Maretropolis

After the press conference, a wedge was driven between the citizens of Maretropolis, and everyone was talking about it. There were conflicts and protests, and people began to treat one another differently.

As the divide between the humans and the hybrids grew, it was on every news station.

“More bad news in a city gripped by fear. A human is in critical condition, the victim of a mauling by a savage Dragon. This, the twenty-seventh such attack, comes just one week after MPD Officer Applejack Smith connected the violence to hybrid citizens,”

“Meanwhile, a peace rally organized by pop star Countess Coloratura was marred by protest,”

At the protest, MPD officers stood in the middle of the two opposing sides as they argued while the Countess rallied for peace.

Applejack was exhausted by all the fighting—and she felt responsible.

When she rode the subway after work, she watched a young mother pull her child close to her as a hybrid gentleman in a suit boarded the train and sat on the bench to read his book, and Applejack shook her head.

Applejack got off at the next stop and went to the hospital. Fluttershy and her mother watched Mr. Shy flail around like a madman while he was shackled to the floor of his secured room.

“That’s not my papa,” Fluttershy said.

“That’s not my husband,” Mrs. Shy added sadly.

Applejack sighed, her face full of worry.

There was nothing she could do, except remember what Coloratura had said over the news.

“Maretropolis is a unique place. It’s a beautiful, diverse city where we celebrate our differences. This is not the Maretropolis I know. The Maretropolis I know is better than this. We don’t just blindly assign blame. We don’t know why these attacks keep happening, but it is irresponsible to label all hybrids as savages. We can’t let fear divide us. Please... give me back the Maretropolis I love.”

Even inside the MPD, the news could not be ignored.

The tension between the human and hybrid officers was at an all-time high. It was so high that they wouldn’t even sit together when they ate and each side kept to their own. Thankfully, they didn’t paint a giant line down the middle of the station to mark their territory.

Chief Iron Will approached Applejack at her desk.

“Come on, Smith. The new mayor wants to see us.”

“The mayor? Why?”

“It would seem you’ve arrived,” Iron Will smiled.

As Applejack followed Iron Will to the front entrance, she saw Pinkie Pie, her usually happy self now mournfully sad, her hair now flat and some of the color gone from her face, packing up her things.

“Pinkie? What are you doing?”

“Um... everyone thinks that, even though I’m human, it would be best if someone such as I, with my mental instabilities, wasn’t the very first face you see when you walk in through that door,” she said, pointing behind Applejack.

“What?” AJ asked in shock.

“They’ve decided to move me to Records. At least until the results of my psyche evaluation come back. It’s down in the basement. By the boiler...”

Applejack’s disappointment was evident on her face.

“Smith!” Iron Will called.

Applejack tried hard to keep her head up high as she followed Iron Will out to his squad car.

Later, at City Hall, Mayor Inkwell sat behind her desk in her big new fancy office as Iron Will and Applejack sat down across from her.

In front of them was a pamphlet with a picture of Applejack smiling that read, “MPD, Integrity, Honesty, Bravery.”

Applejack looked at it, confused.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Our city is ninety percent human, Applejack,” Inkwell explained. “And right now, they’re just really scared. You’re a hero to them. They trust you. And so that is why Chief Iron Will and I want you to be the public face of the MPD.”

Applejack looked down at the flyer again.

“I’m not a hero,” she said sadly. “I came here to make the world a better place, but I think I broke it.”

“Don’t give yourself so much credit, Smith,” said Iron Will. “The world has always been broken. That’s why we need good people in it. People like you.”

Applejack looked Iron Will in the face, and saw that he was very sincere.

He could have begrudgingly accepted or even tried to weasel his way out of what happened, but he didn’t. Instead, he gracefully and respectfully gave Applejack all the credit for her accomplishments.

And now, he had the courage to admit that he was wrong.

“With all due respect, sir, a good cop is supposed to serve and protect. Help the city, not tear it apart,” she said. She took off her badge and handed it to Iron Will. “I don’t deserve this.”

“Smith...” Iron Will said sadly.

“Applejack, you’ve worked so hard to get here,” said Inkwell. “It’s what you always wanted ever since you were a kid. You can’t quit.”

Applejack placed her badge onto the flyer, stood up, and said, “Thank you for the opportunity.”

Then she walked out of the office.

Three months later, on a sunny day in Ponyville, at her family’s fruit stand, Applejack packed up some apples for a customer.

“A dozen Red Delicious,” she said robotically. “Have a nice day.”

Applejack was dressed in her brown cowboy hat, an orange plaid shirt worn open with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, a soft white cotton shirt underneath, faded blue jeans and brown boots.

She felt different out of uniform.

She slumped down, resting her chin on her hand as she glanced at the front page of the Maretropolis Times and the headline, “Growing Unrest Divides City.”

Her family, who had been watching her, finally approached her.

“How ya doin’, sis?” Big Macintosh asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied.

“You are not fine,” Buttercup said. “You’re lying again.”

“Why did I think I could make a difference?” she sighed.

“Because you’re a trier, that’s why,” Bright Mac said.

“You’ve always been a trier,” Granny Smith added.

“Oh, I tried, all right,” she said. “I tried and I made life so much worse for so many innocent people.”

“Not all of them,” Grand Pear said as Mr. and Mrs. Cake walked up to the stand. “Speak of the devil. Right on time.”

Applejack’s eyes widened when she saw that the Cakes were accompanied by a hybrid man in a red shirt, black jeans and an apron, who was carrying a sign that read “Baked delights made with fresh produce from the Smith Family Farm.”

“Is that... Garble?” she asked.

“Eeyup,” Big Macintosh confirmed.

“It sure is,” Bright Mac nodded.

“He works for them now,” said Buttercup.

“And I don’t think they ever would have considered it had you not opened our minds,” Grand Pear admitted.

“The boy’s turned into one of the top chefs this side of the Dragon Lands,” Granny Smith added.

Applejack looked genuinely surprised.

“That’s... that’s really cool, you guys,” she said.

The man in question climbed a ladder with a hammer and nails and bolted the sign to the top of the Cakes’ display stand.

After learning that Garble had slashed his granddaughter’s cheek, Grand Pear had the teenage hybrid arrested. After his arrest, Garble turned to drugs and his life fell into chaos until he finally ended up in juvenile hall and eventually prison. And while he was in prison, Garble took up boxing and quickly learned how to fight. Otherwise he would have been beaten up on an almost daily basis.

When he got out of prison ten years later, he decided to make some changes. He dedicated his life to helping people instead of hurting them and became a drug counselor. He started visiting juvenile halls and other correctional facilities, and started talking to young people, humans and hybrids, who wanted to stay out of trouble and help them do right.

During that time, Garble found a passion for cooking. He got into the culinary arts business, found a job with the Cakes, and he’d been working for them ever since.

Five years clean and five years sober.

“Garble,” said Applejack as she approached him after he got off the ladder. “I’ll be darned.”

“Applejack,” Garble said softly. “I am so sorry for what I did to you. I had a lot of self-doubt, and it manifested itself in the form of unchecked rage and aggression. I’m sorry I was a such a jerk.”

“Well, I know a thing or two about being a jerk,” she replied.

Garble smiled.

“Anyway, we just brought you all these cakes,” he said.

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo and Babs Seed ran across the square, beelining for the cakes.

“Hey, kids!” Bright Mac shouted. “Don’t run through the Antirrhinum majus!”

The girls stopped just short of a flowerbed in front of Roseluck, Lily Valley, and Daisy’s flower shop. They carefully walked around it and moved on.

“Now, there’s a four-dollar word, Mr. Smith,” Garble said. “Us hybrids just call them Snapdragons.”

Applejack’s eyes widened.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“Oh, Garble’s talking about those flowers, AJ,” Bright Mac said as he gestured to a patch of red flowers growing in front of the store. “We use ‘em to keep the Parasprites off the produce, but I don’t like Apple Bloom or any of her friends going near ‘em because of what happened to your Uncle Pearce.”

“Yeah, Pearce ate one on a dare when he and I were kids and he went completely nuts,” Buttercup said.

“He bit the dickens out of your grandpa,” Bright Mac added.

Applejack started putting the pieces together.

“That’s why Stratus Shy went savage,” she thought. “Just like the hybrids.”

“A human can go savage,” she breathed.

“Savage?” Grand Pear asked. “That’s a strong word. But it did hurt.”

“Well, sure it did! There’s a sizable divot in your arm from where he bit ya, I’d call that savage!” Granny Smith replied.

Applejack stood still as thoughts raced through her head.

“Snapdragons isn’t a codeword for Timberwolves, they’re flowers! The flowers are making the hybrids go savage!” she gasped. “That’s it! That’s what I’ve been missing!”

She raced away, and then turned back.

“Oh, keys! Keys, keys, keys! Come on! Hurry!”

Her father tossed her the keys to his pickup and Applejack climbed in. She spun the wheel and blasted off down the dusty road.

“Thank you, I love you, bye!” she called back.

“Did any of you catch any of that?” Bright Mac asked.

“Nnnope,” Big Macintosh told his father.

“Not a word,” Buttercup added.

“Well, that makes me feel a little better,” Grand Pear said.

“I thought she was talking in tongues or something,” Garble added.

Applejack raced towards Maretropolis. Driving up and down the backstreets, she spotted the van of Spike’s accomplices parked in an alley. She knocked on the back door and Pharynx opened it.

“Who is it?” he demanded.

They were both taller than the last time Applejack saw them (although, Pharynx was slightly shorter than Thorax), with brilliant colored hair and wearing custom tailored suits.

They both looked at her with wide eyes.

“I have to find Spike,” she told him. “It’s very important. Please.”

Thorax nodded.