The Day Shift

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The sound of the clock on the wall was incessant, and each passing second only increased my anxiety. Anything would help at this point, I’d been in here for over an hour. The dull sounds of ponies discussing Celestia-knows-what in heated tones filtered in from beyond the walls, murmuring just below an audible level. Part of me said to try and listen in, push my ear to the door and see if I could make out what they were saying. However, the memory of the burly stallions who had unceremoniously thrown me in here remained fresh in my mind. Getting caught with an ear to the door wouldn’t look good for me.

So, with little else to do, I waited. And grumbled. My skill at grumbling was astute enough that it could almost be my special talent, one beautifully nurtured and refined through years of suffering as a street sweeper.The key was to start with a murmur and just hold everything that was annoying you in the front of your mind until it naturally slipped into a venomous stream of consciousness.

“...already behind on my schedule and now the guard drags me in here for a couple of hours, probably illegally…”

The door swung upon and I, nobly and stoically, squawked and fell out of my chair only to quickly scramble back up into it, heeding the commands of the stallions to stay put. I looked over the back of the seat to see the heavy, utilitarian door that was the portal to this similarly uninspired office open, revealing an incredibly striking mare. Striking because of her athletic, toned form and aggressively beautiful facial features, and striking because she walked with a feline grace that made me assume she could kick me through the solid walls of this Royal Guard outpost without breaking a sweat. If that wasn’t enough to make me nervous, a bad mood was pouring off of her like a cloud, and my grumbling suddenly felt like a match next to a bonfire as her seething took on a nigh-physical form.

Her fur was a dark purple, the darkest mare I’d ever seen, with a muted red mane maintained in a mohawk that trailed back, carefully out of her eyes, presumably in case she needed to beat the shit out of any small yellow stallions who happened to give her lip. Counterbalancing this dark coloration was the bright blue of her eyes, regarding me with immense disdain. Other than her vicious vision, I couldn’t help but notice the scar across her eye and the shattered horn. I’d heard of the few unicorns who lost their horn choosing to keep it carefully tucked away, but she instead wore it proudly, making sure nothing hid it from view.

It wasn’t polite to stare. Also she scared me, so I turned around and sat down, feeling my heart beat a bit quicker. I wasn’t hyperventilating. Was I hyperventilating? Oh god, I could feel myself hyperventilating. Stay calm, First Prize, stay calm.
She strode in her careful, confident manner behind the desk that filled up most of the too-small office, taking a seat behind it and laying down a manilla folder. “First Prize,” she said in the flat tones of a mare who is officially At The End of Her Rope and Would Appreciate a Little Space. “Street Sweeper for Neighagra Falls. Is this correct?”

“It’s a temporary position while I get some bits together for-”

“I’m not here to question your undoubtedly abysmal life choices,” she interrupted. Ouch. “I’m Captain Tempest Shadow and I’m here to safely deliver you to your new position as Prince Consort for Princess Celestia.” She said it quickly and formally, like reading off a new company policy regarding snack breaks on the job.

I blinked. I looked around.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Tempest sighed and looked it over again once more. “Sun and stars I swear this is a prank...” at me, more than to me. “But I’ve rechecked it four times and everything is in perfect order. Right down to legal citations.”

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

“Maybe Celestia herself is pranking me? I’m willing to bet she holds a grudge longer than Twilight does… But given how much of a tizzy this has caused back at Canterlot I doubt she’d go through through this much trouble just to say ‘Fuck you Tempest.’.”

“So, wait, this is serious?”

“Hm?” She looked back up at me again and shuffled around a couple of pieces of paper, a small red spark popping off of her horn as she read through one with particular care. “Well, until I’m given cause to believe otherwise, yes. I’ll be taking you to Canterlot posthaste.”

“What?” Surprise overwhelmed me, with its old friend anxiety quickly falling in behind. “I can’t go to Canterlot! I’ve got a shift tomorrow and rent’s due at the end of the week!”

Tempest rolled her eyes. “You’re a street sweeper.”

“It’s an important job! They’re counting on me!”

“I’m sure.” The way she said it implied that she was not, in fact, sure. “Well, I’ll assign one of my stallions to fill in for you. Then, I’ll arrange for a small stipend to pay your rent until Princess Celestia comes to her senses and repeals this order.”

So… It probably was just some kind of stupid joke. Pick some random stallion off the street and order her goon to come pick him up, only to laugh at her and tell her she takes things too seriously… I wasn’t about to be part of that game! I had rights! Dignity, dammit!

“I won’t go!” I said with a voice that was supposed to be confident but came across more like a colt who refused vehemently to finish his peas. “You can’t make me!”

“As matter of fact, I can,” she said, standing up and crossing over to the door. She knocked on it twice, and the sounds of hooves scampering to attention was audible on the other side. “As it so happens, the constitution has some very strange bylaws regarding this exact circumstance. I do wonder who could have put those in there.” She said sarcastically, not even bothering to look at me.

I stood up and stretched out my wings, flapping a few times before a leaped up and over the chair, landing behind the strange guardsmare. She looked down at me (a full head over my height) bemusedly, as if questioning my shaky show of defiance.

“You can’t make me!” I demanded. “I won’t let you!”

She turned to face me, and with a smile that was more predator than joyful, stared me down. A few blue sparks shot off her horn before a full-fledged crackle of magenta magical electricity surrounded it in a halo of light, intense enough that I could feel my fur stand on end.

“Will you, now?” She asked, a sing-song crooning edge to her voice.