Friendship Rainbow Kingdom Castle, Ponyville, Equestria
Twilight Sparkle looked over her checklist as Spike completed packing her saddlebags, "Extra ink?" she reads.
To which Spike would answer, "Check. Oh, and I threw in an extra blotter too, just in case you know?" He adds, holding the device aloft for a moment before thrusting into the almost overstuffed pack.
"Good idea, Spike. You never know when you might need to do a bit of extra mopping up while writing a treaty!" Twi replied. "That seems to be everything then."
Twilight looked back at the list again, "Maybe we should go over the list one more time." she stated thoughtfully. "This will be one of Equestria's most important summits in a long time! The Caribou Nation are really big on first impressions!"
Spike rolled his eyes. "We've gone over the check list four times already Twilight! Any more and we're going to bust the seams!" he answers in protest.
At that moment, Applejack and Rarity strolled up, Applejack pulling a small cart with a couple of extra bags, while Rarity's own wagon was overloaded with enough baggage to start a whole new boutique. "Don't you worry my dear, If any 'seam-busting' happens, I'm more than prepared to mend it on the fly, if necessary." said Rarity.
AJ looked back to Rarity's wagon, her eyes widening, "Rarity, is ALL that absolutely necessary? We're only going to be gone a couple of weeks at most!"
"You can never be too prepared Darling. And it's not as if you've packed very lightly yourself." Rarity pointed out, gesturing with a graceful hoof at AJ's cart. "Are those...seedlings?" she asks, leaning in for a closer look at the case of Honeycrisp saplings.
"A gesture of good will and friendship!" AJ answers with a smugly confident smile.
Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy arrived shortly thereafter, the light blue and yellow pegasi touching down and exchanging pleasantries with the mares present. "My goodness Twilight, are you sure you're going to need all that?" asks Fluttershy.
"Doesn't hurt to be prepared, Fluttershy." answers Twilight, grinning proudly, "Although, I do think it's a bit much, even for me."
Rainbow Dash snickers, "I'm guessing most of those are backups." The grin on her muzzle disappears as soon as she catches the entirely solemn nod from Twilight, the alicorn retorting with a confident grin. "You were serious."
A certain pink Earth Pony pulling a brightly decorated cart piled high with desserts approaches from the town's bakery to the southwest, grinning from ear to ear. "Good morning, everypony!" greets Pinkie, slowing to a stop. The pink pony's demeanor and bubbly attitude seemed to put most of her friends' fears at ease about the daunting situation they were about to undertake. With everyone assembled, Twilight decided to go over the plan one last time before they set out.
"Is everyone set? We all know the plan?" inquires Twilight. The others nod, a chorus of affirmations and confirmations ringing out in response. "Alright, let's get going."
Silence. Then a slowly building whoosh fills the air as Twilight's purple glow bathes the space around her and her friends in its signature indigo light. With a pop, the gang disappears into the aether, pulled along by the Princess to who knows where. In their rush to leave, Princess Sparkle had neglected to close the portal behind her, much like how someone might forget to lock the front door in a rush to get to work.
0600 Hours, 247 Gullwing Drive
May Residence, Redview County, California
The radio alarm clock burst to life in the dim-lit bedroom with the much-too-cheery voice of the morning hostess. "It's Monday morning, Six A.M. on this beautiful September day! We're expecting mostly clear skies today with temperatures in the mid 70's with possible thunderstorms later this evening. Coming up, Traffic with RCAN's Can-do Copter, but first---" Joe tuned out the rest of the bright-and-early chatter as he finished his morning routine. He was already dressed and adding finishing touches in the master bathroom. As he finished, he stepped back into the bedroom where his wife, Lauren was shifting in her sleep, disturbed by the bubbly D.J.'s chatter.
"I'll see ya later hun," Joe said, as he stepped to the side and bent over to give his wife's barely visible forehead a gentle peck.
I've got time. I'll get my kit together, just in case, he thought. Walking back out into the darkened bedroom, he glanced at his still-sleeping wife and smiled. He grabbed his Duty Belt off the door hook and walked out into the living room, his boots swishing on the carpeted floor as he made his way towards the front door. Joe sat down in the bucket seat of his classic Firebird, black-on-black paint needing work in places, and various dents and dings in the sheet metal that could use a little more attention only making him grin with pride at his ride's "Character and Charm" as he had frequently explained it to his often skeptical Lauren. He began a mental check of his equipment as he keyed the engine to life with little effort, a testament to late hours and many beers under the hood in the old barn behind the house with his best friend Glenn.
"Flashlight; check. cuffs; check. Mace...mace?" he patted his pockets and rummaged briefly in the console before heading back into the house. Back upstairs he toed the door to the bedroom open, "Honey, do you know what happened to my mace?" he asked softly.
A hand lifted under the cover and gestured vaguely to the night stand on her side of the bed, "Top drawer." she murmured sleepily.
Stepping softly into the room, he whispered, "thanks dear," and retrieved the errant can, and as an afterthought, scooped up the pin Glenn had given him in Seacrest County, and quickly made his way back to the Firebird.
Running out the front door, Joe jumped back into the idling Firebird and gunned the engine once before dropping the shifter into first. The tires spun in the driveway as the car launched toward the front road that met the end of his drive. As he reached the gate, he gave the wheel a hard right and the back end broke loose as the car slid neatly sideways into the lane. Quickly correcting and steadying the car, he gunned the engine again and launched the car down the road and veered onto the access ramp, shifter thumping solidly through the gears as the classic sports car quickly accelerated to match that of the traffic on the interstate. The old Firebird turned a few heads and caught the eye of some newly inducted Racers, the trio of high-performance vehicles following the classic muscle-car for several miles and pulling up around him whenever an opportunity to do so presented itself.
"Nice ride, man! Sweet paintjob!" complimented one of the Racers shouting over the wind and highway noise, wheeling a blue and pink Mustang with Seacrest County plates.
"Hey, thanks!" said Joe, quickly scanning the vehicle for any signs of obvious illegal modification or tampering. "Ford Mustang, huh? I see many of the late-model ones out and about now and then. Is it because of that Marshall kid from back East?"
"Ah, yeah! You could say that. Guy's a legend!"
Joe grinned. "Well. you're not wrong. Didn't he get arrested, though?" asked the Sergeant.
"I think so. Say, we'll see you around. Got a race today. Maybe you'll show up?" answered the helmeted Racer, rolling up her window and pulling ahead of the pack. The others followed suit, their tail-lights disappearing into the darkened tunnel.
"Maybe." said the Sergeant, heading down the off-ramp towards the Central Sun Command Post. The Command Post's entrance was guarded by a single booth painted with warning stripes and adorned with the Wolf's Head seal of the Redview County Police Department. As Joe parked between the two trailers providing power to the Command Post, he is approached by one of the cadets stationed outside.
"Identification?" asked the rookie, holding up a scanner.
"Here you go, Davis." said Joe, handing the cop his ID.
Whirring softly, the scanner beeped moments later, the cop handing back the laminated card. "Good to go. You can head in, Sarge." Joe got out of the Firebird and made his way towards the platform heading into the underground garage. The elevator began its descent, the steel groaning softly as it dropped into the darkened underbelly of the mobile station.
Hydraulics hissing like agitated snakes, the elevator grinds to a halt after several quiet minutes. Joe looked around briefly and headed into the station proper, the silence of the corridor filled with the sporadic radio chatter and general conversation of a bustling metropolitan precinct.
"2-Edward-24, units to respond?" squawked the radio of a passing officer, the trooper quickly replying, "In transit, over." as she headed down the stairs into the motorpool.
The Sergeant greets the other busy officers in passing, eyes focused on the door to the locker room ahead of him. His right hand holds his duffel bag securely at his side, while his left moves to push the door open. He moves through the locker room to deposit his bags, stopping at the second to last locker on the right side of the room. Stowing his belongings away, the sergeant brushes off the pant legs of his uniform and turns to leave.
"-heard about those new Racers over on Sunset Tunnel? Never seen anything like what they've got." said a State Trooper supporting a bruised arm to another officer, who responded, "You're talking about their cars, right?"
"No, Davies. The tech these hooligans used. I-it's freaking unreal! Military-grade EMP launchers built into their cars! I mean, HCM Corporation's got good tech for us officers, but the Racers? There shouldn't be any reason they can knock out a top of the line Aventador like it's not even there. Shut six of us down at the same time and took off into the night."
The rest of the conversation was dulled as the ready room's door closed, the Sergeant humming softly to himself as he strolled down to the garage. On cue, the lights in the cavernous carpark switched on one after another, some flickering as the halogen bulbs struggled to light. In the rearmost spot sat Sergeant May's standard issue Patrol Camaro, its glistening black and white paint shining with thousands of water droplets like beads of sweat slowly rolling down the body of an exhausted runner.
The Sergeant smiles, sliding into the driver's seat of the high-powered patrol car with a pleased sigh. Breezing through the necessary checks of every officer in the Highway Patrol division, he nods to himself, slides the key into the ignition, and listens for that telltale rumble of the engine roaring to life. When it finally does, he eases the pursuit vehicle out onto the elevator leading up to street level.
"1-Lincoln 18 to Control, show me in service along Sun Valley Run, heading East towards Dead Tree Canyon, over." transmits the officer as he cruises along at a steady 40 miles per, eyes watching for anything of note.
"10-4, Lincoln 18."
