The darkness of the blackened sky hung over Canterlot most drearily, leaving any unsuspecting eyes that looked up to be filled with uneasiness. The clouds drifted past low to the ground, blocking out most of the light reflected by the moon staring at the city. No pony walked the streets, seeing as it was much past midnight. No sounds filled the night besides the far away dripping of water from a pipe.
This pipe protruded from the side of a building, one that was not prettied-up such as the front. Water ran down the opening of the pipe, gathering at the end and eventually leaping off to make it's way towards the concrete. The pipe was rusted, so even if the clouds had not been holding back the light, it would still not shine bright, but instead draw attention to the tan and brown material infecting the metal. The pipe extended far from the building, somewhat pointing downwards, a result of the rusted metal giving way to it's own weight, into an alleyway, one stocked with trashcans and broken bottles.
The glass from those bottles grabbed the light, making the ground a full spectra of flashy lights. For the most part, the alley was silent, leaving an opening for any other sound to take the spotlight. After a while, though, the pathway of cracked bricks was ringing with the sound of tin cans, bottles, and leftover food clanking and shifting. The sound came from a dumpster propped against the same wall the pipe hung from, one lid leaning against the wall itself. The ruckus continued for some time, after which a head poked out from the pool of garbage.
The brown and scarred head sported a long, blunt muzzle which in turn held a crooked grin and flaring nostrils. The eyes were large, giving the small, crazed pupils plenty of room to dart around, which they did constantly. The black mane was the common windswept style that many stallions wore, the added grime and roughness giving it a unique touch. One drooping ear protruded from the left side of the head, the other being a stump of dried blood and puss.
The head looked to the right out of the alleyway, revealing it's eyes after some time to the searing light, and then to the left to the turn that lead deeper into the labyrinth. It sniffled and then ducked back into the dumpster, launching a banana peel out to splat on the moist ground where the pipe ended. The figure stayed submerged in the gunk for some time, a sound interrupting his dive.
He once again threw his head back into the tainted air, which was not much better than in the dumpster, to observe the sound. It was the sound you would hear in a chorus in the streets of Canterlot; the sound of hooves upon the hard ground. Upon realizing the identity of the sound, his smile extended and he leaped out of the dumpster with surprising grace, landing on the ground with almost no sound being exchanged. Just as he had a few minutes earlier, he examined his surroundings, though he did this time with more energy, his mane being caught in the air as he frantically dashed around his beady little eyes.
The sound grew closer and closer, making the stallion even more frantic. It escalated until the point where the silhouette of a mare was visible, standing in the entrance to the cove. The figure looked down both ways of the street, entering into the darkness of the passage. As she got closer to the antsy stallion, her body became more visible, her fluffed up, yellow mane and white coat burning the stallion's eyes almost as much as the light had. Her muzzle was attached to a mouth that extended away from it, giving her a stuck up look. On the side of her face laid a red bump, roughly the size of a hoof, where the coat was matted down, where cheese dust and beer stuck to it and gave it a pungent smell.
The mare approached the stallion until she was about two yards away, her legs shaking a little, whether from the chill of the night or from fear, neither knew. She examined the alley behind the stallion and between them, the drip of the pipe onto the brown banana peel catching her attention and making her gulp loudly. "Are you one of those," she hesitated, looking behind her feebly, "are you one of those dealers?"
The stallion grinned wider, revealing rotting teeth. He spoke in a deep, crackly voice that you would expect to come from a broken record. "Yes ma'am. I got any thin' y' need, jus' say the word."
The mare looked behind her once more. She opened her mouth and licked her chapped lips, took a deep breath, and explained her needs. "Do you have of that new one? I think it's called-"
"Y' mean Jest?" He raised his eyebrows, making his face catch the shadows in the right way to give him the look of a killer.
The mare attempted to maker her face more serious, then nodded in response. The stallion laughed before looking back at the mare. "I don' think y' got the bits..."
His voice faded as the mare produced a brown leather bag tied with a slightly broken, thin rope. She undid the knot and tipped the bag over, dropping approximately two hundred twinkling golden bits to the ground, the satisfying chorus of clinking ringing throughout the alley, stopping as one final coin fell from the sack. The stallion stared in bewilderment, mouth catching dust as it sat agape. As he managed to rip his eyes away from the glistening pile and back to the mare, he smiled wide enough to break the dried skin on his lips.
"Now," he stated, a new tone flowing in his voice, "let's talk business."
Despite the overtaking darkness flooding through the windows of the building, the lights were still on and the halls were still filled with roaming ponies, stallions and mares making their way through the white lined tubes that connected rooms to the others. Room 341, specifically, was far down the hall, leaving for a stressful walk when the other employees inched along slower than worms. The room sported a wooden desk in the middle with a golden name tag that read "G. Gears, Recruit." Along with the name tag, the desk also held a glass jar holding an assortment of pens and pencils of many different types, and a rubber band ball that had been made only minutes before. It sat there, ready to implode on itself but not able to.
Along one side of the room was a mahogany bookshelf; one that, in fact, held no books. It was instead filled with machines; a prosthetic hoof sat on one shelf, a remote of some kind blinked a red light every few seconds. Besides the desk and the bookshelf, nothing occupied the room. No posters hung on the walls like other rooms, no computer blew cool winds as coolant, no board games sat ready to play.
Greased Gears, the owner and only occupant of the room at this particular time, had been working as an engineer at her father's shop in Appaloosa, making prosthetic limbs and such, when a guard, supposedly one from Celestia's army, had told her that Canterlot needed her immediately. Of course, all she had done since getting off the train was wandering around in bewilderment and sitting in this chair. Frankly, she had had the thought many times already, the normal "I want to go home now" thought that ran through everypony's head when traveling. It seemed, truthfully, that this city didn't need her. Luckily, it was almost time to leave the building... any minute now.
Frankly, Greased was more confused why they needed her anyways. The news of the Jest Resistance Organization had in fact traveled around Equestria. No pony ever said "what's that" or "who?" More importantly, though, were two things that everypony knew; that they only took the best of the best and that it payed very handsomely. Despite the amazing pay, Greased was not willing to stay in this loud city doing nothing.
The clock ticked into position as a single beep was played over the intercom. Everypony gathered all their things and left one after the other. Greased was one of the last to get out, the welcoming darkness addressing those who left first, leaving the rest for the others. As everypony made to their separate directions, the sounds dissipated into the crisp air blowing excitedly.
Greased made her way to her hotel room, ready to flop onto the comfy bed that awaited her there. Her mouth watered as she thought about the instant tofu meal sitting patiently in the fridge. She may not be the most dignified of ponies, but at least she wasn't picky.
The night made it's way through time, slowing down as things got boring, speeding up so the moments of beauty were easily missed by the normal eye. Though it was much different than Appaloosa, Canterlot had a certain feeling to it that Greased couldn't help but admire. Sure, it had it's noisiness and it's crowded places, but it also had bright lights and friendly faces that you never will see again. It is truly a magical experience.
She continued along the way, the only sound reaching her ears being the click clack of her hooves upon the cement. The night was vague and at this moment had nothing to attach your eyes to. The crickets chirped as the clouds swayed, as the trees danced and the moon winked. Luckily, all was not this boring state of nothingness, for Greased soon saw something moving deep in the fog, a mere silhouette of a mare. Her pompous hairdo was easily noticed in the night as it seemed to absorb the light around it. From what she could tell, which she could as she saw many different faces everyday back at the shop, this pony was either running away or looking for something; perhaps both. She jerked her head in many directions, walking slowly as to not make much noise.
Greased stared at the figure in curiosity. Greased loved the gossip of a good pony, and being able to get some information of her own just made her giddy. Just think what she would tell her friends about when she got home; about the crazy pony that wandered the streets at night, looking for an unsuspecting pony to eat. Greased smiled at the thought and proceeded to crouch low to the ground as to not be seen. She followed the pony for a while, almost getting ready to leave back to the hotel, which had passed by them a few minutes ago, when the pony in front of her suddenly stopped. She looked around her one more time, then proceeded to walk normally, her hooves now making a distinct sound on the concrete. Greased stayed low anyways, just to keep her stealthy approach. They walked for a while longer, the pony staring down many different alleys and streets.
They had passed many places that the pony examined, but just continued onward. Greased started to think that the pony in front of her was just crazy, nothing interesting to see, when she suddenly turned down an alleyway and stayed there, intently watching the path in between two buildings. Greased smiled for the first time in a while, her hopes high for seeing some good things to tell about.
The pony stood a moment longer, then proceeded into the dark alley, disappearing in a cloud of dust that shadowed the entrance. She became nothing but a silhouette, a mere ghost in the night, as she made her way further. Greased followed, cautious of the small clicks her hooves were emitting, and stood on her hind legs to lean against the heavily done up front of the building that disguised the hideous brick structure. She leaned for a while, focused on trying to get at least a little hint of what her escort was doing in there. She slowly eased her head towards the opening of the alley, locking it in place when she finally caught the conversation at hand.
"-new one? I think it's called-" a female voice spouted before getting cut off by a male's hoarse croak.
"Y' mean Jest?" Greased's eyes perked up as she heard the familiar word. Greased smiled when she realized just the kind of conversation she was eavesdropping on was. A moment of silence followed the voice, ending when the same voice omitted a laugh. The sound came so suddenly, Greased flinched back into her hiding place, losing the conversation for a few seconds. She eased her way back in again, hearing the voice once again. "-the bits..."
A chorus of clinks hailed through the air, reaching Greased's ears. Greased realized what this conversation meant to her future in Canterlot, and quickly started seeing images in her head. She would walk up to the boss, turning in two criminals, being promoted, making a lot of bits...
Greased shook her head. "Think of the mission at hand," she whispered to herself, "you can't blow this off now." She easily backed away from the entrance and noiselessly advanced into the street a ways. During her training, she was told that the rooftops were the best place to take a job like this. She quickly scanned the top of the building, seeing no discernible object to focus on.
A small noise entered her ear. It was coming from the alleyway, a small plop that happened at about the same interval delays. She looked to where the dust cloud was that blocked her vision, then looked upwards, catching sight of her way to the top. It was hard to see clearly at this time of day, but it was well enough visible to be a decent target.
Greased lifted her hoof towards her face, focused on the ordinary looking black watch that wrapped tightly around the bottom of her leg. The watch was a handy tool given to the members of the Jest Resistance Organization, and was chock full of useful tools. The watch face was as you would expect, black lines running around the circumference and two pointy bits spinning around on the origin. Around the watch face was a black, serrated circle of metal, which easily turned either direction.
Greased pushed the black circle in, sliding it until she heard a click. As she released, the white watch face was hidden behind a green holographic screen with a picture of a clock on it. Under the clock, letters spelled out "Back" in hazy detail. Greased twisted the circle to the left, the screen going through many different words and pictures. She didn't stop until she reached a symbol of a spiked bolt attached with a wavy line. Under it read "Grapple." Greased pushed in the black circle once again, the green haze fading and the sound of gears turning on the inside sounding for a moment. A black point now stuck out of the top end of the watch, catching the moon on a reflection.
Greased pinched one eye shut as she extended her arm towards a pipe that hung from the side of the building, the rust growing on it fading it into the night. Greased took her time to aim the shot, thrusting her arm forward once she was sure she wouldn't miss. A bolt shot out of the top of the watch, latching to the pipe and propelling her forward. She flew fast, for the first few moments of the pull, but slowed to a stop at the pipe. Unfortunately there was a problem.
Greased had in fact hit the pipe, yes, but she hit it at the wrong spot. She now hung in the air, her arm extended into the air attached to the pipe, dangling like a spider.
After a few hours had gone by, the deal between the mare and stallion being signed by the shake of the hoof, Greased still hung in the air, unable to reach the pipe that held her unwillingly. The sun was now crawling it's way into the sky, exposing the sleepless Greased to the burning sunlight. She had spent a long time trying to find a way down without being seen, to no avail. She started to cough as the smoke from the mare's first puff of Jest sprawled out into the open sky. The coughing shook her entire body, loosening the bolt enclosed in the metal. She tried to hold her breath but it was pointless at this stage.
The news the next day spoke of a mare falling from the sky, landing safely, though unconscious, in a dumpster.
Greased awoke with a massive headache, causing her to wince in pain. As she opened her eyes once again, she noticed she was in a hospital room, the beeping of a heart monitor coming from somewhere behind her. Only two ponies occupied the room besides her; the boss of the organization and the pony she was following... yesterday? Who truly knew?
Noticing that she had awoken, the mare walked up to the bed and scratched the back of her head, looking away from Greased eyes. "Hey," she said, "hope you get better, I guess." She walked off with an awkward shuffle, not eager to let Greased blab off about her buying drugs.
Greased's boss stood beside the bed next, a small piece of paper in his mouth. It read "Accidental Recruitment Notice" along with a long paragraph. At the end, in red, ink-flooded letters read "In other words, we hired the wrong pony. You're fired."
"Oh," Greased said, her throat dry, "great."
The boss walked off casually, as if he had just shared a beer with his friends, leaving Greased to completely rethink everything that had happened in the past few hours.
This is the reason why those who live in Appaloosa never leave. Ever.