The Colt in Sugarcube Corner

“Do you recommend the cherry or the blueberry pie?”

“Please, sit down.”

Applebloom eased herself uncomfortably into the booth.  Not because of the setting; she had been in Sugarcube Corners many times, knew most of the regular customers, even knew Pinkie Pie and the Cakes.  The source of her discomfort came from the colt she took company with.

“What can I do for you…?”

“Applebloom.”

“Ahh, yes.  Applebloom.  I presume you’re related to Granny Smith?”  She didn’t answer.  The colt looked back into his book.  Applebloom remembered hearing her granny tell her of the devil in Ponyville, the “Grey Colt” that can make horrible things happen with evil magic.  Even as she walked to Sugarcube Corner from her barn, she grew fearful.  Every step she took brought her closer to this devil, and her imagination ran wild of what he looked like.  Looking at him now, she almost laughed at her fear.

He wasn’t a looming creature.  He was a pony, and an earth pony at that, just like her.  Good, he can’t do magic then, the little filly reassured herself.  Every pretense she imagined about this pony was completely wrong.  Where she imagined horns or other monstrous growths, she saw a greying mane that did nothing more than sit on his head and reveal his advanced age.  His head, coat, and tail were all equally grey.  He was a shadow in the corner of the store.  Thankfully, Applebloom learned that there is nothing to fear from a shadow; she proceeded.

“I heard that you can do things.  Is that true?”

The colt looked up.  “I’m sorry; I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, it has to be you.  You’re the colt that makes things happen, things nopony else can do.  You help ponies with their problems, my granny told me about you!”

“I have been known to help ponies with problems they face.  That is true.”

Applebloom took a deep breath.  Monster or not, she knew little about him other than the horrid stories Granny Smith told her.  Besides that, nopony seemed to know who he was, let alone his strange abilities.  In fact, nopony in town knew anything about him.  Scary or not, every gut in her body warned her to stay away from him, no matter what.  However, years of running around with her friends brought her no closer to what she wanted.  She needed her cutie mark, and he could help her, evil magic or not.

“Now, how does this work?”

The colt stared at her, maintaining eye contact as he calmly sipped his water.  His eyes were blank, shockingly blank, as if the grey windows held a vast abyss behind them.  “You tell me what you want.  I give you a task.  You do the task, you get what you want.”

Applebloom was quiet for a second, waiting expectantly.  Reality set in that there was no next part.  “That’s it?”

“You come back periodically and give me the details.”

The young filly laughed inside her head.  After all the work she underwent running around with her Cutie Mark Crusaders, and yet it was this easy!  Why did she not do this earlier?

“I want my cutie mark!”

The colt broke his stare for the first time to look to his side.  Craning her neck, the little pony looked to see what he was looking at.  It was a brown notebook.  He looked in it.  She heard pages being flipped.  His pencil began scribbling across the paper.  He then closed the book neatly at his side.  His eyes settled back on her, and the same dark emptiness weighed down on her.

“I can help.”

“Really?  That’s great!  Tell me what it is that I have to do, I’ll do just about anything, I actually learned a lot of cool tricks in my endeavors for getting a cutie mark, I tried SCUBA diving, bowling, hoopdee loop, foreign languages, even journalism, but…” she froze.  She could have continued talking, but the stare of the colt stopped her words before they could come out.  Was this the evil magic her granny warned her about?

“There is a pony in Canterlot.  If you want what you say you want, you will find this pony, befriend her, and when she asks for it, you help her.”

Applebloom stared back at the colt.  “That’s it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Wait, you said in Canterlot?  How am I supposed to get there?”

“That’s not my problem, is it?”

..................................................................................................................................................................

Octavia paced nervously outside of Sugarcube Corner.  She was never one to believe in miracles, but Vinyl’s manager was the wealthiest record producer in Equestria, and he personally told her that it was this colt that made it all possible.

She walked in and found the colt exactly where they said he would be, tucked away in the far corner of Sugarcube Corner.  If she wasn’t making a conscious effort, she would have missed him completely.  He seemed to be so grey he blended into the shadowy background.  Most ponies she knew had a touch of color on them, but not him.  Even his cutie mark was a dark and depressing brown.

She walked up to him.  “Ummm… do you recommend the cherry or blueberry pie?”

The colt twitched his head over to the other side of the booth, beckoning her to sit down.  She did so.  He looked up without saying a word.  They sat for an uncomfortable amount of time, Octacia waiting for this pony to say something, and this colt gazing into her eyes, observing her.  Octavia felt like he would remain quiet forever unless she said something.  “Hi, my name is Octavia.”

Silence.

“Ummm… my friend Vinyl Scratch said that you can help me.”

The colt finally spoke.  “Vinyl?”

“Vinyl Scratch, the disc jockey, DJ PON3?”  Octavia remembered.  “Oh, and so did Money Baggs, her manager.”

His eyes opened slightly.  Other tank that, Tavi thought she was looking at a statue.  “Oh yes, Mr. Baggs.  I hear he is well, is that true?”

“He retired a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”  Silence came back into the booth and overtook their brief conversation.  Octavia needed to be blunt.  “I need my inspiration back.”

“Come again?”

“My inspiration, my music.  I feel distant from my cello, it doesn’t bring the same joy it used to.  I don’t know why, but nothing I do helps.  I look at my friend, and how much joy her turntables bring her, and I feel her music… mine is empty.”  Octavia looked down at her hooves defeated.  As a musician, her whole life had been her cello, and without it, there was a hole in her heart that nothing could ever fill.

She looked up, expecting to colt across from her to console her, sympathize with her, at least show recognition of her suffering.  Instead, he preoccupied himself with something else: a book.  He stared intensely at a spot in his book, as if the second he looked away the words in it would disappear.  A pencil hung limply in his mouth.  If he was about to write something, he was too distracted to do so at this moment.

He set the book and pencil down, and stared at Octavia.  She now realized that it was not only the silence that bothered her, but his eyes.  If the eyes were windows into the soul, his soul was not only empty, but a dry sponge, and it seemed to be sucking away at Octavia.  Her breathing became very shallow.  How he was able to wordlessly constrict her breathing was beyond her.

“I can do that.”  He spoke with such monotone, as if discussing with her what he would wear tomorrow.  From what Octavia knew about the colt, they could be one in the same for him

“I understand that you make me do something…”

“No, I do not make you do something.  I give you a task.  If you do it, you get what you want.”

“And if I don’t do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Isn’t it kinda your job to know this?”

“No, my job is to give you a task.”

“And what is my task.”

The colt glanced back at his book.  “Destroy a turntable.”

“Come again?”

“Or rather, hers.”  His eyes narrowed slightly, and instead of reducing the effect of his sponge-like spirit, it intensifies the pressure she felt.  Every breath she took was a battle..  “Your friend is a disc jockey, you say?”

“Yes?”

“Then you are to destroy her turntables if you want to feel your inspiration again.”

Octavia gaped at the colt.  Was this some kind of joke?  “And why would you want me to do this?”

The statue of a colt sighed.  “It’s not about what I want.  It’s about what you want.”

..................................................................................................................................................................

Ever since the Summer Sun Celebration so long ago, and Twilight taking residence in the local library, Ponyville grew accustom to seeing the Princess of the Sun come to their humble little hamlet on a regular basis.  It was because of this that nopony was shocked when Princess Celestia walked into the Cake’s establishment.  Red in the face, she approached the corner booth of Sugarcube Corner and smashed her hoof onto the table.  “How DARE you do this to me!”

The gray colt calmly sipped his water as if Celestia’s outburst was nothing more than a breeze.

“I demand you tell me who you work for!  Is it the dragons?  The Sphinx of the Neigh-le?”  Silence.  “Are you from Tartarus?”  No response.  “Do you know who I am?”

“You are Princess Celestia, and I believe you are late for your appointment.”

In her thousands of years, never had she felt so much rage for a pony as she had toward this colt.  Sitting there with his book, calmly sipping from his cup, knowing full well what he told Celestia—the princess of Equestria, his ruler—to do.

“I will have you arrested if you don’t answer me.  You know I can, I will tell the guards right now.”

The colt looked up to her.  He softly chuckled as he looked up at her, the same way a father would find his ranting daughter’s pleas for toys or candy humorous.  “No you won’t.”

“YOU DARE TELL THE PRINCESS WHAT SHE CAN AND CANNOT DO?”  Celestia rarely used her Canterlot voice, but her anger was too great to control.

“I’m not telling you what you can and cannot do.  I simply know that you won’t do it.”

Celestia stared at him, knowing a thousand spells that could punish him, make him disappear, hurt him… but she didn’t.  He was right.  As much as she hated to admit it, he did nothing illegal, only morally ambiguous.  No judge would ever uphold her judgment on such accusations. She sighed, defeated, and sat in the booth across from the colt.  He still calmly sipped his water; he acted as if nothing that the princess said from walking in to now had happened.  This colt almost seemed to enjoy toying with Celestia, even if he didn’t show it.  He… he can't be equine… he just can't be.

“I assume you are making progress?”

It took her remaining strength to answer calmly.  “Yes.  I had to sojourn to the Dragon’s Mountain, but I found the texts.”

The colt pulled out his pencil and book.  “Why go so far?”

“Because there are no longer any violent texts in any or Equestria’s libraries.”

“That seems odd.”

“It’s so ponies like YOU don’t abuse their power to get what they want.”

The colt closed his eyes.  “I don’t want anything, I’ve told you.”

“Then why would you make me do this?”

“Because it is how you get what you want.  If you do it, I cannot promise anything.”

“And what do you plan to get out of this.”

“Nothing.  This isn't about me.”  He answer seemed so plain to Celestia, she knew that he was hiding something.  “You don’t have to do this, you know.  You can stop at any time.”

“And what happens with our deal?  What about my end?”

“It won’t happen.”

“So this is my only option?”

The pony sighed as he set his book aside.  He grabbed his pencil in his hoof, and began to draw into the air.  “Time is a mysterious thing.  You make choices every day that seem meaningless now but are critical in the universe.  And each time you make a choice, new opportunities open up, and others close.  Like an apple tree.  You start at the trunk, go down one branch, and there are many more branching from it.”

“And?”  Celestia grew tired of this colt lecturing her about life and choices, she had lived at least fifteen of his lifetimes.

“I don’t know what will come from each decision you make, and frankly, I don’t care.  But I do know that if you do what I told you to, you will get exactly what you want.  That’s but one option, though.  There’s a chance that you don’t do this task and you still get what you want.”

“But if I do this, then I’ll…”

The colt nodded.  “If you do this task, you will get what you want.”

Celestia nodded at him.  He had connections.  That must be how he does it.  Or an extremely powerful unicorn working for him.  How else could he do the things he promised, even things Celestia herself couldn’t do?

“So, you went to the dragon’s stronghold, how was that?”

“Dangerous.  Even I am powerless against some of their more primal magics.  But I found a set of runes.”

“Runes are very interesting, that’s good.”  The colt continued writing as Celestia talked, taking milliseconds to look back up at the princess across the booth in between notes.

“They reminded me of a time when we were more like the dragons.  We had to fight just to live, and many died: equine and dragon alike.  These magics did nothing but kill and destroy, and that is why I have outlawed such magic.  If their powers ever fell into the wrong hands, somepony may use it to achieve evil things.”  She targeted that last part at the grey earth pony sitting across from her.  He seemed not to notice.

“You must have lived during those times.  What was that like?”

“I hated the fear, the anger that overcame everypony.  I swore to myself that if I ever had power, I would use it for peace, and harmony.  And I have.  Now, nopony here would ever dream or murder.  Nopony.  Ever.”  She glared at the deep grey eyes that stared back at her.  No matter how hard she looked, no matter how much she wanted to see the deformed soul that must live in this pony and put it out of its misery, she couldn’t; there was no soul to be seen.

“Now, these runes, you think they will be enough?”

“Yes.” Celestia sighed, trying to breathe through the guilt slowly pulling her heart down into her stomach.  “You’re a monster.”

The colt pushed his empty glass to the side to signal for a refill.  “I am not a monster.”

“Then what are you?”

He did not answer.

..................................................................................................................................................................

Pinkie Pie enjoyed her job, perhaps a bit too much.  Even when Mr. and Mrs. Cake closed up shop, she would volunteer to stay behind, clean the dining area, clean the kitchens, and prepare the back room for baking early tomorrow.  Moving dishes would have been a tiresome job, but Pinkie loved every moment of it, finishing her job in less than a half an hour.

She bounced over to the dining area to wipe down the tables when she noticed something; a colt.  He was sitting in the corner booth in the dark corner of the shop, sipping a cup of ice water and looking at something in a book that was laid out in front of him, holding a well-used pencil in his hoof.  Pinkie didn’t know who this pony was, or what he was doing in the shop so late.  He almost blended into the shop, and Pinkie was sure that if she didn’t stay tonight, she too wouldn’t have noticed him.  But his face… it seemed so familiar.  Had she seen him before?

Realization kicked her mind into over drive; when hadn’t Pinkie seen him?  He was here every day, with this pony or that one, talking to them and writing in his book?  Was he a writer?  A journalist?  Maybe an artist?

Realization kicked her harder.  You don’t know this colt! A million voices screamed in Pinkie’s head at the same time, all telling her the same thing; “Go make friends!”

“Hiya, Mr. Colt!”

The mystery-pony looked up.  “Can I help you?”

“Yes, you can help me!  What’s your name?”

“Umm… my what?”

“Your name! You have to have a name, I mean have you ever heard of a colt without a name?  That’s just crazy!”

The colt looked up confused, as if she was speaking a different language.  Oh no! Was she speaking a different language?  She thought to herself.  No, ‘Talk in Gibberish Day’ was last month.  “Umm… excuse me?  May I sit here?”

The colt snapped out of his daze.  “Oh, go ahead.”

She sat down across from him.  She could see why he liked this corner, it was very cozy.  He remained quiet.

“So, you’re the shy kind of pony… no worries!  My name’s Pinkie Pie!  I’m Ponyville’s unofficial greeter, so sorry that I’m so late, but WELCOME!  I’ll throw a party this week, it’ll be so great, do you like cupcakes?”

“No parties.”

“But I always throw parties for new ponies.”

“No, you won’t throw a party.”

Pinkie could tell he was serious, almost scared about having a party.  Confused, she accepted.  “Okay, no parties.”

“So, what would you like?”

“I’d like for you to tell me your name!”

The colt looked up at her.  She didn’t notice how expressionless his eyes were, he seemed so sad.  This was exactly what he needed; a pony to talk to!

“No, I mean… ponies usually come to me when they need something, and I help them.”

“Oh, okay.  Then I need to have a conversation with you!”

“A… conversation?”

“Yes, a conversation!  You know, when you say something, then I say something, then we keep saying somethings until there’s no more somethings to be said!  A conversation!”

The perplexed pony looked from his book to the bubbly pink mare across from him, as if looking for a response written somewhere, something he can say to answer Pinkie’s request.  “Okay, I’ll start… so, Mr. Colt, what do you do?  Are you a reporter?  Newspony?”  No answer.  “Oh, I know!  Can I look at your cutie mark?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, and seemed to teleport to his side.  “Ooohhh… it’s a square.  No, a rectangle… is it a rectangle?  It’s so hard to tell.”

“It’s a book.”

“You mean like this one here?”  She said pointing to the book sitting next to him.  As he grabbed it, Pinkie realized that his cutie mark wasn’t like that book; it was that book. There could be no mistake.

Sitting down once again, the colt now seemed to completely close up to her advances.  She had dealt with ponies like him before; it would just take patience.  “Okay, well I need to clean up, and the stores closed Mr. Colt, so you’ll have to go home.”

He remained quiet, his demeanor now wiped of any of the confusion that she saw mere seconds ago.

“Oh, and if you ever need a pony to talk you, I’m right here!”

She went into the back, and started cleaning dishes.

..................................................................................................................................................................

“Can you do that?  Can you make me a Wonderbolt?”

The colt looked at the rainbow pegasus, wrote some quick notes in his book.  “Yes, that can work.”

Rainbow Dash leapt out of her chair and did a flip in the air before returning.  “Woohoo!  Thank you so much sir, you have no idea what this means to me!  So, now you tell me what to do, right?  What is it?  Washing a house?  Helping Applejack with Zap Apples?  Twilight told me all she had to do was—“

“You have to kill somepony.”