Bugging Back In

Chapter 1

“Sheriff!”

You cracked your eyes open, lifting your big fancy hat from your eyes, to view just who had called for you.

One of the wonderful things about being sheriff was that you could yell at your deputies for sleeping on the job, but none of them were going to try to tell you that you couldn’t.

Standing in front of you was a large minotaur, a tan vest wrapping around its chest, webbing allowing various pieces of gear to hang from the front. Including a Glock 40, chambered in 10mm. Given some of the things you faced around here, you had elected to equip your deputies with the biggest round you could find in a semi auto.

Yes, you had introduced firearms to the Equestrian Hive. If anyone had a problem with that, they could bite you… well, not really, you’d shoot them… assaulting an officer and all that jazz.

You sat back up in your chair, allowing your feet to slide off the desk that you had been using to balance your chair on its back legs. You tossed your hat on the desk.

“Yo.” You answered, stretching and yawning. The minotaur shot you an unhappy look, but otherwise didn’t say anything, instead pushing a small stack of papers towards you. “Breezey finished her report on the suspect tripping on the curb that led to complaints of excessive force on her part.”

You grabbed the report, seeing the opening line: ‘Chief, no one was more surprised then I was…’. You couldn’t help but smile, the rookie was learning.

“Any witnesses?”

“No sir.” The minotaur answered, but continued. “I must say, though, those bruises from the ‘curb’ look suspiciously a lot like hoof ma-” You cut him off by tossing the report behind you, the papers scattering everywhere.

“Don’t care, good enough for me. Not proceeding with any investigation, asshole deserved it either way.”

One of the wonderful things about Equestrian hive was that they hadn’t quite figured out the idea of internal affairs just yet. Largely, because you had been bothering King Anon to stop it, but damnit, you hadn’t made Appleloosa safe by being a nice sheriff, damnit!

You stood up from your chair, grabbing your hat. You put it on, waving the minotaur to follow you.

“Come on Titan, we’ve got shit we got to check on and I want to get some food.”

The minotaur, whose full name was actually Titanium… something, you had called him Titan for so long you forgot the rest of it, waved over the room you all were in. “Sheriff, the jail will be unattended.”

You waved his concerns away. “It’s just drunkards and salties. They’re not breaking out, besides, if they do, we know where they live. Now come on.”

You pushed open the door to the jail, also containing your office. You gave your duty belt a light tug up, as Celestia’s harsh sun hit you.

You ran your hand over your duty holster to ensure the hood was up as you walked down the steps and to the truck parked in front of the office. A modified F-150 designed to carry the extra weight of some of your deputies and possible suspects… minotaurs weren’t light, after all. The truck was a brown color, with the Appleloosan Sheriff’s Office badge emblazoned on the side, a star with an apple in the center, a banner reading ‘Appleloosa Sheriff’s Office’ surrounding it.

You waved to several ponies passing by the truck, a few of them tipping their hats and you returning the gestures.

Really, life here had gotten better since you became sheriff, after the last one, a pony named Silverstar, died in an unfortunate apple tree related incident. Crime had dropped way down.

You were already sweating after leaving the jail, magically enchanted to keep it cool, your ballistic vest doing your body no favors in trying to keep you cool. Sand crunched under your boots as you rushed to get into the truck, slipping the key in and enjoying that sweet, sweet air conditioner, waiting for Titan to make his way to the truck.

Now, the F-150 is by no means a small vehicle, but watching Titan slowly squeeze his large frame into the truck reminded you of watching the former Marine, 7’0, 225 high school foot ball coach back home squeezing himself into his generation one Chevy Aveo hatchback.

Titan groaned as he fit the rest of his frame into the truck, you watching patiently.

As the suspension settled from his extra weight, you pulled a small notepad from your breast pocket.

“Alright Titan, order of business today… Ol’ Miss Winterspoons wants us to check out some weird things on her farm. Given that she’s the only source for peaches within two hundred miles, this is pretty important. And the bar keep Salter noticed some weird goings on a little ways away from the train station when he was getting product for the bar. Pretty important as well, we don’t want any robberies on the trains. The last order of bus-” You were cut off, as frantic tapping sounded from your window, looking over to your left, you saw a panicked mare.

You recognized her, as you did most residents of the town. She was a mare named Malus Cider, you couldn’t help but shake your head at these ponies and their appley names.

You rolled down your window, greeting the mare. “Evenin’ Malus, everything alright?”

She shook her head, panting obvious, as she attempted to spit something out.

What came out, however, was something unintelligible, garble. You raised your hand to cut her off, the mare shutting up as you wrapped your hand around her muzzle.

“Malus, listen. I can’t help you if I can’t understand what you’re saying. And at the moment, I can’t understand you. So I’m going to let go of your mouth, but I need you to calm down and speak in such a way that it’s not a mash of words no one can understand, understand?”

She shook her head to show that she did, indeed, understand. And as such, you let her snout go.

“Sheriff, it’s Lobo. She and I got in a fight last night and now she’s missing.”

That’s not good. “And you’re just coming to us now?”

Malus shook her head. “I thought she was just running out because she didn’t want to be in the house, but I was certain she’d be back soon. But about half an hour ago, some train workers came in and reported seeing a filly heading in the direction of Dodge City.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Dodge City?” Titan spoke. “That’s… what, forty miles from here?”

A chill went down your spine as you looked to Titan. “Fuck, no, more like sixty over open desert. There’s only a water source at forty-five miles.” You looked to Malus once more. “And she still hasn’t appeared?”

Malus shook her head. “No, it has to be Lobo the workers saw.”

“How long ago did you find about this from them and did they say how many miles back when they saw her.”

“It was about a half hour ago, and they said maybe thirty or so miles before hitting Appleloosa.”

You looked to dashboard, the thermometer reading one-hundred-ten degrees.

Looking to Malus once more, you slid your seatbelt on. “Malus, keep checking areas she might be. If you find her, let one of my deputies know. We’re going to try and find her.”

Malus backed off of the truck as you kicked it into gear, putting your foot down, you tore down the main street of Appleloosa, lights and sirens blaring.

Grabbing the dash mounted radio, you keyed up the mic.

“All units, all units, clear the air.” You let go of the speak button on the mic, allowing it a few seconds to clear, before keying it back up.

“All units, be advised, BOLO out on the filly named Lobo. Blonde mane and tail. Blue coat. Seven years old. Last seen heading towards to Dodge City by foot by train workers approximately thirty to thirty-five miles outside of Appleloosa. Titan and I checking on the train lead.”

You hung the mic back up, as you kicked the truck’s gas pedal down further. You glanced at your watch. It was only 9:30 and it was already over a hundred degrees out there. You needed to find her, soon.

You had topped the truck out at a hundred miles an hour, taking you about forty minutes to cover the distance to the area she was last seen. You had slowed down reaching the thirty five mile mark to a more respectable seventy miles an hour.

“See anything?” You asked Titan, the minotaur currently scanning the horizon with binoculars for any sign of the mare.

“No sir.” He responded.

“Fuck!” You cursed, slamming your palm against the wheel “… Shit. She should be here…”

You changed direction, there was one other area you could check.

“What’s with the sudden change?” Titan questioned, lowering the binoculars.

“There’s a small oasis about fifteen miles southeast of here. If she’s not here then she must have made her way there. The visibility is about three miles out and she should have been near the train tracks. The only other place she could be, assuming she hasn’t collapsed in the middle of the desert, is that oasis.”

“And how do you know she knows about that oasis?”

“Because her mom told me about the oasis, so it would only make sense she also told Lobo.”

As you once more hit a hundred miles an hour, it took a little under fifteen minutes to cover the fifteen miles to the oasis, the life saving patch of land being the only green patch in an otherwise tan land.

You brought the truck to a stop just right where the greenery ended. You jumped out of the truck and charged into the oasis, your gear bouncing as your legs landed up and down on the ground.

“Lobo! Lobo!” You shouted as your burst past the trees growing from the normally arid ground thanks to the life giving water.

Although, water could also be a life taker.

There, floating a few feet from the bank of the small pond that created the life filled patch in the middle of the desert was the blue mare that you had been looking, face down in the water.

“Lobo!” You shouted as you cleared the last few dozen feet in seconds, jumping over the small bank and landing in the water. You waded out the last few feet to her, the water coming up to your neck as you grabbed her by the torso and dragged her back to the shore.

You quickly began CPR, something you knew instinctively how to do on Humans, but the equine anatomy of ponies necessitated a different technique, one you were thankfully taught upon transferring to an Equestrian law enforcement office.

It was a fraught minute, as Titan finally made his way to you. As he approached you, the filly you were performing emergency CPR on finally started breathing, coughing up water, but breathing.

“Titan, get a hold of a deputy in town And tell them to get the doc prepped.”

You picked the filly up as Titan began speaking on his radio. You raced back to the truck, Titan following quickly behind.

You had no time to waste.

You had never really been a fan of doctors… nor hospitals. Despite the fact that the town hospital also happened to the doctor’s officer as well as the doctor’s house, that didn’t help calm you down, as you sat, sopping wet on the porch of the local doctor’s office. A stallion you had forgotten the name of due to calling him ‘Doc’ for so long.

He offered you his couch, but considering the fact that you were still dripping water, you thought it would be rude.

You had been sitting out there for a while, Malus being inside with Titan.

It had been a while since you had written a report, and this was something that would definitely need a report.

Doc, a brown stallion with a gray mane and tail, exited the front door and stepped onto the porch, looking to you.

“Ah, Sheriff. I wish this meeting could be under better circumstances.”

You grunted in confirmation.

“I’m sure you’re wondering how Lobo is doing. It couldn’t have been more then a minute between her drowning and you finding her and resuscitating her, so a stroke of luck led by the hoof of Celestia herself, no doubt. I believe the chain of events that led up to it was her suffering from heat exhaustion and then collapsing right as soon as she reached the water.”

You grunted once more.

The doctor nodded. “I’ll send over my files once I have them in order. It is my suggestion, however, Sheriff, that you retire for the day. Get some rest, I’m sure your deputies can take care of the town without you for one day. And there’s not much more we can do for Lobo except wait.”

You made no argument. You were tired, hungry and it was only one thirty in the afternoon.

You would grab some food from the local saloon and then go home.

“I’ll come back for the truck, later, Doc.” You called behind your shoulder. The main town of Appleloosa was small enough you could easily walk.

In just a few minutes you had made your way to the saloon, sitting in a corner where you could observe the door, but anyone entering would have to intentionally crane their neck to the back to see you.

A habit that came from years in law enforcement.

You nodded to the waitress, they knew you here and they knew what you wanted, given that there were either meals made from apple or hay, and you can’t eat hay. So they just started making it without you having to order. A waiter would be over in a few minutes with some water.

As you sat and relaxed as best as your wet ass could, the various townponies discussed the goings-ons of the day. Most of them likely discussing Lobo.

Poor girl, you certainly hoped she pulled through.

Although it went against everything you had been trained to do, and something you almost never did outside of the jail, you began to doze off while waiting for your food.

However, just a few minutes after having dozed off, gun shots woke you up.

In the center of the saloon, you could see a rather large changeling with… was that a bandanna on her face? Was she wearing a cowboy hat? And saddlebags? Is that even a she?

Held in her green telekinesis were two revolvers. Both pointing in the air. Most of the ponies had already dove for cover, while you just looked on in confusion at the odd sight. She had fired rounds into the air.

“Alright, listen up you fucking fucksticks. This is a fucking hold up, you cum-guzzling fuck dumpsters. No one make a fucking goddamn move or try to be a fucking hero and I won’t have to introduce you to fucking Vladivelle.”

Vlad-uh-what now? This changeling wasn’t making any sense. But it was definitely a female, based on its voice.

But she had guns. And that was an issue.

One of the wonderful things about ponyland was that most ponies and changelings didn’t wear clothes. And while most people would think that’s a bad thing, from a law enforcement perspective, it was amazing.

It meant tasers were far more effective at getting both probes into the skin.

Deciding that while this changeling was rambling about things that didn’t make sense and interjecting “fuck” every other word, it would be a good time to launch your attack.

But the speech pattern seemed awfully familiar, for some reason, you just couldn’t place it. Still, you had to deal with the fact that she was holding up a saloon… something that made no sense, since there was a bank not even four buildings down to the right and she would get more money that way.

She had completely missed you due to your positioning, and as a result, that opened up a whole slew of options.

Slowly pushing out of your chair so as to not make a sound, you pulled your Taser X3 from your weak side holster. It had three cartridges.

Moving quickly, you closed the distance on the back of the changeling. However, given the spread of the taser probes, even at this close of distance, shooting directly at her rear wasn’t the best option, and though she was unlikely to see you in her marginal sight field of view, you’d want to get her down quickly.

So, quickly sidestepping to her left and having a clear target of her broadside, you acted before she could ever realize you were there.

You deployed your taser, the two probes having positive contact and penetrating. Her speech was cut off, her legs locked up as she fell off the table to the right grunting in pain, her muscles spasming as she attempted to move. The guns were still held in her magic however.

Drawing your service pistol, jumping up on the table to have a clear shot, you aimed it at the mare spasming on the ground below you.

“Drop the guns!” You ordered, as you pumped more electricity into her. She didn’t listen.

“Drop the guns!”

“Drop the guns or you’re going to get tazed again!” In reality, you had no idea what having four probes in a suspect would do.

Still, though, she refused, as she screamed more as the electricity flew through her muscles.

So you tazed her, again.

Her screams seemed to be come louder, as you once more ordered her to drop the now madly spinning guns. It seemed like she was losing control of the firearms. Which was a good thing, maybe? So long as she didn’t start pulling the triggers.

“Drop them or you’re going to be tased again!” You ordered, yet she still refused, her neck stretching out and her hat having fallen off.

And you tazed her once more.

More screaming. But the guns were still just wildly spinning.

“I am all out of taser cartridges, drop them now or the next one is going to be a ten millimeter!”

Thankfully this seemed to catch her attention, as the green changeling magic cut out, dropping the two revolvers to the floor.

You kept the juice flowing as you reholstered your service pistol, being sure to put the hood up as well. Unicorns and changelings were tricky with their telekinesis magic.

As you stopped the charge from the taser, you began approaching the changeling mare, only to see all six probes light up in green magic and be pulled from the chitin of the changeling, the mare jumping up and re-enveloping her revolvers with her magic.

However, you were prepared for this, dropping your taser as soon as you saw the probes be ripped out and drawing and opening your baton, you covered the last few feet between you and the changeling, swinging the baton.

It hit its mark, making contact with the changelings’ long and serrated horn, knocking her head to the side. She slowly moved her neck back to an erect position.

The changeling froze, her eyes widening, standing there for a few seconds, before finally, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, revealing just the whites of her eyes… well, if she wasn’t a changeling, it would be the whites. But since she was a changeling, it was the light greens of her eyes. And little known fact, for both unicorns and changelings their horns were some of the most sensitive parts of their bodies.

…

Wait a minute… changelings don’t normally have pupils. Only… the… royal changelings… do…

“Oh, fuck...” You muttered to yourself as you collapsed the baton and returned it to its holster.

The changeling mare had collapsed on her side, and, quickly rummaging through the left saddlebag, you found ammunition, a water bottle and some snacks. But not what you were looking for.

Flipping the mare over, which was a tad difficult given how tired you were, you searched the right saddlebag, finding in it a cloth wallet.

Opening it, your heart stopped as you saw the Equestrian state issued picture ID front and center.

You pulled it out, looking at it.

“Oh... motherfucking-fuckity-fucking-fuck-shit you fucking worthless fucking fuckferret.” You cursed the mare, seeing her name on the ID… ‘Pupa Mous'”.

You promptly flipped the table she had been standing on in anger.

Author's Note

If this chapter has posted, then that means I received No Pony's blessing to do a non-canonical future of Pupa.

No Pony, if you're reading this... notice me sempai!