Smuggler Pony RGRE Part 2

>Your crew moves along the ground, marching down the ever-widening path towards Manehattan
>You remain near the front, with Gabriella staring out over the landscape, becoming more and more visible with each mile as thick forests and bushland gives way to farmland and the occasional small village in the distance
>The heated puffs of smoke emanating from the distant clusters only serves to increase your longing for a warm bath
>It would be good to get this dirt out of your mane
>The sun is setting over the flat horizon of the vast farmlands, casting an orange sheen over the landscape
>The rays of the sun fade one by one until you’re plunged into darkness, and it's in this darkness that your crew enters the small town located at the edge of Manehattan
>The darkness envelops the streets, no lamps lining the gravel path despite the town’s location right next to Manehattan
>The only light to see by is the faint light of the stars, and the dimming candles shining through bedroom windows
>Right on time
>Your crew adopts a staggered file, falling into small groups so not to draw attention as you move through the streets
>You stick with a few of the veterans, moving quietly down side streets, shifting each time a pony crosses your path
>A few mares, obviously tipsy give you odd looks, and odder looks to your griffin compatriots
>One group even pursues you a ways before you lose them down the narrow alleyways dotting the sides of your path
>You all wait in the shadows until the drunken mares pass muttering about saving “that poor colt”
>You snicker at their words, before a large talon swats the back of your head before the noise draws them back

>You exit through the back of the alley, and head down the parallel street and continue towards your objective,
>Passing through a few deserted residential streets the scenery begins to become more industrial, until eventually you stop before a rusted warehouse at the edge of town
>To the outside eye it may look abandoned, litter and muck surrounding its perimeter, but to the knowledgeable eye it was different
>Rusted holes provide wide sightlines, The thick metal walls block internal noise, and the dilapidated appearance discourages visitors
>The perfect staging operation for a group like yours

>You follow your compatriots through a small door at the rear of the building, the main one being chained up for appearances, and once inside the true nature of the building is glaringly obvious
>The ground of the warehouse is covered in crates and boxes of exotic materials. Even a few animals sit in cages along the walls
>You can see manticores, cocitrices and all manor of creepy crawlies from all over Equestria
>The rafters on the other hand hold hundreds of hammocks clinging to the roof beams, like an interlocked spider web
>The rest of your crew is up there, most already asleep from the day's exertions
>They all barely fill a quarter of the hammocks, the rest remaining empty for any other smugglers slipping in under the shadow of the moon
>A wooden platform hangs from chains in the center of the bunks, slowly swaying in the soft breeze filtering through the gaps in the ceiling
>Your small group splits up, the griffins all heading to the hammocks, too tired to stand around for conversation
>You on the other hand, having had a rather relaxed flight, still had some energy to burn
>You carry yourself up to the platform where you find Gabriella standing at a round table with another elderly griffin
>Like Gabriella her feathers are turning gray, pink highlights sticking through the plumage, but while your boss had changed from stress, this bird was just old, her many wrinkles and scars a testament to her age
>Gabriella turns to you as you land on the swaying platform, dark circles forming under her tired eyes
>”Hey Scout, little bit late aren’t ya”, she says, her tone being of annoyance, but her expression of relief
“We had a few heroes along the road”
>”That's to be expected I guess, only creatures that’d get them more worried would be zebras”, she says with a small grin
>”Damn racis’ ponies”, the third member of your conversation slurs, “makes running this place so much ‘arder than it needs ta be”
>She finishes her statement with a large swig from the bottle in her talon
>The thick liquid sloshes on inside of the bottle, and you’re pretty sure that brown liquid would kill you in one gulp
>”I’m sure Glenda”, Gabriella cuts in before the elder bird can begin a rant, “you should go to bed soon, those old bones won’t do well without sleep”
>Glenda’s expression becomes one of distaste, “You youngin’s don’t ‘ppreciate us elderly, even after all the things we-”
>”Listen that's great”, Gabriella interrupts lifting her claws to shush the elderly birdm “but I think it's about time you got some sleep, the moon isn’t getting any higher”
>Glenda grumbles under her breath, but complies with your boss's request
>”Why can’t someone normal own this warehouse”, Gabriella complains placing a claw over her eyes
>The elderly griffin snorts as she flies to a hammock on the far side of the room
>She stares at the maps and files that litter the table
>Your eyes follow her gaze and you see a timetable, each date followed by detailed steps, fallback plans and references to other documents
>It takes a minute for you to discern the meaning of seemingly random sentences written on the page, but eventually you find the schedule of tomorrow. Something catches your attention though
“Hey Gabriella, what's this about special military units?”, You say pointing at a footnote in the day’s agenda
>”Apparently there's some hotshots in town at the moment, the Wonderbolts”. She shakes her head in annoyance, “apparently they’re pretty good at what they do, so I’d rather stay out of their business”
“Wonderbolts huh? Wonder what they’re doing around these parts?”
>”You know them?” Gabriella asks you
“Know of them, I’ve seen a few posters here and there. Apparently they’re the best fliers in Equestria”
>She shakes her head, her body draining of energy.
>“Things are complicated enough without them around”, she lifts her head to stare at you across the table, “or with you drawing attention to us”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it don’t cause trouble, play nice yada yada”, you remark, rolling your eyes
>”That fills me with confidence”, she states rolling her eyes. “You know you're the only one in our group I gotta give these warnings too’
“I can’t help having a magnetic personality”, you say with a grin
>Her expression sharpens, annoyance in her eyes, but also worry. And not for you
>”I mean it Scout, I’m putting the lights out and I expect you in bed for an early rise”
“Don’t worry boss I’m tired anyway, I’ll see you in the morning”

>The bar’s tunes are beginning to die down now, after the past few hours of drunken revelry by the mares around you
>Many still sing and dance around the pub, flagons and mugs in their hooves and horn’s grip, enjoying the last few minutes before the bar closes
>You don’t associate with this crowd though, instead you sit in the corner, away from the lights
>The lack of attention in your direction also helps you count your prizes in peace, various wallets from mares you’ve swindled throughout the night
>You’ve collected all sorts of items in your travels, with the art of deception being one of the first things griffins taught you
>As you stow your prizes, and more importantly the wealth inside, you’re grateful the other griffins are all asleep, you’re already on thin enough ice with them
>Griffins may be content to break the law, but most respect a hard day's earnings
>You didn’t really have that respect for the clutchy mares present in places like this
>You observe the bar, past the majority of the mares, and see only a few sitting at it
>The bar of a tavern is always a good spot for swindling, normally holding the outcasts and loners of any town
>It's the same here, the mares present nursing drinks alone
>They seem to leak sadness, the poor lighting in that section separating them from the joyful shouting emanating from around the bar
>One of the mares in particular seems down on her luck, her face almost buried in the massive mug of booze she holds in her hooves, the only full one out of five or six sitting beside her
>The perfect target for one final extortion
>You sidle up to the golden mare, and take a seat in the stool next to her
>The bartender glances up at you and gestures at the many bottles on the wall
>”What's your poison lad?”, she asks with a thin sheen of enthusiasm covering a depressing tone
>Seems the misery in this corner isn’t restricted to the patrons
“I’ll just take something light please”, you say, putting on your cutest smile
>The bartender brings you your drink shortly, and you pay her with some change from your last victim
>You sit silently and sip your drink, a fruity cider with a little umbrella, waiting for the pegasus to to make the first move
>You both sit side by side, sipping away at your drinks. After a few minutes it begins to get tedious
>Looks like you’ll have to make the first move
“So you come here often?”
>You aren’t good at starting these things. How did mares do this again?
>She starts at your question, looking up from her mug
>She looks surprised to see some taking interest in her, and hesitates before replying
>”No, just passing through”
“Oh yeah, what's got you in this neck of the woods then?”
>Despite your awkward question she puts on a small smile, grateful for the attention if you’d have to guess
>”I’m just passing through with my team, we’re staying in Manehattan for a while”
>’Team’, that reminds you of something
“What do you and your team do?”, you inquire your interest piqued
>For some reason the windblown hair and the golden fur remind you of someone
>”I’m captain of the Wond-Weather team, We’re in Manehattan for a while”, she stutters, “What do you do?”
>Shit, horse-shoes on the other hoof now. You race to think of an answer
“I’m just a messenger, I deliver packages”, you say pointing to your cutie-mark
>The symbol is a letter with open wings flanking it
>You’re just lucky it didn’t turn into a pony carrying drugs or something
>”Yeah, that seems right. I don’t think I’ve got your name yet”, she says
>Her body is turned towards you, and her depressive demeanor has dissipated
>This show may have started slowly but it's picking up now
“Its Scout, and yours?”
>”Scout is an… interesting name. A bit blunt”
>She cringes a little when she realises the slight she directed at you, but a roll of your hoof tells her to continue
>”Mines… Solar Winds”, she says, “Sorry about the blunt comment I-”
“Its cool”, you say, “my parents weren’t exactly like most ponies”
>Completely true, the only thing most griffins knew about pony names is that they relate to what they do
>Guess your ‘parents’ had this future planned out for you
>The conversation pauses, and you both look back to your drinks
“So what's got you down in the dumps”
>normally you’d have made your move by now, but something's intriguing you
>There's something mysterious about Solar Winds, and part of you wants to know more
>”Just work stuff”, she says as her dark demeanor returns slightly, “bit of drama going on at the moment”
“Oh yeah, tell me about it”
>She hesitates before replying
>“My bosses are thinking about replacing me”, she says her previous slump present in her voice
>”I’m not getting the same results, and there's been a bit of controversy recently surrounding my career. I used to be the best wo-weather mare in Equestria, and now I guess everything's just moving past me”
>Damn, the wallet you’ve just stolen is starting to burn a hole in your hoof
>You have to suppress a cringe at what you’ve just done
>Thievery is a bit hard to do when you know the pony
>Solar Winds pulls you out of your thoughts, with a question, “So what brings you here”
“What do you mean?”
>”This bar doesn’t seem to be the sort of place for a young colt like you to be hanging out”, she says gesturing at the other patrons sitting down the bar from you two
“I’m just passing through on my way to Manehattan to deliver a package”
>”You fly the packages or do you take a cart”, she asks gesturing at your wings
“Fly where I can, but I’m sure you know about the no-fly zones around Manhattan. They’re pretty annoying actually, guards make my job harder than it needs to be”
>She nods in agreement
>You keep talking touching on each others lives, and you learn a bit about her
>Born and raised in cloudsdale, set records on being the youngest worker to rise to captain of the weather team, numerous awards for service, etcetera
>You dodge most of the questions directed at you, doing your best to avoid any links with Equestria’s underbelly
>Throughout the conversation you can feel her wallet getting heavier and heavier in your saddlebags
>You know that this especially is wrong
>This mare isn’t like the others around the tavern, who’d be more then happy just to feel you up and go about their day
>You question your decision more and more as the night goes on, and eventually the clock on the wall bongs twelve times
>Wait twelve… midnight!
>Oh shit, you have a 5 o’clock start tomorrow!
>You stand out of your seat move to pay the barman, covering both of your drinks for the night
“Well Solar Winds, its been fun, but I gotta go”
>She starts, before looking at the clock nodding
>”Yeah its getting late I should be going too”
“Got something in the morning?”
>”Yeah the weather team has a special assignment tomorrow”
>Weather team, special assignment, Solar Winds… something feels off to you
>Your instincts have been developed over years of near misses, and they’re screaming at you that something is wrong
>Maybe it's the rush you’re in or the alcohol in your system but you decide to just ignore it as you both push the mugs away and stand
>”Well Scout, it's been fun, if a bit short”
“Hopefully we talk again, I had fun tonight”
>She smiles, before turning to walk out the front door
>You look down at your curled hoof
>You’re still holding the wallet in your hoof
>For a second you consider opening it too see if any of the information inside could cure your churning stomach
>You reach with your hoof, but stop
>Fuck it, you’re already doing a good dead, may as well do another
“Hey Solar Winds, you dropped this”