Count Privilege was a unicorn, always well-dressed, with an upturned nose and an aristocratic bearing. He was not just a former member of the Manehattan Senate; he also ran the Committee of Internal Affairs, one of the most important ones in the city at the present time. His coat was the color of gold, with his mane a silvery color. His eyes were the color of diamonds, a light grey that sparkled and shone like the precious stone.
So when the former senator burst open the door of a ragged-down corner street bar late at night, every eye in the room immediately turned to his direction. The committee leader stayed in the door frame for just a second, allowing for anyone who wanted to get a good look, before he came into the crowded brick room. The nauseating smell of vomit and spilled drinks hit the senator's nose like a punch. He stumbled through the room regardless, ignoring the looks of venom directed at him by some of the residents sitting at tables spread throughout the room.
When he came to the bartender, the pony behind the bar scowled at him and did not ask him anything.
Count Privilege drew a crumpled slip of paper out of his elaborately tailored suit and laid it before the bartender.
The bartender looked over the slip for just a second before gruffly nodding and motioning for him to follow. The Count put the slip back in his suit and followed the bartender.
They came to a small, out-of-the-way back room behind the bathrooms. Count Privilege nodded politely, motioning for the bartender to leave. The bartender, after shooting him an irritated look, walked away.
Count Privilege hurriedly opened the door to the back room and slipped inside it and shut the door. The room was small, with only a fan and a single aging yellow light on a chain above them. The room only allowed room for a small table and two chairs.
Across from him, sitting in one of those chairs, was Client 24. He was the only pony in the room, apart from the Count. Client 24 was in a dark brown trench coat with black leather gauntlets on all four of his hooves and a wide-brimmed hat that obscured his face. He had on large sunglasses and a black bandanna on his nose and mouth, so Count Privilege could not see any part of him. The old yellow light threw most of his body into a dark shadow.
And then the Count realized that he had goosebumps. The room seemed much more colder than he had remembered the last few times he had visited his shady client. He grunted. Somepony had forgotten to turn on the heater.
"You are late," Client 24 told him. Client 24's voice was hard and deep, like a monster whose voice ascended through the depths of the earth.
Count Privilege shuddered at the tone and sat down across from his client. "My petition in City Hall took longer than I thought it would. It was about allocating some of the funds to go to the school system. They already have enough as it is."
"Their funds have been growing for quite some time now," his client agreed. "And average performance has not increased. If not reared correctly, foals and fillies grow up in false beliefs... and teach others their false beliefs. In or outside the school system."
Count Privilege sighed and nudged the table irritably. "As fascinating as the small talk is, I didn't come here to talk about education. I'm very mad about what's been happening recently."
Client 24 smiled under his bandanna; Count Privilege could see the motions his mouth made under the cloth. "Please enlighten me," he said. "I would like to know why I've been summoned."
Count Privilege ignited his horn in a silvery aura, and his briefcase opened. A newspaper floated out, and the Count slammed the paper down on the table. "Look at the paper. Now."
Client 24 did not take the paper. "Do not insist that I know nothing of what's going on recently."
"There have been murders! Killings in the streets, after daytime! This is bad for the Committee of Internal Affairs. If I don't do something soon, I'll be lynched by Congress!"
Client 24 gave a harsh, evil laugh that sounded like a barking dog. "That would be worth seeing," he commented wryly.
"Don't play games with me, Client. I know you've broken our agreement."
"How so?" he replied evenly.
"You've read the papers. You've seen the pictures. The pictures of the bodies. Do they look familiar to you? The wounds? Those are the marks of a gun."
"And?" he asked.
"And you are the only pony in the world that has uncontrolled access to guns! So you are the only pony in the world that can give those weapons to somepony else. A week ago there was that gang that was found disemboweled in the side streets. And there was that train of guns that you were transporting into Manehattan that was derailed! And just yesterday, eight griffons were killed in the same warehouse I set aside for gun storage. You want to know how they were killed? You want to know what happened? They were shot. And the Night Terror had to have gotten those weapons from somepony!" His voice went up near the end of his rant.
"Are you insinuating that I sold guns to the Night Terror?" Client 24 snarled threateningly.
"YES!" Count Privilege bellowed, leaning on the table. "Who else?"
"A criminal given guns that turned away from crime?" he suggested. "A thief who stole them from your storages? A pony that invented another prototype of the weapon?" He shook his head. "You are running a dangerous risk in blaming me for these murders."
"Did you or did you not sell your weapons to the Night Terror?" the Count demanded. His hooves were numb from the chilling cold all around him.
Client 24 sat forward. Underneath the sunglasses he wore, the Count could see a red, angry glow as his client's eyes burned. "I swear to Celestia I did not sell the Night Terror guns."
"You'll have to better than that," the Count snapped. "I'm not all that inclined to believe you right now. You came to me with the promise of making me rich, and I need to know you haven't double-crossed me."
Client 24's eyes burned a brighter red underneath the sunglasses. "I swear on the soul of my poor dead mother that I did not sell guns to the Night Terror. I swear also on the soul of my sister that if what I am saying is false, I will burn in Tartarus."
A moment or two passed while the two partners stared at each other fiercely.
Finally Count Privilege leaned back in his seat and broke off eye contact. "I really don't like how certain you sound about this."
"Our deal has not been broken, my good sir. I still sell you guns that, as a reminder, generate enormous profit when you redistribute them to crime leaders. And you now look good in the city's eyes because you're busy looking into the cases that result from them. I will not break the deal now. What if the Night Terror comes after me as a result of me providing criminals the weapons?"
"You're always concerned about your identity, aren't you?" the Count asked bitterly. "That's why you always dress like this whenever we meet?"
"I have to be. I did not kill Bright Mind and loot his work so I could get captured and rot in prison for the rest of my life. And I did not perfect the prototypes so I could listen to you whine about ending the deal." The dull yellow light made the shadow running diagonally across his face look murderous.
"And what will you do if I do decide to end the deal?" the Count demanded indignantly.
His arm shifted under the table. "I have full access to these weapons, Senator. Did you think I would leave the house without one on hoof?"
The count examined Client 24's trench coat. It would be easy to conceal a weapon as small as a gun in there. A growing sense of uneasiness gripped him. "So what do we do about this... Night Terror?"
Client 24 tapped the table. "Guns were not the only thing that poor scientist developed. I stole some of his... more interesting toys, shall we say, after I killed him in that lab explosion. And I intend to use them. The next time the Night Terror attacks, he will run into more trouble than expected when I introduce him to Bright Mind's more deadly experiments."
"And when will that be?" the Count demanded of him. "I ordered another shipment of weapons into the city two days ago, after the train accident. I want your guarantee that the shipment will not be hijacked or destroyed. I lost fifteen thousand bits when that train derailed."
"Tomorrow, after the docks close, a private yacht will arrive at the piers. It will transport the shipment of guns to our friend Amadeus. No doubt the Night Terror will strike there. But I will set a trap for him. I will kill him myself, if I have to. I will not rest until the Night Terror is dead." He leaned forward. "And a tired, restless pony is a dangerous adversary to contend with."
Count Privilege gulped. The already chilly room seemed a lot colder. "I wanted your promise that the Night Terror won't disrupt it."
"I make no promises on if the Night Terror shows up. But I promise you that if he does, he'll be in for a world of trouble. He is the only thing standing in the way of your success. So I will join the fight. He will not be a problem. At no extra cost to you."
The Count looked squarely at him. Client 24 made no movement of expression. One of the many advantages of having your face covered, Count Privilege thought. You can look like anything you want underneath the sunglasses and bandanna and hat.
Anything at all.
"And I still only have to give you... that one mineral?" the Count asked. "Whatever you need it for, it had better be good. It's very hard to find, and very expensive. It's hard to get private scientists and miners and purifiers, and all that equipment."
Client 24 smiled under his black bandanna. The Count could again see the motions his lips made under the cloth. "Don't you worry about a thing, Senator," he barked. "You will be rewarded for all of your hard work. That I guarantee you."
Count Privilege smiled then, the first real smile Client 24 had seen out of him that night. "And soon we will share in our reward. The Night Terror and his vigilante work will be dead. Organized crime will be crushed when I expose them all. They'll be put in prison for life, and the citizens will be so happy, they'll elect me as mayor of Manehattan. I'll lead the city as the richest pony in Equestria, and you'll be a successful and free businesspony... with that other, strange element you need for some reason. Are you going to resell it?"
"Oh, no." Client 24 shook his head. "I have much better plans in place for what you owe me."
"I've held up my end of the deal." Count Privilege reminded him. "I've already given you plenty of that... unpronounceable element. You still need to make sure all of the weapons get to where they need to be when I get them into Manehattan. So far, the guns haven't made it to all of their targets."
"Are you not even a little uncertain about this?" Client 24 asked him. "Have you truly thought about how dangerous this all could be? All those griffons and ponies down on their luck, armed with these deadly weapons. If they decide to revolt against you..."
"Then I'll just take their money." The Count shrugged, then gave him a look. "But why are you asking this?"
"I simply wanted to know if you were truly prepared to advance further with the deal. Are you certain you can handle things if something unexpected happens?"
"Absolutely. I am one of the most powerful ponies in the city."
"Next to the Night Terror?" Client 24 asked him.
"Don't ask that." Count Privilege gave a sharp intake of breath. "I wouldn't know what to do if he were to attack me."
The Night Terror smiled yet again. "I'll be there beside you when he does." He stood up. "I think that's enough for tonight. They might get suspicious if you stay too long."
"It's always a pleasure doing business with you," Count Privilege muttered, though not enthusiastically. "Hopefully we can catch the Night Terror and end all our problems."
"We need a lot of luck with that. He's a phantom of the city. He seems to be everywhere at once. He permeates every private corner. He sees all. He hears all. He knows all. He's probably listening in on this conversation right now. He probably knows every word we have spoken. He's probably much, much closer than you think." His expression was unreadable under his bandanna and sunglasses.
Count Privilege's face was anxious and sweaty as he looked around the room, even though the room was biting cold. "You...did check the room for bugs beforehoof, right?"
"Of course I did," the Night Terror responded, all serious. "I was joking."
The Count gulped. "I've never heard you joke before."
"I have to start somewhere." Client 24 shook his head in amusement. "Remember. The yacht will arrive at the harbor after hours. The cargo will be delivered. Now go. If you stay back here for longer than ten minutes, the barkeep'll think you're either be banging a whorse again or making a secret deal. This has to be kept secret."
"I'll never say a word," the Count whispered, and he winked. He then picked up his briefcase with his magic and opened the door. As he left, he shot Client 24 a look. But the Night Terror motioned for him to leave, and Count Privilege left the small room.
The Night Terror leaned back in his seat, a small smile on his face under the black bandanna. "Oh, Count Privilege," he murmured in his normal voice- softly, calmly. "I almost feel sorry for you."
And he laughed. It was a haunting laugh because it was so brief and so soft, and the air dropped another few degrees.
It was the day after Twilight and her friends had analyzed the scene of the crime. Most of the girls had trouble sleeping after seeing the corpses strewn across the ground of the scorched warehouse. The bodies had been taken out of it for examination at the Manehattan Institute of Technology, one of the most prestigious places of scientific advancement in all of Equestria, located on the southern tip of the massive island.
The following day Twilight and the others ate breakfast and came to visit the laboratory at ten o' clock that morning. The institute itself was the size of several hoofball fields, full of smaller laboratories off to the sides. The one Twilight and her friends were in was crowded with tables that were covered in objects like petri dishes, cotton swabs coated in griffon blood, microscopes, and pipettes of bodily fluids extracted from the crime scene.
Twilight and her friends were now in lab coats. The room was a sterile white, with pure unfiltered white light from the overhanging fixtures reflecting off of the spotless whitewashed walls. At one end of the massive room, half a dozen ponies were crowded around a gun taken from a crate the griffons had, trying to dissect the weapon and see how it worked. On another table was the body of a griffon who had been riddled with bullets and was ripped to pieces because of it.
Twilight and her friends were gathered around the body of the barely-recognizable griffon. Some of the more sensitive mares, like Rarity and Fluttershy, held their breath as an expertly trained medical unicorn used her magic to carefully, carefully lift a squashed and deformed metal lump out of one of the many wounds in the griffon's body. The bullet was the color of wet, raw clay, a result of being left in the body and soaking in the griffon's blood. The light green aura around the bullet shifted over to a nearby microscope and settled the bullet down.
"Let's clean off the bullet," Dr. Brainstem ordered the nurse. The nurse lifted a soaked cotton ball over to the bullet and rubbed the disgusting projectile down. There remained a bit of maroon staining in the crevices of the bullet, but it was otherwise clean.
Dr. Brainstem looked through the microscope with a scrutinizing eye.
"Whaddaya see? Huh? Whaddaya see?" Pinkie asked feverishly, bouncing all around the doctor.
"Pinkie! Be quiet!" Twilight ordered. "He's trying to do his work."
The doctor looked for a few more seconds, adjusting the bullet under the microscope as needed. Then he looked up. "It's as we feared. Even though it's squashed, we're able to tell the original marks on it. The logo on this bullet matches the one found in the crate of weapons the griffons were carrying. The Night Terror and the griffons are getting their supplies from the same source."
"Looks like you were right, Applejack," Rainbow complimented her, slapping her on the back. "You figured it all out!"
"What does the logo look like?" Rarity asked, lifting her ivory hoof.
Dr. Brainstem shook his head in remorse. "It's a peace sign, Rarity."
"Oh." Rarity's face fell almost comically. "My goodness. That's rather counterintuitive, don't you say?"
"Indeed." Dr. Brainstem looked through the microscope again. "But what's more interesting is that there are no hoofprints on the bullet anywhere. Undoubtedly, the Night Terror had to load the weapons into the gun in the first place, but he obviously did it with gloves, because there aren't any marks on the bullet other than the blood."
"Unless he loaded the gun with magic," came a hard voice. "Furthering my theory that the Night Terror was a unicorn." Case File came over to the work station and inclined his weary head. "Princess Twilight, I hope you're enjoying the Manehattan Institute lab?"
"I certainly am!" Twilight exclaimed, tapping her hooves together. "It's one of the most advanced labs in all of Equestria, and I finally get to visit it!"
Dr. Brainstem chuckled. "The lab in Canterlot where we first made the guns was even more advanced than this," he told them. "I remember all of the work we'd done...before the accident." His voice dropped. "And now the weapons I helped create are causing terror in this city," he whispered, and he turned away.
Twilight thought for a little bit. This would be a good time to ask about the initial invention. After five seconds, Twilight trotted next to the doctor and touched his arm. "Dr. Brainstem? Can you tell me about Bright Mind? The pony that first created the guns?"
Dr. Brainstem put a hoof to his chin in thought, his emerald eyes narrowing. "Bright Mind, you say? My goodness, that's a trip down memory lane."
"Please just tell us all you know," Twilight told him. "Anything helps."
Dr. Brainstem pondered before responding. "Bright Mind...was isolated. He wasn't the kind of pony that went out with other scientists on their parties on breaks. Sat by himself in the lunchroom. Pretended like nopony else existed or mattered to him. He was very dedicated to the project- focused completely on his work, never going home until everypony else was gone."
"So he was aloof? Mysterious?" Rarity asked for clarification.
Dr. Brainstem snorted. "Hardly. He was alone for a reason. None of the others really liked him all that much. They treated him with barely-concealed contempt."
"But why?" Fluttershy timidly asked, shrinking into herself a bit. "Nopony deserves to be bullied."
"It may have been that he was so much smarter than the other scientists," Dr. Brainstem theorized. He shrugged. "When you're smarter than other ponies, you stand out. And that makes you a target. Nopony likes ponies that are better than them. Whenever I saw the little guy, he was downcast, like he was in a trance. He kept to himself, so he didn't make very many friends. Apparently, if friendship is magic, he didn't get a taste of it." He shook his head.
"That... that's awful!" Rarity despaired. "All that time, he had to go through these experiences alone?
"He was smaller and weaker than them, too," he continued. "It wasn't as though he chose to not hurt them back. He was physically incapable of it. In all my work experience, I never saw a more lonely soul. But the only reason he never opened up to others was because he knew they'd just be in a position to hurt him further, to have him trust as a friend somepony who was in reality an enemy. I was in a separate part of the project, but when I saw him, he was either looking severely down or he was trying to work. He did it feverishly, like it was the only thing that mattered to him."
"But why?" Twilight asked.
"I don't know. This went on for quite some time, starting several years before Nightmare Moon's return. Equestria's greatest scientific minds- pardon the brag- were brought onto a secret project to construct a weapon that could help easily defend Equestria. From Nightmare Moon or anything else. Two years into the project, Bright Mind discovered an element called gunpowder, which is essential for a gun to function. After that, our project picked up speed. He became more and more isolated. The teasing grew at a more rapid pace. He stayed after work later and later. He practically lived at the lab, almost never going home. It became an inside joke of ours to talk about him. He was certainly the odd duck out.
"Finally, after six months of hard work, the first successful prototype of the weapon was assembled. Bright Mind was the one who had created it, because the other scientists he worked with were more than content to lounge back and let him do all the work for them. But after it was created and tested, the other ponies had reputably stolen his credit for it.
Dr. Brainstem wiped his forehead, as if he was nervous to keep going. "...Then he exposed their fraud in front of Celestia and the chief funder. Denounced them as liars and thieves. And that night, as he went home for the first time in weeks, the ponies attacked him and beat him to a pulp. They bruised his gonads. Dented his skull. Gave him a scar across his face." He drew a line with his hoof from the top of his right forehead to the bottom of his left jawbone. The girls gasped in horror. "They spat on him. They knocked out a tooth. They broke two of his ribs. And they whispered, "What are you going to do about it? What have you learned? You've learned to stay out of our business." And they called his mother a Whorse, and laughed at him."
Twilight felt sick to her stomach at the descriptions. It felt terrible to learn about him, terrible to know the truth about the pony who had made the weapons in the first place. In a trembling voice she asked, "How do you know this?"
"I was the one that discovered him," Dr. Brainstem said morosely. "I took him back to the lab and patched him up. I did the best I could, but... the wounds stayed with him for the rest of his, er, shortened life span."
"What do you mean?" Rainbow asked suspiciously.
"There was a period of time between the invention of the weapon and the distribution to the military. During that time, Bright Mind came in to work as usual, but would not look at any of the coworkers that hurt him that night. He grew hard. Bitter. Cold. worked harder than ever. He had that hideous scar on his face, but he never explained it to anypony who asked. 'An accident,' was all he said to questions. I have to say, I admire his courage."
"Courage?" Rarity asked incredulously. "If he had courage, he would have told somepony about it!"
Case File intervened. "And if he had told somepony, that would have told the bullies that he was weak, that he wasn't worthy of being called strong. That he could not stand up to them without help." He grimaced all of a sudden, then stroked his five-o-clock shadow while looking at Dr. Brainstem. "Apologies. Go on. I just had to say my piece."
Dr. Brainstem nodded, shone his glasses a bit more, and set them back on his snout. "The day before we distributed the early models to the military, Bright Mind volunteered to do the last-minute inspection. He was alone in the facility, after hours as usual. And all of a sudden there was an explosion that originated in his lab. Ripped through the entire compound and killed him. When emergency crews got to the scene and carried his remains out of the ruins, we saw Bright Mind's body.
"He was... burned and mutilated beyond my ability to describe it. It's so ghastly to recall." Dr. Brainstem ran a hoof along his balding head remorsefully, his large green eyes downcast. "I felt such a pang of sorrow when I saw it. That thing, the body that was impossible to believe had once been a pony. But when the body was shown to the others...well, they hid their relief well. At least, they thought they did.
"I hated them for that." His voice grew hard, and dark. "I hated them for treating another pony with such contempt. I resigned and moved to Manehattan after we discovered that the weapon stockpile had been pillaged. With two leading scientists on the project gone, and the weapons all looted without a trace, the entire project had to be shut down. When that happened, the pony that had funded the project was furious. When it shut down, he had lost hundreds of thousands of bits along with it."
"Who was the pony that funded the project?" Applejack asked.
A dangerous glint came into the doctor's emerald eyes. "Funny. How it all comes back around. The current head of the Committee of Internal Affairs for Manehattan. Count Rich Privilege, a pony with more bits than brain cells."
Case File looked at his watch and his scarlet eyes bulged. "Holy smoke. Er, I have to be somewhere," he whispered hurriedly. He dashed out the door, flinging off his lab coat.
"Sorry?" Rarity called after him, but he was already gone.
Dr. Brainstem shifted the work station over just a little. "He's just got an appointment. He didn't say anything about it, but, well, you know how forensics experts are."
He gave a glance out of the laboratory window. The sunset lit the twin rivers on either side of Manehattan so it looked like a river of fiery lava. The sun itself was just above the torch held in the hoof of the Mare Statue on Equis Island, making the gold-plated torch look like it was really burning. The sun reflected off the city's glass-plated buildings, making it look like the whole island was burning. When the thought entered Dr. Brainstem's head, he rebuked himself silently for thinking such a jinxing thought.
"I think we should go to our apartment now," Twilight said after a lull in the conversation. "It's getting late, and we should be ready to work tomorrow."
"You do that," Dr. Brainstem said with a kind smile. "You're more precious than us. You need the sleep. We'll be wrapping things up here." He looked through the microscope again, but only as a way to distance himself from the girls.
As the girls slowly filed out, Dr. Brainstem looked out the window at the dusk sky, eerily apocalyptic in the bright orange color settling over the city. "May Celestia have mercy on this city," he whispered.
The Night Terror would strike again tonight. He just knew it. There had been gaps in between attacks of about two to three days. And it had been two days since the griffons were found dead in the destroyed warehouse.
The Night Terror would surface again to wreak havoc tonight. He was certain of that. But where? He let his eyes travel around the city's many landmarks; Bridleway, the Chrystaller building, the Bronclyn Bridge. Where would he go? What would he do?
On the horizon, a small dot appeared on the ocean, unbeknownst to Dr. Brainstem. It was a private yacht, heading for the docks, which were about to close. It was loaded with weapons...and a special surprise.
The six girls and Spike returned their lab coats and goggles to the front of the desk where they came in. They then walked out of the massive building and onto the luscious green grounds of the laboratory. When the last pony, Applejack, filtered out of the lab, she asked Twilight, "Ah'ma guess we ain't goin' back ta our apartment, now are we, Twi?"
"Yes we are, Applejack," Twilight answered with determination. "But not to sleep. We're keeping an eye out on the city tonight."
"What?!" Fluttershy exclaimed, leaping a foot in the air and hovering there on her wings. "B-b-but the N-n-night Terror..."
"That's probably the reason we're staying up, Fluttershy," Rainbow patiently explained, flapping three feet in the air above their heads. "We're gonna catch this guy, whoever it is, and we're gonna kick his stupid flank!"
"Well, maybe not in those terms," Twilight said, "But we are going to keep a watch for any suspicious activity tonight. Rainbow, I want you to patrol the skies above the city tonight and keep your eyes peeled for any loud noises or explosions. The Night Terror might show himself tonight."
"Twilight?" Rarity asked out of nowhere. "What was Case File late for exactly?"
Twilight craned her head to look at her. "Huh?"
"What was Case File so desperate to leave for?" she reiterated. "Was he going to leave somewhere for his forensics appointment, or was it for some other business?"
Twilight narrowed her eyes. "What are you suggesting?" she slowly asked.
"Nothing, darling. I was simply curious, that's all."
The Night Terror sharpened and loaded his weapons as he looked around the small space he was in. His body quivered with the anticipation of the fight ahead of him. He was like this every time he went out in the night. For it was in the night that he must operate. Nopony must see him. If they discovered who he truly was...well, he didn't want to think about what it would mean for him. So much of his life, undercut away from him in an instant, is what it would mean. So much work, so much secrecy, so much of his effort would be wasted if anypony... specifically, Dr. Brainstem or Count Privilege... found out the truth. He would be hated, and hunted to the ends of the planet.
But he loved it, the feeling of being almost caught. He loved the feeling of being a threat, of mattering to ponies who needed to recognize his power...
He smiled cruelly. Tonight justice would be delivered. Swift justice. Fair justice.
Permanent justice.
He looked out of the small window next to him. Night was falling quickly. The sun had almost disappeared.
He made sure all of his weapons were operational, then he sat cross-legged on the ground he was in. The Night Terror settled down on his hooves in the dark space. His calm before the battle. He whispered to himself.
My anger is cold, and so I use it. Their anger is hot, and so it uses them.
They are dangerous. But so am I.
He opened his scarlet eyes.
I am the Night Terror. I am the only power that really matters.
And every last traitorous soul shall bow in my shadow.