Chapters It's Always The Quiet Ones.
Finding that my line of work is not often talked about in Ponyville, for a fear it's residents hold with the universal evils, I am not very experienced in writing this for the archive.
Usually I simply transmit the days' events onto paper by use of a magical typewriter. Quite a curious machine indeed, its attached to a ramshackle pair of speakerphones, and by placing them over my head the whole days events are copied from my swarming thoughts into bold, inky text. I always found something rather comforting in that. But, like everything else in my office, the intricate mess of keys and paper is either hardly working or broken beyond repair.
Quite recently the typewriter ceased to function, with its dying breath choose to empty the entire contents of its inkwell onto my lap. It was my best pair of trousers. But that's the way of things, everypony wants to forget I'm a part of their delusional little world, hence my lack of funding, because you can't supply what you're desperate to keep hidden. Damn I'm rambling already; I've left out three very important details from this narrative of mine. My name is Frank Parkland, I am a Homo-Saipan, and I am the owner, operator, chief, private eye, and officer of the P.P.D, this being the Ponyville Police department. With the intuition I have gained on the job, I can tell that the reader won't find this usual.
Surely only pony's would inhabit and manage Ponyville, after all they harvest its rich apples, they bake it's cakes, and a select few (I'm informed) have banded together to learn the secrets of friendship and it's powers hitherto. I am so envious of them all, each of their smiling little faces, not having tasted the despair of my world. There is no danger for them, no fear of threats that would strip them of their mortal coil. So you concede that in order to preserve this self same innocence it makes perfect sense that the P.P.D could never be made up from ponies. They'd only break down.
Instead my boss, in her infinite all loving wisdom chose a solitary individual from the 'other plane' that is to say my world, and consequently yours. It was the single most surreal thing in my entire life. I had lived in Plymouth for a time, but drunken youths had no idea how to punch when their blood was mostly alcohol, so for the most part there was little danger to my health. All of that changed June 12th 2011.
It being the summer I had been advised to patrol later, a good rule of thumb being to switch shifts two hours after the sun went down. Perhaps you can picture it, the threshold that my life rested upon. The sun has only just drowned itself in the dark waters, and briny sea wind has caught my eyes off-guard, when over the noise of the surf and monotonous bass of a nearby nightclub my phone rings.
Ready to receive instructions I snapped it from a navy blue strapped pocket to my ear, and requested any new developments back at the station. I apparently had an appointment for transfer, though nothing of the sort had I initiated. These were typically long, complicated affairs that consisted of masses of paperwork and more often than not, several needless drafts, which signed another familiar face out of my life.
Or in this, case my face out from theirs. I entered the office at about half past nine to find a hunched over figure, cloaked in a sort of makeshift windbreaker (for the size and shape of the creature was not of human proportions) and turned away from me, facing out of the back window at the now dark skyline. "So, the sun moves by its own motions in this world... I could be feeling somewhat obsolete." I mused to myself as I pulled up a chair that the individual had a very regal, majestically leveled tone of voice, if however (for I thought this even then) a little pompous. "Should just be on my way out,...(I began to explain) I haven't scheduled any transfer. " The figure remained motionless.
I continued that I was sorry if she had been mistaken in her appointment, and turned sharply toward the door. "I am not mistaken; I have foreseen that you Mr Parkland are to be Ponyvilles' new constable, and that you will follow me to take up residence there this night. Please do not tarry... This has already been decided." Annoyed at the forcefulness of what I thought to be an amateur psychic, I wheeled around to face my would-be employer. I have been told that when I am shocked I squint involuntarily, so much so that I nearly eclipse my vision. Despite having surely done this at the time, I saw everything as clear as day.
Frank's hand stabbed the keys mistakenly as he heard a rapping at the door. Uneasily he lifted himself clumsily around the side table and bed, for it wasn't that Frank had an awkward frame, but rather his residence had not been made for his particular set of curious measurements, or so it must have seemed to Ponyville residents. The rapping on the blue, paint-blistered door sounded more agitated. Frank hastily stuffed himself into a pair of trousers (for at 3 am, he shouldn't have be awake let alone dressed.) 'yeah..yeah I'm coming you dumb horse...' It was good fortune that Frank hit his shin on a ill-placed cabinet, for the delay ensured he arrived at the door with a fastened zipper. He yanked at the handle to behold his visitor. "Oh...yes, well p...pardon me...I" A white unicorn with a diamond be-speckled flank looked in agitation at the figure that fully dwarfed her stocky height. His five-o-clock shadow darkened his facial features, ironically matching his reputation thus far. Many ponies had never even heard of a 'HUMEMAN' from the other plane, and Franks' seclusion was as a direct result of this ignorance. But no, it was something more than just seclusion. He was pissed with it.
Franks gaze snapped to Rarity's, and in a half-drunken stupor slurred
"Would ya kindly piss off…I'm just one man for crying out loud. Ya missing dog, or magic hat, or book of the shitting netherworld can wait till the to-morrow."
It's Always The Quiet Ones.
Rarity recoiled in disgust. Humourlessly, each broken taboo seemed to impact on her brow, twitching in nervous agitation.
Rarity backed gingerly from the splintering door, eyes stricken, for this was the first time it seemed that she had suffered anything near verbal abuse.
" Y...you should know, monster, that as a t...true lady I am correct to..."
"Correct to do what princess". Frank drew a concealed bottle of dandelion wine from a near cupboard and drained half it's contents in a matter of seconds. It was shit stuff he had thought to himself, more dandelion than wine, as he had to buy it in cases to get anywhere near drunk.
"You goin to call the police on me? No one else in here."
He elbowed the door, which impacted on the neighbouring wall, revealing the discoloured mess of paper and worn furniture.
"Just as I thought, you live like a filthy animal! " She placed a hoof on the mat and squared over, pretending to examine it. A callous smile flickered over her, and split her face into a grin.
She was of course referring to the black ink-stain that covered Frank's trousers. Rarity wasn't to know what human urine looked like .A vein ticked in his head and his eyes locked to hers. Rarity almost whinnied, but held her cruel gaze.
"Tell you what princess" Frank said through a chuckle. Then threw the bottle faster than Rarity could predict into the station, exploding on the far wall, which rained down glass and wine.
"Since you can't be getting on with me, how's about callin up another outpost, for whatever kind of jewelled stick ya got rammed up ya filly."
Frank thrust an arm into the dark trousers, and produced a mobile. Punching the numbers, it started to dial. Rarity looked at the alien device with arrogance, as Frank made a conservative effort to cage the beast.
"Just speak into here, when you hear the click, and spill your guts."
No sooner than Frank had relayed the instruction, Rarity snatched the Nokia out from his hand, with the aid of a violet aura. The phone floated parallel to her tensed head, by chance lining up to the correct position of usage. The receiver clicked, and a wave of snobbery overcame the otherwise pretty creature.
"Officer...officer, my cat, Opal the darling has gone missing, and this degenerate creature will not be graced with the task of..."
Frank picked up the second mobile that lay on a side table and raised it noiselessly to his reddened features. He deftly licked his lips.
" LEAVE OFF, YOU POMPOUS MONG!
Rarity shrieked and bucked into the air, slipping over and away from the porch. Her ears twisting spasmodically, temporary deafness was immediate via the throaty southern yell, that rung from two directions of hearing.
"Horrid..." Rarity's white coat streaked away into the night, her eyes balling up. "Horrid...horrid..."
Frank picked up the mobile from the muddy ground and tossed it in a drawer. The door very noticeably now had a piece missing, namely the top left panel, but this didn't prevent Frank from slamming it a second time.
He laughed to himself, but not for long. Through the hole he saw house lights begin to flicker on, and detected a barely audible murmur of sleepy irritation. And prejudice no doubt. Frank swore under his breath, unbuckling his trousers and wrestling onto a bare mattress, crammed between a fridge and blocked sink.
"That was too much wasn't it." He swore under his breath and rubbed his forehead, turning over on what passed for a bed. A key component to being an effective officer was to establish a trust with the community, regardless of any time constraints or personal needs. In that one action he had just severed his duty of care to Ponyville, and as much as its inhabitants annoyed him, shirking responsibility had never been his style.
Frank looked up at the watermarks on the ceiling. He would have liked if Rarity's snobbery had been the product of an underlying hatred, that all pony's held an inflexible perception of love and toleration as a cure-all solution. But Frank's cardinal virtue was honesty, not unlike a certain apple-bucking pony.
He was well aware that his rough edges brought out the worst in people, as well as ponies it would seem. He was also well aware that the last look in Rarity's eyes had been proof of her innermost desire for good. Frank cleared his throat, forcing his eyes shut. Even good intentions were more than what he was producing so far. Perhaps tomorrow he'd fare better. On the job at least.
"YOU DID WHAT!"
Celestia slams her perfect hooves, upon the gold leaf desk, flipping neatly ribboned scrolls end to end across the marble floor.
Let me freeze it there for a second. You know, even without a magic, typewriter gimmick, I'm thinkin I'm still quite suited to take down the days events as they come. Always been one of them visual thinkers. My head teacher used to say my memory never seemed to fail me, most probably cause I always had an excuse for everything. I only bring this up because the scene was reminiscent of those school days, only that I'm not a small kid anymore, but in this case the teacher is. A little girl playing castle, without a head for what her people really needed. Old story, new species. We both sit there, squaring off on one another.
Celestia gazes with red tinted eyes. There's nothing sinister about it, she's been up all night reading, though admittedly not by choice (complaint reports fill the entirety of her inbox, and she hasn't seemed to have made a dent in it.) She does her best to hold her own, and we stay sitting in the same fashion, though I'm more comfortable as unlike her, I take my opportunities to put my feet up, albeit on desks. Now if I were a PONY the matter would probably mean me being banished to the moon, or whatever astrological body her highness felt appropriate. But I'm not a pony. I'm Frank-'Sodding'-Parkland, and my boss has quite clearly stated that she has limited jurisdiction over beings of the 'other-plane'. Now I make it a rule not to piss people off without good reason, but then it's not my fault if I have ninety-seven good reasons in one fortnight.
"PARKLAND!"
Her voice shakes, she's not used to being angry, but she's getting the hang of it. Fast.
"... I have eighteen witnesses all confirm that they saw you singled-handedly destroy eight tonnes of PUBLIC, PROPERTY."
I re-cross my legs and tilt the fedora back across my head, lest it set alight from the now deeply crimson mane that blusters around my bosses head.
"The suspect was getting away alright Babs, the bridge had to come down."
"Regrettable, but there was no-one in it."
Celestia comes across confused.
My eyes must have rolled to the back of my head.
"Oh,...right...'NOPONY', was in it."
"This is fast getting out of hand, Parkland."
"You mean out of 'hoof'."
"I KNOW WHAT I MEAN!"
"Well Celsest, can I call you Celsest?, perhaps it's time you assigned more pony's from this solider-set of yours, cos as much as I like playing Sheriff of Nottingham, you know that this isn't going to work without an actual... well...force.
"Are you seriously saying you can't even spare 'Wingus' and 'Dingus' over there, because there's talking big Celstia and then there's just lying."
I remember putting my feet down and leaning in close over that piece of immaculate decor, of which could have fed an entire family for a year. Our faces, worlds apart, were barely a few inches from one another.
"And I don't work well with liars."
It's Always The Quiet Ones.
I thought the lady was goin to explode. For a tense few moments even my stare buckled, and usually only gin can do that. In the space of a single second, her whole countenance had darkened to that of a merciless tyrant, and I seriously thought her highness was about to break her honour code of preserving all life. I'm not a magician by any means, but I reckon that the way that sword of a horn was glowing, I could've been pasted gainst the far wall faster than you could say 'Giggles and
But the old girl just sighs and leans back in her throne (Yeah, not a chair a throne). Celestia's wings fold neatly behind her, and though I wouldn't admit it, that one sigh broke this mans heart. I'd been made to think she'd given up the chase, but then she goes and says-
" Why don't you join me on the balcony, it's a lovely day. I should know"
Just as if I had come for tea.
"Leave us now."
The guards gave quick salutes and trotted out dazedly, shutting the doors behind them with their teeth. Rather less hygienic than using hooves.
Celestia walks onto the semi-circular platform, rimmed with an ornate bronze and glass moulding, and gazes down at the scene of a rush hour Canterlot below, the multitudes of bustling carts and pony-folk, indistinguishable from coloured termites in a dirt mound. Their digs were significantly nicer than a clod of earth however; the turrets of castle towers alone were so vividly coloured they seemed to perpetuate the very rainbows that sprang from Cloudsdale, just visible as a white puffy speck on the glowing horizon.
But it's all an expensive waste if no one has time to look and marvel at a sprawling medieval metropolis. Celestia, if a little boyishly, rubs sleep from her eyes, and by the aid of a mediocre wind she rouses herself afresh, throwing her light blue, purple, and sea green mane into it. I walk up to the side of the mare, my hands thrust deep in trench-coat pockets, and side by side we look out onto the busy, winding scene, and beyond it still, Ponyville. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and in Celestia's mind I imagined maintaining the painted scene, brushstroke for brushstroke, had left her speechless with exhaustion. She allowed the breeze to close her eyes before speaking again.
"Mr Parkland..." but then she added...
"...Frank. I love each and every one of those little creatures down there. They're far from perfect I know, but that's where my divine duty of care comes in. Now that means several things. I don't get to do what I want to do anymore, as I haven't done since eons ago. I need to act responsibly, to be that role model when friendship becomes misplaced. Now what about you? I know where I stand with my subjects, but I doubt you've completed one case that didn't end in a spite filled departure.
"I'm no saint Celestia. You want a people person, you'd better go to your people."
"For what it's worth Frank, you have the potential to be far more beneficial to them than me. They look up to their princess but at least you're teaching them to look out for number one."
I examine the pristine sky, rather than look at the masses below.
"All police work is a team game, I just happen to be captain. I aint a horse neither, princess. I'd like to say this job doesn't notice race or class, but even I had to deal with officers who couldn't see beyond a victims skin colour. If Pony's are more human than some humans, and they are, I think you'll find I've been doing everything right."
Celestia shifts a glare toward me.
"I'll imagine there was a compliment in that somewhere."
"Then ya got a good imagination. Mind if I smoke?"
"Only if I can join you."
I'll admit, the sight of the golden cigarette holder, complete with unlit cigarette, magically sliding out from the glamorous chest- piece, bordered on hilarious. It glided between her waiting lips, and with hidden teeth, she neatly swivelled it to my direction. Couldn't help but feel she was being a little two-faced to her queenly image, but if this meant Celestia was comfortable showing her less than 'divine' side to me, then she had given-up trying to win me over as 'subject', and that was fine by me. Raising an eyebrow, I stuck a smoke in my mouth and flipped out a silver lighter reaching over to light her up (the cigarette I mean) before tending to myself. The scene was reminiscent of an old commercial.
She inhaled deeply for a full minute. I don't have a thing for pony's and that's the gods-honest truth, but that mare never did look so beautiful as she did when wisps of smoke framed her eyes, and veiled her fine white features. The stuff would kill me eventually, I knew, and in some ways I wish it would, but then just admitting that was the difference between her and me. 'Dear Princess Celestia, today I learned that you always maintain the power to be yourself, though its bad news if you're the princess of a nation cos your more personal pleasures have to stay under the radar, lest you wake your gentle citizens from their day dream.'
It was a few more moments before she spoke again.
"I'll try anything once."
"A lot of pets have gone missing, its probably just a lonely ogre or something, so all you have to do is recover them without any upsets and personally give them back to their owners, you know, give a whole kind of 'it was my pleasure' routine."
"Yeah, alright, but what I don't get is why you haven't made my position more well-known."
"People should know if I'm a policeman, right now they think I'm here by accident. Why haven't you corrected that, a badge or something, I aint asking for much."
"I can't do that Parkland." We were back to second name terms again.
"It's complicated, right now certain persons have requested me not to make my choices regarding your powers known."
"You've got EVERY snub-nosed pencil pusher in this place balled up in your little white gloves, and you're telling me you can't make your own decision!"
She looked perturbed; obviously I wasn't going to get anything more out of her on this. I could probably guess that I wasn't very good company right now, and her reputation to the nobles came first. She made a last ditch effort to justify her actions to me. Just like a politician to want one hundred per cent of the polls.
"Well…you won't be alone anyway… I've arranged my most favourite student to accompany you as your assistant, but more so to familiarise you with our way of life…"
I'm half way cross the room by now. I'd imagine my coat hems wafted in line with my stride, and it would have made for a more than decent exit if I hadn't turned around to rebuke the news.
"No way. I aint going to be scrutinized by your worker bees,"
Celestia canters a few steps forward, the suns rays streak off her crown.
"I'm afraid the decision is final Parkland. I'm sorry."
"No you aint sorry yet. This job is unpredictable, and I doubt 'Night Spazzle' or whoever she is, has dealt with a shattered ribcage before. Magic is one thing, don't get me wrong, I'm just sceptical she has the street smarts."
"I'm sure you'll make the best of it."
"In any case, you just lost yourself a vote."
I should have just left her there. Let her wrestle with the prospect of releasing her dearest filly into the back alleys of crime. In the split second before I close my hand around the door handle, (and then wipe off the guards' cold saliva), I disregard Equestria's low crime rating, because to get one step ahead in any game, you gotta think about the what-if's.
From the way that proud mare was looking, her knees buckled and eyes vacant, she was thinking about whether or not that little purple thing of hers could avoid a shiv to the neck. I pause at the great door, urging myself just to push through and be done with her. Celestia's whole society was backward, she was the kind of dame that thought she was lady luck, and woe betide to poor soul that overturned her roulette wheel. Turns out I had a little compassion left it seems, and with the added incentive of satisfying a deep curiosity, I gave her a parting distraction, something to loosen her lips. I called back,...
"Hey Princess, I had a bone to pick with ya."
"By all means Mr Parkland, Celestia is listening"
I cock my head at her slightly.
"That merry-ol-sun up there,...
"Ya really raise that thing up everyday. Sure ya do the ceremonies, and it's all very visually compelling, but is it all you?"
"Have you not seen this." Celestia turns her tall figure to bring her cutie mark sun into the lights rays.
"What I see is a bumper sticker lady, now how about it, do ya really do the business?"
"Hmm..Hahahaha...So long as anypony thinks that Mr Parkland,...hm..hm...then yes, I do raise the sun."
We might never have been friends, but a mutual respect is all I've ever asked for. I slide out the doors and pace for an age down the marble staircase, till I reach what would be a cross between main reception and foyer. Stepping out into the busy expanse of room, hemmed at its edges by several appointment desks, I look around for my so termed 'assistant', when a whelp of a pony attendant with chocolate brown fir and thin glasses scuttles up to me, eye level with my thighs.
"Yeah that makes sense, considering you're not wearing any pants pony-boy. Bugger off"
The clerk rechecks himself and gives me a nervous grin, before running back behind his desk. Some can handle my opinions, some can't. For those who can't I say to keep off Parkland's grass, and yes the line gets seedier every time I say it. TS was punctual if nothing else. Scarcely a minute later I hear a yell, and over my shoulder a wave of books come tumbling through a side door of the palace taking down three ponies in the process.
The red, green, and blue hard backs, add on a dozen other shades, parted by aid of her signature magical aura, and wouldn't you know it there was my little purple assistant, the librarians daughter, rolling her eyes and tripping over her counter parts whilst apologising for each fresh mistake. I can't remember if by pulling my hat low over my eyes, I was saving myself from embarrassment or her, but either way you only make one first impression, and just like the small paper cuts the covered the groaning attendants, it was in shreds.
I stroll over to the dazed little mare and crouch up close. Flicking up my coat cuffs I started stacking up a load of the things, all the while taking the opportunity to gain a second perspective of the scatter-brained egghead. In the first half of that second I ruled her as physically lacking, and in the other, almost cursed Celestia for her warped sense of humour.
She regards me with dark, timid little eyes that grew into their own strength.
"Thank you...Sorry... I'm so sorry,...I... My names Twilight Sparkle, and Celestia..."
A book slips from beneath her and she sprawls to the floor a second time.
"Heh heh, ow... Well...I'm pleased to meet you and these are references, for myself to muse over and...you know get to grips with police work... I don't mean to brag but I am really rather well read on Equestrian law enforcement,...cos...um...got to work out how to catch the bad guys and all."
The kid actually did a mock karate chop, then gave a me twitching smile to compensate. It was sweet, sickly sweet. The kind of sweet you'd be glad to rid yourself of with diet.
I stared the little buffoon down, tried to tell her that this interview was over, but despite her flop-sweat she continued...
I take the papers from her flushed mouth and place a hand on her smooth nervous shoulder. The neatly cut bangs part a little way to reveal a face fraught with the agitation to impress.
"Look, sweetheart, I can see you're very committed to this extra-credit assignment, but what's an 'A' in class is a loss of teeth on the street. This isn't a game, and when people do get knocked down, it's not friendship that catches them, it's concrete. Go home."
Ever the optimist TS points frantically at the papers in my hand. I was kind of envious in a way. The gal still thought the work was risk-free, and maybe in Ponyville that was true, but when you get your nose broken twenty times in as many months you start to loose faith in your fellow man. You then start to size everyone up. The bulge of a forearm tells you how mean a guys right hook is, a lump in a coat can tell you if he's packing, and a shortness of breath tells you it's time to retire. Right now Twilights' ramblings told me she wanted a police badge as an apple for her teacher, and that wasn't a good enough reason to join up. Despite being a police force of one, the right recruitment motives still applied.
"The answers 'no' kid, if you had field training it might be different, but looking at your book guides,...
"...'Daring Do and the Cat-burglar Crisis', you're deliberately trying to wind me up, aren't you?"
Twilight bounds out from the books and tries to reclaim what had to have been a novel, shaking her head and making frantic grabs at it.
"Oh no...in Celestia's name no, that was just bit of light reading."
I place it to her chest, and she takes hold, my own figure towering above hers.
"Cool your jets will ya, you're not on the force but you can still enjoy your fairy tales, after all...heh..heh... your IN one. Run along, I thought I heard some hay outside..."
If the kid's future safety was defended for the time being, then that was my justification for acting bullishly. It could be worse; in this loco place I could've actually been a bull.
She flusters and enragedly shouts some crap about not being a kid, but I've already stepped over her and the remains of a rainforest, and made a beeline for the large wooden doors. I pluck out the train ticket from my Fedora's wrap-around band, and stuff it in my one good pair of trousers. I couldn't loose focus of my opportunity to recover some ground with the locals, and maybe earn a ticket back home entirely.
It's Always The Quiet Ones.
By the time I arrive back in Ponyville its late afternoon, and stepping off the train carriage I survey a scene of crammed luggage trollies boxing for position. Frustrated snooty owners, wishing to go courting up at the toff-shop I assumed, accompany them. I take an opportunity for a little release, lighting up another cigarette I make my way up the single platform, coat folds blustering about me as the out-going trains pick up speed.
Needlessly showy things. Behind every lick of the bright paint I knew there was just as much elbow grease from the ponies that weren't considered the crème de la crème. Walking across the red brick, I could see it in the dark looks of all those ponies on the platform, who themselves couldn't see beyond their wallets. At least my country had a leader that pretended everything was fair game.
First on the list was to question a bereaved owner, and from their sob story get a case together, a trail that would lead me right to furry critters and finally a little respect. All this flashes through my mind as I approach a wedding-cake of a shop, fitted with mock ponies stuck on poles, and spread around the edges of its multiple layers. 'Carousel Boutique' I mumble, leaning in close to read the miniature ivory sign.
"Where every garment is chique, unique, and... You gotta be kidding me..."
I didn't think that Rarity, A.K.A, the pompous mong had forgiven me since the other night, and with that in mind I crouched down, looking in through the oval windows to see if I was in luck, and her pet had returned in my absence. But what greeted me was worse. Twilight, all smiles and giggles seemed to be playing junior detective, a notebook and quill floating in the air, scrawling down what a melodramatic Rarity spoke.
It was obvious TS had taken the law into her own hands, and I suppose I couldn't blame her. Celestia had made the laws of her land so vague, the difference between law enforcer and vigilante was thin as my patience. I threw the door open with my palm, the novelty bell sounds off, and then again as it clatters to the ground. I filled up the whole of the door and looked TS in the eye. Wouldn't you know it, the notebook and quill disappear as if I'd said 'Abracadabra.' Twilight shuffles nervously away from the boutiques reception desk when she notices my advances.
"Ah,... H. ..hello detective..."
"Oh, I'm the detective now? If you could have just played 'detective', why did you try to waste my time with a bloody interview ?"
I get a little too flared up, and whip my hip-flask out of a brown pocket, draining it in the same breath.
"Work for him!"
It's not the first time the gals have swooned for me, but the way Rarity had just done, lolling out onto the desk and wriggling in disgust...somewhere in my pocket, I heard the cracking of knuckles.
"You mean to say you work for this ruffian of a creature, this brute, this, this,this...
"This stuff aint half bad..." I butt in examining a one sequinned dress on particular.
Rarity flicks her elaborate purple hair and lowers her voice to a growl. She's seen through my attempt to change the subject, as much for her sake as it was for mine.
"Look I'm sorry, Rarity was it? It was 3-am and I hadn't put on my kiddy gloves yet, and I mean it this stuff is real easy on the eyes."
"Well that may the case you OAF! but whilst you stand in Carousel Boutique, you are required to treat me and it's customers with the utmost respect, do I make myself clear?"
I smile, deliberately bringing up a finger to flick a clear gem hanging from the neck of the Pony-garment to my left, letting the sound reverberate around the room.
"Crystal..."
But Rarity isn't looking at me, (never did know when to pay attention), something out the window has caught her eye.
Suddenly, she daintily canters through the door, nudging me out of the way. I could have flipped her, from where I stood, but refrained.
Twilight goes to join her friend on the porch and I follow reluctantly.
"Well would you look at that, and you call yourself an officer. Why dear Opal has much more thinking power than yourself if she can return to mommy without a rescue party, Oh I say darling, are you alright, you must have caught your death."
"That wouldn't be likely with the jacket you made for her Rarity, I'm sure she was just fine, pets need their breathing space, like all of us, and I guess that it's better to trust the ones we care about with some decisions, as opposed to smothering them with over-affection."
How neat. Another day wrapped up, with a cute little moral to boot.
I lower my hat to keep off the suns rays, and to get a better look at the cat, still about a hundred yards off. It was at that moment, I could tell something was wrong. I lent in and took a look at the creature, still far away. It was limping into a run. From what I could see... It looked terrified...blotchy red eyes, and small frothy teeth, sunken in a contorted face. I put my hands above my brow to get a better look. The thing looked half dead, as it made an exhausted run toward the boutique; its movements seemed to be clumsy, hugely restricted from wearing some kind of...
"I guess you're right Twilight, I may have been doting on my precious a little too much..."
With an genuinely guilty expression, the small white unicorn grabbed hold of Twilights' fore-hoof.
"Do you ever think Opal will forgive me?"
Twilight embraces her friend.
"Of course she will Rarity, why I'll bet you she's come back just to see how you are."
The breath sticks in my throat at the same moment my eyes silently widen. I had fought the urge to squint in surprise and succeeded. Everything feels heavy, the trench coat, my pinstripe trousers, and my stomach that's just gone off to lunch without me. But the conditioning takes over. I used to think I was the sickest thing in this make-believe land of bubbles and sunshine, that the career change I had taken on a whim unnaturally diluted Equestrian nature of care. I had,... but that was before I saw a cat turned into a bomb.
Satchel charges hung lopsidedly from a black belt and miniature sweater...but, Goddamn it's eyes! I could only imagine what must have been going through that poor bastards mind. But that came after the all too instinctual action. Lunging forward, I literally attack the two mares, thrusting the whole of my arm under their stomachs, one for each, to then hoist them up close to my own ribs, practically squeezing them into my thumping chest.
There was no time for them to speak, let alone to struggle, and in that fraction of a second, I was thankful. I squat, my back to the open door of the boutique, then with every ounce of this chain-smoking, thirty-seven year olds strength, I leap backwards through the stylistic doorframe. I feel weightless, my thighs burning, everything, the dresses, the mannequins, they all swim into nothing. I glance at the sprinting cat through my airborne legs, and realise its almost upon us. Then, just as I feel like my heart is going to give out, I hook the door with one foot and throw it closed. It crashes into its diamond-studded latch with a 'click', and then evaporates into splinters.
I could have heard screaming, and if so, it wouldn't have surprised me. My own propulsion multiples fourfold from the shockwave, and like the debris of glass, stone and painted wood, a mass of policeman and pony hurtle backward to join a dozen manikins, already plastered against the back wall. I feel something tear against my flesh, like a knife, and almost grit my teeth from the pain. If I had done, they would have shattered in my mouth. Some loose diamonds must have been blown away, and had become little less than bullets. I only hear the bang when my shoulders collide with manikin stuffing, and I'm instantly deafened. The pony's slip from my grasp, falling headlong, and are only cushioned by my arms coming to meet them. I black out, but when I come to, seconds later I here a faint whinnying, Twilight and Rarity attempt to get up, coursing with adrenaline, but their coloured forms fall down, their perception for the time being, destroyed. I fare little better. I raise a hand to my face; cradling my forehead I notice my trench-coat sleeves blackened. I strain my head to look down, at Twilight, then Rarity.
"Are you alright! "
"I..."
"FOR CELESTIA'S SAKE ARE YOU O.K!
It just slipped out, and I regret it even now. Goddam, I'm becoming one of them, but I dare any man to spend a couple months in place and not pick up the local lingo.
"Y...yes...", they say together, more shell-shocked than a catatonic tortoise, poor dames. I struggle to stand up amidst the desolation of the boutique, it's entire north facing wall erased and resettled in the fine dust that covered everything. Looking back at the ponies, I could now see a gash across Rarity's face. Despite everything I hoped if wouldn't scar. In the regions of beauty, such a thing could ruin an image, and she deserve better than that. Rarity was unconscious for the time being; Twilight not much better, and I started thinking of a way to break her cat's death to her.
Taking painful steps forward my shaken arms flexed themselves. I could hear panic in the streets, a worried, bustling and screaming. But it was more than that. I dusted myself off, and searched for my fedora. These silly, dumb little creatures had never hurt anyone or anything in their lives, and now they were under attack, for the sole reason of causing emptiness and pain. My heart knocked against my ribs, but this time it wasn't from fear. They say home is where you hang your hat, I may not have liked my new home, but my hat (which I recover from underneath some destroyed wood board), well...I like my hat, but more so the sense of duty it represents. I stand astride on the rubble.
The son of a bitch who did this was going to pay. Reaching inside my innermost pocket, I firmly close my hand around a family heirloom, namely my fathers. I had picked it up from the station after my meeting with Celestia, and ever since my time in Brooklyn, it was customary I carry it from the start of each case. I draw out the 38. Calibre revolver and hold it to my side, arms splayed. The sun catches off its extended barrel and fortified hammer, as if Celestia herself is giving me permission. I start to walk out toward the town. It was my town now, and someone had blown a hole in it. I intended to bring this bastard in, or do him the same courtesy. Call 911, cos its always the guys in the shadows that are pulling the strings, and it's always guys like me who will cut them down. Yeah. It's always the quiet ones.
It's Always The Quiet Ones.
Frank pushed his chair away from the cluttered desk and heavy-handedly shoved the ink-scrawled papers in a draw.
"Am I getting a little too carried away with this business?" he thought to himself, straightening. Maybe, but despite the handwritten report he had completed being somewhat aggressive, he knew that this was what it had come down to now. This wasn't police work; this was a brawl in the dark.
'Five days...' thought Frank arching back in the swivel chair that was several sizes too small. Five days and no progress had been made to discovering the identity of the terror group that had rendered Carousel Boutique officially out of business, and claimed the life of Rarities cat Opal.
There had been nothing left of the creature that had once snootily slunk through the Boutique, puffing its chest, and staring at its bejewelled kingdom through dull, wet eyes. Nothing that is, except a foot. A small, charred cats foot, half bone, half burnt fur smattered on a lifeless appendage. He picked it up of course, along with tatters of fabric and scraps of the detonation device that had brought so much calamity to the town of Ponyville. Funny he thought, how a plastic evidence bag could contain the elements of dis-harmony that Equestria could not. Twilight and Rarity's whole world had already crashed around their trembling ears; there was no need for them to see that last decimated piece of Opal.
"Well how did you react when you learnt that the world wasn't made from rainbows and moonbeams? Cause that's all this place was made of..."
Frank said it aloud to the empty, one-roomed police building crammed high with years old papers and tagged evidence. He sat legs apart, clutching at the hip flask with both hands. Clad in pinstripe trousers, the only journey his hands made from the elixir was to brush at the fine stubble of his chin, but even this quickly lost its charm.
He span lazily toward the back wall and glared at the mass of papers that had taken its place. Names, Addresses, businesses, portfolios, criminal records, missing pet posters, all hung lopsidedly like a tramp's wallpaper, stitched together with a dozen yards of red thread. Blurring out of Frank's vision the looping pattern became too much for drunken retinas, which sat stinging in their sockets. It must have been early morning by now, rays of gold flickering through drawn blinds, reminding Frank that he hadn't slept well all week, and with the alternative of all-nighters ending in exhaustion, Frank's resolve told him it was time to walk. The trail had gone colder than a frigid snowman, and if that had already happened the only thing to be done was to wait for the culprits next move and then try to pick-up the trail from there.
Not so favourable considering that the 'next move' would most likely be another bomb scare, undoubtedly more successful than the last. Frank did not want to have to bury any mare, colt, or dare he think it filly, because of his inaction. Seemingly to forget the idea, he walked over to door, complete with peep hole in the splintered wood, and threw it open despite of it's damage. Sunlight washed over his well-angled frame at the same moment his hangover snuck up behind him and punched him in the head.
"Aw for crying out loud,... " Frank winced in the sun's intensity and staggered out the door, snatching his trench coat and fedora from the rack. It seemed totally incredible to him but, striding out and along the cracked paving to the street, the day was starting up just like any other. Giggling fillies being let out to play parks by doting colourful mares, the bluster of salesmen in the market place, shouting out the value of their over-priced vegetables, and far off on the other side of town, the sweet aroma of cupcake mix already being stirred up.
Frank tried to touch his toes to eliminate the revolution that was rising in his spine; a satisfying snap, and it was time to begin the day. Maybe he'd try questioning Rarity today, he thought, the folds of the trench coat taking the shape of the morning breeze. He hadn't seen her since the day of the attack, and the unicorn was probably in all sorts of inner turmoil by now.
Of course, he realised that his presence may equally drive her to emotional ruin. He didn't know how yet, but that had been the outcome of their previous exchanges. Frank stopped still on the street, the bright architecture of Ponyville's residents hemming him in.
'and for that matter, I haven't heard from Twilight in that time...Goddamnit! Is everything in this place so bloody fragile.'
'Its only gonna get worse from here'
"Hey...HEY! What the hell is this! , No, this is unbelievable is what it is; hey I'm talking to you! Just...just hold still will ya!"
"Just pull your head down!, what am I forklift?"
The box flew off the pegasus with an explosion of white and grey envelopes. A tufty blond mane was flung out, covering the creatures lolling head, which then fell clumsily in front of its face. Frank stood astride, and would have laid into the post-pony for her abysmal conduct if he hadn't heard a faint whinny from underneath the hair. A single tear fell on a paving stone. Most ponies wouldn't have noticed it, but it was Frank's job to have a keener eye than most ponies, and so he instinctively softened his voice.
"Look don't...don't worry about it kid, alright? I'll understand if you were rushed for time, hell it's like MY job description outgrew ME. Hey?"
He put a hand on the ponies back, which flinched in agitation, a shiver traveling all the way down to the bubbles on the her flank. Frank paused,
"I'm sorry I shouted, yeah? Just take your time,..."
"Oh... Its not that mister, I. It's just..." Derpy stood up shakily, sobbing a little and making grabs at the loose mail
"I just reeaallly don't wanna work on a farm, too many ponies do, I...I'm just not strong enough a...and..."
"Holy Shit kid!" he took out the cigarette, holding it between his fingers, his own eyes wide.
"Wha? N...no, this is...this is just how I am..."
'Maybe once' he thought 'maybe just once it would be better to play the good-cop'
"I gotta thank ya really though sport" Frank said smiling. It was a slightly cracked smile, but Derpy looked up all the same as he pulled quill and paper out from an inner pocket.
"You were the last Pegasus I needed to meet to get a full name list of the postal service, what's your name?"
"Well Derpy, I dare say I'd have been looking for you all day if you hadn't bumped into you just now. I was seriously just gonna walk away just now had you not..."
Frank gestured to the broken mailbox
"...shall we say gained my attention?"
Derpy beamed as Frank pretended to write on a blank piece of paper.
"There's a tip in it for you if you'll answer a few questions?
Derpy excitedly hovered into the air, and spun around.
Frank hesitated but maintained a smile. That's the impression he had given the town, he knew, but be couldn't help but feel like he was admitting defeat when hearing it aloud. He pushed the brim of his hat back as if to say 'I guess all ponies aint assholes neither' just in time to notice a shadow momentarily blot out the sun and then glide menacingly on, down the street a little way. Derpy seemed to have noticed it to, and looking up had suddenly become rigid with fear, her hooves clattered slightly on the stone beneath as she began to lower her head.
"What's up kid? Frank asked, but his smile vanished when he noticed the silhouette of claw and feathers descend from the sky.
"Times up loser!"
The beast shouted out in a barely feminine snarl. Impossibly, Derpy lowered her gaze even further toward the ground whilst Frank chose to lower his fortified brow at the intruder. This he knew instantly must be the 'supervisor' that had given Derpy so much grief.
"I give you the simple task of delivering all the special deliveries in this town full of dweebs, and you can't even do that in three minutes? You're a walking joke. A walking joke cos you're too stupid for your wings."
Gilda, the griffin as she was known, landed heavily on the ground and marched up close to the cowering Derpy, of whose eyes were now filling up with fresh tears. Frank would later learn that in recent months Gilda's string of petty crimes and cruel disposition had led to her exclusion in Ponyville, not to mention the loss of her once-friend Rainbow Dash.
Since then it seemed her attitude had only grown worse, teasing children a third her age, and relentlessly bullying the weaker members of the town's population. From the battered postal cap, complete with mail emblem, Frank correctly deduced that her thuggery had spread to the job, and likewise her co-workers were on the receiving end of Gilda's sadism. Derpy whimpered timidly, the feathered mass forcing her back a few steps off the stone path; her tears flowed freely now, any attempt at holding them in had been long forgotten, but it was only when those large, mismatched eyes met with Frank's did he decide it was time to speak up.
He stood closer and took another inhalation from the cigarette, wisps of smoke masking his dark eyes and toned face.
Gilda's large bulk arched around to stare at the policeman.
"Buzz off dumbass!, Celestia might have a thing for shaved bears, but you're as much a freak as this bug-eyed spaz!"
"I don't want to use words like 'idiot' or 'dweeb', because there'd be a chance you'd just think I was being mean. I just want to take this moment to tell you just how completely useless you really are, you and that spastic little kid of yours!"
And then he pressed the embers of the glowing cigarette between Gilda's neck feathers.
"... * * * Ggkk!"
Gilda's white and brown plumage humourlessly ruffled from top to bottom like a Mexican wave, her talon based legs seeming a lot less stable as the sensation of burning blew through her nerve endings. Derpy fell back in surprise.
"See this watch, my father gave me this watch." Parkland said smiling at the bittersweet memory on the periphery of his recollection.
Gilda turned round at the same moment the metal clad fist crushed into her face. It knocked her huge form off the P.P.D's front path, and out onto the street. Apart from a few gagging sounds, the griffin didn't speak a word. That's always the way with the parasites of the world, Parkland thought, it's the biggest fish in the lake that refuse to believe they've been caught, even when they're cooking.
From Gilda's position on the dirt curb, beaked face contorted into a pained expression, Parkland's muscular figure filled the entirety of his large brown coat; but it was his un flinching grimace, a twisted look of disgust that told Gilda. That this man had seen things.
"This watch can tell you what the time is in ten different major cities of my world. That isn't anything special nowadays of course, but twenty years ago that was pretty damn neat"
Gilda tried to get up but Parkland was already over her. In a split second she saw the frozen times of New York, London, Moscow and Sydney impact between her eyes, and all signs of movement vanished for a second as she went limp.
Gilda coughed. What little fight was left in her had been knocked away by that second blow.
"J...just stop..." she spluttered.
Parkland lifted the griffin up by her chest feathers so they were face to face. Altogether Gilda must have weighed a quarter ton but Parkland barely noticed.
"That's why I like that kid over there; she has more potential in her than she knows, because she's different from the rest. I only just met Derpy and I can tell she has that spark that gives birth to a unique thinker. You on the other hand...I wouldn't shit in your mouth if you were staving to death."
Gilda struggled feebly, and on cue Parkland threw her to the ground, ripping two fistfuls of feathers out from her heaving torso. The sun's low starting point in the sky threw everything under Parkland's fedora into shade, Gilda cringed in agony.
Gilda scrambled to her feet, blustered out some manner of confirmation, eyes dilated, and then took uneasily to the sky, evidently an unstable flight due to the damage she had sustained.
"AND NO-ONES MAKES FLUTTERSHY CRY!"
Derpy yelled out after her, plucking up the courage to defend a beloved acquaintance with the shy, nature-loving pony. Her deep voice rang out as a strangely satisfying, non-blond stereotype, just as Gilda managed to clear the tops of the trees, never once looking back.
Frank took the watch off his knuckles revealing an ugly shade of black and blue. He should have wrapped something around them before initiating the beat-down, but he knew that one wrong move could have meant fending off the griffin's razor sharp talons. It was all in the timing, what you had time to do, and what would have taken away the element of surprise.
Frank strolled up to Derpy, somewhat cheerier now thanks to her improved job prospects, and dusted a piece of imaginary lint of his large trench coat cuffs.
"Sorry you had to see that kid,..." Frank took off his hat to rub his forehead.
"I can't control myself much when I meet people like that, you understand right?"
"In think it's swell you biffed that meanie in the schnoz, now I can buy ditzy her muffin basket from the farmer market"
She nuzzled her soft muzzle into Franks' thigh; he didn't push her away, but neither did he reach out for her.
"C'mon kid, it's fine, really, I,...wait, Derpy..." Frank bent low, his face shimmering with a new idea.
Derpy's head bent to the side.
"Oh that's easy, I like the muffins and ditzy like the muffins and together we really likes the muffins, so I was gonna buy some-a-da muffins at..."
Frank waved his hand for Derpy to catch her breath.
"No, no not that Derpy, the other thing, what did you say about farming, before that griffin landed, c'mon Derpy, Ponyville is counting on you to remember!"
Derpy shut an eye and stuck out the tip of her tongue, deep in thought.
"I's not as strong as the other farming ponies?..."
Frank placed both hands on the pegasus' small shoulders.
"Not that Derpy, it was something else about farms. What was it, you didn't want to work on the farm because..."
Derpy eyes re-aligned for a moment before rattling back to being skewed, so strained was her thinking at present.
"Too..." she began "Too many ponies work on farms?"
Frank's mouth fell open, and then re-collected itself suddenly, beaming at Derpy.
"That's it... Yeah...THAT was it, Derpy you're fan-fukin genius!
Derpy features lit up, as Frank bolted into the police station. How hadn't he seen it before, Ponyville...no not just Ponyville the whole map of Equestria was governed by medieval customs, he had thought it himself often enough, but it had taken Derpy's 'throw-away' comment to re-establish the evidence chain.
Frank began to throw meter high stacks of paper to the four corners of the room, digging through the piles of tagged evidence like a man possessed. As a medieval land, Equestria and by extension Ponyville, sustained itself largely through agriculture. Consequently the country had never built up an industrial base, meaning that pretty much all products were derived from natural sources, even the dresses in Carousel Boutique were largely silk based, no doubt supplied by generous silk worms.
Frank stood up, puzzled, and then noticed the evidence bag for the 'Boutique-Bombing' (such as the incident had become known) on top a filing cabinet. He opened it and spread the contents out on the desk, Opal's foot bouncing off the wood and under a chest of draws. This meant that anything other than naturally produced materials had to have been imported or otherwise brought into Equestria by private courier.
The small piece of detonation vest shimmered a little as Frank held it up to a naked flame. It was completely synthetic, almost needlessly so. There had of course been the matter of the explosives, but by an ironic twist there was a large possibility they themselves were created from the natural materials found in Ponyville. For four nights Frank had drained bottle after bottle of dandelion wine whilst looking out at the many houses of Ponyville and Canterlot beyond, imagining all the while that in any one of the hundreds of residences, there was an intricate assembly of distillery stands, and bathtubs filled with chemical additives, all hidden from view in a basement dug-out. But now Frank had a starting point, and pocketing the piece of fabric he exited the station for a second time, knowing just who to ask about its origins.
It's Always The Quiet Ones.
"All right ponies! I trust you have a clear idea of what to do before we visit Rarity today. Don't know about you but I'm feeling pretty excited that we have a chance to show her how generous WE can be for a change."
Twilight smiled to all her friends, seated neatly around a recently conjured oak table.
Pinkie Pie's smile seemed to tear her face in two.
"Generosity Shemirosity, All Rarities gonna be thinking about is how much cake matron allows her to eat, she's gonna forget about her boo-boo's in no time!"
The little pink pony bounced nimbly into the air as Applejack cocked an eye at her.
"Are ya sure that's the diet for a recovering patient? A parties swell an all, but we don't wanna get Rarity over-excited, not as a first hospital trip."
Pinkie landed nimbly and placed a hoof to her head, apparently deep in thought.
Applejack was correct however. Rarity had sustained more than just an unflattering scar from the bomb blast five days previous.
Closer inspection had revealed two fractured legs (one foreleg, one back leg) in addition to one broken rib. Fortunately the damage to her lively hood was not as prominent; Sweetie bell had been out with friends when Carousel Boutique was partially destroyed, and the majority of Rarities fabrics were still relatively untouched on the boutiques second floor. Many finished dresses however were beyond ruin.
Doctor's estimated Rarities recovery to be two weeks minimum, but it would take her months to reproduce her lost stock. Despite of this the mood of the ponies, sitting in a ring around Twilight's 'all-natural' library was very light indeed, and for a blissful moment; the magic of friendship seemed to fill the room.
All the ponies present were sitting, except for Rainbow Dash who, somewhat agitated, was hovering barely off the wooden floor boards, landing, then just as quickly taking to the air again. Something was on her mind, but it quickly surfaced.
"Yeah, Twi, about Opal, I already got a couple my pegasus buds to sweep Equestria with me but we haven't found her yet... Or the other critters for that matter."
Despite her boyish manner, Rainbow Dash seemed genuinely concerned.
"We'll keep looking, but...I...well,... We may just need to wait for them to come back. Cloudsdale needs everyone on hand now its tornado season,... But if she was scared by the explosion, she'll just come back sooner or later anyway...right?"
A single bead of sweat formed on Twilight's forehead and slid down to her eyebrow.
"...Y...You bet RainbowDash, for all we know Opals back at the boutique right now playing her way through all those balls of yarn..."
Somewhere outside the room, a clock chimed, the sound ring out alone into the hushed room. Fluttershy whinnied under her breath, startled by the noise, but her flowing pink mane chose to fall in front of her face, and no pony was any the wiser. It was a silence that even Pinkie seemed to comprehend, perpetuated as it was by Twilight to keep an ever present, harsh reality, under hoof.
Twilight knew of course that Opal had been suddenly and violently blown apart by the bomb blast, and that she had been at the mercy of whatever sadistic militia had planned the terror attack on Ponyville for any number of days. She was a clever mare and it showed, but as she sat on the hard planks, the glow of the ethereal meeting table dancing on her locked jaw, her pre-conceived notion that the world was coated in sugar started to fall away.
"Well, great work every-pony!" the words seemed all too forced.
Twilight bounded up, hooves clutching to her day planner. A sharp nod toward the table caused it to vanish into thick blue smog that bled across the room.
Twilights eyes twitched in fractious unison as the four ponies were speechlessly driven out of the organic library, and through its bright door.
"'tyouagree?"
Pinkie, blissfully unaware of the vein that pulsed rhythmically in Twilights small forehead was about to answer her word for hurried word, right up until she noticed the red door slam in her face. Discovering themselves turned out on the doormat, Applejack was the first to speak up.
"Did Twilight seem a little...well...agitated to y'all?"
Pinkie Pie, Apple Jack, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash turned to each other in search of an explanation, but no answer could be found within their blank expressions. None of them understood, as they trotted out toward the town, the full extent of what had taken place in the boutique bombing five days previous. Certainly an explosive blast had occurred, it had caused much damage and initial panic, but no one had 'witnessed' any casualties meaning that in their ignorance the missing pets scandal was never connected.
Twilight, through the gift and curse that was her own rationalism, knew differently however. She and Rarity had of course witnessed first hand that the love of Celestia's rule did not protect them from the death and damage, implemented by the unknown terrorist threat.
Twilight pressed a watering eye up against the view-hole in the door, and let her day planner fall to the floor. To her frantic brain, the partitioned binder spilt its contents in slow motion. Her lilac hooves trembled freely against the red wood, as she desperately tried to discern whether her friends were leaving for the day. For a moment, Twilight was forced to consider the implications of death in Equestria; the dark maze of questions and its minotaurs together drew out a small manic sigh from the mare.
Her frazzled mane, accompanied with twitching eyelids indicated that she too had not been sleeping well. Each time an attempt was made she had lapsed into a restless, haunted sleep, overwhelming her as if a wall of water. She only had the one dream now. Opal, snootily strutting through her bedroom window, introduced herself as Dr Death, clad whiskers to tail in a dapper black waistcoat and top hat. She paced around, complaining that she couldn't find her 'little pink friend', but when Twilight, half dreading the answer, asked Opal the name of her friend, she had only given Twilight 'Dr Death's smile.
The force of her own magic, that at this point she felt welling up inside her own horn, would have undoubtedly reduced her head to cinders, and Twilight was forced to tiptoe down the stairs, without the aid of magic, until she came to the front door.
The dream had violently ended when Twilight had extended a nervous hoof toward her red front door. She then fumbled at the latch, sobbing, when the warm red paint suddenly evaporated along with her face. At least that's what she had guessed before the fire had destroyed what was left of her eyes.
In reality Twilight now slid down the door, back knees pressed against her head. Her usual humble persona of 'the librarian's daughter' was being replaced with that of an obsessive compulsive. She was relying increasingly on an impulsive streak to distract her moment from moment, never allowing the bigger questions to eat at her for long.
"Oh... Celestia...please let us find our way through this unscathed..." she begged aloud to the significantly less than omnipotent god-figure.
Her small lilac figure and highlighted mane cast a shadow over her detective-girl's clipboard and recently purchased magnifying glass resting on an empty bookshelf. Whilst suppressing shudders Twilight tried with difficulty not to think of it as a metaphor.
"I'm sorry I let you go Opal...," she repeated to herself once more, hoping that somehow, someway she was getting through to the dead cat.
"I...I wanted to help you, I do now, I...just please forgive me, friendship is stronger than this. Even if you hate me, just please remember that..."
"You know you're gonna have to tell them sooner or later, don't you?"
Spike, the spiny green and purple dragon stood looking down at Twilight from a railed partition on the first floor. Whether it was the seriousness of his point or the relative height between the two of them, his small stature seemed at least a third greater than normal. Despite the gravity of events in days past, this new image suited Spike.
Twilight was more relieved than startled to know Spike had been eavesdropping. He had taken the news of Opals' death surprisingly well considering his young, impressionable age, to which Twilight would later put down to dragon fortitude.
"Every problem we've been through so far has been tackled through the powers that friendship bestows on us, on all of Equestria. If the others know how badly I represented friendship..."
Twilights' muzzle quivered; she made no movement to get up from the door mat.
"...we'll loose our only weapon."
Spike lost his train of thought as Twilight relapsed once again into tears. She had purposely gone without water to stop their flow, long enough to put on a brave front for her friends. Regardless of this measure they now came out freely, welling up from bloodshot, feminine eyes.
Any pony in Twilights' library would have been overcome by the scene, such was the intensity of Twilights' despair.
"Twilight..." Spikes' words were pained.
"DON'T!... Just...just leave me alone Spike..."
Burdened with guilt Twilight had had enough of being the linchpin to Equestrian peace. For now, the thought of living in this moment, letting self-pity wash over her was all too bittersweet to ignore. She pulled her back knees closer to her chest. How ridiculous it all seemed now that six ponies (young mares no less) had been in charge of law and order in Ponyville. How cruel it seemed for Celestia to extend Twilight's duties to the whole of Equestria whenever she saw fit, conveniently forgetting the ungodly amount of pressure it placed in their hooves.
Twilight hadn't given up on friendship, by no means was this true, but since a creature had paid the ultimate price under her care she was seriously starting to doubt the extent of its powers.
"Twilight?..." Spike called down again, more urgently this time.
Given the over-positive atmosphere of Equestria's population, it wouldn't have surprised her.
A groan issued from the small dragon. His pain couldn't be suppressed any longer.
"Twilight, I...I don't know if it was something I ate, the Cakes' marsh-muffin maybe, b..but I...I don't feel so good."
Spike doubled over as he spoke the words, spiny fingers clutching at his lime-green belly. His eyes were beginning to roll back, as if to see for himself the source of the intense stomach cramps.
Twilight looked up sharply, catching a glimpse of Spikes' contorted face and sweating forehead. Something was wrong. Twilight knew that indigestion was common for a baby dragon whose eyes took in more than his tummy, but this illness was often laughed off by Spike himself. As it was, he could barely speak through gritted teeth.
He placed a trembling foot on the topmost stair, and then stumbled, the cramp reaching its peak. Unrelenting gravity took over and Spike fell end to end like a rag doll, groaning louder all the while. Limbs sounded off against wood, hitting the hard oak with startling force. The whole scene seemed like it was happening in slow motion, even as Twilight ran the short distance to the curved steps, the small dragon was falling on parts he didn't know he had.
In real time, Twilight had scarcely become a streaky blur before she got to Spike who had landed awkwardly on the bare wood floor. She was part way startled to silence as she sat Spike up for he hadn't seemed to register the freshly forming bruises on his leathery hide. Instead he let out a strange guttural noise, changing to a wheeze then back to a gagging.
"Oh sweet Celestia!, what is it Spike, wh...What's wrong? C' mon, breath Spike BREATH!" was all Twilight managed to say over the noise that issued from Spikes' red raw throat.
Then, unexpectedly, a small popping sound, like a dying firework was heard as Spike finally inhaled. The result was immediate. A harsh black flame blew out from Spikes' throat, stretching at least fifteen feet into the ovular library. He was pinned back against the stairs, some smaller books falling from their shelves so terrific was the force generated, whilst by an awful twist of magical pyrotechnics, the flames light seemed to draw in all colour from the room.
The flares' brightness (or lack thereof) softened momentarily as a charred scroll knitted itself together from the smoke. It flew out from the fire that had itself disappeared, and fell hissing on the floor besides Twilight. Spike was the definition of unconscious; the un-tempered magic that had used him as a living conduit could have done the same and worse to older dragons. As it was however, Spike's breathing was shallow.
Even though the weight of the world seemed to be crushing down on Twilight's small shoulders the scroll, she knew, had to be inspected.
"Princess, what ever did you do to send this here?"
MANE 6.
How curious it is for friends of very different natures to think of common solutions to their suffering. Indeed this is true on both sides of 'The Plane'. If one were able to read the collective thoughts of the citizens of Ponyville that day they would have found a similar thread. Mother, father and child held a great belief in the powers of Celestia. Her silver framed picture was not an uncommon feature in an Equestrian citizens living room, snugly hung up over a clay fireplace.
It wasn't just because she was seen to raise the sun and moon that her reign had brought with it it's own unique brand of mysticism. The roles of Princess and God were so well fused together in the society of Ponyville that the grammar of colloquial speech was almost always skewed. 'God save my queen' was one such phrase that had not made sense in over one thousand years and counting, albeit besides any point. Celestia's rule was truly bizarre when compared to any human monarchy.
Part of this ''mysticism' had in itself been generated through the divine set of artefacts know as 'The Elements Of Harmony'. Yes there were the practical purposes of banishing demonic monsters and family members, but at times they were priceless propaganda. If you claim a leader is honest there's always some doubt about their capabilities, or intentions, or perhaps their competence. You claim a necklace embodies the essence of honesty and the whole world believes you. Ponyville had not overly panicked at the bombing because they knew that in a worst-case scenario these enchanted accessories could be wielded to restore law and order. As a failsafe, they were the ultimate weapons in holding back the forces of chaos.
"You know, dearest Celestia, I really can't remember the last opportunity you and I had this much quality time together, And why on earth not!..."
Discord, master of madness, looked with cruel amusement into Celestia's tired eyes.
"...And here I thought 'chocolate rain' was about as chaotic as you could get, but taking away the little dear's childhood, their innocence, thrusting them into the harsh role of secret police when they should be playing with their dollies? I feel dwarfed by you Celestia, hopelessly outmatched."
A steady stream of white light flowed out from Celestia's horn and into the shimmering necklaces, placed in a hexagonal configuration around Discord. The tiara was suspended lopsidedly by a piece of rope that hung from the centre, seemingly directing the sparkling haze into a crude form of containment field.
There was reason behind the slap-dash nature of the enchantment. If Discord could be awakened by fighting school girls, as he had been several months previous, the time it would take for him to escape his stony prison in the event of murder was only a few minutes. The sheer amount of chaos that was generated from Opals' death left very little time for the royal guards to form any counter-measures against Discord's escape. Despite the suggestions of moving Discord from the Canterlot statue garden to a more secure holding cell, what had resulted was a frantic rush to re-imprison the menagerie of creature parts as he quickly reverted from stone to flesh. It was only by a miracle that his escape had been foiled. An entire battalion of pegasus guards had to airlift Discord in his decaying prison through a naturally occurring cavern, depositing him in the deepest darkest room in the royal castle.
It was a massive piece of gothic architecture capped with dark oaken rafters no less than one hundred feet high. The gaunt structure was easily the oldest part of the castle.
The breath stuck in Celestia's throat and the rate of the energy steam faltered. The elements of harmony had enough residual magic to imprison most of Equestria's enemies, but without the Mane 6 to wield them Discord's insanity would soon have overwhelmed their defensive properties. Supremely powerful magic was the only alternative as a substitute for Twilight Sparkle and her friends, and even then the amplification effects were poor. In conclusion nothing could quite match the genuine elements of harmony that resided in the hearts of the six little mares. Celestia thought this as for the third time that the day, the last reserves of her magic was snatched up by the pulsing cage.
Discord floated toward the edge of his cell, drawn to the weakness he sensed in the tired princess.
Celestia winced, teeth bared with exhaustion and anger.
Discord couldn't restrain himself, arching himself back a manic laugh exploded into the huge antechamber. When it seemed the sound was about to die completely the echo simply lowered an octave and continued on. Celestia did her best not to shiver.
"OH yes, now I remember,...and they were delicious. They may have seemed like humble cake at the time, but I assure you Celestia, 'slow-mo' and 'fizzle-pizzle' or whatever the hell their names were. They felt every. Last. Bite."
"Not...t..the r..r..rest of TIME!" He stammered.
Inside the prison alarm clocks pushed themselves into existence, their hands a continuous blur of movement. Discord yanked at his own mismatched horns and thrust his head flat against the magical wall. Right up close to Celestia's bagged eyes.
"Oh my God, my Queen Celestia!, do not make my sentence indefinite, how now! I shall never again hear the sweet sting of pony laughter in my ears..."
Discord sobbed the last words, and then as more clocks filled the small space (grandfather clocks and pocket watches), his goatish body began to age rapidly, falling to the ground as little more than a pile of bones and dust.
Celestia's head rose from indignant pride as a snap of Discord's fingers sent the clocks back into limbo. He coiled up to the shimmering wall, legs crossed in the most casual fashion.
"Look, Celestia..." he began in an almost fatherly tone.
"...if you want to be a mediocre princess then you have to use your head a little more. When I say I can escape from this tipi you've set up, I don't mean I have to 'LITERALLY' escape from it. Though having said that..."
Curiously, Celestia felt a need to defend the reluctant P.I.
"Frank Parkland has proven himself to be a reckless but very capable officer in the eyes of Equestrian law, and given his record I'd be careful what you say about him in confidence with me..."
Discord couldn't help but snigger, even if it was to disguise some slight anxiety.
"Please Celestia, if you give the thing a name you'll get attached to it. Besides, and here's the kicker, I'm not responsible for the little explosive present Rarity and Opal 'especially Opal' received the other day. Isn't that crazy! I'm on the edge of my seat as much as the rest of you scared little ermine,...only I brought pop-corn."
A small boom was heard at the other end of the enormous dungeon, along with a small rectangle of light heralding the arrival of a new figure. Celestia was grateful a distraction had occurred at this particular moment because (and perhaps it was due to the attraction that all polar opposites share); she was starting to take Discord's heckling to heart. An electric blue unicorn with business waistcoat and spectacles trotted urgently across the vast expanse of stone to join princess Celestia. By her side and out of breath the colt urgently tapped at a miniature crystal ball that he telekinetically lifted out of a pocket. The steady pulse of red light that glowed out of the clear quartz mirrored the thumping in Celestia's chest.
"Y...your highness,...the s...sending spell connected to the Royal messenger Spike the d...dragon. It's been intercepted by a d...dark m...magical energy. Unicorn diagnostics cannot discern anything about its source or how it got through the barriers of magical fortification."
Celestia had to will her body to retain its strength. She was in all ways a princess-leader of a nation and to let Discord see her cave under pressure would not have been ideal.
"Well well..." Discord purred.
"Right on cue..."
Celestia stood away from the patchwork menace and addressed the unicorn by rank then name. She nodded slowly as the pony completed its brief, methodically committing the details to memory and allowing for their speedy recollection. This was Celestia the tactician.
"Can I assume that whatever message was sent through, it is from the same terror group that organised the Boutique bombing?"
"Yes your majesty."
"...and that they have demanded to bring down my reign by force."
"Heaven's!..." It was said as a curse.
The bespectacled pony magically pulled the quartz sphere back into its breast pocket, trading it for a miniature clipboard.
Celestia was looking away from the pages of statistics, up into the dark rafters and the shadows beyond them. Her four hooves were spread apart, letting her beautiful white face grow all the brighter in the surrounding darkness.
Celestia shot a cruel gaze to her servant.
"It lists the destruction of our way of life doesn't it!, don't waste my time with any other trivia! This is a monarchy!, lest you've forgotten!...you know what must be done..."
She turned deliberately to match an unflinching gaze with Discord.
"...Order must be maintained, above everything else..."
There was a clatter of wood on stone as the messenger dropped his clipboard in fear. The ferocity of a Celestia scorned was not to be experienced first hand.
"***, ggkk, sorry, princess, right away,...only in addition Constable Parkland has once again requested full powers in ..."
The small pony's eyes filled the frames of his glasses, mouth gaping.
"Princess, that 'man' is a wild card,...even you can't recommend..."
But the fact that the princesses aqua mane was turning crimson meant that it was time to shut up.
"Order 001, I take it then Princess?" said the colt, tactfully changing the subject.
"Yes.." she confirmed…"effective as of immediately."
'Order, 001.' Celestia thought to herself sadly 'The evacuation of all Equestrian children to Canterlot castle…. How did I let it come to this…'
Celestia turned her gold tipped heels and cantered off toward the exit while Discord called out to her. Her business with the cosmic jester was done for now, she had a duty to protect the youngest and most breakable of her subjects.
"You just enjoy yourself while you can Celestia, because one day, everything you've worked so hard for, all the sacrifices you've gone through to make yourself queen of your own little checker board, all of its going to be for me."
"...and when your music is done and the melody ends, Discord, lord tops, will demand play, play again...and then we'll see how much you enjoy being on this side of the padded walls..."
The door slammed shut plunging the cathedral like room into complete darkness that was except for two red slits that emanated the cruelty in Discord's brain.
'Even if I don't get to have any fun this time around...'
Discord thought to himself, preparing to slip into a crazed sleep
'...what could one 'man' creature do against all the hurt that was coming his way. Nothing... Well that would only be right if,...no, that was silly, no creature alive could...absolutely nothing..."
Discord was almost sure of it.
It's Always The Quiet Ones.
" But why do 'I I I' have to go on that smelly old train, it's hardly fit for a newly appointed class representative such as myself..."
If this little pony were whining at me any more she'd be in the ground. But I being a gentleman (I'm a man, and there was this one time I was gentle in 1992) grit my teeth and summon up some more non-existent patience.
"Look errr,..." I check the roster.
"...Diamond tiara, sweetie...can you just do what your teacher asked you to do, hey, get on the train with the rest of your friends, it'd really help me out a lot, there's a good girl."
She flicks her mane in a pompous fashion, but at least she has some basis for her complaint. The cars to my right were originally made to carry potatoes and from what I can gather were created out of the long since failed industrial revolution that never got started. You'd think Celestia would have some train carriages waiting in the wings for such an occasion, you know, if 'Measure 00 1' was so important but just like every other government assignment (and I use the term very, very loosely) I'm forced onto the stage without a script.
The train's boiler begins to cough steam into the afternoon air, diluting the eighty-odd coloured coats lined up in rows of two in front of me.
This whole evacuation has gone to shit. I'm not a neat freak but from what little information I've gathered these ponies were supposed to be evacuated by what I would call 'nine-o-clock'. It's noon. Terrorism works like Russian roulette, play the game for enough time and it's guaranteed someone's gonna die. I for one was not going to give the shady group an opportunity to knock off any kids. For them, out of sight is out of mind and I watch them all smiling and chattering in the line faces beaming, like this is all just a field trip. My fingers itch at the revolver in my breast pocket. It's climbed up from its usual resting place by my diaphragm, decreasing the time in which I can draw it to under a decisecond. It might help it might not. I had scanned numerous times the slate and glass roof tops of the station building for signs of movement, along with the three miles of track that sprawled up to Canterlot castle. My lapel catches my ragged breath and blusters about for a moment.
The children hadn't been told about the threat made against them, I'd have given Celestia a shakedown for her usual attempts at preserving her own serene wonderland over pony safety, but no child should be told they're going to burn.
I cross my arms at the little mare, trench-coat sleeves turning up like Diamond-tiara's nose. Another greyish pony complete with blue designer glasses, steps out of line by stepping out of the line, swanning up to her friend with a putrid heir of superiority. This must have been Silver Spoon. I only remember that name because it's the one that kept making me crack up when I saw it under 'S'. I mean the adult mares must really hate their kids if they have the audacity to call them things like 'bubble-licious' or 'squirty-cakes'. I mean the names fit perfectly but it's still cruel.
"...I think you'll find 'officer' that as an elected official Diamond Tiara carries with her the reputation of Ponyville elementary school, and as such deserves the same level of respect."
I'm hearing the sour little pony but I'm not listening. I'm instead thinking about how easy it would be to step on the two of them, seeing how they barely come above my pinstriped knee. I push my Fedora's brim above my brow and put on a big fake smile, you know like I'm expected to play clown at birthday parties now. Kneeling down on the red brick I can feel their snooty eyes giving me a once-over.
"You know girls, we were lucky enough to get a presidential car for this little journey of ours, and,...well I'm not really supposed to tell you this but it's all empty at the moment if you'll just follow me."
Their little faces light up quickly enough, exaggerated by an over-inflated ego and over-doting parents. I'd think it was sad if it wasn't so damned funny. I lead them up the bricked platform and gesture toward one of the cleaner looking potato cars. There's twelve in total, eight potato cars, all correlated metal with wooded slats, and four passenger carriages situated at the front, next to an onyx coloured steam engine.
The supervisors and only a few of the children were to sit in the first four carriages, all silk curtains and velour seating. Now there's a perfect scale model of what passes for equality in Equestria. A third get to live in luxury whilst the little guys get to smell like vegetables, only in this case the little guys are actually little guys. You couldn't make this stuff up, but then again why would you want to?
Diamond-Tiara crinkles her brow at the rusted tin box.
"Well you're obviously confused constable. If we're supposed to be better than our peers, and believe me we are, then as class president I and my secretary demand to be upgraded to the en-suite."
"Secretary AND advisor." hissed Silver Spoon, her glasses fogging up from indigence.
"Oh but this is the en-suite little miss..." I say as with a shudder the door swings out.
"That dirty looking lunch box is our lodging for this journey, that's hardly presidential!"
I smile.
"Oh it makes up for its looks on the inside otherwise everyone would be wanting to book it."
The ponies clamber in and look dismayed at the bolted down wooden chairs and tables, attached to the bare wooden floor.
"You idiot!..." Tiara screeches at me. My expression remains complacent,...barely.
"Presidential car my hoof! I find it a wonder that a moron like you knows how to dress himself!"
Silver Spoon gives out a superfluous little laugh, fake in its tone and delivery.
That did it.
"The hell you talking about?" I turn up my coat sleeves at the buttons.
"You're a president, and this is a train car. You do the math" I shut the door and slide the bolt across. That was two problems dealt with at least.
I walk back over to the rest of the children, as I wipe a hanky across my forehead. Those small eyes shouldn't unnerve me as much as they do...maybe it's because they're human eyes, albeit a little larger. I stand legs spread out a little and watch as they slowly stop talking and turn their heads to face me, sensing it's time to board the train. They seem to sense what's going down, even if they can't articulate it.
"Alright every...er...every-pony" I begin, and stab at the roster with an accusing finger.
"I'm guessing everyone's got their lunches?"
They all nod, taking care not to say a word. Maybe saying that they somehow sensed potential danger was untrue. They sensed a man who sensed danger. In rows you could see it on all the little blue, crimson, lime green faces, wrinkling uncomfortably at the eyes and mouth. Another by-product of Equestrian culture under Celestia. Fear and sadness were not very common emotions in day-to-day life.
Sure they cropped up sometimes, but when they did it was a pretty minor affair that wound up with a snug little moral at its end. It meant that when anxiety did present itself, the young foals had no way of expressing it, made all too clear to me by an unsettling display of emotions ranging from nervous laughter to a smile in the same instant. This is what you get when you teach children the world is made of flowers without the bees. You let them get stung a little and then they'd learn not to trust a government by its author.
"Do you have your trip buddy?"
They nod again, a little feverishly.
"O.K, well find the carriage with your number and go sit down, alright?"
But no, they all just stand there, shuffling about on the platform, still unsure about the journey they've so hastily undertaken. I'm doing my best to come across kid-friendly, but some half-hacked McGruff the crime dog sympathiser doesn't seem to be cutting it.
I walk down the line of what are supposedly my little, LITTLE ponies and receive a furtive glance from each one. Now I wouldn't bat an eyelid for a rouge sniper but walking down a completely silent platform except for the asthmatic huffing of the steam engine, those wide un-spoilt eyes just watching me. That was seven kinds of jungle-weird. My thumbs are tugging at my suspenders as I reach the end of the line, just to distract myself. I wheel around on my custom leather heel and a collective flinch ricochets through the entire group. 'Just a smile' I start thinking to myself. 'I don't want to be liked by you, but I'm on duty, trust my position.'
"What's up with you kids..." I'm a bit pissed from drink; it's come to be expected at this time of day. With desperate efforts I fight back at the liquor-induced euphoria and try not to scare off the little bed-wetters.
"C'mon...we're going to the castle, hey, isn't that exciting. Oh I get it, your just a little horse. Am I right.?"
I pull my fedora low over my eyes and take a pained breath.
"Just get on the train." it sounds harsher when I say out loud.
Slowly, the ponies fan out from the lines and finally find their way up to the carriages and into their makeshift seats. I on the other hand walk up to the passenger carriage (not out of choice mind) and bend down low so as to fit through the angular doorframe. The interior is more luxurious than even I expected. The skirting boards have dark, majestic horses in full plate armour etched into them, complete with some miniature silver chandeliers hooked up to bronze fixtures on the roof. Despite all the glamour I feel like a sardine. There's enough room to stand up, but only just, and as I fumble past the overly elaborate seating plan I can't help but feel the designer is slapping his dick in my face. I mean even the inter-carriage doors have marble tiling, are you serious horse boy? What your sister was hogging your bathroom so you decided to make your own, on rails no less?
I finally spot a corner booth and with difficulty squeeze myself into the upholstery. I guess I owe anyone who bothers to read this and explanation. I have a mild claustrophobia that resulted from a job I was working on in Brooklyn. Guy named Max Medley strolls into my office and asks me my rates. Everyone's got a guy like Medley on their block, a cheap three-piece suit, thinks he's doing you a big favour just by telling you about his day; but word on the street was he was always in some kind of trouble, and that meant work. An easy enough snoop job, it involved me going to this west-side high-rise, find an empty checkbook full with his signatures.
Only thing was this time old Max was drowning in the shit, got himself involved with some crime syndicates no less, so they figure they're gonna send him a message through me. I break down the door to room 87 with a bruised shoulder as recompense, and I'm not rifling through the draws for ten minutes when I begin to smell smoke. Some would-be-gangster had set the stairwell alight four floors below, and seeing as the place was home to only a handful of resident junkies, I quickly deduced that the alarm would be raised the same time I had roasted to 'golden brown'.
So as I'm standing there in the tiny one-room apartment, breathing in larger and larger quantities of the airborne toxins, I decide to go back on my vow to never again call the emergency services and see if there was a fireman kicking around in a nearby station. Lucky for me it was a very nearby station, meaning I could only thank whatever pyromaniac god had given me the in-experienced henchmen as opposed to the more hard-core gang monsters.
Every time I got out my bed I felt like I was climbing down that ladder.
It wasn't by accident I had chosen the corner booth. On top the circular wooden surface that was pressing into my ribs there sat a tall green bottle with a silver stopper gagging it closed. I picked it up in one palm and apprehended the ribboned tag in the other.
TO MR F. PARKLAND- it announced.
The bottle was icy cold to the touch, but for once I wasn't in the mood for alcohol. If anything went wrong I couldn't do my job trapped in a bottle. That was the overly righteous excuse; the truth was more to do with Celestia's timing. I still say she's overly manipulative, probably wants me sedated so I don't give her any more grief for the time being, but if that was the case she had already part way succeeded, I had been tipsy since eight A.M.
As I'm writing this the train has just started to shunt out of the station. My questioning of Rarities possible connection to the Boutique bombing has been delayed for the time being, superseded by this 'royal' escort. I'll admit the idea that she had a hand in bombing her own parlour not to mention herself is nonsensical at best, but so far that's the only lead I have.
Parkland put the pencil and paper back in the outer pocket of his trench coat and resigned himself to a long rail trip. Clearing his throat he pulled the Fedora downward by its wrap-around band and let his thoughts dissolve into the ever-changing scenery outside the window. Equestria was a beautiful place, there was no doubt, but he knew deep down he couldn't truly enjoy these rare moments of bliss, not when the lord of the land would do anything to keep this countryside a fairy tale. There was of course the matter of Celestia's first 'gift' that day, delivered to Parkland at the crack of dawn along with the order to ensure the children's safety in measure '001'.
He couldn't really blame Celestia though, seeing as how he had actually asked her for the damn thing, but never in his minds eye had he expected Celestia to concede so quickly. To Frank the princesses poster-ad, kid-friendly image had once and for all been dismembered, confirming his suspicion that the more desperate she became the more likely she was to lash out. There was a click and the monotonous drumming of the train grew louder for a moment before returning to its normal volume.
"Hey, is this seat taken?"
Frank pushed up his hat to see a cyan pegasus stroll into the car. RainbowDash's normal cocky demeanour was replaced with one more sullen, depressed even.
"Yeah sure, It's a free train."
RainbowDash hopped up onto the opposite side of the booth and put her head down on the table, too tired to maintain an athletes posture.
Frank tried to ignore the pegasus pony, but she was all too surreal for him, the dejected look that furrowed her brow didn't seem to mesh with the simplicity of her small frame. The more he tried to look away, the more it was apparent one of them would have to start a conversation. Frank had always considered himself to be the bigger man in a fight, so he figured that the philosophy should apply to casual chat.
He could only pinch at his trench coats' brown lapel for so long before the awkwardness became too intense.
RainbowDash's multi-streaked hair parted as she looked up at him, her head staying flat against the table.
"You...er...you've got some nice scenery here." Parkland's tone was low, marking him as an in-experienced conversationalist.
"I guess..." RainbowDash admitted.
"I bet it seems better from the clouds?, err well not as a cloud but, er..well you know"
The detective reached around to arrest an itch on the back of his neck.
"Yeah,.. It's pretty great..."
"Well, alright then..."
For a full minute the two figures stayed silent, Parkland turning his steely gaze to the burn through the windows glass whilst RainbowDash looked longingly at the bottle of royal champagne next to her head. Finally she made her thoughts known.
"Hey, Are you drinking that?"
Frank glanced down at her.
"You really don't want to start relying on drink to solve your problems."
Dash gave pause but only for a moment.
"Well maybe it's just that kind of problem." she spoke into her fore-hooves.
The midday sun caught Dash's mane, dispersing it more vividly into its many colours. Suddenly she reached over for the bottle with both hooves, so quickly the glass sounded off against her touch, but Frank was already there, the large brown sleeves blurring over the table, allowing hands purchase on the glass.
"NO! I NEED THIS!"
Pony and man rose up across the table, grasping at the cold glass. Rolling on his heel, Frank twisted it out from Dash's legs.
Rainbow Dash didn't say anything, only look down at the indents in the table top whilst Frank rammed the champagne down the back of the upholstery.
There was visible anger behind Franks eyes, but Dash couldn't tell how much of it has been caused by her.
Frank snapped his fingers finally putting name to face.
'There's a sentence I thought I'd never say' Frank reeled inside his own head.
"Damnit kid we all got pressure. The bomb scare, that I gotta solve by the way, is that what this is? I'm so under pressure I'm shitting dark matter over here, doesn't mean I get to break down whenever I want."
Frank leaned back in his seat, trying to give Dash the message he was done shouting. It seemed to have gotten through.
"I just knew you had alcohol and thought I could talk you into giving me some. I never even touch it usually, just today I woke up really..., I'm just really sorry."
And Frank knew she was telling the truth, a rare quality that had often been dismissed by his partners as dumb luck. He leaned round, putting his elbows flat on the laminate to extend a hand toward RainbowDash. Dash reached out a cyan fore-hoof, keen to make amends.
"Names Frank, I'm your policeman."
Dash's mouth gaped and a chuckle rose from her throat.
"Is THAT what you are, man,...that's much better than I thought!"
"What d'you mean, I thought that was old news."
"Nah, most guys seem to think you're a squatter, and with a hide like that you can't really blame them."
Rainbow Dash's straight shooting was a quality that Frank really missed. Where as Celestia seemed bent on creating an image that wasn't there, Dash wasn't afraid to say that the world was a crap-fair at times. Frank gave her a gruff smile.
"Thing is..." Dash began, slightly unsure of herself.
"...I don't hear any pony else use those swears, they kinda just clam themselves up when they feel super-angry."
"You know I'm swearing, I didn't think you guys understood that?"
"Well 'duhh' sure, we share the same language!"
Frank chuckled at Dash's rudeness.
"Is that right?, O.K then you oversized girls toy what's the dirtiest word you know?"
Rainbow Dash grinned and leant over to whisper into Franks ear.
"Holy crap kid, " he cocked an eye at Dash in surprised mirth.
"The first chance you get and you drop a 'C-bomb' on me. Geeze, that's part of your language!"
Dash almost fell into the aisle laughing, a couple tears rolling out her eyes with Frank not far behind her.
"YHEAH! Heh heh, nope, I never get to say that stuff in Ponyville! Sometimes I think about how much I could really shake things up if I did!."
Frank pictured Celestia's shocked face and couldn't help but smile.
"Where the hell d'you learn that word anyway if no one says it?"
But Dash grew quiet, leaning back against the velour like she was trying to sink into it.
"My Mom and dad used to argue a lot and they said... Well...they...sent me to flight camp while they sorted it out. I don't really see them."
Frank hadn't counted on Dash being dealt a bad hand.
"Oh, sorry to hear kid."
"It's alright, I bet everyone's sad about their families at some point."
'you bet?' thought Frank. 'Poor kid don't know she's in the majority. I'm looking at you as the cause Celestia.'
"I was adopted myself y'know Dash. Kinda know what's its like not to really know your folks."
Outside of the window, the tall grasslands were substituted for wide blankets of snow, streaking past the icy glass for great stretches at a time. It seemed such a short trip from so far away but now it was clear to Frank that mountains were mountains in either world.
Despite being past noon the temperature outside had dropped considerably as the tracks' gradient steadily increased toward the mountains.
RainbowDash's sporting triumphs were a product of her devil may care attitude which so far had never failed in demolishing sny obstacles she encountered. But witnessing the destruction of carousel boutique she had succumb to doubt. She was not faster than an explosion, not from take off at least. The realisation had taken its toll on her athlete's bravado. The cyan pony had felt genuine fear for the first time in months, but now, inexplicably she was feeling better about the otherwise traumatising events. The detective in front of her had it hard 24/7 and contrary to her expectations of what it meant to be a P.I, he was pretty swell.
RainbowDash kicked back in her seat, ready to take on the world.
'Guess I'll abort that prank where I fill his mailbox with storm clouds' she mused to herself.
A sudden commotion for the next passenger carriage broke through Dash's thoughts.
Parkland was quick to react, placing his ear flat against the wall as shouts rose through the cold air.
"What the hay are those guys doing in there!...I can't hear myself think!"
But Parkland was quiet, the feeling that he had overlooked something was creeping across his neck hair.
'There are royal guards in those carriages...' Dash thought,. '...from Canterlot castle. I can't get them to
RainbowDash winced as somewhere in the next carriage there was a colossal splintering of wood, and the few voices that had not been silenced yet rose to a scream.
"Were' not alone, " Parkland spoke calmly, forcing his body to assume its marksman reflex's.
Something threw itself against the tiled door flinging it open, immediately spotting both Frank and RainbowDash sitting together. A deep purple unicorn with blood on its fore hooves knelt down for a second its head reeling, seemingly dazed from the impact. Then it recovered, straightening and standing up onto its hind legs. Its full height was still small even with the boost, but it was the twitching neck and smile that gave the impression of a psychotic.
It regarded RainbowDash with lusty, roving eyes and seemed to momentarily forget it was generating a force of nearly a million volts. It rubbed on its crotch hairs, slavering all down its unkept hide like a creature possessed. The maroon animal shuffled uneasily to the corner much to RainbowDash's abject panic. Under normal circumstances, the Pegasus pony wouldn't have to blow her way through a train to get away from danger, but then again Ponyville had never had an official list of 'offenders' for it's population to be wary of. No one seemed to have a clear idea of how to deal with danger, and now the only pony that did would be burnt to a cinder if she so much as screamed.
"DON'T MOVE APE BASTARD!"
The nameless militia pointed the crackling aura of energy toward Frank who ceased all movement.' You give these guys one excuse and that's it' he thought. 'Just pray he's unfamiliar withe firearms, it could be your only chance.'
"So bluueee,..." the maniac groaned, leaning in over the booth. Dash recoiled as a spark jettisoned over her fringe.
Electricity flickered across Dash's face and she shrieked as he clambered onto the seat with trembling back hooves.
"...After your heart stops...I'm going to lick you."
"GET THE HELL OFF ME! " Dash yelled but she was met with tutting from the deep purple unicorn, chilling her silent.
And then, lunging over the velour seating at Dash, the unicorn closed its eyes as if to savour her last moments.
He thumbed back the hammer with a mechanical snap at the same moment the horned beast turned its twitching head to look at him.
"Try Skittles."
Parkland pulled the trigger.
His fedora blew away as the chamber rotated, discharging the ammunition through the unicorn's throat. The enormous 'BANG' that defended Dash was superseded by a wet crunch, thrusting the comparatively small body halfway across the carriage before it rag-dolled onto its chest. The electric current in its ebony horn dissipated with a whine. Dash's bottom lip quivered whilst Parkland ducked low and listened at the door to the next carriage. He motioned for RainbowDash to get down, palming the ground with his free hand, but she was in shock for the time being, spattered with what had only moments ago been pumping through a circulatory system.
There were muffled sounds from the next car, and over the noise of the speeding train Parkland heard the rapping of metal on wood...
