ponies in strategic towns, those with their ears to the ground, that sort of thing. This guy however, was a little different.

By different, I mean that he was a dragon, and not just any dragon; he was the personal servant of Celestia’s favourite pupil - Twilight Sparkle. I found Twilight herself a little creepy, and was rather glad to see Spike on his own at the top floor balcony with another folder of information sat at a perfect right angle to the edge of the table it was sat on. Hovering close to one hundred feet above, I scanned the rest of the town, surprised at how well adapted my eyes were to the dark place. Satisfied that I couldn’t be seen in the gloom of the cloudy night, I glided down, landing behind him with the gentle smack of my paws and talons hitting the wood.

We often met here when I needed information about the local area from him; being Sparkle’s assistant gave him a bit of status within the happy little town. I had one more contact in the town itself, but hopefully I wouldn’t have to deal with her.

The transaction between Spike and I was done quickly outdoors, although he broke protocol by inviting me inside for something to eat. We both crept past the sleeping form of his mentor, busy talking to herself in her sleep, something about a multiplication spell.

I should explain why I find her so off-putting. Basically, during my days moonlighting in the guard whilst waiting for the next job to crop up, I met the filly going through her season. During this naturally awkward time, she tended to seal herself up in her room for a few hours every day until she was capable of keeping her tail down around us. I was actually on duty with Snapshot that day, guarding Princess Celestia, when I was ordered to go and fetch Twilight for her lessons.

Opening the door without thinking, I quickly regretted my decision upon seeing a box labelled “Stampeding Stallion”, along with quite possibly the biggest porn stash that I’ve ever seen, splayed out on her bed. The filly herself was somewhere under the quivering mass of paper, moaning as she satisfied her needs with the contents of the box. Upon poking her head out of the pile, she had quickly demanded that I help her. In her defence, now that I think back about it, she’d probably have made the same demand of any stallion entering her bed chamber whilst she was “reading”.

This was awkward, because I’m probably as old as her father and well, she wasn’t exactly as pretty a mare as she is now - I know it sounds awful, but I do have standards.

Naturally, I did what any normal stallion would have done when challenged by a unicorn mare wielding the largest anatomically correct and furiously buzzing self-pleasure device they’d ever seen would do - I ran like buggery.

I did the decent thing and lied to Her Majesty, saying that Sparkle would be along shortly, claiming that she had been showering. The giant white bitch gave that annoying all knowing smile - but at least I’d get payback a few years later. I didn’t volunteer for any shifts after that, and took my first proper assassination job as a favour to a former colleague - ending the reign of terror of a notorious Appleloosian gangster who had avoided a lynching by paying off the sheriff.

Anyway, back to Spike. Spike was pretty cool, the sort of bloke to help out when the smell of the manure gets too strong. He could obviously tell I was hungry, and prepared me a salad in the kitchen of the library. It was a little awkward to eat with the beak, but I wolfed half of it down quickly enough. We had left the lights off, both being able to see perfectly in the dark; giving us a little bit of warning when the bookworm turned a light on outside the kitchen. I flapped up and clung to the rafters, whilst he tried to get rid of her, making her sure that he was fine and just in the mood for a late night salad. I think she could tell something was up, but she didn’t look up, thankfully.

As she left, he pointed at a window on the other side of the room, before forcing the rest of the salad down his throat and following her. The second the light clicked off, I dropped, landing silently on the tiled floor. I sat for a good ten minutes, until the door swung open again.

“Hey, I thought you’d have gone. Just thought I’d let you know, some guys from the castle showed up yesterday and left a package for you with Mina and Madame Gateux - they’re at the bakery on Sugar Cube Corner.” Spike whispered, his voice barely a breath. Pony-me wouldn’t have been able to hear that; I was growing fonder and fonder of being a gryphon.

As for Mina and Madame Gateaux... Well, there is a little bit of history between me and them as well - I’m guessing you’re probably getting bored of all these little side tracks, but I honestly don’t care. When I was first starting out, there had been a military research and development programme in the wake of the Battle of Canterlot, in which I’m sure you’re aware was a large scale gryphon incursion backed up with a dragon. There were extremely heavy civilian casualties, not to mention military ones; specifically Sir Duke’s father, Sir Stoneglance, who had been swatted out of the air by the ginormous fire breathing monstrosity.

His loss, and Celestia’s understandable paranoia saw to it that once the city had been rebuilt, a project of creating sleeper soldiers was began. Having just moved to the city, and intending to set up a business creating parties, little Mina had been living on the streets. Life was not going well at all for her, and continued to get worse after she was taken for “Project Green-Scroll” until one day, she snapped. Mina’s original personality had warped into two separate ones; one blissfully unaware of the other as some sort of mental protection from the training and missions she performed during her time in Green-Scroll.

Madame Gateaux was her mentor, a somewhat portly aging mare who in her day had been the very best of the very best. There were legends of her in combat during the battle of Canterlot, taking down five gryphons at a time, unarmed, using her own hooves as weapons. I had met her on a job involving the ambassador from Zebrica; she had been ordered to slip him a vial of truth serum ready for his press conference.

We met once more after the job disposing of the Appleloosian gangster; if anything, I think I may have been what forced her into retirement. She showed up just as I was checking his breathing using a mirror, out of breath and cursing about her back after dealing with two of his lackies; Apparently it hadn’t occurred to her that his window was left open backing into the wilderness of the desert.

Upon retiring, Madame Gateaux set up a bakery with her husband and took Mina off of the government’s hooves in return for a substantial bursary. He naturally had no idea of what his wife had done during her time, and I doubt anyone outside of the business would have even of suspected it of her.

Now, Mina, on the other hand, wasn’t inspiration. The psychotic pink mare had gotten herself a rather negative reputation. Granted, she knew the tricks of the trade; and was a gifted poisoner much like her mentor, but she was incredibly creepy. She had these rather... odd abilities, like being able to guess things purely by chance, simply bounding into a situation rather than observing guard rotations, patterns in training, that sort of thing. She also had this eerie contortionist’s body, able to poke her head out of anything like one of those folding ponies you would see at the circus.

She had chosen a simpler life in the end, that of an arms dealer come black market supplier. Her dual personalities made this complex, and usually required a trigger phrase.

“Crap, Spike, what’s Mina’s trigger? Is it still ‘This afternoon, this afternoon’?”

Spikes eyes grew wide in the darkness, evidently that phrase had caused issues recently. I imagine somepony had accidentally triggered her.

“No, no, Madame Gateaux changed it... I think it’s something like “Interior Crocodile Alligator”. The box looked pretty big... Anyway, I’ve got to go.”

“Wait, do you know anything about a gryphon exile here? A female, approximately twenty one to twenty four years old? It’s for the job.”

“You probably mean Gilda.” he responded, with an eye roll, “She shows up on the outskirts, between the town and the Everfree Forest. Your best bet would be to follow Rainbow Dash. They’re not on speaking terms, but I keep seeing Gilda following her, really high up.”

I gave him the blank expression I usually save for when my clients ask questions about jobs for other clients. It’s a well honed expression that I happen to adore.

“Ugh. She’s a blue pegasus, member of the weather team, multicoloured mane. Seriously, her name is pretty much the best description of her.” Spike said, before pushing at me, encouraging me to go towards the window before we end up getting interrupted again.

I leaped out into the cool night air, wheeling around the little town, eyes finally settling on the small but beautifully lit bakery.

Landing, I could see a shape near bins at the rear of the building. It was Mina, or whatever her alter ego was called, putting the remains of the day’s stock in the dumpster. I quickly pounced on the mare, before whispering the trigger phrase in her ear. Half a second after that, I was flipped and thrown against the wall.

Dusting myself off as I got up, I could see the rapid change between personalities. Her coat seemed slightly duller than the almost fluorescent pink it had been before, and her mane and tail had somehow straightened themselves. I bowed, keeping eye contact with her, following the tradition of those in our respective professions. She still had that dull uninterested stare that seemed to work out the price of whoever she was looking at, not even a glimpse of recognition though.

“It’s me. Chamie.” I said, wondering if she’d make an attempt on my life. The corner of her mouth curled upwards in the most minute of ways, pretty much the closest thing to a smile anypony would ever get out of Mina when she wasn’t on a rampage.

“Bonjour, Chamie.” Came a response from behind me. Flicking around, I saw Mina’s handler throwing out more old pastries. She muttered a few words to Mina in the crazy tongue of her homeland, Mina nodded and led me inside.

“Keep quiet. Mr Cake is sleeping.” were the only words to come out of her mouth as she rolled back the rug behind the counter and opened a trap door. I closed it behind me once we had climbed through and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I didn’t think you’d recognised me.”

“Your voice is still the same. You’re lucky I gave you a chance to speak before dealing with you.”

“Hah, the other one still isn’t aware?”

“Of course not. All she concerns herself with are parties, frosting and that damn stupid paintballing she does at the weekends.”

“Paintball? Hmm, if only she knew where she gets her skills from, eh?”

“Well, I can influence her as I’m forced to watch. That’s about it. I’d rather not let the stupid thing know about our true history. She doesn’t even remember Canterlot. Did you know she found herself a mate recently? Nothing like the colt I’d want, of course.”

“Y’know, I always thought hating one’s self was a figure of speech, Mina.”

“Get to the point Cham.”

“Spike said you have something for me.”

“I have plenty of things for you.” she responded with the tiny grin appearing again, “Be more specific?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that little bit of banter. I’ll admit, part of me had always been curious as to what sleeping with Mina would be like, but another part of me often reminded pointed out that I’d probably never wake up if we fell asleep together afterwards.

“Just the box this time Mina, and some info, if you’ve got any? I’m looking for a gryphon by the name of Gilda, of the Whitefeather clan. Spike says that she’s been stalking a peg named Dash.”

“Yeah. That’s her. She’s a spicy one, I doubt you would get anything out of her if you’re after info. Your best chance would be to make a move for Dash and hope that Gilda comes to you.”

Mina disappeared for a few moments, before bringing a box and placing it in front of me. She pried the top off, before lifting what looked like the severed forelegs of several ponies out, each one wrapped in airtight plastic.

“Mina... Why do you have those?”

“I’m an arms dealer, get it?” she replied, the tiny smile returning, accompanied by a hollow sounding laugh.

“Uh... Let’s just move on, shall we?”

I wondered for a short while why Mina had been sent the items in their current state before remembering a little rule that I had made myself remember after our first encounter.

Don’t think too hard about anything Mina says or does.

It was a good rule. I was fond of it. Anyway, she eventually found a large bag of golden coins, not engraved with the usual horseshoe and silhouette of Celestia, but completely plain; lacking any emblem whatsoever.

“Hmm. Off outside of Equestria? I do love how pretty gold is. What is the job this time? I assume it’s something to do with you being a gryphon?”

Moving my talon around inside the bag, I felt a scroll. I pulled it out and read it before answering her.

“Good news, Mina. Half of this gold is the upkeep for you and Madame. I take it you’ll find a use for non-minted coins?”

“Yes.”

“As for the job, well... they want me to kill a gryphon patriarch - this “Gilda” happens to be his daughter.”

“Oh? Playing the family route? I didn’t have you down as that type, after Fillydelphia.”

Fillydelphia. She had to bring that up. Basically, Fillydelphia was the epitome of jobs gone bad.

It had been a couple of years ago and I’d been contracted to take out a slime ball by the name of Diamond Mine. He’d fallen foul of the Zebran government, after their inspectors had discovered he was using foal labour to move the carts out of a mine he had opened in their territory. When this revelation had reached the top brass, both I and Mina had been tapped on our respective shoulders.

My route in had been via stealth. The original plan had been to get in, poison him and get out. I got right up to the dinner table disguised as his butler, his dessert topped with bitter almonds that I’d sourced from a merchant in Canterlot.

His daughter demanded a piece of his dessert.

That was pretty much the moment everything went to shit. I watched in horror as she wolfed down close to half of the thick chocolate cake. He finished it, and I knew that he’d had enough to finish the job, but it didn’t sit well with me that the damned kid was going to snuff it. Thinking quickly, I asked if she wanted her drink refilling - juice was demanded. I managed to slip in an antidote and served it to her.

I’m a little irritated that I can’t remember her name, but she really was a snotty little shit.

Anyway. Her father kicked the bucket around ten minutes after he was dosed and I was captured, tied to a chair, and beaten. In between beatings, I managed to convince them that the cook had been the poisoner, and she was dragged in. I couldn’t help but feel guilty as they started to beat the aging mare.

All of a sudden, there was a weird sound, something like the noise of popcorn popping yet far far louder and coming from the corridor. A hole appeared in the door, splinters flying everywhere. More of them appeared shortly after, accompanied by screaming, just as Mina strode in.

She’d got something rather complex on a harness on her back, similar to a pair of those paintball guns she mentioned earlier, but with eight barrels, one set of eight on each side. Both collections of barrels were still spinning as she entered the room. She leaned down and blew the smoke away from them, before very nicely asking the cronies to untie me and the chef.

Mina helped the cook get clear of the place, and as far as I am aware she now works on Celestia’s staff. I on the other hand, had a second job to do the same night, so I changed my disguise after getting away from the building.

The injuries I sustained at the hooves of Diamond Mine’s thugs didn’t help me at all with the next job.

I was working protection on a pianist. Rumour was that he’d made some friends in rather low places and acquired some debts. Celly wanted him looking after so that he could play at the Gala that year, and offered a few grand to keep him alive during his last night on tour before heading to Canterlot and out of harms way.

So as I said, I wasn’t in the peak of physical performance that night, and I ended up being slow on the uptake when a couple of pegasi swooped down and pelted the artist with bricks. I got him out of the firing line eventually, but not before both of his forehooves had been broken. Thankfully, I had a few favours to call in with a local doctor and got him fixed up well enough to perform for her Majesty.

It cost me more than I earned that night. The vial of antidote for the bitter almonds alone had cost me twenty thousand bits. Mina even charged me for saving my sorry arse... still, I learned from it, so not all bad.

“You done? You look lost.” Mina said, bringing me out of my little flashback.

“Yeah. Just thinking about old times.”

“If you ever need to borrow that minigun, the rubber bullets are excruciatingly painful, but non-lethal.”

“...How did you know?”

“You’ve always wanted to get your hooves on my guns, Chamie.” she responded without skipping a beat.

I blinked for a moment or two, the words felt dirty, but I wasn’t sure why. Eventually, I put the bag of gold in my saddlebag and Mina led me back up to the store; allowing me to slip out of the back. It was just coming to dawn, so I took flight once more, eventually finding a high up cloud to rest on.

I emptied the contents of my bags out onto them, first seizing the small bag that I almost lost to the guards in Canterlot. Tipping it out, there were a collection of coloured rings. These were tail-rings, typically they suggest the rank of the griffin wearing them when out of uniform, and these specific bands, if the file full of intel was correct, gave me the rank of High Warrior. The folder informed me that my character was the son of the griffin leader killed during the battle of Canterlot, one “Dorian” of the Feral Brood clan. Apparently I’ve been kept in the dungeons for some time, culminating in the theft of my father’s old effects and escaping the castle outright. Looks like that was the reason I had to break out.

I slept well on the cloud that night, and woke to find the very pony I’d been told to follow going through her rounds of dispersing cloud. Scanning the scene, I couldn’t see Gilda, so I watched “Rainbow” go about her rounds. She was incredibly fast; which concerned me a little. I didn’t think I’d be able to out-fly her on her own turf, so to speak, so a more direct approach was required.

When she eventually flew back to her home, a rather extravagant looking house made from clouds, I flew underneath and punctured the floor. I’d surfaced in what looked like her kitchen and managed to get out of the way before she wandered through the door, mumbling something with a stack of letters in her mouth. I let her put the mail down before pouncing, grabbing her wings and covering her mouth, standing on my hind legs, dragging her onto hers.

“Ms. Dash,” I purred into her ear, doing my best to intimidate, “If you struggle, or scream, or try to harm me, I will cut your throat. Do you understand?”

She did her best to nod, so I carefully slid my claws down to her supple, toned neck. The filly was in great shape, definitely the type I’d go for if I weren’t busy trying to scare her into assisting me. She was at first hesitant to help in the luring of her friend, until I gave the spiel from my intel folder.

I told her that I was supposed to be Gilda’s suitor, sent from a rival clan, but captured and kept in the castle for an undetermined amount of time. She seemed to buy that after a little more discussion, and a little show and tell of the bruises on my neck from where I had been “beaten” by the “guards” when nopony was looking.

After her initial shock, Dash became cool enough to let go. I could tell she was pretty pissed off, but seemed after a while to be willing to help her until-recently-friend have a chance at “love” and would help me find the elusive griffin. We spoke for a long time that night, mostly about Gilda; I explained that the whole thing had been arranged when we were very young, and that I hadn’t seen or heard from her since - yet had genuinely liked her when “I” had met her so long ago. Rainbow filled me in on a great deal more information about Gilda, and together we came up with a plan to get her riled up enough to pursue me...

Showtime.

The plan that Dash and I had eventually put together involved me swooping down on her as she stopped to cool off from her flight practice, at a small lake with a waterfall near the edge of the Everfree Forest. She’d feign romantic interest, and then hopefully a jealous Gilda would appear, and try to rescue their “friendship”. I say it like that after a thought that occurred to me when I had Dash by the throat last night... the mare seemed used to a gryphon’s touch, which made me wonder if there was anything more to them than initially met the eye.

The plan itself felt somewhat off, and I did wonder why she’d chosen the romance rather than something such as me chasing her to make an attempt on her life, but Dash insisted that the easiest way to get her attention would be that way.

I think her point was that Gilda would be pissed off that she’d found a new gryphon.

Rainbow's sleek, sky-blue form dropped towards the water, wingtips catching it as she banked in for her landing. I joined her a few moments later, gliding in through the waterfall and tackling the attractive pegasus. She pretended to resist for a moment or so, before giving in and letting me pin her on her back, dragging my beak roughly up and down her neck, breaching her coarse blue coat and rubbing against her skin. My claws concentrated themselves with rubbing the wings that were rapidly stretching to their full potential underneath her, wrapped around them like they had been when I was with Luna. I gently tugged the part of the limbs that her primary feathers attach to, and she rewarded me by giving a long, drawn out groan of my name, nice and loud.

“Y’know you could do anything to me right now... right?” the mare said, whispering to me. I drew a claw down her toned athletic stomach, the tip gently scratching through her coat, making her gasp again as I found a spot just below her ribs that was particularly sensitive.

We canoodled for a bit more, exchanging kisses and massaging each other’s wings, before Dash finally wrapped her forelegs around my neck, pulling herself up off of the wet ground to kiss me.

That was the signal, she’d seen Gilda.

I turned my head, seeing a shape through the curtain of water as I started kissing up and down the mare’s neck, running against her hairline, with a tangy taste of raspberries on her - kind of like those fancy drinks served in Canterlot’s gay district; which is a story for some other time. I kept my eyes on the now growing shape watching us, daring her to intervene by trailing a claw up and down Dash’s abdomen, making the pegasus purr with affection.

I kept running different scenarios through my mind as I continued to tease and please the rainbow-maned beauty, closing my eyes for a moment. I wondered how I’d break the ice with Gilda, let alone convince her to take me back to where she had been banished from. I opened my eyes to a curled wet fist hitting my face.

I woke some time later, soaking wet, staring up at the sky. It was dark now, and Dash had gone, presumably fleeing after I was attacked by Gilda; whom I had noticed was watching me as I rolled over, clutching my face. She simply sat there as I groaned, my eye feeling like it was going to throb it’s way out of my head and onto the floor.

“Long time,” her raspy voice said, conveying her level of anger.

“I... I came looking for yo-”

“So you decided to f*ck a pony when you couldn’t find me?”

“It wasn’t like that. She said you’d appear if we...”

“Look, I know you’re not Dorian, even though you look like him and have his dad’s rings.”

“How did she know?” I thought, giving myself a quick glance over, expecting for the magic to have worn off in one way or another, before eventually giving up and asking her.

“Dorian was gay. Like, really really gay. He wouldn’t have hooked up with one of my old flames even to get my attention. So, who are you?”

I sighed. It was always annoying when my cover was blown in such a fantastic fashion, but at least I was able to give her a half-truth to satisfy her need for knowledge.

“I’m an ambassador from Princess Celestia’s court. We’re looking to open trade negotiations with your father’s clan and well, part of the conditions were that I bring you back.” I lied, not breaking eye contact. She simply sat there, for a fair few minutes, her eyes looking at me, then at the sky.

“So, you thought that Dorian would be able to convince me.”

“Ye-”

“He tried to kill me. My own father, tried to kill me for protecting a friend, for protecting that flip-flopping loser.” Gilda replied, scowling in the direction that I assume was the way Dash flew off after our encounter, “I am not going back.”

Now, at that moment, my face was still hurting, and I was not really in the mood to be taking orders from some stupid bloody child - especially after she’d sucker-punched me in the middle of something I had been starting to enjoy.

“Yes, you are.”

“Bite me. I’m gone.” she growled, stretching her wings out. I knew that if I didn’t get a hold of her now, then chances were she’d be gone for good, and I really didn’t have time for that. I did something stupid and grabbed her ankle as she tried to take off.

She roared, obviously pissed off, and kicked at me with her free pawed-foot as she flapped her wings again, lifting me off of the ground. I dodged it, and buried the claws of my left hand in her thigh. She roared again, and turned to lash at me, beak snapping near my face as we fell the few feet to the ground. As she fell on top of me, my guard training kicked in, and I quickly flipped the gryphon onto her back. The dirty little bitch then brought her hind leg up between mine, giving my 'meat and two veg' a slight pummelling before she rolled me onto my back, her talons around my throat.

Looking up at her, I could see the little cow grinning as she started to throttle me. I had just enough strength to throw a right hook into her jaw, and we rolled once more, tumbling down a muddy slope, still exchanging punches.

The fight finally ended with me sat on her back, one of her forelegs twisted around her back and held between her wings, still sticking out as if the crazy bird was trying to take off again. I jammed my knee in her side, to make her back legs give up and finally make her accept defeat.

“Get off me, plothole! I’m supposed to be on top!” She screeched, struggling again.

I wasn’t quite expecting that, and still in full guard-mode I ignored it, twisting her into submission.

“Now then... you, sweetheart, are coming with me.” I growled, bringing my free clawed hand to the struggling gryphon’s throat, “Do you understand?”

“Ambassador, my ass.” she panted, before shaking her head and spitting out a mouth-full of blood, “Going to read me my rights?”

I’m still not quite sure to this day why I did it, but I laughed and slapped her arse - the way she grunted told me that she had a bit of a thing about being the one being dominated for once.

Kinky little slapper.

“Now, if you can keep from trying to fly off or hit me, there is a reason that I want to take you. Firstly, you can get me close to him in the first place. Secondly, if the negotiations go south, as I’m thoroughly expecting them to, then I can have you installed as his replacement.”

“You’re going to kill him?”

“If I have to.”

“Have you killed before?” Gilda asked, flicking a bit of mud from one of the purple-tipped feathers above her eyes, after I allowed her to get back onto all four limbs.

“Yes. Many times.” I replied, not bothering to preen myself and looking out into the nights sky, an odd scent on the air, familiar to me as a pony, but foreign and strange to the heightened senses of my current body - the scent of lavender, a perfume.

“I guess you’re pretty powerful, huh?”

“Not unstoppable.” I said, still trying to work out which direction the scent of the perfume was coming from.

“You’re gonna get ripped to shreds, dude.”

“Probably. Want to come and watch?” I replied, winking. Something was starting to tell me that I’d be bagging my first non-pony soon. Mostly, it was the fact that she kept dropping little lines whilst her eyes wandered, trying their hardest not to settle on me - whilst all the while her body language said she was ready for a fight, angled shoulders, a confrontational stance, flicking tail held high, that sort of thing. Eventually, she picked up enough courage to look me in the eye.

“When do we leave? I want to get this over with.”

I heard something snap in a bush nearby, and froze, holding on to Gilda to prevent her trying anything.

“Rainbow Dash, we’ve been searching all evening! Why did you insist on dragging me of all ponies out here?” a rather posh sounding voice asked in the scrub.

“Y...yeah, Dash, I’m sure Gilda’s long gone, she’d have lost that new gryphon by now, surely?” Spike’s voice said, from the same direction, “Shouldn’t we have found Twi-”

“She wouldn’t have gone without a fight, and I don’t see anything of them here.” Dash’s voice said, “I know things ended badly for Gilda and me, but this guy was bad news.”

“Can’t you simply fly up and look for them?”

“The trees are too thick, can you give me some light?”

“What if he’s still around? I don’t think we should be hanging around...” Spike said again, obviously trying to convince them to leave.

“I... I guess you’re right, Spike. We’d have better luck tracking them in the morning. I just don’t want to hear that he’s hurt her.”

“Then why did you help him to find her?” the unknown voice asked, with an almost condescending tone.

“I don’t know. He just had this... air to him, like he could save her.”

I grinned. I’ve always had that intoxicating effect on mares, but I didn’t think I’d had that much of an effect on the blue pegasus currently rustling her way through the bushes looking for tracks. Slowly, I turned to Gilda and spread my wings, pointing at the sky with one orange talon. She took the hint, and we both silently shot up into the clear, dark night, two silhouettes against the landscape.

By Coffeebean

Gilda and I flew for close to fifty miles before the sun began to rise. She knew that I was watching her, making sure she wouldn’t bolt - although I’m fairly certain that being the bulkier of the two of us, I wouldn’t be able to catch her if she had put in some speed. As we travelled further north, heading past Hoofington, we hit a snow storm; thankfully it was only a light shower, large flakes but relatively slow moving, and didn’t hinder our flight.

We had finally stopped for rest when we saw a train snaking it’s way through the snow-capped mountains heading north, presumably headed towards Stalliongrad, which was another two hundred and fifty miles from where we were. Dropping down, Gilda and I landed comfortably on the roof of what looked like a storage car, without anypony noticing us. She opened the side of the car and dropped inside, rather gracefully grabbing the rail around the edge of the car and dropping herself over the side - I followed, and we found bales of hay in the dark interior cabin. Thankfully, the hay was dry and inviting and was quickly piled up against the doors.

She had undone the rope around one bale, and was spreading it out on the wooden floor of the storage car. As she worked, I noticed she was shivering. Searching around a little more, I found a chest holding a few sheep’s wool blankets - heavy and scratchy, but warm. Draping the largest around myself, I waited for Gilda to lay in the hay before placing the others over her.

Almost immediately she tried to throw them off, obviously trying to play the dominant one of our unlikely partnership. I watched her struggle for a little while, grinning as the already exhausted gryphon put her remaining strength into tiring herself out completely.

As she dropped off to sleep, I slumped back against one of the bales, pressing them further against the only outside access to the rest of the train. Eventually, I got more and more comfortable and drifted off too.

I don’t know if it was the lack of food, or the cold, but that night I dreamt the same damn dream that’s been following me for close to ten years now. Shivering in the hay on the opposite side to Gilda, I was transported back to Canterlot, working with Snapshot protecting Princess Celestia. I still remember the original memory like it happened yesterday.

We had been in the throne room. The Commander of the Guard was briefing Her Majesty on a crop shortage out near Stalliongrad, discussing how we could have food flown in from more affluent agricultural areas such as Ponyville or Ferlyn. Apparently the Wonderbolts were due to be performing in Stalliongrad in a fortnight, so it would have made sense for them to carry the supplies and spare the Royal Air Force for something more important.

My brother Giggles was there too - dressed in the usual garb of a jester, all bells and bright colours. This was before he’d met his wife, and a good few years before his sudden death. We heard the sound of shouting from the doors to the throne room, and an Earth pony in battered copper armour burst in, using all of his might to push both doors open without the assistance of the guards protecting them.

“Your Majesty, Sir Stoneglance Sir, the northern beacons have been lit.” he panted as he entered the throne room, interrupting Celestia. Our commander at the time, Sir Duke’s father, Stoneglance, immediately turned to the fearful pony, the silver-armoured pegasus fixing the stallion with his calm grey stare.

“Guardspony, is this true? Who is coming?” he asked, stood next to the obviously worried princess by her throne.

“Aye Sir, lookouts say they passed the mountains to the north and are heading this way!” the guard screeched, pupils tiny with fear, trembling like a coward.

“Pull yourself together Stallion! WHO is coming?” Stoneglance asked once more, walking over and placing a hoof on the guard’s shoulder.

“Gryphons, sir, thousands of them... and... and a dragon.”

The Princess gasped. She’d obviously thought that we were on better terms with the gryphon clans at the time.

“Commander, if they are on their way here in force, we need to get everypony somewhere safe!” she said, her voice trembling slightly at the thoughts of her people being wiped out.

“Not before you, ma’am. Guardsponies Snapshot and [REDACTED], find and take Miss Sparkle and the brat down to the catacombs beneath the castle. I believe they were last seen in the library.”

“I must insist you stop calling my nephew that, commander.” Celestia said, genuinely hurt.

“My apologies, your highness, but we really must get you moving. Guards, get the foals hidden. You, jester, head to the throne room, you know what to do if they make it inside. City guard, I need you to get me Frequency, from the magical division.”

As the panicking city guard ran towards the tower holding the magical division, my usually jolly brother nodded with a gentle jingle of his belled hat, a look of utter seriousness on his face.

“Yes Sir,” he replied, before turning to me, “Take care, [REDACTED]. If I don’t make it out, tell mum I at least took the f*ckers with me.”

“Same to you, Gigs.” I said, before turning away. I specifically remember not being worried for my brother’s safety at all.

The train rumbled, and I was temporarily roused from my sleep. Gilda hadn’t moved, but I could hear hoofsteps on the roof. Somepony was wondering why they couldn’t get in. They tapped on the sliding door that Gilda and I used to get inside, and tried to open it.

I put my weight against the hay, and managed to jam the door, leaving them about an inch to look through. I could smell the pegasus flapping madly in the wind, his beady little eye against the tiny gap, trying with all his might to look inside. I could even smell the alfalfa and vodka he’d had for his supper.

My stomach rumbled again. I could hear his breath, even against the whistling wind of the open door. He gave up, and closed it and I settled back down under my blanket.

“I never knew you were the jester’s brother, [REDACTED]?” Snapshot asked as we left the room.

“It’s something we were asked to keep quiet. He’s one of us, Snappy... more than one of us. He’s a high grade pyromancer, hidden in plain sight.” I explained, not entirely comfortable with the conversation, because of what my good colleague was to say next.

“But... but isn’t pyromancy illegal? Not to mention insanely dangerous and hard to control?”

“He discovered his gift when we were kids. Sort-of inherited it from grandad.” I replied, trotting briskly towards the library. He’d been kicked out of the all-colts school we attended together after an... accident, involving a particularly harsh gym teacher. The military came for him, and then we never really understood what happened over the next few years until I signed up myself, and found the jingling idiot lounging at the foot of Celestia’s throne.

As we burst into the library, Twilight was found reading to herself, blissfully unaware of the danger that was swooping from the skies at the base of the mountain. From what she was saying, talking about the basics of using magic, she was meant to be tutoring Blueblood. It’s weird, somehow she’d managed to not notice him slip out and had kept on lecturing an invisible study buddy.

“Twilight,” I asked, “Where’s Blueblood? We need to take you into the catacombs, and we need to hurry.”

“I... I don’t know, he was here a few minutes ago, then he went to find something from the Posey Wing, but...”

“He’s in the maid’s quarters.” Snapshot answered, after merely glancing over the desk that the young stallion had been occupying.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“Look at his desk.” the Earth pony said, as if it was obvious, “They study together so that he can copy her work, but this time he didn’t copy down the notes, only the answers - which suggests that he’s working to a time limit and not bothered about being caught cheating. I’d say that he left around five minutes ago too. Judging by the copy of the Klopma Sutra inside that copy of ‘One hundred and one basic incantations’, he has something else in mind for tonight.”

“How can you tell?” I replied, looking at the same workspace, normal for any teenaged stallion.

Snapshot grinned, “He’s been sniffing around her for weeks, her shift finished at seven, and nopony arranges a sleazy rendezvous for exactly seven-thirty-two in the evening. She also stank of his deodorant when she served Her Majesty’s dinner earlier.”

“Right. you take Twilight, I’ll go and find the royal pain in the arse.”

Warmth.

I opened my eyes - it was still dark and the train was still moving. I felt a great deal warmer than I had done earlier, and looked down to find myself with a few more blankets.

Something under them moved. I pulled the top blanket back to find the tomboy-gryphon’s head on my thigh. Sighing, I put the wool back over her, and held her as I drifted back to sleep.

Delivering Blueblood to the catacombs had been far less trouble than expected. The stupid kid was frightened out of his wits, and so took orders pretty well. When he eventually opened the door to the refuge, Snappy revealed that Twilight had talked him into bringing some of the non-military ponies present in the castle with them - thankfully there was still plenty of room for more.

I’d ordered Snapshot to stay with the kids whilst I went to gather more of the castle staff when I heard something. The path to the catacombs ran off from the corridor that was attached to the dungeons, and I could hear somepony, somepony begging for me to release him.

Intrigue made me approach his cell. The door was carved from what looked like solid black marble, to the point where if it hadn’t been for a minute crack under the door, I’d have never heard anything.

“Hello? What are you doing in there?” I asked, knocking on the cool stone. To my knowledge, we hadn’t imprisoned anypony in the castle dungeon in years - usually they were kept in the guardhouse in the city.

“Help... please, let me out... I can fix this.” the voice begged. He’d got something of a weak Shetland twang to his accent, almost like it was being repressed in favour of something more regal.

“Who are you?” I asked again, “Are you one of the guards?”

“...yes, yes, I’m a guard. Now, please, let me out!”

Now, please understand this, my dear reader. I still feel pretty stupid about what happened next.

Against all reason, I opened the door and somepony behind me bucked me in the head. I staggered around for a few seconds and then collapsed, seeing stars. There was a small amount of hushed arguing - I forget exactly what was said, but the stallion behind the door leant down to me. He was brown, with... weird eyes. They were like Celestias, but blue rather than magenta.

“Thank you. I’m sorry that my friend hit you, but I really need to go and sort this mess out, it’s important. I’ll remember your kindness.”

And then he was gone, dashing off as I slipped into unconsciousness.

I woke up again with Gilda at my side. The pegasus from earlier was back, banging at the shuttered door of the carriage. He’d got some friends with him this time, slightly younger and much more excitable, judging by the scent.

I then realised that the train had stopped moving.

“Gilda... wake up. Things are about to get interesting...”

(Foreign languages are in red text)

My head was f*cking killing me.

My eyes slowly opened to nothing but pitch black. I could feel the weight and what smelt like the scent of an old burlap sack over my head. My backside and legs rubbed against rough and splintered wood with all six of my limbs tied securely for a change. From the feeling, I guessed that I was tied to a rough-hewn beam of some sort, rather than somewhere smoother like a chair or even the floor.

The warmth of the air was the next thing I noticed - I was sure that Gilda and I were supposed to be in Stalliongrad, and the last thing I remembered before waking up was that carriage door opening not to a small group of earth ponies, but an arseload of Zebras. Zebras who were armed to the teeth and ready for a fight. I know that I killed at least one of them - he’d been stupid enough to rear when I charged straight for him, letting my beak near that nice, juicy jugular of his.

Somepony punched me - at least I thought it was a punch to begin with. Then they hit me again and I realised that it was a single rear hoof hitting me in the face. I felt the sting through the bag and guessed that they’d tried to buck me to put me out again after I’d groaned as I came back to the land of the conscious.

“Who are you? Where’s Gilda?” I asked between strikes. There was some hushed mumbling in Zebran before a loud squawk and a screech.

“I’m here, Dorian!” she half-sobbed. Her voice was stressed and It sounded like she was a short distance away - I could hear the scrape of her claws against the wood and assumed she was being restrained.

“We will be taking the daughter. She is ours now” One of them said into my ear. I’d always had a bit of a thing for languages, and some of my best work has been performed whilst my enemy believed that I don’t understand them - so I played stupid.

“Who are you? What’s going on, what are you saying?” I asked in reply, my voice heavy with mock horror. “Where are you taking her?”

“Do not worry, my gryphon friend,” a new speaker said from Gilda’s direction, “We take her home for you, you no worry about her or that big bag of gold.”

“Just you wait until my father hears of this!” I yelled, slipping into the angry and somewhat-adolescent character of Dorian , “If you hurt her, I’ll-”

“You’ll what, my friend? You might not see, but you very outnumbered. Six of us, one of you - very bad news. We do what we want with her and collect the bounty.”

The other bastards laughed. I knew I wouldn’t have gotten anything of real use out of them, but you never know, maybe they’d have given me at least something to go on whilst I’d got their arrogant prick of a leader talking. Whilst they laughed, I checked my bindings - these chaps obviously knew what they were doing and I’d wager that they were professional bounty hunters rather than amateurs; which of course made me wonder where on Equestria Gilda and I had ended up, because it certainly wasn’t Stalliongrad.

“Gilda, can you see anything? Describe them if you can!” I yelled, hoping they’d maybe make that mistake instead. Judging by her muffled and pain-filled screech, they’d decided to gag her and move her out of the room. Honestly, part of me wished I’d thought of gagging the mouthy bird myself, but oh well.

“Punda, watch him until we send the signal, then make sure he doesn’t leave here alive. Get rid of the body in the desert and meet us at Mos Haysley..” The original speaker said - so now I knew what they had planned for me and where they were planning to take Gilda. I swallowed at the name of Mos Haysley, it was a port town on a river running straight through the middle of a massive expanse of desert, separating Equestria’s borders from the mountainous region controlled by the Gryphon Clans. I’d got one or two contacts in Mos Haysley, but it certainly wasn’t pony friendly.

Punda said something back that I don’t particularly want to repeat to you, my darling readers; he then bucked me in the head again, snuffing me out like a light.

To think I’d always thought that Zebras rhymed all the time.

“Thank you. I’ll remember your kindness.”

***

I really, really hate the taste of desert sand. I woke up several times, and was repeatedly beaten back into unconsciousness by Punda. It felt like my face had swollen to probably around three times its original size, and all I could smell from the bag was a mix of my own blood and drool.

When I opened my eyes this time, I was rather surprisingly alive and even more surprisingly unbound. Still surprised, Tearing the bag off, my eyes were flooded with colour and my nostrils filled with that damned dust. I looked around and found myself on a bed of hay, in the middle of bloody nowhere. I glanced around and could see a small town on the horizon from which I had been dragged from, going on the streaks in the sand interspersed with hoof-marks.

“Hello my friend.” Punda’s thick and now familiar Zebran accent said from behind me. Without thinking I turned and pounced, my claws moving for what I thought was his throat. What I actually connected with was yet another kick to the face as the stallion elegantly span on one forehoof before wrapping the other hind-leg around my head and pulling me down into a suspiciously effective hold.

Bloody Zed-I-f*cking-A and their f*cking stupid dance-fighting bollocks; I’d know it anywhere.

The Zebran Government had always had their own interests in this part of the world, and last I’d heard they’d been thankful that I’d snuffed out one of their more corrupt politicians. The Zebran Intelligence Agency were the Zebran equivalent of Equestrian Intelligence Six, a group that I intend to tell you about some other time, and were responsible for “managing” Zebran foreign affairs.

Now, because “Punda” had caught me unaware, I quickly found myself restrained in the damned desert dust again.

“Agent Milia Punda, ZIA. You have no reason to try to harm me.” he said, somehow twisting my arm further than it’s meant to go without dislocating it.

“No reason? You’ve been hitting me in the face for the last... what, day and a half?” I growled, trying to flick my tail around to grab a hold of at least something.

“I had to maintain cover.”

“Then why the raspberry scented f*ck am I still alive?” I asked, my temper slowly beginning to unravel and the desire to hurt the idiot becoming more and more unmanageable.

Punda looked at me as if he were reminiscing over an old lover - a painful memory arisen with a slight joy or bizarre thankfulness to it.

“If you try to kiss me, I will cut your throat.” I told him, half expecting the zebra to declare some sort of undying love, hopefully not for me.

Snapping out of his distraction, Punda snorted and his face distorted to an expression of scorn.

“You are very lucky. I was told to spare you.” he replied, his voice starting to rise. He let me out of the hold he was using, and allowed me to get back to my hooves, claws, feet... whatever.

“By who?” I enquired, brushing myself off, annoyed by the amount of dust that had lodged in my feathers, adding weight to one side of my head. A good shake dislodged most of it, although swelling in my head and neck made it particularly painful. As I continued ruffling my feathers and preening, Punda looked off into the distance again.

“When I was a foal, in my village there was a great plague. Mares and stallions would fade, until they became like stone and would not move whilst the sun was in the sky. A stallion came one day, arriving from thin air with the most beautiful mare of Equestria that I have ever seen. Our name for him was Geneesheer - he cured the sick when none of our medicine would work, he said it was an illness from the sky.”

“What does this have to do with me?” I asked, working the last of the sand out of my feathers.

“He told me that one day, I would have the chance to kill a gryphon. Our nation was at war with one of the clans and it was considered the mark of a true warrior to be able to kill an enemy in unarmed combat. I was thrilled and honoured to be in line for such a great opportunity; but you know what he told me? He told me, ‘Punda, when the gryphon is at your mercy, he will give the appearance of fear but will fight with the heart of a lion.’ I knew it was you the moment you cut the throat of a Zebra who I have seen take down several gryphons on his own.”

“So some magical witch doctor told you not to kill me? That sure sounds plausible. Sounds more like someone with a bad idea for a story needed a deus ex machina.” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Believe what you will. I am letting you go to save the daughter too - the zebras I was with, they were bad, very bad, the worst - they will probably kill her eventually.”

“So she’s still alive?” I said, my mood brightening considerably.

“For now, yes. You will need to catch up fast. The bounty board specified that she was wanted dead.”

“Then why do you think she’s still alive?” I asked, although It was a pretty stupid question, now that I think about it.

“They travel light, and Gryphons are heavy.” Punda replied, with a clear look of disgust on his black and white striped face, his tail flicking from agitation.

“Are they ZIA, like you?”

“No.” he blurted out defensively, looking horrified that I’d even suggest such an awful thing.

“Then I promise you, they won’t leave Mos Haysley alive.”

“I need one of them - the leader. He’s running an operation from within Equestria’s borders.” Punda replied, turning away from the bright mid-day sun.

“Doing what?” I asked, hoping that it’d be some information that I’d be able to beat out of the bastard and save Punda a job.

“That’s classified, but I need him alive.” Punda said, which was f*cking typical of government agents. It could be something as ‘secret’ as what their national leader put in their salad and they’d still wave around the classified card like it was a winning lottery ticket.

“Fine. I’ll spare him, but if he’s hurt her, he won’t be in one piece.” I growled, before taking to the sky, flapping in the direction of Mos Haysley.

As I travelled towards the north-west, I started to recognise the terrain; the train had obviously continued straight through Stalliongrad, and even up past Appleloosa. At a guess, I’d say that the town I’d been held in was probably the frontier town of New Mustang - somewhere I honestly hope that I’ll never visit again...