Fillydelphia Night

I stare at the pegasus lying frozen on the bed in amazement. “Y-you’re Heather Clouds?!” I exclaim. “You’re Heather Clouds?!”

“Is… denying it… still an option?” Heather asks in a small voice.

“Of course,” Clever replies, “just not a very good one, seeing as we wouldn’t believe you. Wait, is that what you…? Oh. Not really, no. But if you want to.”

“Wait,” I say, shaking my head, “wait, hold the fuck on. So, let me get this heterosexual: you’ve been hiding out in The Neon Demon this whole time, and Knock hasn’t even noticed it’s you? Unbelievable! Scarcely believable!” I stop. “Actually, no, never mind. That is completely believable. The pony’s a fucking coke-brained borderline vegetable if ever I saw one.”

“Look, there are some very dangerous guys after me, okay?” Heather fearfully tells us. “A-and I don’t know why. That’s the reason I came here and disguised myself. You know, dyed my mane and my coat, tattooed over my cutie mark. I… honestly thought it was pretty effective until today.”

“Well, you certainly fooled Bit,” says Clever, looking over at me with that blank stare of his.

“I… would’ve figured it out… eventually!” I stammer defensively. “There’s just– there are… factors, many factors to be taken into– she’s got a green mane!”

“And wings,” Clever adds.

Heather frowns. “Huh?”

I quickly look at Clever, stab a hoof in his direction, then back to Heather. “No, shut up! NOTHING!”

“What do you mean when you say, ‘dangerous guys’, Ms. Clouds?” Clever asks. “Are we talking debt collectors, assassins, door-to-door salesponies…?”

“I… I don’t really know,” Heather replies timidly. “They just… they’re armed and… look, it’s not like I stopped to ask, okay?”

“Seems like a bit of an oversight, if you ask me,” Clever says thoughtfully. “You couldn’t just wave a white flag or something at some point…?”

“Oh, great,” I say, throwing my hooves in the air. “We’re out of our depth again! Just great! Celestia’s voluptuous fucking thighs!”

Clever shrugs infuriatingly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Bit.”

“You said that last time!” I shout, oh-so-slightly hysterical. “And remember what happened?”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah, well, let me jog your– wait, what? Sorry, you do remember?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” I blink. “Um… right.”

At this point, there is an insistent knock at the door. Heather and I nearly hit the ceiling. Clever simply turns around, characteristically unconcerned.

“Oh, that’ll be the room service!” he says happily.

“What?!” I whisper furiously. “How many hallucinogenic cacti did you eat? Why the hell would I order room service?! I’m not in the habit of inviting hotel staff up to my room whilst sucking wing and so drunk I’m practically a fucking second-rate retard! Fuck, stal! That’s probably the thugs Heather was talking about!”

“Are you sure?” Clever asks, clearly not convinced. “Because I definitely remember ordering a fruit salad.”

I gawk at my friend. “Are you out of your fucking– you break into my room, make toast, and then you order room service?!”

Clever gives me a look. “Don’t be ridiculous, Bit! I broke into your room, ordered room service, then I made myself toast. What you’re suggesting would be just plain inefficient.”

“Heather!” comes a familiar voice from the other side of the door. “Heather, I know you’re in there! Open up this instant!”

Heather visibly stiffens. “Oh shit.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, place a hoof over my thumping heart. “Oh, thank fuck. Thank fuck.” I look at Heather, smile reassuringly. “It’s just your ex-stallionfriend. He was the one who hired us to find you in the first place!”

“Oh no,” Heather wails. “Oh no, no, no, no, no.”

I lay my hoof on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s all right. I know he’s your ex, but he’s only got your best interests at heart.”

“No, you don’t understand!” Heather cries, propelling herself off the bed with one erection-inducing flap of those fluffy, fuckable wings. “He’s not my stallionfriend! H-he’s my brother!”

“What?!” I scream, turning to Clever.

Clever looks legitimately surprised. By my reaction. “Oh, you didn’t know?”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah, I knew from the start.”

I can’t believe my ears. “AND YOU DIDN’T THINK THIS WAS SIGNIFICANT ENOUGH TO POSSIBLY MENTION BEFORE NOW?!”

Clever shrugs. “Um… no?”

The sound of the door being kicked down tears me from my thoughts, and whirling around, I find myself face-to-face with a charcoal pegasus, stylishly unruly ash grey mane, blazing violet eyes. This is Black Flight, Heather’s stallionfriend and ex-brother. No, hold on… no, that doesn’t sound right. Brother and ex-stallionfriend? Um… no, fuck it, never mind. Behind Black Flight are three dangerous-looking henchpegasi, who are most certainly not door-to-door salesponies. Well, okay, to be fair, that one on the left with the weird manecut could probably pass off as one, but the other two: not a chance.

“Um… what the fuck’s he doing?” Black Flight asks Clever, staring at me, looking a little frightened.

“He’s… just narrating again. Give him a minute,” Clever replies patiently.

“Door-to-door salespony?!” the henchpegasus on the left demands indignantly. “Fuck you, arseface!”

I shake my head, blink. “Huh? What?”

“Look, Twiggy,” says the right henchpegasus, “once you get your mane re-done, this’ll all go away, all right? It’ll all go away. So, just relax. Be at peace, stal.”

“I just… it’s making me feel really insecure,” the left henchpegasus supposedly named Twiggy tells his colleagues pathetically, kicking at the beige carpet. “All these ponies telling me I look like a door-to-door salespony? Like I’m in the wrong line of work or whatever, you know? It’s really discouraging! Just… just not a good feeling.”

“Listen, I don’t wanna come across as smug or anything,” the middle henchpegasus says, “but I did suggest you get yourself another manecut before we came to Filly. You didn’t, and look what happens.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Twiggy shouts.

The middle henchpegasus raises his hoof in surrender. “I’m just saying, stal. I’m just saying.”

“Do you have any idea how much a standard manecut costs these days?” Twiggy rants. “It’s absolutely ridiculous the amount that’s now being charged! I mean, what is this? A recession, for Celestia’s sake?!”

Black Flight glares at his three henchpegasi pointedly. “Are you guys finished?”

“Um… yeah,” the middle henchpegasus says quickly. “Yeah, no, I… I think we’re all done here. A-all good.”

“Fucking recession,” Twiggy mutters to himself.

“Anyway, uh…” says Black Flight, looking at Clever, then at me, clears his throat, “w-where were we?”

“Er… congratulating us for finding your ex-sister so promptly?” I suggest hopefully.

Suddenly, Black Flight tenses, whips his head from side to side. “Where is she?” he agitatedly demands. “Where’s my sister?!”

“Oh, she left,” Clever imparts casually.

Everypony turns to stare at him.

“Wh– how?” I say, dumbfounded. “How the hell did she manage that?!”

“The window. She’s a pegasus.”

For a moment, I am speechless. “And you didn’t try to stop her?!”

“She seemed like she was in a hurry.”

“Argh!” I groan. “You idiot! Because guess what’s gonna fucking happen now?!” Keeping my eyes fixed on Clever, I raise my hoof in Black Flight’s direction and wait.

“My henchpegasi are now gonna kick the shit out of you until you’re ready to tell me where she’s gone,” Black Flight tells us grimly.

“You see?!” I say to Clever, then begin backing away as the three henchpegasi advance, waving my right hoof desperately. “Listen, listen, listen, listen! We don’t know where she’s gone, okay? We only just fucking met her, I swear! But we can find her! We found Heather once; w-we can do it again! I promise!”

Black Flight suddenly stamps his right hoof twice. “Okay, you know what? That sounds reasonable.”

I blink. “Really? Oh. Um… thanks?”

“Yeah, no sweat,” Black Flight tells us as he trots in the direction of the door, his henchpegasi trailing behind, looking somewhat disappointed. “I’m a model citizen. But seriously, if you guys don’t find Heather and bring her to me outside The Neon Demon in three hours’ time, I’m sorry, but you two are gonna fucking die, you understand?”

“Yes, absolutely,” I say. “That is… completely understandable. And thank you… again… for not deciding to kick the shit out of us.”

Black Flight pops his head back around the door frame. “Oh, and one more thing? Henchpegasi, kick the shit out of that one. We mustn’t let him think that narration is an excuse for being an arsehole.”

“Oh, come on!” I shout. “Unbelievable! Scarcely believable!” I stop. “Actually, no, never mind. That’s completely believable.”

The three henchpegasi advance on Clever and myself once more. The one on the right, grinning, punches Clever in the stomach, sending him sprawling onto the carpet, and then all three corner Your Humble Friend and Narrator.

“Wait!” I exclaim desperately.

The henchpegasi all raise their eyebrows in unison.

I swallow. “Gentlestallions, I will pay you with my own” – I look at Clever, winded on the floor, point at him – “with his own money not to do this.”

The henchpegasus named Twiggy grins at me. He slowly raises his right hoof, profoundly enjoying the way I flinch, and pats me on the head, his smile widening. “I’ll teach you to mock my manecut and, thereby, cause me to lose sleep over a distinct lack of job satisfaction resulting from a detrimental combination of poor upbringing and widespread, persistent insinuations as to my allegedly appearing to manifest the guise of a door-to-door salespony, motherfucker.”

I blink. “Uh… sorry, I didn’t quite… what?”

Twiggy beams. “Apology accepted.” Then he punches me in the face. I fall to the floor, my eyes watering, and the three henchpegasi begin laying into me. They kick me in the stomach, they kick me in the back, and they kick me in the head. Mercifully, I soon lose consciousness.