My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, My Little Pony, MLP and all other inherent properties © Hasbro, Inc.
24 and all inherent properties © Joel Surnow, 20th Century Fox and Realtime productions
Certain names and locations have been borrowed from a non-canonical map of Equestria drawn by hlissner. He is awesome and so are his drawings, I recommend checking him out.
Devices such as the Long-distance Communication Device (L.C.D), Churrotech and all OC’s are mine
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE
BETWEEN MIDNIGHT AND 1 AM
EVENTS OCCUR IN REAL TIME
FOAL CHI MINH CITY, IX’BIAN
LOCAL TIME 6:00:00 AM
MANEHATTAN TIME 12:00:00 AM
The mare had never been a fan of crowds; they were comprised of a lot of ponies and other creatures in a lot of space, which meant they were always noisy, cramped, impossible to see through, and about twelve percent of them were protest rallies. But at the moment, she is hoping that the reasons that she hated crowds would end up helping her to lose her pursuers. And on the off chance that it was a protest rally, then at least she could acquire another weapon without injuring anymore body parts.
Alas though, the crowd is merely the result of a lot of ibexes and some ponies walking through the halls of Foal Chi Central Station; one of the seventeen stations that the world’s fastest train, the MAGILEV train, passed through. There are always six MAGILEV train on the MAGILEV track at any one time, so the train appears to pass through every hour instead of the six it actually took. Good, the train station, the mare thinks, hoping that her limp won’t give herself away, There’s bound to be a L.C.D. in here somewhere. She makes her way down the flight of stairs, being careful not to miss a step and fall the rest of the way down. That won’t be of any assistance to her.
She stops walking in the centre of the station, wincing in pain as her body weight was applied to her wounded hoof, and observes the area, looking for a sign as to where the L.C.D.’s might have been. Finally catching her first lucky break of the day, she finds it almost immediately, in the form of a sign hanging from above her head that had ‘Long-distance Communication Devices (L.C.D.)’ printed with an arrow pointing in front of her. Where that lucky break had been when she jumped out of a third story window and landed on a patch of concrete that was right next to a pile of mattresses was beyond her.
The mare starts a brisk stroll to the L.C.D’s so she can call in information she has, but she barely makes it three strides before a shiver of fear runs down her spin as she recognizes a stallion with a grey coat and red mane as one of the ponies that has been chasing her through the city for the past half hour; one of the ponies that she had seen executing her co-workers prior to that; one of the ponies that would stop at nothing to ensure that she would be joining them by the golden gates of Valhalter. And he was standing less than ten feet away.
It’s OK, she thinks, he hasn’t seen you yet. Just move around him. She strafes to the left, attempting to put as much distance between her and the pony with a cutie mark of a blood-coated bullet before moving on, but he moves as if he knows where she is and steps closer to her. She takes a few more steps left and he continues on moving closer towards her. At this point, he was close enough that she could give him a solid punch if she wanted to, but all that would achieve was to expose her position to his friends (and the rest of his team mates), so her only hope was to drop her head and walk right past him, and hope that he didn’t see the green Earth pony beside him in the sea of ibexes. It was like the stars were playing a game of dice, and she needed all ones to continue living. Here goes nothing. She closes her eyes and takes those precarious few steps that would decide her fate…
One step… She puts her steady hoof out and it connects to the floor,
Two steps… The injured hoof this time, the pain setting fire to the rest of her foreleg as it’s firmly planted on the ground,
Three steps… The steady hoof again, no hoof knocking over any grey ponies, or any other ponies,
Four steps… The injured hoof, the pieces of horseshoe embedded in it causing her to question why she landed solely on that hoof from a third story building.
During the four steps, she should’ve sensed something happening; some pony’s quickened pace, the sound of a hand cannon being drawn from its holster, some minute difference in the environment to indicate that she had been found and would have to start running again. But nothing has changed, and it threw the mare off more than the local bullies would throw her off the side of the pool when she was a filly. She opened her and looked behind her, not wanting to raise her head.
The grey pony searching for her walks away from her, completely oblivious to the fact that his prey had been standing next to him. She sighs, only now realizing that she had been holding her breath. Stars Above, that was way too close. She looks back in front of her and spots the row of silver L.C.D’s that she needs to get to. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if she didn’t.
She once again starts her brisk walk to her objective, taking care so as not to stand out like ice cream in a fruit salad, and covers the distance to the first available L.C.D. in about ten seconds in spite of how it causes her hoof to scream in pain. It is fortunate for her that the L.C.D.’s are by a wall on the inside of an alcove; it certainly helps disguise her in the crowd and buy her some time, but it’s not an invisibility spell and the ponies that are after her will find her eventually so she still needed to hurry.
The L.C.D.’s, like most of Earth’s technology, is designed by Churrotech to be used by all types of ponies, not just the unicorns who could use their fancy magic auras to do whatever the hell they wanted. As such, instead of the little measly buttons that were initially on the prototype, the commonplace ones have ten large hoof-sized buttons that took up most of the L.C.D. and were easier to press. Above the buttons lies the communication block that can send and receive signals from any other L.C.D. to create a facsimile of a conversation over long distances and makes the L.C.D. look like a shiny carry-on suit case that some pony left behind.
In the top right hoof corner of the silver box is a small rectangular slot to insert bits into. L.C.D.’s that ponies owned don’t have the slot, especially the very expensive ones that were portable, but L.C.D.’s in public places all have them, the idea being that ponies should pay to make calls that they can’t until they get home to make. The mare is behind the idea in theory, but charging one whole bit for a call is outrageous, especially since quarter-bits have existed for decades and a call cost way less than that. One whole bit could buy half a mug of Equestria’s best cider, or at least it would have if the Apple family hadn’t closed up shop to follow Applejack’s career change. If only they had stayed in Ponyville, then the mare might just have been able to have another sip of that sweet tasting cider.
If they had stayed in Ponyville, a voice in her head says, then you would’ve died several times over.
It’s time to repay the favour.
The mare reaches into her shirt pocket and removes a bit with her mouth. It tastes exactly she expects it to taste like, the metallic taste that could only be placed in the ‘For Celestia’s sake, get this revolting thing the hay away from me’ category on the deliciousness scale, and she is relieved to be free of the taste when she inserts the bit into the phone. She lifts the communication block and balances it on her shoulder so she can still use her good hoof to punch in a number that she can dial in her sleep, both metaphorically and literally.
She hears the ringing tones through the block and takes the opportunity to scan the station for her opponents. A pony like her needs to be on edge at all times, not letting herself relax even for a second, because the time she relaxes will be when it is most likely for her to die; and she certainly couldn’t let a tiny problem like blood oozing from a hole in the centre of her forehead get in the way when Equestria was potentially in jeopardy.
She spots the grey pony that a dice roll had saved her from earlier; he has regrouped with several other ponies she never wants to think about again either. They are too far away for her to lip read their conversation, but it’s obvious that she is going to have to start thinking about them again real soon. She can’t avoid them forever, and she can’t take them out in a crowded area armed only with a broken horseshoe and a butterscotch candy wrapper. What course of action could possibly result in her watching the sunset without wings?
“ATB: Manehattan, this is Alders.” The voice on the other end of the L.C.D. cuts the mare short of solving the riddle of the survival. She recognizes the stallion’s voice as Habib Alders, one of the Anti-Terrorism Bureau’s best handlers of undercover field operatives. She probably end with Alders as her next handler, seeing as how the last one had died less than an hour ago from a terminal case of ‘knowing too much’ that ended with three blasts from a hand cannon that she was forced to hear because she couldn’t afford to expose her position.
“This is Agent Meadow,” she says, “Access code Four-Five-Epsilon-Zeta-Nine-Omega.”
“One moment,” Alders says. Meadow knows that there is only one reason why he needs that moment, and she doesn’t like it. Meadow had worked with most of ATB’s tech crew and field agents during her seven year career, so if she rattled off her access code without any of her brain cells’ permission they would immediately know it was her and she’d get whatever she needed, and she liked that formula. But she has never worked with Alders before, so all he need is a moment to verify that she is who she says she is, but still it interrupt the natural cycle of resource gathering for a moment, and that moment can mean the difference between breathing and not breathing.
“I’m sorry,” Alders says after a few seconds, “but that access code is invalid.”
Invalid! How could it be invalid?! That access code has always been valid! “No, that code is correct. Get one of your superiors, and I’ll show you.”
“You’re impersonating an ATB agent,” Alders says, “and as such I’m not going to do anything.” Celestia, the only thing preventing the green pony from punching the silver box was that it would attract attention from certain ponies with hand cannons.
“I’m not impersonating, I–”
*click*
The communication block lay silent against her shoulder. Her access code had always been the same, but it had to be rejected today, of all days. Oh how she wishes that the L.C.D. was Alders’ head, so she could teach him a lesson about Agent Meadow and her access code.
Getting angry isn’t going to help, she thinks, taking a deep breath; you need to think of ways to solve your problems, not create new ones. She needs a way to get the information to ATB. She can’t just announce it to the world; nopony would’ve believed her and if they did it would cause them to panic, something that can’t be risked. She can’t get through to ATB; Alders would have just accused her of being a terrorist and hang up on her again. She groans, what she needs was somepony who had a high security clearance and could get the information to ATB, somepony who can properly understand the risks that her information posed, somepony she can trust and can call on at a time like this.
Somepony like Dick Hydroxide.
Hydroxide is the head pony at ATB: Manehattan. He is the pony that could get any information she needed to ATB directly, and she had memorized his contact number during the brief period in her life when she was willing to sleep her way to the top. She reaches into her pocket to retrieve another bit and make a second call. The ringing returns to her ears as she looked back around to the train station. They grey pony and his team mates have separated in their search for her, trying to remain invisible in the crowd much like she had, but she can see them like a bunch of lit candle at nighttime. Two of them are on the upper levels, while two others are on her level. She doesn’t know how many are on the lower levels waiting for her to board one of the trains.
The ringing continues. Her attention returns to the L.C.D. in front of her as she starts repeating “pick up” underneath her breath. If Hydroxide doesn’t answer her call, she might not have time to make a third call before she was found; the information she carries won’t reach anyone who can use it, and she’d probably be tortured, killed and raped. A shiver ran down her spine as she thought that it might be it that order; and she prayed to Celestia, Luna, Discord and every other deity that she could think of that he would answer.
The ringing continues. She sinks her head; he might not even be there to hear the ringing from within his house. No, he has to be home; it’s barely after midnight in Manehattan. He is probably just asleep.
The ringing continues. With her gaze at the floor, Agent Meadow notices the small pool of dark red liquid that her hoof has been submerged in. She lifts up her injured hoof out of the substance and it’s obvious to her, and to any other pony nearby, that her hoof had started to bleed. She looks over her shoulder back the way she came. There, on the floor of the station, is a series of red hoof prints that led to the row of L.C.D. Horseapples, she thinks; she’s left a blood trail that would expose her position if any of the evil ponies found it. She definitely won’t have enough time for that third call. Why did her access code have to be changed today?
The ringing stops and the familiar voice that greets her is like a chorus of angel telling her that her prayers have been answered and she won’t have to become one of them. “This is Director Hydroxide.”
“Dick, its Agent Meadow,” she says, “There’s going to be an assassination attempt on one of the Elements of Harmony sometime later today.” She had been waiting for ages to tell somepony that, and now she felt like a ten-ton weight had been lifted from her chest. Of course, she still had several others ten-ton weights on her, but even removing this one had been worth the broken horseshoe.
“Which one?” he asks.
“Applejack,” the earth pony says, and through the silence she can practically hear the facial expression that can only be described as panic.
“Do you have anything else?”
“I managed to obtain a bunch of files on how the attempt is going to be carried out,” she says, “but they’re all encrypted, and I don’t know if I’m can make it back to Manehattan in time.” She takes another peak at the station from over her shoulder. Most of her pursuers are now on the same floor as her; it won’t be long now before she is discovered.
“Okay, I’ll call everyone in and see what we can do.” Hydroxide says. She knows that he is going to do his best to stop the attack on Applejack’s life, but something in the way he phrased the sentence sparks an idea in her head that causes her imagination to run away with itself. Why I’m being hunted down, how my pursuers had found my friends, why my access code was rejected? It all has to be connected. She has always had a vivid imagination, but if its right this time, things could go from bad to worse in less than zero seconds.
“What’s my ATB access code?”
Hydroxide scoffed, “What?” It is a surprising question to be asked, especially once a potential terrorist attack has been exposed, but the earth pony isn’t taking ignorance for an answer.
“What is my ATB access code?” she repeated, her voice is filled with the idea that she is going to get her answer.
“Four-Five-Epsilon-Zeta-Nine-Omega,” he says. That’s exactly what she thought it was; now the ten-ton weight has once again piled on her chest, simply from knowing that there was just one more thing that ATB was going to work around. “Something wrong, Meadow?”
“I tried to call ATB with this information earlier, but my access code was rejected,” she says, trying her best to explain what she’s thinking, “apparently it’s been changed and I don’t know who changed it. But it had to have been someone who didn’t want me to let anyone know about the threat.”
“You think that someone inside ATB is actively participating in an assassination attempt against Applejack?”
“I think that’s what I’m saying,” Meadow says.
She hears him sigh, “I’ll look into it,” Hydroxide says, “but you need to get your ass back to Manehattan ASAP; we need whatever information you have on the hit.
“I will,” Meadow says, before replacing the communication block back on the L.C.D. and slowly walking away. Could she really make it to Manehattan in time? Any train she boarded would’ve taken at least twelve hours to reach its destination, and Applejack could be dead before that. But aside from taking one of the trains, there isn’t anything else she could do.
She glanced up at the large black timetable for every train that would pass through the Foal Chi Central Station for the rest of the day. Twelve trains are going to leave for Manehattan today, and only five of them will get there before midnight Manehattan time, and they are all scheduled to leave around seven A.M. That was way too far away; she could probably reach Manehattan faster if she started galloping west. Wait, she thinks, what’s that.
Down at the bottom of the timetable is a light blue quadrant reserved for the MAGILEV train, and even though it would take a very long detour that involved crossing over Eternity’s Crossing twice, the MAGILEV train could still reach Manehattan in just over an hour. It might not only be Agent Meadow’s last hope, but Applejack’s as well. And it was going to leave terminal four in about two minutes.
She starts to observe the station, looking for a sign or a billboard, anything to tell her where terminal four was supposed to be, when her eyes fall upon a grey earth pony, the same one that had been stalking her of the past hour. His eyes lock directly onto hers, and she realizes that he recognizes her; despite being completely blind to her presence a few minutes ago, she knows that he is now aware of her. Horseapples, if she only had two minutes to catch the only train that would save her life, she had better start running.
And so she does.
12:04:23
12:04:24
12:04:25
