> I break into a run as soon as I'm around the first corner.
> The mist should cover the noise.
> If I'm lucky, I'll find the other end of the alley quick enough to make a difference.
> Fate breaks a bad habit.
> I get lucky.
> The alleyway is a small, dirty backgarden access for a row of ill repaired country terrace houses.
> I stop to catch my breath.
> One minute running is about... one minute more than I'm in condition for these days.
> While I lean on the alley wall, I listen.
> In the distance, another clatter and a muffled cursing, followed by irregular hoof falls.
> Thing about p0nies that I've learnt...
> Compared to a human? They're not all that good at sneaking around.
> Horses are built to spot and run, not lurk and stalk.
> Guess they still carry that with them.
> I figured out early on that I wasn't gonna catch a fleeing p0ny.
> Over a real short distance? Less than 10 feet? Yeah, sometimes I'd get the drop on them.
> Two legs are easier to get moving than four.
> Beyond that, I'd be lucky to keep up with the dust trail.
> So, Instead I tried to be where they were running to.
> Staying in this guard game has given me a lot of practice at lurking.
 
> I hold position and slowly draw my piece.
> It ain't no Smith and Wesson, but it's the closest thing I'm gonna find on this crazy horse-run world.
> Small, compact crossbow that folds down and fits in my long pocket nice and snug.
> Only one shot, but I carry 6 bolts sewn into leather holders inside my coat.
> Diamond dog work.
> Picked it up during a rough case two years back.
> It's a short, nasty looking piece that I only use for short, nasty jobs.
> I hope I don't have to use it every single time I load it.
> Most of the time, I don't disappoint myself.
> Still, gotta be careful.
> Technically, these things are illegal.
> I wait, hidden in the shadows cast by the eaves of a house that frames the alley.
> It's a young mare or an older filly.
> She's carefully picking her path down the garbage strewn dirt track.
> The moonlight is helping, but she's still having a hard time.
> She's alone and distracted.
> Good.
> Keeps her eyes of me.
 
> Definately an older filly, red mane with a pink bow, yellow coat and a familiar drawl in her muttering.
> She's within twenty feet when I step out.
"You looking to earn a cutie mark in spying, or you just really interested in guardwork?"
> The filly jumps, eyes wide with panic and starts to back away.
> Shit.
"Missy, I need you to stop right there."
> I pull the crossbow and with a quick motion cock the lever.
> She's yellow, in more ways than one.
> Either she didn't see the piece, or she doesn't know what one is.
"You run, I shoot. Don't you think that I won't."
> Especially since I won't.
> God damn it.
> She turns and bolts down the alleyway, knocking over a trashcan as she runs.
> I take off after her, hat falling behind me with crossbow a close second.
> My coat flares out behind me as leap the fallen can.
> It's hopeless and I know it.
> She's smaller than me by a longshot, but still quicker.
> Then, for the second time tonight, fate decides to cut me a break.
> As she looks back to see If I'm good for my word with the crossbow, she slams into another garbage can.
> The filly topples over it, thumping to the ground and skidding in the mud.
> She's just getting her legs in order when I leap, catching her around the midriff.
> I muscle her down to the floor, her legs kicking and flailing this way and that.
> Bringing my head closer to hers, through quick breaths I tell her...
..."I say stay put, you stay put dammit!"
 
> She flails and bucks underneath me.
> I reposition myself, grabbing a forehoof with each hand and flipping her over.
> I'm sitting astride her, she's on her back and I have both her hooves restrained.
> She's stronger than she looks.
> More stubborn too.
> Doesn't do her any good.
"You *pant* finished yet?"
> One last vain struggle to free her hooves and then she looks aside, pouting in defeat.
"Cute isn't gonna get you outta this, sweethooves. What the hell were you doing?"
> "Nuthin mister. Ah'm just goin' home."
"Oh, well in that case, just let me get up and you can be on your way."
> She looks up, shock poorly disguised and a smile starting to creep onto her face.
> I don't move.
> "Um... I can't move with you...can I... oh...you di'nt didya mister?"
> Well, I'm dealing with a genius.
"You're quick. Tell you what. You stop lying to me, I'll stop lying to you. Deal?"
> She pouts again.
"I'll even throw in a bonus. If you play ball, I won't even put the anklecuffs on you."
> Her head turns as she looks around for something... escape? help?
> Oh god...
"You're not looking for a ball, are you?"
> She starts to nod, but stops herself.
> Better lay off the slang with this one.
> Jesus.
> What a night.
 
"What's your name?"
> "Ummmm... Diamond? Tiara?" She gives a rictus grin.
"Horseapples. The cuffs are going on, hold still..."
> "NO!, wait please, I'm sorry... It's... Applebloom. *sigh*"
> That makes sense.
"So, I guess that answers why you're watching the station..."
> "uhuh..." Applebloom looks downcast, even her bow sags.
"Aw... damn it. Look. I'm gonna trust you. I'll let you up, but I want you to stay. Talk. Your sister... She's in a lot of trouble."
> Grunting as my joints scream in protest, I push away from the filly and end up sitting in on a buckled, fallen trashcan.
"More trouble than she realises. If I'm going to help her, I need to know a few things."
> She's standing now, still looking down the alleyway as if she's considering running.
"I trusted you Applebloom. Y'gotta trust me. Even if it's only for AJ"
> I use the nickname I heard her friends use.
> Sounding familiar with her sister can't hurt none.
> "...can you get her outta there mister?" asks the filly, sheepishly.
> I slowly shake my head...
..."I don't think so. missy. Most I can do for now is stop things getting worse. After that... maybe."
> Applebloom looks down at the dirt, trying not to cry.
> It distracts her from my lie.
"I know AJ has hit... sorry, robbed wagons before. It's always been small stuff. Nothing like this. Why the change?"
> "She ain't robbed nuthin! It's ours! We're jus'..." At first she shouts, loud enough to raise answering calls for quiet from the nearby houses.
 
> Then, she just trails off, meekly...."...jus' taking it back mister. They cheated us. Stole our home. We ain't ever taken nuthin' that wasn't rightful ours."
> The last part sounded like a second hand justification, learned at the knee of big sister.
"Flam-co. A lot of their wagons, sure... but there are others."
> "They're lyin mister. Tryin ta get us blamed so more'n more p0nies'll try an' get us. S'not fair." She pouts again, her eyes glisten but still hold a defiant cast.
> I let it slide.
> There's an age limit on my 'world ain't fair kid' speech.
> Got to be this tall to ride the disillusion-coaster.
> "...ah told her we shouldn't do this." she mumbles to herself, I barely catch it.
> So, it wasn't just a mistake.
> She went for the wagon with intent.
"Why'd she do it then? D'you know?"
> Applebloom bites her bottom lip, avoiding my gaze "Um. Aftah she went ta Manehatten last week. We got a lettah out in...um. at home."
> Probably Appleloosa...
> "Sis was reeeal angry. She went straight fer th' train. When she came back she was jus'... sad. Told us the plan. BigMac didn' like it."
> Jeez kid, anyone else you wanna implicate?
> I fight down the instinct to tell her to keep schtum.
> You can't stop the blab train.
> Applebloom sighs... "...but Sis said 'we don't got no choice' and 'we got our orders'."
 
"You remember anything else about the letter?"
> "... well, it was with a package. It was a bit funny. Who'd send oranges ta appl. eep!"
> She claps her mouth with both hooves.
> I get an Idea.
"Hey, I need to go. You head home. I'll tell your sister you're ok. Just... give me something so she knows it's from you."
> Applebloom thinks, tapping her chin, then catches up.
> Somehow she unties her bow and drops it on my lap.
"Stay off the streets, kid, and... be careful."
> "Don't you worry none, mister. Ah'm a big p0ny. Ah can look aftah myself."
> I stand, give her a tired wave and head back down the alleyway to find my hat and piece.
> Then I do what I do everynight.
> I go looking for a bar.