The following events take place on Day 26 Year 10 Post Tirek
The views and comments made by the following guards do not necessarily represent the views of the
Ponyville Royal Guard
Viewer Discretion is advised.
Camera footage opens to a small auditorium filled stallions and mares of all three races sitting in uncomfortable metal chairs. Bright lights shine down on them and standing behind a podium with the Ponyville seal and flanked by a pair of guards is an aged unicorn stallion with a powder gray coat and a cropped light purple mane. Beneath the unicorn, Commissioner Star Shield appears in bold letters, but his guards remained unnamed.
The crowd murmurs without much care about who is on the stage, and the unicorn clears his throat into a microphone positioned strategically near his muzzle.
The crowd keeps talking.
The unicorn clears his throat again.
The crowd keeps talking. Someone actually has the nerve to laugh, too.
The unicorn frowns and uses his hoof and magic to adjust the position and volume of his microphone, bringing a hum into the auditorium. But the guards continue to ignore him.
“Vacation pay has been canceled,” says Star Shield.
The crowd becomes silent and all eyes fall on him. Some tear up, others jaws hang loose, and quiet a few glare murder at him. However, now that the crowd has his attention he uses his magic to adjust a stack of note cards on his podium, pleased with the outcome.
“Now that you are focused we can get to business,” says Star Shield.
The camera swivels to a guard raising his hoof.
“Sir, I kinda need that vacation pay,” says the guard.
“You aren't losing vacation pay,” says Star Shield.
“But you said we were.”
The camera swings to Star Shield and zooms in on his bemused frown.
“That was a joke,” says the Commissioner.
“More like a poison joke!” says a random mare in the background.
“Who said that?”
Star Shield squints into the crowd and the camera zooms in on a mare in the back, briefly losing focus.
“Barbara, was that you?” says Star Shield off the screen.
The mare points at herself and shakes her head innocently.
“Yeah, it was. Liar,” says Star Shield. The camera returns to the Commissioner and he clears his throat and adjusts his cards. “Anyway, there's a few things we got to go over.”
“Like vacation pay?” says the same stallion from earlier.
Star Shield snaps his hoof to the guard. “Flash, shut up about the vacation pay or I'll make you shut up.”
“Okay, chill, bro. I got you.”
“Uh huh. Anyway.” Star Shield brings a card up. “In light of recent allegations of guard brutality and incompetence we are all required to go through Emotional Sensitivity Training and take a more rigorous quarterly evaluation. As protectors of the people we cannot be rough with civilians and criminals are still people so we have to treat them with dignity. That means no bashing faces into walls, throwing criminals through windows, no advanced interrogation techniques in the public pool and definitely no wild shoot outs in the markets.”
A lot of disappointed groans spill out into the auditorium and Star Shield changes cards, uncaring of the emotional pain he just put his guards through.
“Next. Whoever is leaving your radio on with that one specific song on loop, we are tired of hearing it play for eight hours from your desk. We get it. You love the song. But either you start listening to the whole CD or don't bother bringing your radio to work,” says Star Shield. “You know who you are. Don't make me throw your player out.”
Star Shield switches cards again and points at the many cameras around the room, which are being operated by low energy ponies.
“And before we get too far I want you all to look at the cameras. They will be shadowing you for the grand experiment we discussed last week,” says Star Shield. “They will ensure that civilians know what you go through and to also ensure that you are all on your best behavior.”
“I don't like this,” grumbles one of the guards, his hoofs folded across his barrel and his demented eyes staring at his superior. “The camera crew's gonna get in the way and citizens are gonna act stupid for their fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Yeah, well maybe if you didn't act like a psycho we wouldn't need this publicity show,” says Star Shield. “But you know what I like? Not having our streets overrun by criminals. I also like being a positive role model for the community, so don't be mean. Be on your best behavior and be swell. Which brings me up to my next point. Brownie points are still in effect.”
Meet the Officers
The setting changes to a gamboge stallion pegasus with pale blue eyes and a dark blue mane sitting in a chair in a white room. He is poking at a microphone clipped to his gray dress shirt, which has a black tie with it. Each poke creates a loud thud that he is oblivious to. Beneath him appears: Sergeant Flash Sentry
“Is this thing on?” asks Flash Sentry.
“Yes, the mike's on,” says a stallion in the background.
Flash looks past the camera. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
Flash looks at the microphone again. “Testing. Testing! TESTING!”
The background pony curses and slams something against what sounds like a metal table. Though, despite the viewer not seeing the enraged pony, Flash's drooped ears and cringe says plenty.
“My bad, bro,” says Flash, lifting his hoof slightly.
The camera blacks out, and cuts back to Flash sitting prim and proper in his chair.
“My name is Flash Sentry, and I am a seasoned guard who got transferred here after being stationed in the Crystal Empire,” says the pegasus. “I have been in the Royal Guard since I was eighteen. I've seen some things, did some things, but so far I have no regrets.”
Flash smiles awkwardly.
“I'm looking forward to this day. Its going to be-”
~~~~~~~~~~
In an abrupt cut, Flash Sentry is gone and replaced by an old earth pony. His brown fur is rough around his cheeks and chin, his gray mane is cropped and large wrinkles surround his purple eyes. He is wearing the same uniform as Flash and beneath him appears: Lieutenant Vigilance Shield.
“I'm Vigilance Shield of the PVRG's Vice Department,” says the old pony. “I have been in the Royal Guard for about fifty years. Twenty in National and thirty in Local. I would be a Regional Commissioner or the Royal Adviser of Earth Pony Relations at this point, but my place is here on the streets. Not boring paperwork or political junk, despite what my rank says.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The next clip is of a unicorn stallion with an ashy gray coat, a long white mane tied into a ponytail, and sickly yellow eyes. He is wearing the same uniform as the previous two, but unlike them he is very much agitated.
“Alter Knife. Gangs and Narcotics. I'm done,” he says.
He then gets up and leaves right as the letters fade into view, but with nobody there “Sergeant Altar Knife” appears in front of the chair. The camera then cuts outs.
~~~~~~~~~~
The next footage is of Flash Sentry sitting at his desk in a brightly lit office area where dozens of desk sit in uniformed rows with ceiling fans mesmerizing one particular guard in the back. Flash's desk is nice and organized with nothing really on it, save for paperwork, a coffee mug, some quill pens, and a picture of him and Twilight Sparkle in a polished golden frame with a large wedding cake in the background.
“I know the guys don't like me here,” says Flash as he dramatically looks through a profile of a zebra in a cadet uniform. “I know I'm from out of town and basically got the hottest mare in Equestria without trying. But its not my fault I'm with her. I mean I was just eating my pretzel one day and she just leeched on to me. Best random act ever.”
~~~~~~~~~
The recording changes to Altar sitting at his desk which is positioned so his back is to the wall. His desk is cluttered with folders, wrappers, models of dinosaurs and a colorless picture of a graduation ceremony with all the faces scratched off.
“I personally hate him because he's annoying,” says Altar as he uses his magic to put files away. “And why would I care if he is courting a Princess? That just puts a target on his back. I like my back target free.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The footage cuts to the mess hall, and Vigilance is sitting at a table near some vending machines with a bowl of grains, a cup of milk and a bowl of apple slices. In the background, guards chat and move along without a care in the world.
“Are you sure his name is Flash? Because I've been calling him Useless this whole time,” says Vigilance.
Flash Sentry Meets Obsidian Spear
Flash is now walking down the brightly lit hall with a small saddle containing the zebra's profile. As he walks he smiles and nods to passing guards. Most return the favor, but a few take abrupt turns to go in the opposite direction or take a sudden interest in one of the safety posters on the wall.
“I think its great that we're taking affirmative action to include the minorities of our community in our force,” says Flash brightly. “Sure Obsidian may not be the smartest, or the strongest... or the most discrete... or the best reader or writer, but he's a good runner and we need good runners.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Officer Obsidian Spear appears underneath a zebra wearing the standard gray shirt and black tie. He is sitting in a brightly lit lounge with comfortable furniture, eyeballing passing guards. Some are wearing their armor, others are wearing the suits, but all are ignoring him, despite him trying to greet them. Though, a couple of unicorn mares do stop by and coo at him with sparkly eyes and massive smiles.
“Aww, look at the zebra! He's so cute in his uniform!” says one of the mares.
Obsidian smiles nervously.
“Can we get your picture?” asks the second mare.
“Uh... Sure, I guess?” says Obsidian.
The first mare squeals. “Yay, selfie time!”
The two mares flank him and press their cheeks into his face while they both levitate cameras. Obsidian is now blushing and forces a smile when they tell him to do it for the camera. Then two very bright flashes of light bleach out the footage, and when the light is gone the two mares are trotting away, giggling and chatting like Valley Fillies talking about vampire love stories, leaving Obsidian writhing on the ground, holding his eyes and growling in pain.
Then Flash Sentry walks up and tilts his head, sporting a smirk when he sees Obsidian on the ground.
“Come on, champ, you can't be tired already. The day's barely started!” says Flash. He nudges Obsidian up and shakes his hoof, ignorant of the fact that Obsidian's eyes are burnt. “By the way, I'm Sergeant Flash Sentry and I just want to say that I am happy you're here. The Ponyville Guard can use more color.”
When he is done shaking Obsidian's hoof he lightly bumps him on the shoulder, grinning broadly and oblivious to the frown Obsidian is giving him.
“You ready for a fulfilling day?” asks Flash.
“Uh...” starts Obsidian.
“Excellent! Follow me to the armory!”
Flash then trots away, and Obsidian blinks a few times before attempting to walk, but he trips over himself and face plants the floor. Which prompts a random guard to pop out of thin air and point at Obsidian.
“Ha! Ha!” mocks the guard.
Obsidian groans.
Vigilance Shield Meets Silver Cuffs
In his closed off office, Vigilance is using a typewriter. Each click and clack is obnoxious and his brows are furrowed in concentration. Behind him is a wall of pictures ranging from his trainee days at the Royal Academy, to him posing with other guards, a little bit of random pictures of guys night out, and finally a fancy framed divorce finalization papers with kiss marks next to the signatures.
“I don't know about this kid. I mean, his cutie mark is a pair of cuffs,” says Vigilance, his eyes moving from his paper to look at an open folder. “How do you get that? Did he discover the power of bondage when he was eight?”
~~~~~~~~~~
“Oh, my cutie mark?” says a silver earth pony with a cropped white mane sitting at a bare desk; the name Officer Silver Cuffs appears beneath him. He grins and happily shows his cutie mark, which has a pair of cuffs inside a heart. “Yeah, I found these really fluffy cuffs under my mom's bed and tried them out on my buddies during a sleepover and boom! My butt glowed and I got my mark. It was a great day. To celebrate my mom took me out to her work place and got me some ice cream and peanuts.”
He pulls out a pink, fuzzy photo album and flips it open to a picture of himself as a foal, smiling with a mare that has a lot of eye shadow, jewelry around her neck, and a short mane and tail with pink fru-fru socks. Behind them are a couple of sock-clad mares twirling on poles surrounded by stallions and colorful lights.
“The dancers were very flexible, too,” adds Silver Cuffs.
Altar Knife Meets Pleb Brush
“I think my fellow guards like me,” says a rose colored earth pony with a yellow and green mane with a paintbrush cutie mark, labeled as Officer Pleb Brush. He is in a lobby where a few boxes of donuts sit on the metal tables.
A trio of guards inspect the donuts, and then they look at Pleb. Then at the donuts. Then at Pleb. Then at the donuts. One slowly backs away and the other nudges his partner and holds up a bag of bits, grinning mischievously. The partner accepts the bag and grabs a donut.
“I'm always cheerful and bringing the sunshine where I go,” continues Pleb. “I'm all about the positive energy and being true to one's self and power to the individual, you know? … By the way, have you seen Sergeant Knife? He was supposed to meet me here.”
~~~~~~~~~~
In the armory, Altar Knife has his golden armor, spear, sword, clawed boots and pistol on the metal table. In the background, a guard behind an armored booth reads a magazine with its cover blurred out.
“Nopody likes Pleb,” says Altar Knife as his magic dismantles his pistol. “Literally nopony. We thought nopony could be worse than Flash, but along came Pleb, so we're pissed. Especially me because I'm stuck with him. Its like having a hernia in your dick.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“Today I brought donuts and the guys loved it!” says Pleb, unaware of the bribed guard in the background puking in a garbage can with his 'donor' apologetically patting him on the back.
~~~~~~~~~~
“The box tasted better than the donuts,” says Altar, now polishing his helmet.
~~~~~~~~~~
“I'm thinking of bringing some more in to jump start the guys' day!” says Pleb.
~~~~~~~~~~
Altar glares ahead, his whetstone rubbing hard against his knife and his eyes not exactly focused on the camera, but if there is a gateway to Hell, it would be him.
“Next time he brings donuts I'm going to buck his kid over a fence in front of his ugly wife and tell her he paid me fifty bits to do it.”
Flash Sentry and Obsidian Spear
Heading Out
In front of the station, Flash and Obsidian are greeted by warm sunlight, a tranquil scene of peaceful ponies milling about in their humble rustic town, and majestic eagles soaring overhead like symbols of undying freedom.
Flash takes a deep sniff of air and flaps his wings, sighing peacefully, all while Obsidian gives him a strange look. But the zebra is quick to smile and wave at a passing pony, who immediately sneers in disgust and goes in the opposite direction.
Obsidian's face falls, but his eyes are quickly brought to Flash when his superior gives him a playful bump in the shoulder.
“Hey, before we really get going do you wanna grab some real food?” asks Flash.
Obsidian's ears droop and his eyes water. “That's what my marefriend said before she dumped me.”
Flash clicks his tongue and turns away, seething. “Okay...”
Vigilance Shield and Silver Cuffs
Vice Department
Operation: SLUTTY MARE REMOVAL SERVICE
“So our main objective is to arrest as many sluts as possible and break up illegal gambling rings, but mostly arresting greedy, skanky mares,” says Vigilance in a bright room full of bored guards sitting at their desks, notebooks blank and pens nowhere in sight. Behind him is a map of the Ponyville territory with red markers tacked all over it.
Silver Cuffs raises his hoof.
“Don't you mean prostitutes?” asks Silver Cuffs.
This earns him a few eye rolls and some annoyed sighs, and a shrug from Vigilance.
“Same difference,” says Vigilance.
“I don't really think so,” says Silver Cuffs.
Vigilance narrows his eyes, now glowing like oily fire. “Same. Difference.”
“But-”
“Whose been in Vice longer?”
The rookie shrinks in his seat, and he looks at his superior with shaky eyes and drooped ears.
“...You,” says Silver Cuffs.
“Yes. Me. Now shut up and listen,” says Vigilance.
The veteran guards snicker and Vigilance clears his throat and flips open his folder, which he has on the desk in front of his map.
“I already got a good list going of potential suspects that we can keep an eye on,” says Vigilance. “Since Officer Silver Cuffs is new he's going to go with me and we're going to be investigating: Rarity Belle, Fluttershy Breeze, and Blyskuchyy Blysk Syurpryz. A-K-A: Bridget.”
The guards murmur and rabble quietly, nodding or yawning or doing anything other than looking professional.
“So are we going to be taking pictures from multiple vantage points and hanging them on the wall for more efficient study?” asks Silver Cuffs, bringing the chatter to an end.
The camera zooms in on Vigilance's disturbed sneer. The phones in the background also seem to be ringing louder than usual for some reason.
“I mean, that's what my dad did to our neighbors when we first moved here so he could know them better,” says Silver Cuffs off screen.
The camera swivels to the rookie, who is now pulling out a box of arts and crafts supplies from underneath his desk, which also includes a Polaroid camera. When he puts the box on his desk he smiles at Vigilance, completely oblivious to how disturbed his superior and the guards around him have become.
“We can do that, right? Its the same concept, isn't it?” says Silver Cuffs, looking hopefully at his new family, who have done remarkable in quietly moving their desks away from him. The camera then returns to Vigilance, who is now shaking his head.
“No, Silver, we're going to investigate them like normal ponies,” says Vigilance.
Silver Cuffs ears droop and looks at his box, dejected. “Oh... I guess I'll put this away, then.”
“Yeah, you do that... creep.”
Altar Knife and Pleb Brush
Gang & Narcotics Department
Operation: BLEACH
Altar Knife stands in the front of a concrete room with gun posters, metal desks, loud air conditioning units and blinding lights. Up front is Pleb Brush, and surrounding him are ponies who are vastly more muscular and covered with tattoos, scars and excessive facial hair. Even the mares in the room are butch, and all of them are staring at Pleb Brush, who is rightfully trying to disappear into his seat since he is -to put frankly- a thin paintbrush in a toolbox.
“Operation: BLEACH is very simple,” says Altar Knife gruffly as he paces in front of a board that has a map of Ponyville and the surrounding area. “We're going to purge this county of all gang activity by the end of the year using hard hitting, brutal tactics designed by the Big Guy, but since Big Guy is sick he entrusted me to spread the word. However, since there are camera crews following us around we can't say bad words like: BLEEP, BLEEP, BLEEP, or BLEEP, BLEEP, or BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP while we use the necessary excessive force to take down scumbags.”
The guards groans, and one in particular says: “But I like saying BLEEP.”
“Well, you can't say BLEEP.”
“Can we still use racially insensitive words?” asks another guard
“Yes, but only when you are trying to be edgy,” replies Altar Knife. “Now then. I have no choice but to take Pleb Brush with me on my route."
That earns him some snickers and someone throws a magically guided paper ball at the back of Pleb Brush's head. To his credit, the smaller pony ignores this.
"I will be taking the Five Points Sissy Zone, Mad Mac and his team will take Friendship Road, and-”
Pleb raises his hoof. “Excuse me.”
Altar sighs impatiently. “What?”
“Don't you think you're going about this all wrong?”
“Going about what wrong? I haven't even said anything.”
“Well, me and Flash were talking and it seems like we're doing a lot of racial profiling in the Royal Guard,” says Pleb. “It just doesn't seem fair to target zebras and griffins and it could be one of the reasons why they are turning to gangs.”
“Literally 98.62 percent of everypony we arrested over the past eight years based on gang violence has been a zebra or griffin,” says Altar.
“But what if we focus less on hard hitting tactics and more of community outreach? Like pool parties and dance competitions that promote the spirit of friendship and teamwork?”
“Because that's gay.”
“But-”
“No!”
“But-”
“Say 'but' one more time and I'll bludgeon you with this desk.”
~~~~~~~~~~
There is a cut in time, and now camera is recording a flurry of activity in the armory. In the large gray room big, muscular ponies with beards, long manes and tattoos arm up on weapons and armor and bark orders to each other or check each other to make sure they are ready to go while heavy rock music plays. Really, the only one who is not actively arming up is Pleb Brush, but that is because his considerably smaller frame is already suited up and he has chosen to not become a walking armory.
“I think his threat was a unnecessary,” says Pleb Brush shakily to the camera, “but he has been in this business for a while so he is a bit hardcore. I think he knew my idea was good, but didn't know how to express it, so he reacted like how a confused, low IQ pony would.”
“Stop talking to the camera and get moving!” barks Altar as he speeds past him.
Pleb winces and shrinks down. “Sorry. Duty calls!”
And then he gallops after Altar.
Flash Sentry and Obsidian Spear
Vandalism
The video now fades in to show Flash and Obsidian walking down a gorgeous dirt path with healthy trees, vibrant flowers and cheerful birds. A scene worthy of a children's picture book.
“When we do our rounds we always keep a close ear on our radios,” says Flash. “Somepony calls the station, the station radios us, we investigate and handle the problem accordingly. Usually we don't have to do anything drastic. Its usually a quick chat and a warning. In this case we are investigating some vandalism, which isn't a big deal.”
Obsidian nods and follows Flash in silence, and the two enter an area where a cluster of cart-homes of various colors and conditions are set up in random areas. Old camp fires sit in front of the carts. Some with pots over them, others with just blackened pits. Some even have lines of laundry tied to trees or other carts, and ponies watch the two curiously as they make their way through the area.
“Stay close to me, buddy. These bigots don't like zebras,” says Flash. “They'll stab you and hang you from a tree in a heartbeat.”
“How do you know?” asks Obsidian uneasily, moving a bit closer to Flash when they pass an old couple with scrutinizing eyes sitting on rocking chairs.
“They're cart trash. Cart trash hates minorities.”
“Ohhhhh.”
Soon Flash and Obsidian approach a yellow cart home with a red roof and a purple crescent moon painted on its wall. Its door is wide open and Flash slows to a stop and his body dips with an unpleasant groan.
“Oh man,” says Flash.
“What?” says Obsidian.
“It's Trixie.”
“Is she bad?”
“She's worse than bad. She's super bad.”
“Oh.”
“There you are!” says a mare off screen.
The camera turns to an azure mare with a curled silver mane and wand cutie mark levitating a basket of laundry. When she is in front of the pair she stops and sticks her nose up. Partially to actually meet his eyes and partially to be a pill.
“Trixie has been waiting forever for somepony to show up,” says the azure mare.
“Did you falsely report vandalism just so I'd come here?” asks Flash, his eyes narrowing and feathers ruffling.
Trixie scoffs and puts her basket down. “Don't be ridiculous. Like Trixie is going to know who they're going to send when somepony vandalizes my cart. But now that you're here this conundrum can have benefits.”
Flash shakes his head. “No, I'm not doing it.”
Trixie raises a brow. “Why not?”
“Because you're a grown mare,” says Flash firmly. “You got to get a real job and not mooch off of everypony else.”
“Trixie is not a moocher. She just asks for donations more than normal ponies in between show days.”
“Yeah, that's called a moocher and I already gave you five hundred bits, but you blew it all on soda!”
“Trixie needs the bottle caps! They are the currency of the future!”
Flash snorts and turns around, waving his hoof dismissively.
“Whatever,” he says. “Grow up and get a job. If a time warping terrorist can get a job at the daycare center then you can get a job, too.” He then nudges Obsidian. “Come on, champ.”
Obsidian nods and follows Flash, but he looks over his shoulder and his eyes bulge when he sees Trixie walking after them, her eyes wide in panic and ears drooped.
“I-I'll call Mom and tell her you're being mean to me!” says Trixie.
“Go ahead and call Mom,” says Flash.
Trixie stomps her hoof. “I will!”
Flash faces her and also stomps his hoof. “Fine!”
“Fine!”
“FINE!”
“DICK!”
“BITCH!”
Trixie storms off and slams the door to her cart shut, revealing the vandalism that the viewer cannot see because the whole thing is blurred out. With the door shut, Flash snorts and mule-kicks a clump of dirt towards Trixie's cart, and then he trots off. It takes Obsidian a few seconds to follow him, though, but that is because he is staring at the door. It is when Flash is a few paces away that he gallops after him.
“You two don't really get along do you?” asks Obsidian when he is next to Flash.
“Nooo~ We get along perfectly fine,” says Flash.
“Oh, okay.”
Obsidian looks away from Flash and smiles and waves at a passing couple, unaware of the slacked jaw look he's getting from his superior.
Vigilance Shield and Silver Cuffs
Vice Department
Operation: SLUTTY MARE REMOVAL SERVICE
Target No. 1- Rarity Belle
Vigilance and Silver Cuffs stand outside a fancy abode with a lush garden. Not a speck of dirt is on the walls and the unicorn mare they are speaking with does not have a single strand of her purple curled mane misplaced. Even her light gray coat and light blue eyeliner has an unmistakable shine. She surely would have had a beautiful smile, too, if it were not for the occasion.
“Have you been selling your body for sex, ma'am?” asks Vigilance bluntly.
“No, and that's a rude thing to ask a lady,” says Rarity.
“We all know the stories, ma'am.”
“I already sued the New Yoke Times for libel. I can sue you, too.”
“I'm only investigating claims.”
“A lady doesn't prostitute herself.”
"So, you do it for free, then?" asks Silver Cuffs.
Rarity glares at him, and with a heavy sigh Vigilance presses his hoof against the newblood's face and pushes him away.
"Don't mind him. He's new," says Vigilance.
Rarity points at Silver Cuffs while turning her glare to Vigilance. "You best keep his mouth under control. I have a reputation to uphold and I will not have it tarnished by him, the department or this ridiculous camerapony you have trailing you."
Silver Cuffs then leans towards Vigilance and says in a loud whisper: “Hey, Lieutenant, what if she isn't a lady, but a stallion posing as a mare?”
Rarity balks with disgust and Vigilance groans and face-hoofs.
“Silver, I would know if she was posing,” he says without removing his face.
“I'm just saying I thought my Grandma Turnip was a mare, but he proved me wrong on show and tell day,” says Silver Cuffs.
“Okay, we're leaving!”
Vigilance throws his hoof around Silver Cuffs and forces him to walk away, leaving Rarity pale, stiff and mouth hanging open. Without moving her head her eyes look to the camera.
"Do I really look like a stallion?" asks Rarity tearfully.
The camera cuts out.
Altar Knife and Pleb Brush
Gang & Narcotics Department
Operation: BLEACH
Altar Knife and Pleb Brush walk down a graffiti infested area. Old bricks are covered with tattered posters, rusted signs hang above doors, lights flicker and windows and doors have steel bars bolted over them. Fast speaking music with heavy bass shakes the bones and across the street at a pawn shop a small herds of zebras stare at the two. Seeing this, Pleb Brush moves just a bit closer to Altar Knife, but the veteran returns the stare and throws in pointing at his eyes and then at them. The zebras snort in response.
"You're lucky to be so young," says Altar Knife some seconds later when the herd is behind them.
"Why? Is it because my youth gives me an advantage of speed and agility over my enemies?" asks Pleb Brush with a hopeful smile.
Altar Knife snorts. "No. At your age you don't know anything else but this junk. Me? I have to remember when none of this was around. I wish I could dig a mass grave and fill it with this filth."
Pleb Brush's ears fall, and with an uneasy smile he nudges Altar.
“Hey, come on, now, no need to get all emotional. Not everyone is bad,” says Pleb. “They just need a little love and tolerance, some help and-”
“ROBBERY!”
And Altar Knife bolts ahead, charging his horn and leaving Pleb Brush to stand alone. The recruit can only watch with stiff eyes as his superior chases down a group of zebras running away from a store with shattered glass. The alarm echoes through the street and Pleb Brush winces when Altar zaps one of the zebras. The zebra crumbles to the ground, convulsing and drooling, and Altar slides to a stop above him and zaps him again.
“Stop resisting the electricity!” barks Altar.
Pleb Brush sighs and looks at the camera with a forced smile, unaware of the zebras from across the street galloping to Altar.
"This is a great first day," says Pleb Brush. Then there is a flash of light, a boom, and the ground shakes and he looks to the source, then his smile and ears dropping when smoke rolls towards them. "Oh... Now that... That's guard brutality right there."
Flash Sentry and Obsidian Spear
Noise Complaint
“What do you mean my mom was on the line?” says Flash in his radio.
He and Obsidian are sitting at a bright red table with a plate of donuts in between them and and each with large milkshakes.
“I mean your mom called the station and demanded to talk to you. Said something about you being mean to your sister,” says a stallion over the radio.
Flash facehoofs and Obsidian discretely pulls the plate closer to him.
“Did you 4-20 her?” asks Flash.
Obsidian's ears perk and he looks up from the plate, cheeks puffed out and muzzle dotted with donut crumbs.
“We did,” says the radiopony. “Also, there's a noise complaint. CMC Clubhouse. Again.”
“10-4. Over and out.” Flash sighs and looks at Obsidian. “The life of a guard. Never a time to relax.”
“What's 4-20?” asks Obsidian.
“Oh, that? That's something the PVRG made up for when we don't want to talk to somepony. It basically means that our radios are down, if you know what I mean.” He chuckles and then looks at the camera. His smile immediately disappears. “Is that camera still recording?”
~~~~~~~~~~
Flash and Obsidian are now walking down a dirt road neighboring the famous Apple Family Orchard. The trees are in full bloom, lush apples are ready for picking, and in the distance a quaint farmhouse rests on a hill. There is also distant rhythmic thumping that is shaking the gravel.
“We're investigating a noise complaint at this address,” says Flash to the camera. “These kinds of complaints are always harmless. Just some kids who got a new stereo or are partying or something. You know, kids being kids.”
Flash smiles at Obsidian, but his partner is keeping his head down so he is unaware of this.
“You remember your party days?” says Flash.
“The last party I went to I got dumped by my marefriend,” says Obsidian glumly.
Flash's smile slowly fades and he looks down the road, and the two continue their walk in silence.
~~~~~~~~~~
After some time the pair reaches a good sized tree house with a nice porch, healthy flowers, dirty windows, a refrigerator at the base of the tree, an old couch next to said fridge, a boombox playing heavy metal music loud enough for it to shake and bounce on the patched up table it is sitting on. Not too far from the radio a familiar yellow mare with a grease covered red mane and tail works underneath a wagon, using a roller board for support.
Flash motions Obsidian to turn off the radio, and while his partner does that, he puts his hoof on the board and slides her out. At first Apple Bloom is confused by the sudden movement and silence, but when she realizes who is looking at her she rolls upright.
“Hi, Mr. Flash, what brings ya out here?” says Apple Bloom with the most adorable smile ever.
“Your music was too loud so we turned it off for you,” says Flash Sentry.
"It wasn't that loud."
"The ground was shaking all the way down the road. Where are your siblings, anyway?"
"Big Mac and Sugar Belle are still on their honeymoon and Applejack is on a friendship quest with Rainbow Dash."
"Hey, who turned off the music!?" shouts another familiar mare.
And out of the door pops a dirty orange pegasus with pierced ears and a rough cerise mane. She takes one look at the two guards and her frail wings extend defensively as she points at Obsidian.
“Watch out, Apple Bloom, Flash's got one of those ziggers with him!” shouts Scootaloo.
“Hey, watch your language!” barks Flash, pointing at her. “Hate speech is illegal!”
“Your mom's illegal!”
“At least I have a mom!”
Scootaloo groans in defeat and slinks inside the clubhouse, and Apple Bloom stares at Flash with a disappointed frown.
"That was a low blow," says Apple Bloom.
“She started it,” grumbles Flash. “Now, be honest, are there any alcoholic beverages or salt bricks on the premise?”
“No, but we got Sweetie Belle,” says Apple Bloom, winking and flicking her tail.
“...I don't know what to think about that answer.”
The boring parts are cut out so it now shows the two guards entering the clubhouse. There are more ratty couches, posters of various rock bands, a rusted soda machine, a stove with dirty pans on it in the back next to yet another fridge, and a wooden table with dirty plates. Sitting on the couch, pouting with empty bottles around her and red tinted eyes, is Scootaloo.
Obsidian chuckles and points at Scootaloo. “She looks wasted.”
“BLEEP off, zigger,” says Scootaloo.
Obsidian's smile warps to a snarl and Flash glares at Scootaloo.
“Yeah, she does.” He looks at Apple Bloom. “Ma'am, you're going to have to show me where the rest of the alcohol and/or salt bricks are or else you will be in a lot more trouble.”
Suddenly, a wild Sweetie Belle appears! Her light gray coat is the cleanest of the trio, as is her two-toned curled mane, and she is wearing light blue eyeliner and is not shy about rubbing up next to Flash and running her hoof along his barrel, making the two guards jump.
“Hey, Flash,” purrs Sweetie Belle with her eyes glazed and red. “What are you doing?”
"Where'd she come from?" says Obsidian with wide eyes and taking a step back.
"She's been doing that ever since she got back from a friendship quest with Twilight and Pinkie Pie. Kinda creepy," says Apple Bloom.
Meanwhile, Flash frowns and pushes Sweetie Belle's hoof away as he takes a step back, his feathers ruffled and exposed fur bristled.
“Working,” says Flash. “Where are the drugs on the premise?"
“You are my drug,” says Sweetie Belle.
“She got the heat on you,” chuckles Obsidian.
Flash holds his hoof to Obsidian's muzzle and looks down, shaking his head. “Dude, just no. Don't. She's fifteen.”
“Eighteen,” corrects Sweetie Belle.
“Whatever. We were going to tell you fillies to keep it down, but seeing as how you are acting suspicious we're going to have to do some investigating. Starting with you. Follow my hoof.”
Flash gently moves his hoof back and forth in from of Sweetie Belle's eyes, but she peers deep into his eyes, smiling with lidded eyes and slowly swishing her tail. After some seconds of this, he sighs, drops his hoof and activates his radio.
“Uh, dispatch, this is Sentry, send backup and medical to the CMC clubhouse. I think the fillies got into something. Over,” says Flash.
“10-4. Units are on their way,” says the radiopony.
“You'll never take me alive!” screeches Scootaloo.
And she whacks Obsidian in the face with a frying pan, dropping him on to the table that shatters under his weight. Flash and the other two mares yell and jump back and Scootaloo throws the pan at Flash's head, which he manages to avoid at the cost of Apple Bloom's muzzle getting smashed by iron. She screams and falls to the floor, sobbing and holding her face as blood gushes out, and Scootaloo jumps through the window, carrying with her shards of glass and splinters of wood.
“Crap, we got a runner! We got a runner! Get her, guy!” says Flash as he leaps back to his hoofs.
Obsidian scrambles to his hoofs and leaps out the window after Scootaloo, and Flash chuckles and shields his eyes from the setting sun with his hoof as he peeks outside.
“Man, I love seeing zebras run,” says Flash. He smiles proudly at the camera, despite Apple Bloom laying on the ground covered in blood. “There's so much diversity in our department, now.”
Sweetie Belle then places a hoof on the crook of Flash's back and cranes up to his ear.
“So now that we're alone~” whispers Sweetie Belle.
Flash's coat pales and his feathers ruffle as he presses the radio. “Dispatch... Please hurry.”
~~~~~~~~~
The new camera footage is an erratic mess from its bobbing as it chases after Obsidian and Scootaloo through the bustling streets of Ponyville. The guard's gear rattles and dirt crunches underneath his hoofs as he gains on the suspect.
“Stop!” shouts Obsidian, having to bob and weave between random civilians living their boring lives.
Scootaloo keeps running and turns a corner to an alley, and Obsidian slides to a stop before bolting down the new direction. Metal shakes and when the camera rounds the corner Scootaloo has landed on her back on the other side of a chain-link fence, and Obsidian leaps on it, getting his front hoofs hooking on the top on the first try.
Scootaloo's eyes widen and she rolls on her hoofs and runs again. When Obsidian is over the fence he flops over, rolls on his hoofs and resumes running without missing a beat.
“I said stop!” barks Obsidian.
The footage cuts to Obsidian and Scootaloo running at the edge of town towards the sun, where the buildings are older and dirty. Obsidian is wheezing for air and sweat drips off of his toned, striped body and the pegasus gains distance between them.
“Really, you have got to stop running!” yells Obsidian.
The camera footage cuts again, this time to an open field with sun sinking below the horizon and Scootaloo now just a speck in the distance. Obsidian can barely run at this point.
“Oh, come on!” cries Obsidian.
~~~~~~~~~
Flash Sentry is back to being in the camera's attention, and in the background Obsidian is leaning against a healthy tree without his helmet, wheezing and soaking in sweat. Next to him is a water bucket and a bag of trail mix.
“Sometimes suspects get away,” says Flash Sentry, his tone sour and his wings flexing. “It sucks, but we just have to deal with it... And the paperwork. But I'm going to let this guy do the paperwork since he lost the suspect.”
The camera zooms in on Obsidian's glare.
Vigilance Shield and Silver Cuffs
Vice Department
Operation: SLUTTY MARE REMOVAL SERVICE
Target No. 2- Blyskuchyy Blysk Syurpryz
Vigilance and Silver Cuffs walk out of the Ponyville General Hospital. The former carrying disappointment and the latter doing absolutely nothing special.
“It turns out that Bridget nearly OD'd on helium, so she's in the hospital for now,” says Vigilance to the camera. “But that's fine. It means she won't be out on the streets corrupting our youth or preying on the broken stallions who live their days by the hour, wishing the minutes would be less painful and that their wife would be faithful, not take the kids, the dog, the house and force them to start over when they should be retiring.”
“Yeah, mare's are gay,” says Silver Cuffs.
Vigilance looks at Silver Cuffs, opens his mouth, and then clamps it shut and briskly walks away, shaking his head.
After a jarring cut, the two guards are now walking down a cobblestone road, passing humble stores with painted windows. Foals run and giggle, parents chatter without worry, and vendors sell their overpriced merchandise. Even the birds are twirling in the air like leafs in the wind. It is yet another marvelous sight for the community.
“So, we're still going around cleaning up the streets of sluts and pimps to make it safer for the kiddos,” says Vigilance as he passes a playground filled with happy children and balloons. “The task is easy since the solicitors are always presenting themselves to potential clients.”
Silver Cuffs nods. “Yeah, just like what my uncle used to do in front of me during recess when he was watering the school lawn.”
Vigilance's head snaps to Silver Cuffs, eyes bulging. “What?”
The camera zooms in on Silver Cuffs' confused face.
“What?” says Silver Cuffs, his beady eyes flicking between the camera and Vigilance.
“What the hell!?” yells Vigilance.
Silver Cuffs throws his hoof up. “What!?”
Altar Knife and Pleb Brush
Gang & Narcotics Department
Operation: BLEACH
In the outskirts of town, the sinking sun has put a dim hue on everything. Still, the camera rolls and the camerapony follows Altar Knife and Pleb Brush to a griffin talking to a circle of zebras outside an old shack with graffiti covering it.
"Hey, what are you up to?" says Altar Knife.
The group stops their chatter and looks at the pair of guards. Some exchange confused looks and others roll their eyes and wave them off, but the griffin watches them intently.
"Maybe they're just talking," says Pleb Brush.
"Don't be dumb. There's never just 'talk' in these parts," says Altar Knife, and he says to the group: "I asked you a question. What are you doing?"
"Enjoying the weather," says the griffin. "Unless that's illegal, too."
Altar Knife stops in front of the griffin. "It ain't, yet." He looks at the group carefully. "You all seem to be familiar with the area, so I'm going to ask you once and if you lie to me I will hurt you. Did you notice any gang activities in this area?"
“Depends. You got any bits?” says the griffin.
The griffin and zebras laugh, and Altar chuckles as well while Pleb observes the unfolding scene nervously.
“Yeah, hold on, I got some somewhere,” says Altar, searching himself in a theatrical way. “Oh, yeah. Here it is!”
Altar slugs the griffin in the beak, shattering it completely, and as the griffin thrashes on the ground, sobbing and begging for mercy Altar scrambles on top of him and continues bashing his face. The zebras, the camera pony and Pleb curse and leap back and Altar's hoof slams down on the griffin's face again and again and again, splashing the ground with blood.
“Have some bits of beak, you bastard!” screams Altar. He snaps to the zebras, who are now running away and nearly trampling each other in doing so. “And where are you going!?”
He shoots an electric ball at one of the fleeing zebras, striking him in the butt. The zebra shrieks like a little girl and crumbles to the ground convulsing with sparks zigzagging in and out of him. Altar then leaps off the griffin and gallops towards the downed zebra.
“Watch the bird! This one's mine!” snarls Altar.
Pleb and the camera watch Altar jump on the zebra and then Pleb winces and looks at the griffin, who is twitching on the ground and coughing blood.
“Hey man, I'm sorry about all this. It's my first day on field duty, so... yeah...” says Pleb, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
The griffin gurgles and grabs a random pistol lying on the ground, and Pleb nods absentmindedly, completely unaware of how the griffin is now pointing a gun at him.
“Yeah, I know,” says Pleb. “Guard brutality is a real issue, like minority rights, the oppressive nature of the patriarchy, wage gap and pony privilege.”
“Hey, he's kinda pointing a gun at you,” says the camerapony.
“Oh, and immigrants! Equestria was founded by immigrants, you know?” says Pleb. “So I really think we need to be more inclusive to other cultures and identities. Hey, did you know that not everypony believes in global warming? Or gay rights? Heck, there's still racists and some even think Equus is flat! I mean the ignorance of Equestrians is baffling! I just wish the ignorant would get locked up and let the educated run things, kinda like how the Griffin Union did things before it collapsed.”
The griffin groans, presses his pistol under his chin and one loud bang later blood splatters on the ground and wall, and both Pleb and the camerapony yell and jump back. Pleb stands still and silent with his eyes about to explode and his jaw hanging loose, and in the background Altar is seen roughly cuffing the zebra.
“Oh!” gasps Pleb. His eyes flick helplessly between the body and the camera. “Oh.... Oh, man, we're in so much trouble.”
“What do you mean 'we'? I was over here,” says the camerapony.
Flash Sentry and Obsidian Spear
Domestic Disturbance
Flash Sentry and Obsidian Spear are walking down the dark streets of Ponyville. The only source of light they have are the flashlights attached to their vests, which do a great job of lighting up the path before them. So good is the lighting that Obsidian's tired and aggravated state is clear, and every now and then he will cast Flash a harsh look, but his superior is too busy talking to notice.
“The ponies here are generally very nice," says Flash. "There's a few bad ones -like the one you lost- and Lucky, for example. We actually have a jail cell reserved just for this Lucky guy and we used to have a psychiatrist for him, but she quit after two weeks.”
“Why?” says Obsidian.
“She said he was hopeless and had better things to do with her life.”
Obsidian looks down, sniffling. “That's what my ex said before she dumped me.”
Flash frowns. “Dude, seriously?”
There is a time skip to where Flash and Obsidian are now approaching a house with a vanilla colored mare with a pink mane of different hues pacing in circles on the lawn. Her tail is singed and her steps are shaky.
“We always get a domestic disturbance from this place,” says Flash to the camera. “Roseluck is a nice mare and Time Turner is kind of a loon, but harmless. But they call us for everything.”
“Her tail looks burnt,” says Obsidian.
“She probably burned herself on the oven. Its happened before.”
When the guards are in earshot, Flash smiles and waves with a wing.
“Hello, Roseluck, what's the problem this time?” says Flash.
Roseluck returns the greeting with a wave and fidgets in her spot when they are right in front of her.
“Its my husband,” says Roseluck, glancing nervously over her shoulder. “He has been under a lot of stress recently and it got the better of him, today. I just want you to talk to him.”
“Okay, so what happened?” asks Flash.
“He was working on one of his inventions when I told him it was time to eat.”
“...And?” says Flash.
“He shot a fireball at me.”
Flash and Obsidian look at each other, and the camera zeros in Roseluck's mortified expression, briefly losing focus before achieving clarity.
“He shot a fireball at you?” asks Flash off screen.
Roseluck nods. “Yes, he shot a fireball at me.”
“What kind of fireball was it?” asks Obsidian.
Roseluck shrugs. “I don't know, but he shot a fireball at me and it nearly burned my tail off.” She then looks at the camera and meekly motions it move. “Can you please get that out of my face?”
There is another skip, and this time it jumps to Flash and Obsidian wearing sunglasses and walking down some stairs that are crowded with boxes of gears, wires and warped metal. Despite the user's attempts, the camera still wobbles and the microphone stick briefly comes into view. When they enter a cluttered basement full of warped metal, broken robots, and old tools they easily find their target: a light brown stallion with a messy dark brown mane wearing a welding mask and attaching pieces of metal to a long tube surrounded by gems, coils and wires, Sparks fly and the two exchange uneasy looks before Flash walks forward.
“Hey there. Ponyville Royal Guard, you got a minute!?” yells Flash over the sounds of super heated flame slicing through metal.
“No,” says Time Turner.
“Well that's too bad because we got to talk to you.”
With a huff, Time Turner deactivates his blowtorch and lifts his mask up.
“Is it about the fireball?” asks Time Turner impatiently.
“Yes,” says Flash.
“Well, I did not shoot a fireball at her.”
“You did not shoot a fireball at her?” says Flash, raising a brow skeptically.
“No fireballs were shot at her.”
“What did you shoot at her then?” asks Obsidian.
“Plasma,” says Time Turner.
Flash's eyes narrow and his jaw goes slack and Obsidian nods, lips puckered slightly, all while Time Turner slides his facemask back on and resumes using his blowtorch on the glowing cannon.
“Sir, we're going to have to take you down to the station for some questioning,” says Flash.
Vigilance Shield and Silver Cuffs
Vice Department
Operation: SLUTTY MARE REMOVAL SERVICE
Target No. 3- Fluttershy Breeze
Vigilance and Silver Cuffs are hiding behind a bush, watching a slender pegasus with a lengthy mane and tail walking down the street with sealed containers tucked in her saddle. There are absolutely no lights so the recording is in the green hue of night vision.
“I don't think I can do this,” whispers Silver Cuffs, he is out of his guard uniform and is wearing a heavy chain necklace and an airy shirt with a large V-cut that shows off his fluff.
“Its easy,” says Vigilance. “Sluts love sex and money, you offer both and we nab her for soliciting.”
“Yeah, but she doesn't seem like the prostitute type. Rarity, yes, but Fluttershy? No.”
“It's always the quiet ones that that are the sluttiest. Its like a defense mechanism to hide their shame. Now help me arrest her!”
Silver Cuffs sighs, quietly climbs out of the bush and trots towards Fluttershy, offering her a pleasant smile and wave. Fluttershy stops walking and looks at him curiously, and meekly waves at him.
"Oh, h-hello," says Fluttershy.
“Um, yeah. Hey... I saw how good looking you were and I was wondering if I can coerce you into performing explicit activities with me. Like, I'll pay you... and stuff,” says Silver Cuffs.
Fluttershy takes a step back and flexes her wings. “What?”
“Like sex... I'll pay you for sex. I promise I'm not an undercover guard looking to arrest prostitutes for quotas or anything.”
“But I'm not a prostitute. I-I was actually on my way home.”
“From a call in order?”
“What?" Fluttershy shakes her head. "No! I-I-I was getting supplies and-and-”
Silver Cuffs frowns. “Ma'am, I saw you presenting yourself to me in a lewd fashion.”
“Oh, my goodness! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be inappropriate, I was only walking and-and-”
“Yeah, I bet you were.”
“Honest!”
Tears are now flowing down Fluttershy's cheeks and Silver Cuffs scoffs in disgust and sticks his nose in the air.
“I don't smell honesty," he says. "I smell deception and heartbreak and..." His nose twitches and he looks at Fluttershy with his hoof covering his nose. "I'm sorry, but I smell poop.”
Fluttershy paws the ground and averts her eyes, sniffling and blinking tears. "I'm sorry, I was harvesting bat guano for my garden. I guess I didn't seal it all the way. Do you want some?"
"What? No!"
Fluttershy digs into her saddle, grabs one of the containers and holds it out to him.
"I got plenty of extra. I don't mind sharing," says Fluttershy, still blinking tears away and offering a warm smile.
"Ma'am, I don't want your poop," says Silver Cuffs.
"Its not mine. Its the bats."
"I don't care! I'm not taking harvested crap. That is nasty!"
Fluttershy brings the smelly container back to her and looks down, shamefaced.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," says Fluttershy.
"Well, you did and it hurt my feelings. And my nose. But mostly my feelings," says Silver Cuffs.
"Is there any way I can make it up to you?"
Silver Cuffs looks away and holds up his hoof with his eyes closed and nose up. "No. The damage is done."
Fluttershy walks next to him and gently puts a hoof on his shoulder. "Not even a cup of tea?"
Silver Cuffs opens one eye and-
A moment later he slides next to Vigilance in their special bush, grinning dumbly.
"Guess who got a date? This guy!" says Silver Cuffs.
Vigilance facehoofs.
Commissioner Star Shield is sitting in his office, reading reports in the comfort of his fluffy chair and mahogany desk. Around him are bookcases with various books and scrolls, and behind him is the Equestrian flag.
There is a knock on his clouded glass door, and he speaks without looking up.
"Come in," he says.
The door opens and a unicorn mare enters, levitating a manila envelope.
“Sir, the first episode of 'Guards' just aired,” says the mare.
“And?” says Star Shield, looking up.
Suddenly the mare is knocked to the floor and a group of buff stallions in suits and sunglasses rush inside, and the lead stallion slams a sealed envelope on the desk.
“Internal Affairs. This entire department is being investigated,” says the lead pony.
Star Shield deflates with a sigh. “...Buck.”
Author's Note
Well that happened...
