Police Constable Snowfrost Angel
Peach Fuzz
Big cop. Little ponies. Moderate violence.
It was another day in the Trottingham police stable, where all the police constables, special constables, reserve constables, reverse constables, first-class constables, business-class constables, economy-class constables, head constables, hoof constables, staple constables, and Her Majesty's royal mounted division were all going about their vital routine of pointless ennui- save for one pegasus.
Police constable Snowfrost Angel. Has never once made a snow angel.
Coat: pure white as untouched snow. Covered with a coat of sky-blue paint. Eggshell.
Mane: flaxen, styled neatly to regulation standards.
Favorite restaurant: the Flax Inn. Recently closed for failing to meet regulation standards.
Eyes: sunglassy.
Sunglasses: aye.
Cutie mark: the single most integral part of any successful police officer's career. Proper scroll-work, as paperwork was as yet unknown.
Talent, official: the upholding and safeguarding of equinity and righteousness. On one occasion, did hold up a safe to guard it.
Talent, word-on-the-street: making a mean casserole.
Other: Graduated with a double first in martial law and herd psychology. Displayed an impressive aptitude in both theoretical studies as well as actual studying. Excelled far beyond peers in spite of their jeers and her own (uncommon) fears, becoming an invaluable member of the police service, establishing popularity and effectiveness in a mixed-species, mixed-class, mixed-media, mixed-martial-arts community. In the last seven seasons alone, has received nine special commendations, achieved the highest arrest record for any officer in the borough and sustained several injuries in the line of duty, most recently taking a pie to the face during a botched hostage situation.
“Hello Angel. How’s the hoof?” asked Sergeant Law, his toothy smile glimmering like starlight.
“Still a bit stiff.” Angel replied, hitting together her horseshoes with a resounding metallic clang. She had put up a mental note on her mental fridge to get a larger size while the swelling was receding from when she decked that criminal scum across their muzzle, but the sticky side of the note wore off and was lying somewhere in the mental between-space where the mental vacuum doesn't reach.
"It can get awfully hairy out there, what with the Mane-iac copycats galloping amok. I'm shocked you haven't snapped up a nice desk job like me. You do like to dot the 'J's and cross the ’F’s, don't you?"
The two ponies were seated in Sergeant Antiquated Law's office. It was dark and black as good coffee, despite Celestia's rays having just been raised, as the blinds were drawn to keep ponies from going blind. In light of tight budgeting and loose spending, the department had drawn the blinds in permanent, not dry-erase. Antiquated Law hadn't seen the light of day in years.
"I prefer to think my office is out on the street," said Angel. It was a phrase she picked up from Hard Knock's school for overly enthusiastic breaching operations. It's a bit of a hole in the wall.
"Oh yeah, you do. Your arrest record is four-hundred twenty percent higher than any other officer. To put it bluntly, it's high time such a blazing saddle was put to better use. We're making you a sergeant."
"I see." Angel nodded. She smiled, on the inside. In a mental cage, where it belonged.
"Somewhere else entirely."
Angel's ears perked up. Now the smile was threatening to come out of the cage. "Where is it then? Manehattan? Baltimare? Detrot?" She was practically falling out of her chair in excitement.
"Sandford, Gloucestershire."
Angel blinked. "Sorry, where?"
The sergeant cleared his throat. "Ahem, excuse me. I misspoke," the sergeant cleared his conscience, "Ponyville, Gloucestershire," clearing the confusion.
"That's... in the country." Troubling images of hay lucks and pot rides flooded Angel's brain like triple-X moonshine. Square dancing, rectangle raves, rhomboid routines, and quadrilateral cowponies. Pitchforks and pitchspoons and pitchchopsticks. Milk bars, milk weeds, milk hotels. Towns where a pony could be born, raised, and dead without ever setting hoof into another town. Farms where livestock was born, raised, and deadstock. Pies cooling on windowsills, cowpies heating on windowsills, pies in the treetops, and there's pies in the vale, and all around the pies fill the skies...
"That's right, the country. Of Equestria. O, Equestria! Our home and native land-" Law began singing, extending his long arms.
"No," Angel said, abruptly cutting off the orchestra that began playing, "I meant, that's miles away!"
"Not kilometres away? Talking their language, my, you're ready already!"
"Is there not a sergeant's position here in Trottingham?"
"There's only me, and he's taken," the sergeant said slyly. In reality he was single. It tore him up on the inside, but he never let it show.
"Can I stay here as a P.C?"
"Nope."
"Can I stay as a M.A.C?" Angel was willing to accept a lower ranked position of Meter Attendant Constable.
"Eenope."
Scowling, Angel leaned in. It was a fat lean at that, making the sergeant sink backwards.
"I'd like to speak with the inspector." Angel said. "By that of course, I mean, go get her."
"You can speak with the inspector, but I promise you she'll say the same thing." The sergeant stood up and walked to the edge of his office. With no subtlety, he smacked the wall two times.
DUN DUN.
"Order!" Law shouted, "Order!"
“Hello Angel. How’s the hoof?” asked Inspector Order, her flashy eyes shimmering like the sunset.
“Still a bit stiff.” Angel replied, eyes darting between Law and Order. Inspector Restraining Order was one of the most powerful unicorns in the station, capable of implanting an arcane conservancy on a pony that would trigger a proximity-based response. Said response was generally a large sound and light extravaganza rivaling even the most great and powerful fireworks that could be purchased in a back alley. When the town lights up, somepony has been naughty.
"How are things at home?" The inspector asked.
"I'd rather keep that to myself, inspector."
"Right. Such a shame about the bugbear infestation. Where have you been living since then? On the street outside the station? How awful!" The inspector didn't seem to blink, nor breathe.
"I... why'd you ask if you already knew?" Angel asked.
"Well, that's my job after all. Inspecting. In any case, I could say the same for you!" Order said, a smile forming.
"I don't follow." Angel said.
"Right you don't, always the leader, you." Law said.
"You were about to ask if you could remain here in Trottingham, knowing fully well that the answer is no. But brighten up! Ponyville is a delightful little village that's home to a number of famous cultural, erm, things." Order said.
"Right, yes. And plenty of... folklore too. Those Ponyvillains do spin a good yarn. As well as a good silk, twine, cotton, wicker, and candy floss!" Law added.
"What was that about pony villains?" Angel was tensing, winding, and penting up, all at the same time. The mere mention of potential evilness gave her hooves the urge to make quick transfers of large amounts of energy.
"Not villains, you silly filly. Ponyvillains. As in, somepony who's from a village." Order said.
"Consider yourself lucky to have lived long enough to see yourself become one!" Law said.
"I wouldn't suppose they should be called ponyvillagers, then?" Angel asked.
Order blew a raspberry. "Pish-"
"Posh!" Law finished.
"I'd like to speak with the chief inspector." Angel demanded.
Law and Order shared a glance.
"You want the chief inspector to come all the way down here?" they asked in unison.
"Yes, I do."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Certain?"
"Yes."
"...positive?"
"I am sure, certain, positive, adamant, confident, convinced, vindicated, and being real with you."
The pair shared a glance, then shrugged.
"If you insist." Order's horn glowed with a golden hue.
A brilliant flash of light and the sweetly smoky smell of teleportation heralded the sudden appearance of a wrinkly old earth pony, seemingly as startled as Angel was.
"What in Whinnyapolis is going on here? Where's my oatmeal?" He asked, trembling.
"Whoops. Sorry granddad. Meant to teleport the secretary in here to fetch the chief." Order blinked. "Don't suppose you could get the chief inspector for us instead?"
"So then I said, 'Oatmeal? Are you crazy?'" Law said, laughing.
"No you didn't." Angel said.
The three had been waiting in the office for an hour now, after sending grandpa Pecking Order on a wild goose chase for the chief. As far as anypony was concerned, he may as well have been running around like a headless chicken.
"Yes, I did." Law argued. Order nodded in approval.
"It happened not an hour ago, and I was right here!" Angel said.
"You must not have been paying attention."
Angel's temper flared. Nopony would ever dare assault her ability to pay attention. "Listen here you incompetent flathoof-"
The office door opened suddenly, cutting off Angel mid-
"Ponies." The chief slowly cantered in. The three underlings stood at attention in the presence of their glorious leader.
"At ease." The chief said. Antiquated and Restraining brought out a couple small paddles and a bouncy ball.
"Ping-" Law said.
"Pong?" Order finished.
The two grinned and left the room laughing, leaving only Angel and the chief. They stared at each other in silence, lost in the sparkling twilight of each other's eyes. The whole world outside was forgotten as the two gazed longingly into the forms of the other for what seemed like hours, days even, neither wanting it to end for fear of it never happening again.
"Chief, I-"
"Save it, Angel. You and I both know what's going to happen now. The script is already out." Chief Justice was a wizened mare, with a laser glare and graying hair. It's said that she could peer into the very soul of a pony and determine on a quantitative scale from one to forty-three how much justice they were capable of. The scale used to be one to ten, until she met Angel.
"Far be it from me to clip your wings, but the fact of the matter is, you're making us all look bad." The chief said. "When one pony becomes the sole competent force of justice in a city, an equally evil pony rises up to challenge them and it creates a great big ruckus. You know the old saying, 'superheroism breeds supervillainy,' and all of that. Haven't you read Batmare?"
"Not much a fan of vampire stories, myself." Angel said. The chief seemed to have a response, but kept it to herself.
"Regardless, with all due respect, you can't just make ponies disappear." Angel said.
"Yes I can, I'm the Chief Inspector," Justice smiled wryly, "and also a well-versed unicorn," she said, as her horn crackled with a violent, violet energy.
"Wait, chief!" Angel readied herself to dodge, but it was too late. A telekinetic glow had already wrapped her up like a pig in a blanket.
"Do say hello to the Princess of Friendship when you get there." The chief said. "And send us some postcards while you're at it."
"Neverrrrrrrrrr!" Angel shouted, overdramatically.
POP!
In an instant, Angel hit the dirt, or rather, mud. It had been raining. Hardly a graceful landing.
As she wiped herself off, her badge became unfastened and fell into the mud puddle. Sighing, she reached down to grab it, when it suddenly glowed and floated into the air beside her. Angel looked up to see a ~~lavender unicorn~~ freakin' alicorn holding her badge in a telekinetic grip.
"Hey there! Looks like you dropped this, uh... Do I know you?" The alicorn asked.
"H-hello. I'm Snowfrost. Snowfrost Angel."
"Oh! You must be the new, uh, police mare?"
"Police officer, yes."
"Well, I'm Twilight Sparkle, and on behalf of Ponyville, welcome!"
The two stood there awkwardly for a minute.
Finally, Twilight let curiosity take the wheel.
"What's a police officer, anyways?"
Author's Note
This chapter is the only one that utilizes much of the skeleton of the original movie's script. The rest is far more original and deviates completely. But there will be just as many awful jokes.
What Is A Police Officer?
"You don't know what a police officer is?" Angel was shocked. Leftover static electricity from teleportation can have that effect. She was also surprised. How could a pony- neigh- a Princess, famous for having an infinite, encyclopedic knowledge of absolutely everything not know about something as benign as an armed agent of justice? There was something inherently comedic or parody-like about the whole situation, Angel thought to herself.
Twilight blushed at Angel's bewildered expression. "Well, I've heard of them before," Twilight said. "My friend Rarity has mentioned them, usually when Applejack is present, but they never actually show up. You're the first one I've ever even met in real life!"
"What does this 'Applejack' do to warrant police presence?"
"Oh, she likes to wear galoshes or other working gear to our friends-dinner-nights at TCI Fry Day's, if she comes straight from work." Twilight paused. "Is there an official fashion police dress-code I should be aware of? Am I committing an offense?"
Angel facehoofed. This derelict town didn't even have an operating fashion police. But she put on a brave face, half-full of determination and half-empty of understanding. "I'm not an officer of the fashion police, but I am honored to be the first real police officer you've met." Despite the strange misunderstanding, Angel felt a heavy pressure building within, as her heart began racing. It's a marathon, not a sprint, she reminded her heart. No doubt, with this development, there could be a picture of her smiling in the next edition of the Equestrian dictionary under 'real police,' or 'official officer,' or maybe even 'brutality.' That would be nice.
Realizing that she was looking silly just staring into space, Angel tried to clear the misunderstanding. "I suppose if I had to compare my job to another, it's something like the Royal Canterlot Guard, only less 'Royal Canterlot' and more 'guard,'" she explained. "I could go on about the differences. We're actually useful, for one."
Far away, in the Crystal Empire, Shining Armor woke up in a cold sweat, clutching at his thundering heart.
"What's wrong, Shiny? You're white as a sheet. Of paper. Or snow." Cadance said.
"I... sensed a disturbance." Shining Armor said, breathless.
"Oh, no. Are you feeling sick at all? Drained of energy?" Cadance asked, in a cautious and suspicious tone. For a brief moment her eyes flickered green, but no one noticed.
"No, nothing like that. The only thing feeling drained is my sense of pride. For some reason."
"Then I'm sure it was just a bad dream. Get some rest, Shining Amour."
"No," he said, getting out of bed and heading for the door. "I think I'll take a quick walk first."
"Okay. Just watch your step out there. It's a bit icy."
"I see." Twilight nodded in understanding. "So what do you 'real officers' do on a daily basis?"
Angel easily recited a line from the official handbook. "Instead of protecting the princesses and the nation from foreign aggressors and malevolent avatars of primordial forces, we keep the peace on a domestic level. You know, stopping criminals from committing crimes, catching the ones that do."
Twilight kept looking at Angel, pretending to understand. Unfortunately, Twilight wasn't a terribly strong actor, so Angel considered using some of the more catchy slogans spouted around the station. "The best way to fight crime is to prevent it from happening in the first place."
Still nothing. The bottom of the barrel was being scraped now. The bottom being where all the bad apples sink to, like her ex-patrol-partner, Mane Gretzky, and his psuedo-inspirational one-liners. "You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take," Angel rubbed her head, "um..."
"So you're like a detective, who also plays horse-hockey?" Twilight's memory of the triple-threat dessert mystery on the Friendship Express brought a smile to her face and a rumble to her gut. "That sounds like fun! More fun than buckball, anyways." She was still sore about not being chosen to be designated catcher.
"Not exactly." Angel said, making Twilight's ears droop in disappointment. "Fun is unprofessional. Funprofessionalism is grounds for demotion, actually." Angel thought back to a particular incident when officer Judy Clops got nailed back to rookie status for playing fetch-the-shock-baton with officer Doggie Biscuit. Officer Biscuit's patrol dog was the one who filed the complaint. Suffice it to say, Doggie Biscuit is more of a cat-lover now. Just the way the biscuit crumbles.
"In any case, detective work is very different from a beat cop's duties."
"That's too bad," Twilight said. "I don't think the beets are going to be in any trouble, though. Everypony in Ponyville is crazy about apples! Speaking of which, I was just on my way to Sweet Apple Acres right now. You're free to join; I can introduce you to the Apple family, and we can have apple tarts, apple butter, apple pie-"
Angel squeaked, leaping at the utterance of that accursed word, shielding herself from phantom pastries.
"...you okay?" Twilight reached out and laid a hesitant hoof on the terrified pony's head.
"Bluhh, guhh." Angel sputtered, collecting her senses. She was only a few away from having a complete set. 'Humor' and 'Common' are hard to come by, after all.
"I'm fine. I'm fine."
Twilight raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Fine. I'm not fine." Angel said coarsely. "I had a little incident involving p... pie recently." Sense of dignity, revoked.
"Oh. You don't have to have any, if it would be an issue. Uhh..."
"Regardless, I don't have time to dawdle. My duty is to report to the station first." Sense of responsibility, check.
Twilight frowned. "Oh, that's too bad. We'll have to catch up later- I want to learn all about police work, after all." Twilight said as she took to the skies.
Angel sighed as she saw the Princess of Friendship fly off into the far distance, and couldn't help but feel a little guilty. Not a large guilty, though. She looked to the right, and to the left, and up, and down. Then at the camera.
"Where is the station?"
As Twilight soared through the calm morning skies, a troubling thought nagged at her obsessive mind, like a typo that goes unetided.
"An issue with pies, huh? How strange. I feel like there's somepony I should warn."
After following a lonely dirt path for what seemed like a whole five minutes, Angel found herself in Ponyville proper. She found it to be quite improper as she surveyed the town from above. Where was the concrete? Chariots? Street signs? Street beggars? Gray circles of chewed gum? Barred windows?
Celestia, this town wasn't in the stone age. It was in the dirt age.
The weight of the universe was threatening to come crushing down on the police officer. She had never spent any time outside of the hustling, bustling, disgustling city. What was a pony dedicated to fighting crime to do in a hick town with no civilization? She could feel herself slipping, sliding, falling into a whirlpool of rural furor. Here was a poverty of poverty, a deficiency of efficiency, a township of townshi-
WHOOSH
The world spun like a candy floss as a rainbow-colored streak blew past.
"Sorry!" It said, already distant.
Though rattled, something flipped a switch in Angel's head. The synapse fired. The button mashed. The dial turnt.
"Stop- " she announced, flaring her wings to the sides, "-in the name of the law!"
With a mighty burst of dust and gusts, the agent of the law took flight.
Rainbow Dash was late! She was supposed to meet with Pinkie Pie in five minutes at Sugarcube Corner to help with some new cupcake recipe that was supposedly 'to die for,' but got distracted doing wingtip push-ups, mouth pull-ups, and frog massages. Fluttershy told her about that last one, and boy were her frogs grateful.
Flying low to the ground, she sped up to make up for her mess up. Turning a corner at breakneck speed, she narrowly missed breaking the neck of a distraught and muddy pegasus. She looked like she just missed a Wonderbolts performance with special guest performer Daring Do. That would be so awesome. Not to miss it though. It would be awesome if it happened. Oh well. Not her proble-
"Excessive speeding! Pull over! WEEWOOWEEWOO!"
What the hay? Rainbow looked back over her shoulder, only to see the very same distraught pegasus as before. Only now, she looked pissed off and was chasing after her at immense speed. And was making strange noises?
"WEEWOOWEEWOO!"
"Yikes!" Rainbow sped up even more. This strange new pony was crazy. Crazy fast! Not as fast as her, of course, but pretty fast. Like, twenty percent slower than herself.
"WEEWOOWEE- ack! Pbleh!" Angel coughed and sputtered, and made a mental clay tablet engraving to get a new siren as soon as equinely possible.
The two rounded another bend when Angel saw her prey- erm- culprit dash in through the front door of what looked like a giant dessert fused into a building. She made a note to call in a health inspector, building inspector, and an exterminator. Supersweets breed superpests, after all. And there was no doubt there would be superpests in a place called Sugarcube Corner.
Going from a hundred kilometers an hour to zero in one second is quite difficult, but entering private property to conduct policework without a warrant? Impossible. The speeding officer slammed on her superbrakes, skidding to a spectacular stop at the steps of the shop. Bystanders stared, scared, as she caught her breath. But there was still something, someone, left to catch.
With confidence, Angel ruffled her feathers, giving the door a couple hard knocks. Law and Order would be proud. Not that their acceptance meant anything to her. Those sycophants could make even an elephant sick.
When there was no response, she reconsidered her plan of action. It would take a while to find a battering ram, but maybe she could find a hungry ram and tell him there's batter he can eat inside the building instead. Or cut through the cookie roof with a cookie cutter, and eat some shingles while she's at it. Her mouth began watering at the sight of the rocky road. Why did everything look so appetizing?
Angel grumbled. She hadn't eaten anything since being forcibly transported away from Trottingham. Can't chase a culprit and formulate an infiltration on an empty stomach. One or the other, on a good day. But where could she find someplace to eat around here? Maybe she could find a Hay and Chips shop. Oh, who was she kidding? This backwoods little village probably didn't even have a Burger Princess, or even a Burger Peasant.
"Hey there! Want to come in and buy something?"
Angel looked up to see a pink-on-pink pony peering preposterously proximal to her personal position. From inside Sugarcube Corner, Rainbow Dash poked her head out.
"Uhh, Pinkie, you might want to stay away from her," the offending speedster said.
"Um," was all Angel could say before the pink pony gasped.
"YOU'RE NEW! A NEW PONY!" Pinkie Pie shouted in joy. "What're you here for? What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Mine is all of them at the same time, but mostly cherry chimichanga. You look a lot like Rainbow Dash, but your hair isn't a rainbow, unless you were colorblind and saw all the colors like they were yellow, that would be funny when you're looking at a streetlight, it would be like 'I gotta speed up to catch this light!' all the time, but that's how I always am all the time anyway, by the way, what's your name? I'm Pinkie-"
"Oh, see-" Angel tried to get a word in edge ways, but there was no stopping the pain train. Nor the volley trolley.
"OC? That's a funny name, is it a pony name, or a griffin name, or a changeling name? I know this one changeling named Ocellus, and that's kind of similar, are you related? That-"
"Wait, stop. You know a changeling? And you're on first-name basis?"
Pinkie bounced. "Yup! We're teaching them friendship now. Everycreature is learning about friendship, thanks to Twilight's new school."
Angel grimaced. Consorting with savage tribes? Everycreature? What's next, proper pronouns? She was getting unreasonably hungry. I mean angry. Unseasonably angry. Fudge.
"Okay. I am starved, Pinkie." Angel said. "Do I have permission to enter your establishment?"
"Of course, you silly filly, no need to ask, cause everypony is welcome here! Just watch out for that trapdoor in the floor."
"Trap wha-" and suddenly Angel was plummeting down, down, down.
