Blade

Offhandedly, one day, Scootaloo had mentioned that she had never seen a city.

“Miss Cheerilee told us in school about how big they were and how fancy everything is.” She explained. “I don’t think I’ll ever go, but the drawings we saw were really neat.”

Pinkamena had been taken once or twice to one by her mother on business. Though she didn’t remember any joy, she vaguely remembered having a sense of wonder at the sight of the lights and citizens. Feeling robbed of life experience; she realized that she couldn’t bring it back, so as she fell asleep that night she decided to do the next best thing.

Pinkamena walked in through the front door, back from town. Scootaloo perked her head up from her bed and raced to the entrance.

“Is there anything for lunch, mom?” Scootaloo asked quickly, having skipped breakfast.

Pinkamena was fighting a smile. “No, I haven’t made anything.” She replied, moving to the other side of the room. She then began to pack her saddlebags with books.

Scootaloo sighed, disappointed. “Is there anything I can make myself?”

Pinkamena didn’t really ever like theatrics but this was a special occasion. “No, none of that either.” she insisted with a rising sense of excitement.

Pinkamena turned around and smiled at the child, prompting a confused look from her.

“We’re not going to be eating here for a few days because I want to take you to the city.” She revealed.

The filly beamed with joy. “No way!” she shouted. “Which one!?”

“Manehattan.” She said, flashing two train tickets.

Scootaloo’s eyes widened greatly. “Wow! Thank you so, so much, Mom!”

The filly was so ecstatic that she lunged and hugged Pinkamena’s leg tightly. Pinkamena couldn’t help but giggle just a bit at such an adorable display. She herself had never been treated so nicely by an adult, let alone anyone in her family. To see the elation in Scootaloo’s eyes gave her much satisfaction. Maybe it was the fulfillment of her fantasy through somebody else, but for a moment she considered it could also be love.

“Our train leaves in an hour or so, so you pack whatever you need by then.” She instructed.

“Yes mam!” Scootaloo saluted, darting off to her nook.

Pinkamena turned back to her saddlebags to pack some other miscellaneous devices when she heard something.

They rise…

Pinkamena whirled around at this, looking to Scootaloo.

“Did you say anything, kiddo?”

Scootaloo popped her head up from the mess she’d made trying to decide what was appropriate for a vacation, having never been on one. “Huh? No, I don’t think so.”

Pinkamena looked around the rafters for rats or the like.

Nothing was there.

So she shrugged and went back to packing.

Big Mac and his lawyer sat in the waiting room of the mayor’s office. The lawyer just happened to be his sister, Applejack, though it wasn’t as evident as it had been a decade or so ago. His composure was lax and patient, while Applejack constantly had a smirk of thought smeared over her face.

It seemed to Big Mac that she was always scheming, plotting against whoever she may be thinking about. That was to be expected of somebody who was defending you in a court of law, but not of your sister, especially after so many years apart. In this time it seemed that they had become opposites.

Even the Film Flam brothers had synergy. Not anymore of course, but that goes unsaid.

They hadn’t talked at all the entire time. Big Mac wanted to, but he never knew quite what to say. He was the type to speak when spoken to. However, a secretary burst in after a good half-hour of silence between the two.

“The mayor will be with you in just a bit, Miss.” She said to them from the doorway.

Big Mac began to say thank you.

“What’s taking her so long?” his sister interrupted.

She probably hadn’t noticed him open his mouth. He doubted it was on her mind.

“She’s speaking with another group.” The secretary replied.

“My client and I are dealing with an accusation of double homicide.” she announced dramatically. “Can you tell me what’s more important to speak of than such a serious claim?”

“I have no idea what they’re talking about miss, I’m very sorry.” The secretary clarified.

Applejack had been raised in Manehattan. Big Mac was sure things were different around there. There were so many folks trying to be heard, you must’ve had to shout all the time just to get what you wanted. He figured that’s why his sister walked up and leaned in so menacingly at the secretary.

The girl was very obviously not prepared for the sudden aggression and cowered against the door frame.

“Where I come from, ponies do their job.” Applejack seethed.

“I-i…” squeaked the defenseless secretary. “I’m sorry…”

Applejack leaned in further. “Sorry? Did you just say you’re sorry?”

Big Mac stood up and placed a hoof on her shoulder. “Come on now, leave her be.”

“No, no, no.” she insisted to her client over her shoulder before turning back. “What kind of secretary are you, who doesn’t know what goes on in her bosses’ office?” she glared.

“Uh, p-please. The Mayor will be ready shortly…”

“I don’t want shortly, I want now!”

Sure enough, out from the hall burst a periwinkle mare, her apparent entourage in tow. She trotted with a very arrogant air though she didn’t look too worthy of high status, what with the cheap cap that covered her head and the large bandaging over her eye and cutie mark.

Applejack forgot about the secretary she’d been harassing immediately allowing her to slip away, now focusing her impatience on the obvious origin of it.

“Have a nice, long talk with the mayor? I’m running a double homicide case, you know.” She snarled at the group.

“AJ…” Big Mac reasoned.

“No, no, I apologize.” The strange mare finished. “Trixie and her associates did waste much time with pointless bickering.” She glared over her shoulder.

The lot of them looked shameful at this.

“You wouldn’t have let it happen if you knew who I was.” Applejack boasted rudely.

The mare’s expression melted into one of interest. “And who are you then, might I ask?”

Big Mac watched his sister spread a smile. The smile was the final nail in the coffin. He’d seen it before when the Flim Flam brother’s got ideas. It was the smile of a snake. His sister was dead. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. No Apple would have done it.

“Jacqueline Apple, Attorney at law, Manehattan.”

Trixie turned the same grin. “Might I trouble you for a card? I think you’d be perfect for a problem my underlings and I have been facing.”

One of her group, a rather stupid looking boy, chuckled lightly at this before getting whacked over the head by an older mare.

Applejack smiled again and reached under her lapel, bringing out her card and giving it to the mare.

“Thank you very much. You have no idea how grateful I am.” Trixie finished, leaving.

Applejack was clearly very proud of the transaction. She turned to her client.

“See that, Ian? That’s called networking. And all it takes is to be a little assertive.”

“All that talk about how important our case was, Applejack.” He started. “That kind of entitlement can make a pony sound real greedy.” He warned.

She scoffed.

“Well look what being greedy just got me.” She said, walking into the office with her nose high.

Twilight scanned the numbers of the pages to be sure that none were missing in this particular copy. She counted exactly four-hundred forty two, the correct number before sewing it shut and placing it onto the pile of identical books off to the side.

She picked up another stack of papers and began again.

Five…Ten…Fifteen…

Stray thoughts sailed past her stream of consciousness.

Twenty…Shining raised the bar again…Twenty-Five…He’ll never stop…Thirty…You’ll never catch up…Thirty-Five…Worthless little virgin…Forty…Stupid, worthless…For-forty two…

…Alchemy…

The word had focused in from her peripherals inside of the book. She waited for a moment to think. Soon enough, a fork began in the stream.

She resumed counting.

…Forty…Forty Five?...Saltpeter…Fifty…Charcoal…Fifty…Fifty…Fif…ty…

…

Her mind wandered back to her old history class. Two paths connected and exploded in her mind. From the blast came a flood of something she had missed greatly; inspiration.

…Sulpher…

She looked around her apartment, devoid of prizes or achievements. Her mind wandered back to her brother, the opposite.

…the bar…Fifty Five…can’t be set…Sixty…if there isn’t a bar to begin with…Sixty-Five…