Anon and Amber Eyes 4: A Thieves' World (WIP)

>>27804099

>Be Amber Eyes.
>Anon called the little gadget an "empeethree player."  He said that it could store music--well, information--in a compressed form.
>unlike some bird ponies, you can write and read well.  Your family made sure of that,Celestia and Lady Cumulus bless 'em.
>Anon had helped relate to you the amount of space on the little player, and what it could store.
>A dozen libraries the size of the Royal Archives of Canterlot, or the Runevault of Red Sun Aerie City could fit on it with room to spare
>And the entirety of this was filled with...muslc.
>Anon had seen it as a nice gift for a treasured friend.  But...he truly had no idea what it meant to you
>What music itself meant to the Folk.
>After more than a year, you still hadn't listened to even a third of the contents of the little device, and you still discovered music on it that stunned and delighted you
>When the power ran down, you and your sister had pooled your talents to make it live again
>the Cumulus Charm you had jointly grown and then grafted to it fed the little thing exactly what it liked the most
>And the simplest of protection sigils made it weatherproof--simple for White Thorn, genius that she was.
>The Greatspeech Rune gave it the ability to play iits music to a crowd--and the flocks had listened with awe and wonder to the rhythms and melodies that it contained.
>through it, you and your flock had glimpsed the world Anon came from, its chaos and wonder, its joy and sadness and its sheer depth.
>Equestrian was so limiting.  If only Anon spoke the tongue of the folk, he would understand the magnitude of the gift he had given you
>And for this alone...there were no words for your gratitude.

>As you watch the couple on the other side of the great park, you sing softly to yourself
>"Hey Jude...don't make it bad...
>take a sad song, and make it better...
>Remember to let her into your heart...
>Then you can start...to make it better..."
>You know Anon doesn't approve of what you're about to do, but that's fine, you won't tell him
>After all, it would only worry him
>The Folk ARE thieves--Lady Cumulus and her stallion Lord Noontide gave the Folk quick wit and even quicker reflexes, that you might find sustenance even in a world hostile to your kind .>And the discernment to understand when to use it, and who could afford to lose just a bit, and who could not.
>And who would forgive, and who would not.
>And that heavy purse the wealthy Unicorn mare was carrying was just too tempting a target to pass up.

>>27808610
>It might inconvenience them just a bit today to lose some of their bits, but that was fine.
>Their bad fortune would buy a good meal and a gift for Mama, and rune components and maybe a nice doll for White Thorn
>And you were absolutely determined to try to show Anonymous a good time, if you could.
>You'd probably have some leftover bits, from the looks of things.  You'd probably wind up buying at least a few pounds of corn nuts
>You'd come to adore those things.
>Seriously, the pony who came up with the idea to parch little corn kernels and salt them and flavor them was a genius and deserved a temple to him- or herself.
>Aaaaand, there she goes, talking.  Not looking at what she's doing or paying attention to what's going on around her.
>Gotta love gossipy airheads.
>The feather charm around your hoof is warm.  You coo the song snippet that triggers the magic contained within
>It's not proper invisibility.  That's way harder to make than a simple There/Not There charm.
>Everypony around you suddenly feels the urge to look elsewhere.
>Those who look directly at you feel, to the core of their being, as if whatever they're seeing is so mundane and boring that there's no need to pay any attention to it at all
>Just as intended.
>It'll only last a few seconds, half a minute at most, but that's way more time than you'd ever need
>With the speed the Folk are known for, you dart across the park, and snatch up the heavy purse.
>the unicorn mare pauses in her gossip for a moment as she feels the breeze, and then you're gone.  You flutter upward, to the roof of one of a nearby inn and land just as the charm is drained.
>You look over the edge, and your sharp eyes show the mare still hasn't realized her coin-purse is gone.
>Alriiiiiiiight.

>>27808691


>Quickly, you empty the purse.
>You see several hundred-bit rounds, and a whole slew of ten-round coins, as well as some jewels and assorted other things.
>Quickly, you count them up, and come up with around 436 bits, not counting the coins.  NICE.
>You actually find yourself feeling a bit bad for this, and you have to fight the momentary impulse to try to return it at least some of it.
>The Folk rarely take more than what they need, and this is plainly more than what you need..
>But Noontide's Blessing tells you that she's not likely to be so forgiving as Anon was, bless him, and what's done is done, as they say.
>You'll be keeping it.  But, if there's anything else in here, any precious mementos or whatever, you'll at least leave it somewhere where it's likely to be found and returned.
>You begin looking through the rest of the stuff.  You find a cloisonne pin, a tiny sunburst burst made of gold unicorn horns, and instantly recognize the symbol.
>Oh.  Your lip involuntarily curls into a grimace of disgust.
>The symbol of the League of Purity Party
>Miss Gossip was a unicorn supremacist.  They were, unfortunately, relatively common in Canterlot
>You remember some of your OWN run-ins with them, and Anon has told you of his.  Of how, early on after his arrival in Equestria, the League had actually protested and filed petitions to attempt to stop the Princess from granting him a title, even a symbolic one
>It hadn't worked, since the LoPPers were generally held in roughly the same regard as a rabid rat, and for exactly the same reason.
>You wondered how they managed to square the fact that the Alicorn Princesses weren't unicorns with the ideals of their party.  Some of them worshiped her as a goddess, even though the Princesses apparently regarded them as sleaze.
>Yeah.  You'll be keeping all of this, and you're going to use whatever you don't blow on your family and snacks to do something fun for Anon.

>You count up several hundred more bits' worth of cut, high-quality gems. They'll work well fpr charm components for White Thorn. You winder what she'll make with them
>And then you see the greyish, lustrous pearl of the Beacon Pin.
>Oh...BUCK.
>"Naughty naughty. It's not polite to take another's hard-earned money, you know."
>You turn around to see a unicorn stallion in black armor standing behind you. With a pop of displacing air, five more appear next to you on the roof in a semicircle, each levitating a crossbow in their magical grip.
>Their horns glow, and four hulking hulking earth ponies pop into existence, and three bat ponies in black come up from the edge of the roof.
>All of them are armed, and their weapons are aimed straight at you.
>But most terrifying of all, the leader is wearing a Thaumic Amplifier ring on his horn. You can FEEL the pulse of energy as he readies a spell for casting.
>"If you're wise, thief, you'll come quietly. I'm sure that our mistress would like to have a word with the...pony who stole her belongings," said the leader.
>"And if you come quietly, you might even survive the experience. Minus your pretty wings, of course.' You look closely, and see that the armor he wears is actually made of...feathers. Hardened, treated feathers.
>Bird-pony wings and tails.
>Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Think fast, ratbird, as Anon would say.
>"LOOK! IT'S MARELY'S COMET!" you scream, pointing at the sky behind them.
>Uh...really, Amber? Really?
>Shut up, brain, it's all I could think of at the time.
>And everypony except the leader turns around, looking in the direction you ere pointing. "I don't see nuffin'," says one of the other unicorns.

>That worked?
>That WORKED?
>THAT WORKED. HOLY SHIT, IT ACTUALLY WORKED!
>"Where's Marely's Comet?" asks one of the earth ponies.
>"I thought that only came around once every 70 years or something," mutters one of the bat ponies.
>"How do you know that?" says one of the others.
>"I read a lot. I got a library card a couple weeks ago, I've been doing some personal enrichment, you know? Thought I might take some night classes..."
>"Oh yeah" says the third. "I was kinda thinking about doing that too--"
>While you're standing there in shock, the leader facehoofs. 'MORONS! SHE TRICKED...wait, no, that's NOT even a trick! It's like the exact opposite of t5a trick--"
>You throw the empty purse at his head, snatch a couple of random coins from the pile, and throw yourself backwards off the roof, righting yourself in mid-air.
>Startled, the lead unicorn accidentally fires off the spell he had readied
>BOOOOOOOM. You feel the concussive force pass you...barely.
>A tree a few yards in front of you explodes into blazing splinters and ashes, and screams sound as ponies in the street are scattered.
>You manage to catch yourself, and jink to the left just as another one of the arcane blasts blows past you.
>The roof of an apartment building explodes. "CHECK FIRE! CHECK FIRE, DAMMIT!!" you hear the leader screaming from somewhere behind you.

>Your wings are a blurr as you fight to put distance between you and the armed party behind you. You turn down an alleyway.
>instinct, or divine providence, or luck is on your side. Perhaps the Mother of Clouds and Storms gave you Her blessing
>But you have a sudden impulse to jink right.
>And you do, barely avoiding the black javelin, which buries itself in the cobblestone street in front of you, crackling with arcs of power.
>The bat pony who threw it snarls and readies another one, but before she can throw it, you fly directly into her face, and your forehoof hoof smashes into her jaw in a bone-shattering punch.
>The force of your momentum smashes her into the wall, and you scream in agony as you feel the hollow bones of your foreleg crack even as she hits the ground, unconscious.
>SHITSHITSHITSHIT!
>pain raves up your leg and into your shoulder. You struggle to stay in the air, struggle to maintain speed and heading
>There's a flash, and one of the unicorn blasters is in front of you, horn glowing. You drunkenly dodge another of the magical bolts, and you hear a scream directly behind you get cut off.
>You realize with one tiny corner of your mind that one of the unicorns had just died, blasted into ash by his partner. You switch course for straight up, wings straining against thin Canterlot air, and yelp as a javelin cuts across your back.
>Panicking, in mortal agony, one thought races frantically through your mind.
>Anon. Anon.

>Be Anon.
>You were supposed to meet Amber Eyes at the marketplace almost fifteen minutes ago.
>She's a bit late, but that's not anything particularly noteworthy--bird-ponies apparently have different ideas of time and punctuality than other ponies do.
>Although, truth to tell, you're not sure if this is not more of a trait of Amber Eyes specifically.
>So you sit at an outdoor cafe, sipping a soda--a Darnell's Sunset Twist, which is apparently flavored with actual, honest-to-god CARROTS. Well, carrots and ginger and a bit of lemon.
>And, wonder of wonders, it's actually pretty good, far better than you'd have believed only a few years ago. It's fizzy, sharp and fruity, and with with the perfect amount of bite from the ginger.
>Ponies are absolutely fuck nuts for their beverages.
>If it grew or didn't move fast enough to get out of the way, some brave pony somewhere had thought, "Can I make this into a drink, and/or get drunk or stoned off of it?"
>there were over 5600 known varieties of beverages just in Equestria alone, and yes, mascarpone cheese made a surprisingly nifty smoothie. But cabbage really didn't, even if it was blended with oats. Much less hay.
>Don't even mention Corn Nog, which was a reality here. No. Just...no.
>You check your cell phone/high-tech brick, and see that she's even later than usual. >Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel a strange tickle of concern, which has been growing for the last several minutes..
>Your back itches, and so does your right arm, under the Az'k'za Amber had given you a few weeks ago.
>Absently, you scratch them, but the itch doesn't abate.
>If anything, it grows stronger, and is joined by a burning ache. And why do you feel so...alarmed?

>As you wait for Amber to show up, you try to take your mind off your growing unease by transcribing your latest digital audio recording into written notes
>You've got more than 300 pages of written notes so far on bird-pony culture, history and language. Everything from their religious beliefs to their cuisine.
>You've interviewed bird-ponies, and you've gathered hours of conversation with them, or with ther ponies who actually know them
>You don't even believe you've completely scratched the surface of what there is to learn.
>You honestly don't know if it's just that their culture is that rich, or if EVERY culture is that deep when you start poking at it.
>Amber had offered to try to set up a meeting with one of the flock Story Keepers and serve as translator. Apparently, Twilight was wrong about them not having a written language.
>Even if Amber herself didn't know it. The Flock Elders encouraged their people to learn written language, but not their own, for some reason. Which was weird.
>You haven't spoken with Twilight in several weeks, though you've met with Spike several times.
>He was apologetic on Twilight's behalf, and told you what he knew about Twi's weird little blind spot but you're not going to put him on the spot if you can help it. He deserves better than that.
>Still, he was more than willing to help you search for what writings existed in both Twi's private library and bring you claw-copied notes, and locate documents in the publicly accessible portions of the Royal Canterlot Archives.
>And...something else you can't deny...
>You honestly enjoy being with Amber Eyes, just for its own sake, even when there's absolutely nothing remotely scholarly about it. She's a complete joy to talk with, and talk TO.
>She's fascinating. She has a wicked, impish sense of humor, and there's absolutely nothing she can't laugh at.
>She sees the funny side of everything, and lives completely in the moment.

>"Refill your drink, sir?" asks a passing earth pony waitress. With  amazing delicacy, she takes your glass, and places it on the platter n her back.
>She trots off, the platter perfectly balanced, and once again you marvel at how dexterous ponies are with their lips.  And yeah, you still get a kick out of watching them pick things up with their hooves. "Near-field telekinesis," Spergle had called it.
>And it's precise enough to play a piano, or a cello.  A physicist would be running around this place like Templeton the Rat at a fairground.
>IT'S_FUCKING_MAGIC.jpg
>High five, Brainnon.
>At least they didn't have to handle EVERYTHING by mouth, which would kind of suck for a earth ponies working on a septic tank.
>It's almost enough to distract you from your growing apprehension.  Almost.
>The waitress returns in a minute with your refilled drink.  "Still waiting for your friend?"  she asks sympathetically.
Yeah, she's probably just running a little behind--that seems to be a common theme in both of our lives.
>Your arm is itching again, an almost painful, bone-deep itch that goes right up to your shoulder.  You scratch at it and it does nothing.  Your back is getting incredibly sore.
>You realize your heart is racing.  Your palms are sweating.  Why are you so worked up?
>The waitress can see your growing unease.  "Ummm..I'm sure everything is all right," she says.  "Do you have any way you can contact her?"

>You start to reply, but anything you might have been about to say is suddenly lost in the sound of screams, and the sudden clang of distant alarm bells.
>And sirens.  Lots of sirens.
>You and the waitress look at each other in surprise and then in the direction of the commotion.
>"The last time those went off, Changelings attacked," she says.  She looks at you.  "Sir, I think we should get to a shelter...Sir?"
>And suddenly, without knowing HOW you know, you understand to the core of your being that, whatever is happening, it has something to do with..
>Oh no..
>The crowds in the streets are running in a panic, colliding with each other or flying or, in a few cases, popping out of existence in a teleport.  You see a lone constable trying to maintain order.
>You hear the sound of an explosion.  And then another one, closer this time.  Explosions? HERE?
>And you see, in the distance, with your newly enhanced eyesight...
>Amber.  Oh no.
>You see her fly over the buildings at the end of the street in a high arc, and clumsily dodge....something.  There's a flash and another of those deafening booms, and you see feathers fly, and...spattering blood.
>The waitress is trying to get your attention. "SIR!  PLEASE WE HAVE TO GO NOW!  SIR!"  She's grabbing at your arm with a forehoof, trying to drag you away to safety, and absently you shrug it away.
>Your back feels as if it's fire.  Your arm is a mass of agony.  You barely notice as you run in the direction of Amber.
>She comes down in a barely controlled arc,  bounces off of a wall and collides with a cluster of garbage cans.
>After a moment, she staggers out of the mess, her coat a mass of burns and blood, one wing dragging the ground, and the other missing most of its feathers.  Her eyes are unfocused, concussed
Amber...AMBER!
>You run toward her through the panicking marketplace crowd, and  she looks up blearily and realizes you're running toward her.

>You break into a sprint, vaulting over ponies too slow to get out of the way, dodging others.
>You've surprised ponies who don't realize just exactly how fast something on two legs can move before.
>Right now, you feel as if you can't move fast enough
>Everything around you feels like you're running through thick syrup.  She's limping toward you in a shambling run, but trips and collapses.  You see blood pooling beneath her on the cobblestone street.  She tries to get up again and fails.
>"A-anon?"  You're just close enough to hear her slurr out.  "An--anon...help..."
>Oh dear Jesus...Oh god...oh god..
>You scoop her up.  She's incredibly light in your arms, and she cries out in pain at the touch.  her eyes roll crazily.  "A...anon..." she gasps.  "Get...you--y-you gotta get..."
It's gonna be all right...it's gonna be all right...just ...
>You babble a mantra of mindless reassurances. Answers later,  Hospital NOW.  And you start to sprint in the direction of the nearest one.
>And suddenly there's a bright FLASH and a pop in front of you.

>Be Light Ray.
>Less than one hour ago, before this minor shit job went spectacularly FUBAR, you had a brother named Lotus Star.
>Thanks to the Celestia-damned ratbird bitch, that brother didn't exist anymore, because the arcane blast meant to kill her had blasted him into charcoal instead, along with a couple of bystanders, one of whom was a constable.
>The commander was screaming in your earbead to let her go.  You yanked the tiny piece of enchanted graphite out and threw it away.
>When the bat pony mercs tried to intercept you, you'd turned them into charcoal, too
>Because you understand that your future has dwindled down to two choices:
>1, you can go back to the commander, and you know that for a failure of this magnitude, the best you can hope for is a quick, painless death. Because this fuckup is too big to cover up. Or,
>2: you can turn yourself in, get convicted of multiple counts of murder along with murder of an officer of the law, and then spend the rest of eternity as a stone statue in quiet corner of the Princess' private garden somewhere.
>Which is reversible, but in all probability, nopony will give enough of a damn about you to do that for you, ever, so really, it's just a slightly gentler method of dying.
>Had everything went as originally envisioned, the only victim would have been the ratbird, and right now, they'd be taking the wings and tail off the corpse for later use before disposing of the bitch's body with a hacksaw and a few drums of alkahest.
>And you'd have been laughing about it with your brother.  You'd have split your share of the take and gone on to spend the next week in one of canterlot's finest brothels, withers-deep in Equestria's highest-quality crotchtits.  >But, that's off the table now, along with all the rest of your future.  Your fate is sealed in stone, but on the bright side, nothing you do at this point can possibly make your future any less bleak than it already is.

>So, since you're literally walking dead no matter what happens, fuck it, there's no reason in Equestria to hold back anymore.
>Fuck it.  This kill is free.
>And right now, nothing matters in all of creation, nothing other than ventilating this dopey birdbitch for the death of your brother, turning her into bloody spray and laughing while you do it.
>After that, nothing else matters. Nothing else will matter ever again.
>You can run, and either the LOPPers or their contractors will find you, or the Princesses and the authorities will.  So most likely, you probably won't run.
>You hear the last meal before petrification is pretty awesome.
>Unfortunately, in the meantime, the damned birdbitch is fucking fast, even as raggedly torn-up as she is, and you've managed to hit everything and everyone EXCEPT your target.
>though the close grazes you've hit have knocked her around pretty hard.
>Seriously, it's like she has a sixth sense for your teleports.
>Your manna reserves are running low.

>But, you figure you've got enough left for this, no matter what. No holding back now, remember?
>You jink back into existence and fire another blast at her, and feel savage satisfaction as it finally clips a wing. You see feathers and blood spray. "I GOT you, bitch," you scream. "I GOT you!"
>You pay no attention to the fact that you blew a pegasus out of the sky along with part of the building with the same magical scattergun blast. Shoulda moved a little faster, brah, better luck next life, I guess.
>#YOLO
>Unfortunately, feathercunt is still in the air, but flying like a drunk.
>And damn, beat-up as she is, she's STILL faster than anypony you've ever seen except maybe a Wonderbolt, or that Rainbow cunt you read about in a magazine a while back.
>You read she's an Element. Maybe she'd be one of the ones there when they turn you into a rock. At least you could tell her she was kind of hot.
>In spite of your blazing hate, you're actually impressed by Birdbitch's flying skills. You dig deep and teleport past the buildings and into the street on the other side.
>She's heading for the market district. Good a place as any to do her.

>Your surroundings shift in a flash as you 'port, and you find yourself standing on the other side, at the edge of the marketplace, with ponies scattering in every direction.
>Fuck 'em, let 'em run.
>And there, you see...what in Tartarus IS that thing?
>You see the birdbitch, and she's in the arms of...something.  At first, it looks something like a bald, skinny minotaur, but something about it...
>Something about it reminds you of the creepy Chimpanzee contractor you and your brother had to work with a few years ago.  Scary fucker who was madly in love with butterfly knives.  He had a dozen and had a pet name for every-fucking-one of the things. And he used them, too.
>Every chance he could.
>But this thing is just about hairless, and its flat, furless face looks like they took that chimp's face and ponified it in some way.
>But seriously, green hair? Green skin? What's up with that?
>And it's fucking DISTURBING.  You have no idea what about the thing is so...wrong.  But it squicks you on a level that literally nopony else has.  Ever,
>It's looking right at you, cradling the bleeding birdbitch in its lanky forelegs while it stands on its hind limbs, its coppery eyes--the same exact color as the birdbitch's--wide-open in fear and staring back at you, its mouth open to show its weird little fangs.
>You snarl in rage.  Good.  Hope it's afraid. If it's a friend of Feathercunt here, it should be afraid.  it should be TERRIFIED.
>Because your brother is dead and you're going to die, and it's all because of the birdbitch in its arms, and you've got nothing else to lose and no reason to be afraid anymore.
>"You have NO IDEA what you're involved in,  asshole."

>Be Anon.
>The unicorn stallion who just appeared in front of you is...surprisingly runty.
>You've never been anything short of amazed at how many colors ponies can apparently appear in--they seem to come in literally every color of the rainbow, including some colors that you'd swear aren't anything even remotely natural.
<Your dentist in Ponyville is a bright, bright, fluorescent blue.  She happens to be one of the funniest ladies you've ever met, even if she happens to be a quadrupedal equinoid.
>You figure a geneticist could make a good livin here.  A biochemist could probably make an even better one.
>The pony in front of you, however, is the ugliest shade of gray-green you've ever seen, and multiple scars run down the side of his muzzle and flank.
>His magical mystery ass-tat is a red lightning bolt cleaving a black heart in half. You suppose it could be Equestria's magical shorthand for "Heartbreaker..."
>But, given the circumstances, you're pretty sure that it indicates something altogether darker and more violent about the stallion.
>Heartbreaker.  One who breaks hearts with lightning bolts.
>Like, into small bloody chunks.
>For all that you've occasionally marveled at Equestria's level of innocence compared to, say, your own world, it has a surprisingly dark and morbid sense of humor from time to time.
 >And, regardless, you'd bet dollars to doughnuts that the dinky little stallion in front of you is the homicidal assclown responsible for the condition of the good friend who is currently semi-conscious and bleeding out in your arms.
>You have NO IDEA what you're involved in, asshole," the unicorn says, his eyes cold and flat and utterly, completely, shithouse nuts...
>"But I'm gonna show you."

>There's no room in the street to dodge, no cover, nothing to hide behind and nowhere to go.
>Reflexively, you curl in around Amber, knowing full well that it's not going to do a goddamned thing.  Not against the...whatever it is this Stallion's been throwing around Canterlot for the last ten minutes or so.
>LEL UR A WHITE KNIGHT FAGT.
>FUCK OFF, BRAINNON, NOT A GOOD TIME!
>There's a deafening blast, and a flash of blinding red light and searing heat all around you
>And dimly, you're aware that both you and Amber Eyes are screaming.
>And then several thing happen in very, very quick succession
>In a single searing instant, you see cracks suddenly radiating down the stallion's horn, with blinding, violet-white light spilling from them.
>And the cracks extend straight down into his skull. He only has time for his eyes to widen very, very slightly.
>Your right arm is blazing with pain.
>And suddenly, there's ANOTHER flash of blinding light in your face, blue-white this time, and a sound so loud it's no longer even audible.
>All you can hear is a faint ringing in your ears.
>And then you're lying on your back, staring upwards at the clear blue sky, which is strangely washed-out and flat-looking.
>You still can't hear anything except a buzzing.  Your head must be full of bees.  Where's Fluttershy when you need her?  You'll have to talk to her about getting rid of the bees later.  They're too loud.
>Fuckers will nest anywhere.  They owe you honey.
>There's a pony lying on your chest.  You think she's breathing.  That seems like it should be important.
>You try to pet her and can't move your right arm.  It's burning.  It really bothers you.
>You manage to move your head enough to look at your arm.  Welp, that explains why it's burning.  It IS burning.
>The Az'k'za is a mess.  The band is literally on fire, and so are the metal bits.  The gems are powdered, and the woven feather-bits are gone.
>Crap.  Also, your arm is on fire.

>And your shirt is gone.  Which is worse, because...you really liked that shirt.
>rarity made it.  Fuck, NOW you're mad.
>Mad.  Crazy.  Stallion.  That was important, wasn't it?
>The burning remains of the Az'k'za crackle and spark with blue light and then fall off of your burning arm, and something...odd...in your head, somewhere behind your eyes.
>You're not sure when they arrived, but there's ponies all around you.  One of them looks at you and mouths something, and you notice she's wearing a constable's uniform.
>There are medics.  You try to tell them about the pony on your chest, but you're not sure if they can hear you.  Because you can't.
>And you remember the ugly green stallion just as they're moving you, as they gently take the pony...take
>(Angel)
>Amber Eyes off of your chest.  What happened?
>You see, just before they take you away, the giant hole blasted into the street, surrounded by half-melted cobbles.
>And the world goes again dark.