Ten - UnusualSuspects

> Leaving Cheerilee's cottage behind, I make tracks for the guardhouse.
> A swift walk to carry me there and match the pace my mind was setting.
> Everything was starting to fall into place.
> Cheerilee...
> Poor, soused Cheerilee.
> She'd have recognised Ditzy if she was there.
> Wasted and hanging off two stallions or not.
> I can tell a functioning drunk when I see one.
> Plenty of mirrors in Manehatten.
> Ditzy knew she was there, though.
> She even mentioned her leaving.
> That only leaves one possibility.
> It's a possibility that asks as many questions as it answers.
> If the ShadowBolts are already in charge when I get back?
> None of it'll matter.
> Just like Twilight said...
> It'll be Palamino Tenements all over again.
> Innocents dragged away with the guilty.
> No time to waste.

> I rushed back through the fog wreathed streets of P0nyville.
> Getting a feel for the town already.
> Coulda been a nice place, had things played out differently.
> It doesn't take long to reach the guardhouse.
> The guardsp0nies are looking brisk and attentive.
> That kind of dilligence only shows it's face when the feller who scares your boss saunters by.
> Not a good sign.
> I rush towards the door, brushing off the formal attempt to identify me and shouldering through the crossed spears.
> Chuckles doesn't try his luck for a second time tonight.
> Well, at least he's learning.
> Shaking off the clinging moisture of the fog, I stomp my way down the hall, patting myself down for a smoke more outta habit than intent.
> At the end of the corridor a figure leans in the murk between the scant light the hallway offers.
> It's either a biped or it's on it's hindlegs.
> An impressive wingspan stretches out behind it and a lazy, gruff, but still feminine yawn echoes.
> She leans back and starts to file her nails...
> No.
> File her talons.
> I've seen that before.
"Long time no see, Gilda."

> Griffons.
> I don't like Griffons.
> I've met plenty.
> Even got on with a few.
> For a while.
> All of them, even the nicest and most placid ones I've ever met, share this one trait that raises my hackles.
> You'll be getting along like gangbusters.
> Best pals in the world...
> ...and then, outta nowhere...
> ...you'll catch them lookin' right at you like you're lunch.
> Maybe they can't help it.
> Maybe it's the upbringing.
> I don't care.
> There's a part of each one of them you can't trust.
> On some of them?
> It's a lot closer to the surface.

> "Speak for yourself, grounder." She grins.
"...been keeping an eye on me, darling? Business or pleasure?"
> I keep walking down the corridor.
> "Pfft. Like I'd be interested in a scrawny piece of meat like you for my own reasons..."
> Why the hell would somep0ny want me watched?
"Aw... and I thought you couldn't get enough of me... so. Where's your boss?"
> Gilda's eyes narrow.
> She doesn't like being reminded where she sits on the totem pole.
> "...He's got stuff to take care of. I'm in charge 'till he g-" She's stopped filing those talons now and has fixed me with a glare.
"You're in charge? Hah."
> "What's funny, twerp?"
"...laugh of relief, sweetheart. Glad I'm not the one who has to tell him how badly screwed this whole situation is."
> "...what?" She's dropped to all fours now.
> Ruffled her feathers in more that one sense.
"Oh, you know. You're in charge."
> "Quit flapping around and spill it." She's puffing up now, angry.
> Making sure I see that Shadowbolts crest she's wearing as a breastplate.
> It'd work, If I didn't know her for what she is.

> Queen Luna, for everything bad they say about the dame, is an equal opportunities employer.
> Well, for the most part.
> If you're quick, strong and ruthless enough, then the ShadowBolts can use YOU.
> The Nightmare Queen respects strength above all else, and that's what she wants in her ShadowBolts.
> Species doesn't matter that much.
> Well, if you got wings, that is.
> The reality of it isn't quite what the posters tell you.
> Only pegasi make rank, but they always have room for muscle.
> Rank and file.
> Fighters, hunters and spies.
> Good job for a Griffon.
> They're bigger than a pegasus.
> More armed for fighting too.
> So that's Gilda.
> The muscle.
> Yeah, she's a ShadowBolt, with all the authority it implies...
> ...but being at the bottom of the heap makes you real conscious of what kinda shit's gonna roll downhill if stuff goes wrong.

"Well, lets start with the reason you're here. She's not here. You missed her, Gilda."
> "...what are you talking about?" She's still puffed up, and down on all fours.
> She doesn't have to look up too much to meet my eyes, but she still does.
> Puts her on the backheel.
"Oh, come on. Maredowell. She got away. Again."
> Gilda folds her arms and looks away from me, almost looking like a sulk in the making.
> "So you know. Big deal. She's here. We don't know which one yet, but when we drag them to the magus..."
"*sigh* darlin'? You got one minor hood, a rabble rouser, two patsies and a pair of bystanders."
> She glares back, trying to stare me down.
"...unless you get the palace's most forgiving magus, someone is gonna get plucked for wasting time."
> "Yeah, like you'd be able to tell anyway. She's dodged you so often tha-"
"...turn it about, beaky. I've been close enough to take a swing at her. Who else is gonna know her on sight?"
> "I don't buy it... You're just trying to..."
"Trying to what? You even had a look at 'em yet? You check out the catch. I'll be waiting over there."
> I thumb towards the room Twilight and I claimed earlier, turn and leave Gilda to stew.

> By the time I get to the door, Gilda's already striding off to check out the perps.
> I reach out to open it and hear the voices within.
> I stay my hand.
> "-elieve they did this to you? Oh... I'm so, so sorry....d-does it..." Sparks, sounding pained about something.
> ".Hurts." A deep, gravelly voice.
> Like a rock grinder that learned to talk.
> "...*snf*... I...I didn't know. How could they?. How could they do th-this? Why?" She's fighting back tears.
> What the hell is happening in there?
> ".Fly." Still like a chewed rock, but firmly said.
> "...th-thats...It's wrong. Oh Celestia... I shouldn't have left-"
> ".No." Almost a growl.
> I reach for my piece, on reflex.
> ".You."  ".Safe."  ".Good." ...a pause between each word, with little growls and grumbles.
> Whoever this guy is, he's no public speaker.
> "b-but... *sob*"
> ".Worth."  more straining then ".It."
> I slowly push the door open.
"Hey, Sparks? You ok?"

> I don't see the shape that grabs me out of the darkness of the room.
> Just a flash of movement,
> A snatching claw lifting me clean off the floor,
> Raising me up by the neck. to stare at a pair of narrowed, angry, green eyes.
> I fumble for... anything.
> All I can see is a set of snarling, sharp teeth aligned with my face. and belonging to a mouth big enough to fit my head in.
> "No! Spike... No! ... he's a fr... he's ok..." Sparks is up on her hindlegs, hooves on the side of the huge lizard.
> Spike?
> I remember...
> Twilight told me about the little dragon that she used to care for back... before.
> He was lost when Canterlot was abandoned.
> She said he was a baby.
> Guess they breed em big in dragontown.
"What's up, um, little feller?"
> He gives my neck a gentle, testing squeeze, introducing me to a constellation of stars as blackness seeps at the edges of my vision.
*krrrkkk*
"Ok...Spike it is."
> With a thump, I hit the floor.
> Sparks leans down, concern on her pretty little face and tears still lining her eyes.
> "...are you ok?" She says, peering at my neck.
"p-peachy, sweethooves."

> Spike has skulked off to a corner and has squatted down, staring at me all the while.
> Those green eyes are almost glowing in the dark.
> He's... big.
> The p0ny furtiture and scale doesn't help matters.
> I'd guess him about eight foot tall at a minimum.
> His neck is elongated and sinuous, little horns atop his head.
> He has a long tail that keeps flicking with undisguised annoyance at my presence.
> Twilight pushes my head aside with a hoof and peers closer at my neck and the bruised talonmarks Spikey left.
> He's a covered in dark, mottled, purple scales, though his belly is lighter.
> The only thing that stands out are those wings.
> They're... wrong.
> Now, I'm no expert on wings, despite what a certain filly from Filly would tell you, but these didn't look right at all.
> To start with, they were the wrong colour.
> A deep grey/black.
> Second, they looked leathery... but patches seemed to have the lightest of furs on them.
> I whisper to her...
"...what did they do to him, Sparks?"
> She sighs and ignores the question, so I try again.
"What did they do?"
> ".This." say's the gravelly voice as he turns and backs into the light.

> The join between the wings and body is scarred.
> Horribly so.
> Gnarled flesh, knitted together with scored and melted scales.
> The flesh and scales almost looked like healed burns.
> Old, poorly healed stitch marks mar the skin like a relief map of train tracks, dragon and... whatever donated the wings... alike.
> It puts me in mind of Boris Karloff, but without the subtle stitchwork.
> I saw Frankenstein, not too long before I ended up here.
> I... just gape.
> I don't know what to say.
> Twilight places a hoof on my shoulder. "...they needed him to be able to fly. It wasn't enough they had a dragon to... mold."
> She sounds bitter and so, so angry.
> I can't blame her.
> "They forced him to grow... Dragons grow if they indulge their greed, did you know?... they used that to *snf* to..."
"I get it, Twilight. You can stop."
> "He was mine... mine to care for... I... I... *snf*" She's looking away now, dabbing at her eyes with a hoovekerchief.
"If you'da gone looking for him, Twi, you woulda ended up caught. We know what'd happen then."
> Spike has turned around, his eyes softening as he looks at Twilight, a clawed hand reaching out gingerly towards her.
"Spike wouldn't have wanted you to get caught. Ain't that right, big guy?"
> He makes a grizzling noise as he gently strokes her mane. "I...I'm so-sorry." She whispers
> Twilight looks up at him, eyes still damp and he nods once. ".Forgiven." He intones as quietly as his size will allow.

> She meets me by the door.
> I'm still rubbing my neck.
"What's he doing here?"
> She looks back at him, worry lining her pretty face.
> "He's... under the ShadowBolts command. Turned up with the Griffon ahead of their commander. I... I didn't recognise him at first.".
> She sighs, taking a moment to straighten her now unbound mane.
> "She tried to pull rank straight away. Send myself, Breezy and Starcatcher home. I delayed, argued and did everything I could to hold them off."
"Delaying was all I needed, Sparks. You did well."
> She smiles, bitterly "I did better. She told Spike to throw me out of the way. He walked up and... recognised me. He froze."
> "...so she told him again. Did you see that collar he's wearing?" She cocks her head on the side a little.
> I shake my head.
"Kinda missed it when he was trying to pop my head off like a bottletop."
> She ignores me and continues "...it's embedded into him. Causes pain if he ignores a command from a ShadowBolt."
> "She kept telling him, he turned around and was going to... do something bad. I had to diffuse the situation."
> She's calm now, using force terminology.
> Formality and regulation is like a comfort blanket to this mare.
> "I told her them both to follow me in. Spike listened to me. The Griffon thought I was doing something with my magic..."

> Twilight gives a triumphant little smile "...so I played on that. Told her I wasn't, but I could sense a fluctuation in his morphic grid."
> She gives one of the cutest giggles I've ever heard.
"Yeah? what was-"
> She looks at me with incredulous disbelief "...that's just some made up magicky sounding words... *sigh* so I told her I'd stabalise it if she gave me time."
"...then brought him in here and caught up. Good work. You got lucky, but you made the best of it too."
> She smiles again, lighting up my world.
> "Where do you think their commander is? when he arrives..."
"...Him? I'm not sure. My guess is there's another group of guards out there somewhere.
"The amount of mess made at the Carousel and the eight guardp0nies we got here doesn't add up. There's more out there, still hunting for somep0ny, or something."
> I sigh, stretch and try to figure out how to broach the next bit.
> "What is it you want to say?" ...Sparks can read me like a book sometimes.
"... I know the beak in the corridor... and I know her boss. She's Gilda. Personal huntress of Captain Soarin."
> Twilight's face darkens to match her mood.

> Soarin... one of the converts.
> When time came for him to choose sides?
> For some reason, he knelt to the new Queen.
> Twilight has a very personal hatred for those who chose to serve rather than... the other option.
> Perhaps it's because they betrayed their oath to Celestia.
> Maybe the fact that they're still alive and her brother, for his loyalty, isn't.
> I never met the guy before.
> P0nies who have?
> They tell me he's changed.
> Lost his love of flying, his joy.
> Traded it in and got a hunger for power and a ruthless streak in return.
> For all I know, he was always an asshole.
> ...but the ones who knew him?
> They seem to miss the other guy.

"I know what you think of him. I also know you're smart enough not to start anything. I need you to keep it together, Sparks."
> She reluctantly nods her assent. "...are we just going to sit here and wait to be thrown out then?"
"No. I've got an idea that might crack one of the tougher perps. I want you to stay with the big feller."
> "...what do you need me to do?" Twilight looks down.
"...no plans, Twi. I don't know what they put him through, but... He's suffered. He needs you. Just... be with him."
> She gives a gentle nod and starts back towards Spike.
> Then she stops, turns, rears up and hugs me.
> It's a soft, warm feeling I never want to end.
> ...but it does. "thankyou." Twilight says as she drops back down and walks to her dragon.
> I close the door and feel like the shit I am.
> Twilight CAN read me like a book, sometimes.
> Those are the times I want her to.
> Times like this?
> The sort of time where I need her to rebuild an emotional attatchement in a mentally scarred and physically traumatised brute?
> Just so I can leverage him as backup if the horseapples hit the ceiling fan?
> Then, she doesn't even crack the cover.

> I walk towards the lineup room where the perps are still being kept.
> Gilda is looking through the thin viewing slit, completely preoccupied with Officer Breezy standing nearby.
> She doesn't hear my approach.
"Seen somep0ny that takes your fancy, Gilda?"
> She gives a little jump and then... blushes slightly?
> Hmmm.
> "sh-shut up, you ass." She mutters at me as she stomps off down the corridor.
> I shrug at Breezy who whispers "Anon. When she came over. She spotted something in there that cut her off mid rant."
"Uhuh."
> "yup. spent the last 5 minutes just staring in there. Looked mighty upset too." He gives a nod to punctuate the statement.
"Yeah. I'll have to see where that leads another time. I need AppleJack in... five minutes. Thanks."
> Breezy nods and I head into the nearby interrogation room.

> First, I take the chair.
> Have to work quick.
> Next, I pull out a hankerchief, hoping it's clean enough.
> Then my pocket knife.
> Finally, the Ribbon I picked up from a certain filly earlier.
> I fervently wish I still had some liquor as I roll up my sleeve.
> I'd have settled for enough time to go find a donor.
> Carefully, I draw the knife along my forearm.
"sss...shit... dammit."
> The first cut does little.
> Palm would be better, but there's a chance she'd notice...
> Again.
"...god...ah... damn....ngh."
> This time I strike blood.
> The ribbon gets its share.
> I give it an appraising look.
> Human blood will do.
> I've seen enough p0ny blood over the years to know there really ain't much difference, not to the eye.
> I bind the cut as best I can with the hankerchief.
> Tieing it tight, I slowly lower the sleeve, and pocket the bloodied Ribbon.
> With what time I have left, I grab a pencil and scribble a quick note on a small scrap of paper.
> Waiting with sharply aching arm, I seriously consider drinking some of the yoghurt in my hip flask.
> Wondering how Twilight pulled that off gives me a smile.

> The door opens gently and in steps a defiant orange mare with a stetson hat and a cold look in her green eyes.
"...AppleJack?"
> "You know it is, pardner. What y'all wastin' mah time fer. Ah ain't talkin' ta you. Ah'm-"
"Just sit, ok? I... think you should sit when I tell you this."
> That turns her stampede of invective that was building speed.
> Cocking her head she walks over and sits down.
> "Speak yer piece then, 'law'p0...whateverahoosit that y'are. Ah'll hear watcha gotta say." She begrudgingly accepts.
"I... have something I need you to see. This was found in a box nearby with your initials on the top."
> I pull out the bloodied ribbon.
> Her face drops, eyes widening. "..can't be..."
"There was a message in the box."
> I place the scrap of paper down near the ribbon.
> The pink ribbon, now red in places.
> The note... scribbled with the words 'Price of Failure'.
> "...but... it can't be. Ah told her ta stay clear... how?"
> I give her time to let it sink in.
> My mistake.
> "What're ya tryin' ta pull?" AppleJack almost growls the words. "Yer not bein' straight 'bout somethin'"
> She smart enought to know I'm hiding something.
> Think quick, Anon.
"...Those two weren't the only... items in the box."
> I look away from her... come on. Ask the question.
> "Wh-what was in tha box?" Her voice has lost it's ferocity.

> I'm reluctant to be drawn out on that.
> It's no lie.
> I don't want to talk about it.
> Of course, that's because there wasn't even a box in the first place, but she doesn't know that.
> "What was in tha box, Anon?" She's starting to get angry.
> I just keep looking away.
> She slams a hoof on the desk "Dammit, Anon, what else was in tha box?"
"... an ear. Yellow coated p0ny. Clean cut."
> Her eyes widen and she sinks slowly back onto the stool.
> Think it through.
> It's her ribbon.
> I know the colour of her coat.
> Fill in the gaps and were all set...
> When I look back, her head is hung low, her shoulders starting to shake.
> I can see the first damp drops on the ribbon.
"I'll give you some time alone..."
> I stand and leave, without looking back.
> Breezy shuts the door after me.
"Give her the run of the room. If she gets angry, all the better. Ten minutes and I'll be back. You want coffee?"
> Breezy glances round, reacting to the cry of anguish from the room. "uh...strong... 2 sugarlumps."
"Don't go in there. No matter what... say. You got a first aid kit around here somewhere?"

> Breezy gestures off towards the front desk of the little guard house.
> I catch the look he gives me as I walk away.
> Disgust.
> That's my copy book blotted with another friend.
> I can live with it.
> Hoping Breezy doesn't have an attack of conscience while I'm away, I rummage around behind the little front desk of this wannabe guard house.
> Finding the box, I pop it open on the desk and rummage with one hand while rolling up my sleeve.
> Good thing the room was dark.
> Already started seeping through to my coat.
> If she'd have spotted that, the gig woulda been up.
> As I do the best job I can of bandaging the arm, Gilda steps back in through the front door.
> Hmm.
> Was she checking the guards, or taking a break?
> She looks at me for a moment, then sneers "...cut yourself shaving, monkey?" then barges past.
> I watch her stomp purposefully down the corridor.
> No doubt about it, she's planning something.
> I finish up quickly, leave the kit where it is and follow.