The Cleaner
By Silvertie
The heavy sound of breathing filled the air in the half-lit room, the bright light of sunshine outside struggling against closed blinds.
The pony sat in the middle of the room, back hunched over as she gritted her teeth and swung her weapon at what lay below her with a wet thwack.
"Celestia... send... you... to... Tartarus!" Rarity cursed in between swings, sweat starting to bead on her forehead, before she sat back on her haunches, taking a deep breath.
"Why?" Rarity pleaded aloud. "Sweetie Belle, why couldn't you just... look what you've driven me to!"
Fluid dripped from Rarity's hooves, a pale red from her exertions. Rarity looked down at what she'd done, and like a switch, her eyes went wide.
"What have I done?" she asked numbly, looking at the red-discolored square object she held in her magic, and dropping it in horror. "What have I done?!" she repeated, leaning forward and breaking into tears over the mess she'd made.
They would find out. She couldn't cover this up forever. Someone would find out. Someone would walk into her room when she least expected it (probably one of the Crusaders) and find her dirty little secret, poking out from under the corner of her bed or something. That's how it always happened in her stories. She'd be shamed, nopony would ever look at her the same way again, if she was lucky. She'd have to move to Stalliongrad, change her name to Raritozka and design winter fashion all year around! No fall or spring fashion, and Celestia forbid she should have the chance to design summer fashion ever again...
No. Rarity wasn't going to get found out. She could still save herself from that frozen, no-summer-line, ice-encrusted hell. All she had to do was stay calm, and think. She had a way out, she knew it, deep down in her soul. The question was, what was the way out? It was... it was...
Ah. She got up, and ran over to her desk, pulling the drawer open with stained hooves and rifled through it, looking for... there it was. She pulled it out with her magic, holding it aloft in a sky-blue glow of magic.
Small. Black. Rectangular and thin. Her little Black Book. Within it lay the solution to her problem, if she recalled correctly. When you lived in a small town for as long as she had, you acquired... contacts. You met ponies who provided certain... services. Discreetly. The kind of ponies who could make a problem disappear virtually overnight without a trace, and all for a modest fee.
Rarity flipped through to the page she wanted, and found the details she needed. She looked back at the crumpled mess in the middle of the floor, then at the drawer where she kept her lockbox of bits.
This wasn't going to be cheap.
The sun set, and the moon rose in it's stead. In all that time, the doors to Carousel Boutique remained closed, the shutters drawn, a sign on the door citing that Rarity was simply "out to lunch". A rather long lunch.
And as the moon slowly reached apogee, the lunch quietly came to an end, as the door clicked softly, and swung open on thankfully quiet hinges. A curled mane poked out into the brisk, mid-autumn night, followed by Rarity's head as she checked the coast. It was clear, and so she reached behind her with her magic, and pulled something behind her as she stepped out the door.
A small, battered, brown suitcase, roughly foal-sized, although it'd probably take a bit of contortionism to get a foal in there properly. What it lacked in size, it made up for in sturdiness and security, being what Rarity found to be the most reliable piece of luggage she'd ever had, even if it was a little unsightly with it's cold iron locking mechanism. But she wasn't taking chances with this -- the last thing she wanted was to be walking past some ponies, and for her case to just pop open of it's own accord (just like in her stories) and have her dirty secret exposed to the world. Cue the shame-fuelled Stalliongrad getaway, and the end of life as she knew it. Even her friends would be quick to shun her, she knew.
"I didn't know Rarity was capable of that," they would say. "I can't believe I was friends with such a monster," they would comment, wondering what other dirty things their friend had hidden from them.
Rarity shook her head as she gently and stealthily closed the Boutique's door. Why was she worrying? All she had to do was get across town to The Cleaner's house, and she was in the clear. The boutique had been cleaned properly, bleach and all. Nobody would ever know what had happened there. All she had to do was...
Get. Across. Town. She hefted the case onto her back, and slinking along like a white cat in the moonlight, moved away from the Boutique and into town.
As she crept along the side of a building, her ear twitched and she heard the faint murmur of conversation up ahead. Looking around, she espied a convenient pile of crates, behind which she quietly cantered and hunkered down, making sure to tuck her elegant tail in lest it betray her position.
"And then I said, like, no way," a familiar, hoarse voice said. "There is no way in Tartarus that I'm going to let her put that in my trunk."
"Oh my, Rainbow," a quiet voice whispered, as what sounded like a pair of ponies clip-clopped past.
"Yeah," Rainbow said. "I told my Mum I was gonna wear that sweater for the next week, and that's what I'm doing. Look at this hoof-stitching, Flutters! It's beautiful!"
"I can feel the love in every stitch," Fluttershy said quietly. "And I'm sure everyone at the club was jealous. In a good way, I mean."
"Oh, I know," Rainbow bragged, her voice starting to fade into the distance once more. "Some of them told me, straight up. You know Pokey, that guy who has the limited edition Peril Pyre Daring Do? He said..."
Rarity let out the breath she'd been holding as Rainbow's account became inaudible and she couldn't hear what Pokey Pierce had said. That had been a close call, they'd almost caught her in the act while coming back from the Book Club. They wouldn't have pried, but they would have tagged along, and eventually learned too much...
She couldn't have that. She could silence them, sure, but the knowledge that they knew the truth would have haunted her for the rest of her days, beating under the floorboards of her mind, the Telltale Truth. Might as well just move to Stalliongrad and get her borscht on.
She slipped out of her hiding place, and felt a refreshing, gentle breeze waft around her as she entered the town square, moving past the moonlit sculpture of Celestia in the middle. A good omen, she thought.
At least, that's what she thought. As she reached the edge of the square, there was a melodious note, a strum of a lyre that just sent a chill of horror down Rarity's spine. She froze in her tracks and turned her head slowly, catching what she hadn't seen earlier, sitting on a bench in the shadow of a small shrubbery.
"Ah, Lyra," Rarity said, uneasy as she identified the unicorn sitting there by her posture -- Lyra was weird like that, but hey, it worked for her and that was what mattered. "I didn't see you there."
"Oh, good evening, Rarity," Lyra Heartstrings waved a hoof that poked out of the durable-looking, but rather snazzy jacket she was wearing. "Whatcha doing?"
"Oh, me?" Rarity laughed quietly. "Nothing much, just... just a late night walk." Rarity swallowed, and changed the subject. "I'm actually curious as to what you're doing playing an instrument at this hour..."
"Oh, I felt some inspiration coming on for a threnody," Lyra explained, hefting the golden instrument. "Trying to hash out the notes before I forget 'em, and all, but Bon's doing that thing again where she just won't stop giggling at her book, and it's really annoying."
Rarity nodded. "I see," she said, before deciding on the next thing to talk about. "I like your sweater, very tasteful."
"Yeah?" Lyra twisted a little in her seat to show it off a little. "I'll tell Bon you said that, she picked it out for me because I keep coming out here at night when she does her giggling thing. I love her to bits, I really do," Lyra sighed contentedly, kicking her hind-hooves a little. "Warm as anything, too. I feel like I'm a little warm pocket in a sea of iced water, or something."
"That's good to hear," Rarity said, nodding. "Well, I'll leave you to it, don't want to impugn on your songwriting. Good luck with your bolero."
"Threnody," Lyra corrected. "And thanks, you have a nice night, too."
Lyra strummed her lyre once again, and the two parted ways, the sound of Lyra's nighttime threnody fading into the distance as Rarity continued. It wasn't exactly warm out, but she was sweating. Thank Celestia that Lyra hadn't noticed the suitcase - no amount of silencing could have stopped Bon Bon finding out then, and that mare was an incorrigible gossip.
But no matter. Rarity passed Lyra and Bon Bon's home, noting the lights behind the drawn curtains and faint giggle-snorting as she passed. Rarity recalled where exactly the house was, and realized she was closer than she'd realized to her destination. The home stretch!
She picked up her pace, and in no time at all, came to a stop at a small gate in a white picket fence, encasing a small lawn that sat outside a small home, the reasonably-well-maintained lawn littered with dark shapes that Rarity guessed were toys in the moonlight.
This was The Cleaner's home, the place where she worked her magic and made problems disappear. Rarity pushed the gate open quietly, and slipped through, closing it behind her. She started walking down the path, when her hoof landed on something with wheels. With a skittering rattle, it shot sideways, throwing her well off balance and causing her to cry out in alarm as her suitcase went flying.
With a desperate grasp of magic, she flung out a telekinetic hoof and caught it before it hit the ground, and caught herself with her actual hooves, splayed out for stability. She stayed like that, hooves outstretched and set for a moment, as she looked around. Thankfully, no shouts of alarm had been cast into the air, and indeed, it didn't seem like anypony had noticed. It was close to midnight, so that was fair.
She regained her composure and strode forward, ascending the small steps and standing in front of the house's door, before raising a hoof to knock, looking around furitively. Before she could touch hoof to wood, however, the door clicked and swung unwards, and Rarity managed to stop herself in time before she hit the grey-faced mare swaddled in a dressing gown, on the other side of the doorway, in the face.
Rarity lowered her hoof and cleared her throat. "I'm sorry to bother you at this late hour," she apologized, "But I have a problem that needs... taking care of. Discreetly."
The mare nodded numbly, and yawning, beckoned Rarity in. Rarity obliged, and stepped over the threshold as the door slowly closed itself behind her. The hallway was a carefully maintained beaten path of clear floor amongst a small ocean of toys set aside for later play and never recovered. Rarity followed her host to the far end, where a small door awaited.
The two stepped into the room, and once they closed the door, there was a click as the lights were turned on. Rarity and her grey pegasus host were standing in a small laundry, washing machine and dryer standing next to a well-used sink with a cupboard beneath it, like all laundry rooms had. The shelves were lined with miscellaneous bottles and boxes that contained the tools of The Cleaner's trade.
"Sorry about the toys in the front yard," Derpy Hooves croaked, voice low. "Dinky didn't pick them up like I asked her to this afternoon, it seems."
"It's no problem, really," Rarity said, voice equally low, waving a hoof dismissively. "I need your help. I've made a bit of a mess."
Derpy seemed to be waking up quicker now. "And you need my help... oh, Luna. Let's see what the damage is, shall we?"
Rarity obliged, putting her case on top of the dryer and popping it open for Derpy to see, who cringed visibly.
"Sweet Celestia," the pegasus muttered. "What did-"
"Sweetie Belle," Rarity said flatly. "She somehow managed to get this red paint into my beautiful white gown when it was hanging on the line. I rushed to clean it while it was still fresh, but in my haste, I used a polysacharide soap instead of a polyhexane, and it... well."
"Understatement of the year," Derpy muttered, squinting at it. "Still, never met something I couldn't get the stain out of. I didn’t get a cutie mark of suds for nothing." Derpy looked at Rarity. "I'll get right on this one," she said, before popping the cupboard beneath the sink open and pulling out a bucket as well as some basic chemicals. "I think a soak overnight in some Bruno-Ajax mix should go a long way, then we just need to apply some polyhexane and we're home free."
"Thank you," Rarity said, nodding. "You're a lifesaver, Derpy. I can't imagine what everypony would say if they knew I botched a cleaning job like I did. I'd never live it down, and the Fashion Police would strip me of my license... Stalliongrad..."
Derpy nodded understandingly, and yawned as she patted Rarity on the shoulder. "And that's why you come to me. Don't worry, the secret's safe with me," she reassured. "I'll just start this going and head back to bed, if you don't mind. I'll drop it off in the mailbox sometime tomorrow, when it's done."
Rarity nodded, and smiled, as she made her way to the door. "The usual payment?"
Derpy paused for a moment, and held up a hoof. "Perhaps some cranberry muffins on the platter this time, I've gone off the peach a little."
Rarity nodded again. "Done."
Pinkie Pie rapped on the door with a hoof, and waited.
It wasn't long before it clicked and opened, pulled with some effort by a small filly. Pinkie reinforced her smile.
"Hi!" she chirped, bouncing a small, sugarcube-corner-logo-emblazoned white box from her back to land, perfectly balanced, on her hoof. "I gotta delivery of muffins for you!"
"Again?" Dinky raised an eyebrow. "Is this that thing where ponies order a bunch of muffin platters for other ponies as a prank?"
"Nope!" Pinkie shook her head. "It's all paid for! All you gotta do is reach out..." -- Pinkie moved the box closer and lower to Dinky slowly -- "and take it!"
Dinky did just that, her telekinesis picking it up and moving it to her own back for the meantime. She looked at it, then at Pinkie.
"Who's it from?" she asked.
Pinkie shrugged.
"I dunno," she said. "We just received a typewritten letter and some money in an envelope. It just said it was from "a fan"."
The two stood there for a moment.
"But I'm pretty sure it's from Rarity," Pinkie finished. "The paper smelled like that perfume she uses."
