The Diamond Dogs of Pasternville
by
A Renegade Time Lord
Chapter 1: Invasion of Privacy and Evasion of a Mare
"Let's see... Clothes, camera, notebook, Sherclop Pones, Walkmare, keys... Looks like I'm ready to go. Oh. Earbuds. Right."
Special Agent Nickel Lionheart of the Equestrian Bureau of Investigation sat on his bed, packing a suitcase. He took one last look inside the case and, satisfied, he shut it and locked it. He stood on two legs, combed his mane, straightened his tie and buttoned his jacket, then snuck across the landing and poked his head into Shining Armor's bedroom. The room was dark and warm inside. The small computer on the desk in the corner was off, the boom-box was still, the bed in the middle of the room fastidiously made (Nickel had hounded him terribly on that) and, best of all, no snoring 22-year old Unicorn stallion was asleep on the spread. As it should be. Nickel knew Shiny had taken the bike and gone to visit his family in New High Canterlot, where the noble families lived.
He had met Shining Armor three months ago, when the Solar Tyrant had sent her dogs to come down on him and bring him before her. Celestia had magically forced him to take the case. Even 'tho he still maintained that he despised the Solar Alicorn, he was secretly thankful that she had effectively kicked his blank flank into gear. The case had ended up nearly killing him, thrice, and had left him with a long scar on his chest from the mare.
He (Shining Armor) had been gone for ten minutes. Nickel smiled. If he had read the traffic report correctly, that left fifty minutes for him to get there.
Plenty of time for Nickel to walk to the train station. He had considered all forms of transport available to him, and settled on the train. Certainly, the bike was faster and a bus as well, but the train was far more comfy. And his injuries still ached.
He snuck downstairs, avoiding the squeaky middle step, and prowled about the apartment, making sure the place was empty of both Shining Armor and Fleur. It wouldn't do for him to be seen by either of them. Or followed. Questions would be asked, and he didn't want to be delayed. Canterlot could kill you, if you let it. He dashed upstairs, grabbed his case and trotted outside, locking the door behind him, and set off down the road at a brisk pace.
Five minutes later, he spotted a little stall, and he waved at the two operating it, a green mare named Pepperjack and her son, a white colt named Colby. He thought ahead to the food on the train and felt distinctly queasy. A visit was in order. He trotted across the road, and Pepperjack saw him and waved. "Good mornin', Mistah Nickel!"
The higher class looked down on them for a number of reasons, but Nickel knew better. Pepperjack and Colby ran the best fruit, cheese and wine shop in Canterlot. They even supplied the Castle with their unique cheeses and wines on special occasions. And they had set up their shop in his neighborhood!
He trotted up to the stand. "Morning, Pepper. Morning, Colby." He looked down at the young colt, bent over a mess of papers on the table. The sound of a foal crying issued from inside the house. Pepperjack stood.
"'S'cuse me, Mistah Nickel. I be right back." She dashed inside their apartment. Colby looked up from his papers.
"Homework, Colby?" Nickel asked. Colby nodded, stifling a yawn.
"Yes suh. Math homework. I don't really git it."
"Want some help?"
Colby shook his head. "No suh. Mama says I should work it out my own. Wha' kin I get cha? Cheddah? Peppah Jack?... Colby?"
"No thank you. Could I get some starfruit, please?"
"Yessuh, comin' up suh!" Colby jumped up from his stool and began to search the boxes. Nickel watched him rummage. By Celestia's mighty beard, he was getting big. And, at only thirteen, the colt still had some growing to do. He'd be much bigger than his father, Isl' o' Man.
Pepperjack and her husband, Isl' o' Man had moved to Canterlot from the deep bayou, down near New Horseleans, packing fruit, cheese, wine and a ten-year-old colt called Colby Jack. They took a vacant apartment around the corner from Nickel. He had been working as a full EBI agent then, well before the New Lunar Republic fiasco. A young stallion with a family, he had been coming home one night and he had protected them from a vicious gang of Unicorn supremacists. Had he not been there, they would have been killed and their new home burned. Since then, he had struck a friendship with them, and they always offered him a seat at their dinner table. They had undoubtedly saved his life in that dark year-and-a-half period between the destruction of the New Lunar Republic Movement and his arrest, to the last case, the Mad Mare case. He would have certainly killed himself if not for them.
He had adored them, even then. Now, he loved them, if the way to a stallion's heart was indeed his stomach. Seriously, if Pepperjack wasn't married, he probably would have asked her himself. And he'd heard that Isl' o' Man was in poor health. He hoped he'd survive; they were very good friends, and Nickel would never wish harm on them. He made a mental note to pick him up some med'cine.
"Where ya goin'?" Colby asked, his voice muffled by the boxes. "Kin I ask? Or is it classified?"
"I'm going on vacation. I'm hurt, see. I'd like to rest." Nickel said, rubbing his left shoulder.
"Dat crazy mare hurt ya?" Pepperjack asked, standing on twos and carrying her fourth foal in her forelegs, poking her head out the door. Nickel turned to her.
"Yes, ma'am. Stabbed me a few times, poisoned me, and a few other things. So I'm heading to the train station as soon as Colby finds the starfruit."
"I got it." He said, heaving a box onto his stool. "Ain't we got no more, Mama?" He bawled, looking at Pepperjack.
"Nope." She said simply and disappeared back inside the house. Colby shrugged and tore the box open, fishing out the best specimens he could find. He dished up four and placed them in a brown paper sack. He sealed the sack with a piece of clear tape and scribbled something on the tape and bag.
"It's four bits, isn't it?" Nickel asked, digging in his pocket.
"Yessuh. Four." Colby echoed. Nickel fished out eight bits and dropped the bread in the cash box. Colby's brow furrowed, but he said nothing. They had made good bank on those four bits alone. Even so, they still needed the double price Nickel had paid, with six in their house. Nickel knelt and nestled the bag safely inside his case, then stood and bowed. "Good day."
"Good day, suh." Colby said, setting the box back on the ground and resuming work on his homework.
Vittles safely secured in his case, Nickel waved again at Pepperjack, then set off back down the road. He breathed in deeply through his nose. The air was so much cleaner and crisper in the morning. It had been long since head enjoyed a brisk walk or run in the morning. [\i]I should do this more often, he mused. He continued walking. As he walked, he reflected on the Mad Mare case, the one Celestia had forced him to come out of seclusion and solve. He'd burned under the compulsion she'd placed on him but, realistically, playing detective again and solving the case had proved to be an incredibly cathartic experience for him, as well as educational. He felt much lighter, pleased. Perhaps not quite happy, but something close to it. He had enjoyed the case, and now he found himself enjoying even this little walk, whereas he didn't before. It was astonishing what effect even the oddest thing could have on a stallion.
Ten minutes later, he had arrived at the train station. And his heart leapt up into his mouth: Fleur was there. He dove behind a nearby van, ignoring the burning of his injuries. This? Was a problem. A big problem. He couldn't purchase a ticket to wherever or have a cup of coffee or read newspaper or even wait for the bleedin' train, Fleur would see him in a heartbeat. And she wasn't moving; in fact, she was sitting on a bench in a Lyra-esque fashion, watching the ticket booth. Waiting? For him? Whyever she was there, he couldn't wait forever, and she'd probably predicted - That was it. She had - accurately - predicted that he would come here. She knew where he'd go. Had she rummaged through his drawers again? Or was he simply that predictable? The thought sent a chill up his spine, and he sighed. She would wait there until the end of time, if necessary: she had the tenacity of an angry bull and the patience of a spider. He'd have to enter her line of sight.
Quietly, he trotted forward and nuzzled Fleur on the neck. "Nicky!" she cried, jumping up (and nearly concussing him (again) with her shoulder) and wrapping her forelegs around him in a tight hug. "Nicky, why you are leaving?" she squealed.
"Owowow!" he yelped, struggling for air. "Fleur, leggo! Hurss!" he cried in a strangled neigh. She quickly set him down. He promptly collapsed, and she picked him up again. "Sorry, Nicky. But why are you leaving?"
"It's a vacation, Fleur. I hurt. I want to heal... and Cross Bones told me to. Doctor's orders." He grinned cheekily. Fleur's expression darkened. "Mad mare, hurting my Nicky," she growled. "I would wring her neck."
"Relax, ma chere," Nickel said soothingly. "It's over. She's dead."
Oui. Fleur said, pleased. "But where? Where you are going?" She asked, running a hoof through his combed, stark-white mane.
"You're messing my mane."
"Where are you going?"
"A vacation." He said evasively.
"Vacation where?" she pressed.
"You're not releasing me, are you."
"Not until you tell me where you are vacationing."
Nickel sighed, ears flattening. "Promise you won't tell a soul? And I mean, anypony."
"Naturellement. Not a soul." She placed a hoof over her heart.
Nickel looked right, left, right again. He leaned into her ear. "Pasternville."
"Where?"
"Precisely." He said. "Now, the train leaves in... Well, I don't know. Gotta go to the ticket booth." He ducked out of her hold and trotted towards it. She followed.
The ticket booth was manned by a scrawny, twenty-something colt with a healthy supply of post-adolescent acne, his snout deep in a trashy Enoch A. book, Arcanum. Nickel was, unfortunately, familiar with the book; It was Shiny's favorite crime-thriller, frequently borrowed it from the local public library. Nickel tapped on the glass of the booth. The colt irritatedly flicked his eyes towards the stallion and returned to the book.
Annoyed, Nickel pounded on the glass again. The colt flipped the "Open" sign to "Closed" with his rear hoof and entirely ignored him. Nickel tapped on the speaker. A shrill sound filled the booth. The colt fell off his stool with an angry shout, Arcanum going flying. He stormed to his hooves and opened the window.
"Whaddaya want? I'm reading." he barked.
"You're about to be fired." Nickel barked back. "Now, a ticket to Pasternville, please. Overnight express."
The colt watched him suspiciously. "Now?"
"No, yesterday." Nickel snarked. "Yes, now. OE."
The colt glared him for a moment, then began to print out a ticket, grumbling. The ticket printed. He scooped it up, punched it.
"It's fifty bits."
Poor Nickel's eyes bugged for a moment. "...FIFTY?!" he shrieked. "That's highway robbery! For overnight express? It's absurd!"
"Do you want it or not?" The colt growled.
It was Nickel's turn to glare angrily. Grudgingly, he pulled out his wallet and extracted a fifty-bit bill. He slid it across. The colt traded it for the ticket. Nickel snatched the ticket and stalked away, Fleur following with an amused look on her face. The colt yanked on a cord and the whole booth's interior was shaded by blinds descending on all sides.
Nickel trotted over to the luggage porters. He had no luggage, save for the carry-on, which was considerably bigger inside than one would expect, but even so, the porters checked it and tagged it appropriately. The train's whistle shrieked the song of it's people, and ponies began to board. Nickel turned to his white shadow. "Fleur? You do know the ticket's good for only one. Right?"
"Oui. But a mare is always to see her stallion off." She said daintily. Her stallion shrugged and led her to his car. At the car, she spun him 'round and kissed him, in front of Faust and everypony. "Be well, my Nicky," she said sadly. He nuzzled her. "I'll only be gone for a month," he said softly.
"And I'll be waiting for you when you come back." She said resolutely, sitting on a bench. For a moment, Nickel hesitated, then turned and handed his ticket to the attendant, who was staring, slack-jawed. Nickel raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"
"...Fleur-de-Lis just kissed you good-bye..."
Nickel smiled. "Yeah... Ticket?" Dumbly, the attendant took the ticket, punched it and gave it back. Nickel slipped past him into the car.
The seat Nickel had (exorbitantly) paid for was in the train's palace car. Equipped with plush seats, curtained windows, and beds, it was the preferred mode of transport for celebrities (who had not their own wheels), nobles, ordinary ponies who could afford it, and vacationing Special Agents. Nickel strode right past his seat and into the bed compartment, pushing the door open and laying on the bed. He breathed a gusty sigh, then felt for his carry-on, pulled it up and dug in it for his copy of The Tales of Sherclop Pones: The Complete Edition, now with Original Illustrations!
His hoof made contact with the massive book and he heaved it out. Balancing the big book on his chest, he rearranged himself on the bed, then cracked it open. The tome fell open to the picture of Miss Mariarty and Pones fighting on the edge of the Reaching-back Abyss. Miss Mariarty's hat had fallen into the Abyss, along with Pones' jacket and walking-stick, and they now brawled on the edge of death, each trying furiously to cast down the other. In this particular frame, Miss Mariarty had her hooves pressed against Pones' throat, throttling him. Pones' hind legs kicked at her ineffectually. Perhaps he missed her intentionally; Pones still loved Miss Mariarty, even 'tho she had gone crazy, killed their colt and focused her hatred on him.
Nickel flipped to the beginning of the Tale. It was his favorite. The smells of newly-pressed paper and fresh ink wafted up at him, and he breathed them in. A few minutes later, the conductor came by to see his ticket, punched it and moved on. Nickel shifted gingerly, repositioned the book, and dove deeper into the story as the train pulled out of station. The train would have three stops on the way to Pasternville: Baltimare to the north, Trottingham to the northwest, Ponyville to the far south, then finally, Pasternville itself. Fifteen minutes later, Nickel was fast asleep, the book laying flat on his chest.
In Baltimare, it was bitterly cold and snowing heavily. Nickel rushed inside, purchased a small cup of coffee and scuttled back to the warm train. In Trottingham, he didn't even bother to wake up. At Ponyville, where the train would be cleaned and refueled, he was obliged to disboard. And he immediately scurried back inside. He had never before been to Ponyville, and he might have enjoyed it had a small, hyper, pink blur not come speeding up to him at a speed that threatened bodily harm upon impact.
He slammed the door just in time to hear a clang. The blur just missed him. He peeked out a window and was astonished to see a pink filly! The filly sat on her haunches, looking up at him, her lip wobbling. Her mane deflated, with the sound of a balloon losing its air. Nickel stared. Superspeed? Deflating mane? Sound FX? Amazing. Physics had to be in terrible pain now. Perhaps rolling about, clutching its leg?
He sat there and watched, dumbfounded, as the little pink pony looked up at him with an expression of sadness so powerful it nearly brought Nickel to tears on his hooves. Then she looked away and saw another passenger disboarding. What she did next had a level of synchronization that would put the Wonderbolts to shame: her mane returned to it's original poofy-ness, her coat brightened a few shades, she inhaled an enormous amount of air and she levitated for a moment before shooting off to... Meet? Greet? Set afire?... another passenger. Nickel still stared, then he trotted slowly back to his cabin. Far too strange to disboard in this curious world where fillies can break the laws of physics with a wave of a hoof.
