The Disguise
The sun was reaching high noon and shining hard on the five farmers. Applejack, Braeburn, Applebloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle began to walk back toward Uncle Strudel’s house after a long morning of hard work at the orchard. Their muscles felt sore from pulling heavy buckets of apples.
“I don’t know if I have the energy left to go bounty hunting,” said Sweetie Belle.
“Neither do I.” said Applebloom.
“But this may be our only chance to get our cutie marks,” Scootaloo asserted. “By the way, Uncle Strudel still has my scooter. He’s been riding around in it all morning. Do you know where he could be?”
“Knowin’ ma dad, you’re probably not going to get your scooter back until the Wild West Dance tonight,” Braeburn said. “You three aren’t gunna miss it to go bounty hunting, are you?”
“No we won’t, but I still want my scooter back. It will make getting around town SO much easier for the three of us. Can I please, please, go look for him?”
“Fine,” Braeburn said.
“Yay!” shouted Scootaloo as she ran off into the town.
“Wait, you need to eat your lunch first,” called out Braeburn. But the quick filly was already out of sight.
“Don’t worry Braeburn. I’m sure that she’ll be back soon with both Uncle Strudel and her scooter,” Applebloom said.
After a large lunch in the house of Uncle Strudel, Scootaloo still had not returned.
“Ah’m starting to get worried about Scootaloo,” Applejack said. “We should start looking for her.”
“Yeah, but how are we going to find her?”
“She already knows that Uncle Strudel will be joining us at the dance.” Braeburn said. “So if she is looking for Uncle Strudel, she will eventually head to the town square.”
“Then we should split up and look around town individually. We can cover more ground that way,” Applejack said. “Meet at the town square in 2 hours, regardless of whether or not you found Scootaloo or Uncle Strudel.”
“Alright then,” Braeburn said.
The four ponies left the house and headed off in different directions.
Meanwhile, Scootaloo’s search for the crazy uncle wasn’t going too well until a pony mentioned seeing him riding the scooter toward the train station. When Scootaloo got back to the train station, Uncle Strudel was nowhere to be found. She decided to ask one of the security guards if he had seen Uncle Strudel.
“Excuse me sir,” she said while tapping the guard’s back leg. “I’m looking for my friend.”
As the stallion turned around, Applebloom saw that it was Stand the saloon guard from yesterday. “Oh, it’s YOU,” he said.
“What are you doing here? Didn’t you work at the saloon?”
“I did, but I was fired for letting “certain” underage ponies into the bar; ones that were not allowed in. So this is my new job now.”
“Oh. Sorry about that… Anyway, have you seen Uncle Apple Strudel? He’s the stallion that was with us the other day.”
“Maybe I do, but I don’t see any reason to help you or your friends out.”
“Well, it didn’t take you very long to find a second job, did it?”
“No, you don’t understand. I am under some kind of curse. Every time I get fired from a job, something in my home catches fire.” He took out a small bottle containing black liquid. “Look, you burnt all of my milk.”
“But that’s crazy! Milk can’t be burnt. And there is no such thing as curses.”
“Fine then, don’t believe me. But I’m not helping you.”
Now what do I do? thought Scootaloo as the angry stallion walked away.
As she looked over at Stand, she saw him talking with another stallion. The other stallion had a purple mane and an orange coat. He was also wearing a conductor’s uniform. Scootaloo continued to watch the conversation until Stand gave a salute and walked back toward his post.
I’ve got it.
As Stand, the former saloon guard, stood at his post, he heard another pony yelling his name.
“Hey, Stand,” he said.
As Stand turned to look respond, he saw what appeared to be his coworker, but he looked a bit strange. For one, he was much shorter than when he last saw him, which was a few minutes ago. He had gotten so short that his uniform was too big for him. Another thing was that he seemed to have a different voice than before; one that was more high-pitched.
Well, he still has the same color mane and skin, and only employees are allowed to have that uniform, so it must still be Dusty.
“Dusty, what happened to you?” he asked.
“It was horrible,” said the suspiciously short “Dusty”. “I was attacked by an Infantinite.”
“But I thought those creatures didn’t exist.”
“Of course they do. How many ponies have told you they DO exist?”
“Uh, you would be the second.”
“And how many ponies told you they DON’T exist?”
“Just my previous boss.”
“So, what do you think is the truth?”
Well, two say yes, and one says no. Two is more than one, it MUST be true.
“That’s terrible. What can I do to help you recover from this attack?” Stand asked.
“You know that brown stallion with the scooter you saw earlier?”
“Yeah…”
“I need you to tell me where he went.”
Huh, why would the location of that crazy old coot be important? Better not question it though; he seems to know more about Infantinites than I do. And I probably wouldn’t understand the reason anyway.
“Yeah, he came to the train station a little while ago and took down one of the wanted posters. Said something about his niece wanting them or something. He tried to take more, but I chased him off toward the town square. He was too quick to catch, so I went back and took town the rest of the wanted posters and hid them in my locker, so no one else would take them.”
“Thanks for the info. But before we go, we are going to need the rest of those wanted posters from your locker. No time to explain.”
“Sure. Here are my keys. Be sure to give them back to me once you are done. My locker is labeled with my name.”
“Thanks.”
Stand handed “Dusty” the keys before he ran off.
I hope he’s going to be okay.
As Applebloom continued her search for her missing friend, she came upon the office of Sheriff Silverstar. He was lying on his porch with his fore hooves behind his head, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. She decided to ask him if he had seen anything.
“Hey Sheriff, you seen my friend? She’s the orange and purple filly you met last night,” Applebloom said.
“Yeah I did, she was headed toward the train station. Said she was looking for your uncle.”
“Hey, thanks.”
“But she said she was going to go to the Wild West Dance afterwards, so ya might wanna meet up with her there.”
“Oh, okay. Are you going as well?”
“Can’t do that. I’ve got too much work on my hooves.”
“You don’t… look very busy at all. You’re just lying on the steps of your office getting a suntan like you always do.”
“Run along now kid. Trust me when I say I’m quite busy.”
Applebloom rolled her eyes as she walked toward the town square.
“APPLEBLOOM!” shouted Sweetie Belle. She ran over to the strange pony, only to find that she wasn’t Applebloom. “Sorry, I thought you were some pony else,”
“That’s okay, but why did you mistake me for her anyway?” she asked.
“She has the exact same color fur and mane as you. You look like her from a distance.”
“Is this friend of yours lost?”
“Not really, it’s my other friend, Scootaloo, who is lost. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her, would you? She’s got an orange body and a purple mane and, unfortunately, no cutie mark.”
“Sorry, haven’t seen her. I would help you look for her, but I’m going to the town square to help provide the music for the dance.”
“Hey, I was just about to head there myself. We can walk there together.”
“Okay then. I’m Fid… I mean Muse Struckheart, and tonight I’m playing the fiddle.”
“I’m Sweetie Belle.”
Sweetie Belle was the first of the Crusaders to arrive at the dance. The markets that usually populated the town square were removed to make way for the dance. On one edge of the square was a small wooden stage about 2 feet high for the musicians to play on. It was next to a small hardware store which had a garden hose on its side.
“You go in ahead; I gotta wait for my friends. Good luck on your first performance in Appaloosa.” Sweetie Belle said to Muse.
“Alright. Bye then,” said Muse as she and her friends headed toward the stage with their equipment.
As Sweetie Belle began to wait for her friends, several ponies were entering the town square, eager to be part of the party. One pony with a red coat caught Sweetie Belle’s eye. It was PC, on the other side of the entrance.
What is SHE doing here? she thought.
Meanwhile Applebloom had arrived at the town square. She saw Sweetie Belle and ran up to talk to her.
“Sweetie Belle, you find Scootaloo yet?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“I guess we should just wait for the others then. Hopefully, one of them found her.”
As the dance was starting, the two fillies started jigging to the tune, until there was a rude interruption.
“HEY! WAIT A SECOND!” cried a mysterious voice. “YOU AREN’T WHO YOU SAY YOU ARE AT ALL!”
The crowd grew silent as all eyes and ears shifted toward the direction of the voice.
“Looks like we got a heckler here,” chuckled Muse.
“I’m no heckler.” The angry pony stepped on stage to reveal himself. It was Stand, the former station security guard. “I know that you are wearing a disguise. You can’t fool me again.”
“‘Again?’ I don’t think we have met.”
“Don’t play games with me, miss ‘Muse Struckheart’. You clearly look older than an hour ago.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“Yes you are. You’re one of the little fillies that keeps making me lose my job. You disguised yourself as my coworker and convinced me to give up the keys to my locker. And then I got fired once my boss found out I gave my keys to some random stranger. Once that happened, my pet rock caught fire. I know what you are up to. You are trying to get me fired again in your new disguise. I just got my job as a cashier for this hardware store, and I am not going to lose another job that quickly.”
“There are several things wrong with your accusation,” began Muse, “First off, I am clearly not a filly.”
“That only proves that you were not attacked by an Infantinite like you claim.”
“Infantinites? What is… I don’t even… Look, you’re absolutely stupid if you think that I could be a filly conspiring to ruin your job.”
“Enough talk, I know you are a filly in disguise and I shall prove it!”
Stand ran off the stage and turned on the hardware store’s garden hose. As he ran back toward the stage with the spraying hose in his mouth, Muse began to panic. The water would wash off the full body makeup she was wearing to disguise herself. She screamed as she ran off the front of the stage in terror.
“Ha, who’s the idiot now?” said Stand as he managed to hit her with a stream of water from the hose.
The body paint on Muse was beginning to drip off, turning her previously yellow body and red mane back into her natural green coat and blue mane.
“I knew it, a disguise!”
“Hey, I know her,” cried a random pony. “She is Fiddlesticks. She is the one who stole my piano.”
“And she also stole my flute,” shouted another pony.
“And my banjo,” said a third.
A bunch of more ponies started calling out the instruments that Fiddlesticks had stolen from them.
“So what?” objected Fiddlesticks. “None of you were even using any of your instruments anyway. But as soon as they are gone, here you go playing the world’s smallest violin to your stolen dust collectors.”
“But I don’t even have the world’s smallest violin anymore, because YOU stole it.”
“Fine. Here is your stupid microscopic violin.” Fiddlesticks reached into her bag and threw a speck of dust at the upset mare.
“How do they know it was you anyway?” asked Stand.
“I always leave behind a drawing of a pair of fiddlesticks as my signature. That’s how they know it was me. Now I’ve got a bounty on my head for all those thefts. That’s why I had to wear a disguise.”
“Really!? So you aren’t the filly that came to Appaloosa specifically to set my belongings on fire?”
“NO,” shouted the crowd. “She’s a wanted fugitive.”
“Wow, I guess that makes me a bounty hunter then,” Stand said. “So, what am I supposed to do with bounties once I capture them?”
“You’re supposed to turn them in to Sheriff Silverstar,” replied one of the strangers. “And tell him to make her give all the stolen instruments back to us.”
“I have an idea,” whispered Applebloom to Sweetie Belle.
Stand began to tie up Fiddlesticks with the garden hose. She had already given up on escaping as there was no way she could outrun the entire crowd. Despite this, Stand couldn’t tie her up, since he wasn’t very good at knots. Meanwhile, a small pony with a black hat and a mustache walked up to him.
“Congratulations Stand, you have successfully captured Fiddlesticks. Allow me to give you a reward for your efforts.”
“Wait, THERE ARE TWO OF YOU?!” Stand took notice of the pony that had walked up to him, who had the same color scheme as Fiddlesticks’s disguise.
“What? No! I’m Sheriff Silverstar,” replied the short pony. “And I am here to give you your reward of fifty bits for that bounty you’ve captured.”
“Fifty bits! That’s so much money! Thank you so much sir. I might actually be able to make a career out of this bounty hunting.”
“Don’t give the bounty to that filly!” boomed a voice. As the crowd turned to face him, they all recognized him as brown coated Sheriff Silverstar. He was wearing his brown uniform. “Stand, that pony there is just a small filly in disguise. I am the real Sheriff Silverstar. Give the bounty to me. I will reward you with the true amount of two hundred bits. The imposter over there was intentionally going to give you only fifty bits so that she can make a profit when she turns in the bounty to me.”
“No, I’m the real Sheriff Silverstar.” The crowd shifted its attention back to the front stage, where they saw a small orange and purple pony that also had a black hat and mustache. “The pony over there is merely trying to use the same plan he just explained. The true reward is three hundred bits, which I, the real Sheriff Silverstar, will give you for the bounty.”
“No, I’M the real Sheriff Silverstar,” replied a squawky voice near the entrance. The crowd shifted their attention once again to Uncle Strudel who arrived at the dance with Applejack and Braeburn. “I’ll give you a thousand bits for the bounty.”
“Uncle Apple Strudel, do you even know WHY there are ponies trying to be Sheriff Silverstar?” asked Applejack.
“Uh, it’s a game right?”
Applejack rolled her eyes.
“This is just gettin’ out of hand,” said Sheriff Silverstar. “There is no one else here who even remotely looks like Sheriff Silverstar except me. Those mustaches are fake!”
He ran up to the yellow Sheriff Silverstar and ripped off his mustache, revealing the pony as Applebloom. Then he walked up to the orange Sheriff and ripped off his mustache, revealing the pony as Scootaloo.
“I knew it! These fillies were conspiring against me the whole time,” Stand said.
“SCOOTALOO,” shouted Applebloom. “We finally found you.”
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle both ran up to Scootaloo to give her a hug.
“No, I’M the real Scootaloo,” said Uncle Strudel. “And I’ll give you ten thousand bits for that bounty.”
“Uncle Strudel, give me back my scooter, you’ve had it long enough.” Scootaloo ran up to Uncle Strudel and snatched back her scooter.
“Calm down, ya little noogie. It’s just a game after all.”
Applejack face hoofed.
“Well I guess that clears things up,” replied Stand. “Here you go, Sheriff Silverstar.”
Sheriff Silverstar bound up Fiddlesticks in cuffs, then handed Stand a bag of two hundred bits as compensation.
“Thank you Sheriff, I’ve never had this much money before. Thank you. Thank you.”
Stand bent down and started kissing Sheriff Silverstar’s left fore hoof. Sheriff Silverstar reached to his left with his right hoof as if he was trying to grab something, but felt nothing there.
“Uh, you’re welcome, now please leave me. I must get back to the office.”
Sheriff Silverstar lifted the bounty up on his back and left the dance. The crowd was silent from the events which had just occurred.
Uncle Strudel was the first to break the silence. “Well that was an awesome game. Who’s up for another round?”
The ponies that were eating went back to their dinner. Meanwhile the previous musicians were attempting to set up another song, trying to keep the party atmosphere alive.
“Wow, I can’t believe I have two hundred bits, what should I do with them?” Stand asked himself.
“Wait, I just realized something,” Applebloom said, “Sheriff Silverstar was never supposed to show up at the dance.”
“What do you mean?” asked Scootaloo.
“I talked to him earlier. He said that he couldn’t make it because of too much work,” said Applebloom.
“He always says he has work to do, but Ah never believe it,” said Braeburn.
“He seemed pretty sincere about it.”
“That’s not the only problem. Look.” Scootaloo reached to her stack of wanted posters and pulled out Fiddlesticks’s wanted poster. On it said ‘Wanted Alive for six hundred bits’, “The Sheriff still ripped you off. We should go there and make sure you get your full payment.”
“Hey thanks kid. Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know. I’m guess I’m just starting to feel a little guilty that we’ve constantly been tricking you.”
As the seven ponies arrived at the office of Sheriff Silverstar, they found him lying on the front porch, in the exact same position as when Applebloom talked to him earlier that day.
“You didn’t give me the posted reward for the bounty,” said Stand as he stamped his heavy hoof on the porch.
“What are you talking about?” asked the Sheriff.
“At the dance, I turned in a bounty, and you gave me less than the posted amount.”
“What do you mean? I was never at the dance. I have had too much work on my hooves.”
“But you are in the exact same position as when I saw you earlier this afternoon,” said Applebloom. “What kind of work did you get done?”
“And that is because I’m on my fiftieth break. I had to take it after lugging that heavy bounty into jail.”
“Yeah, the bounty that I turned in,” Stand said.
“You? PC was the one who turned her in a few minutes ago.”
“PC turned her in?” asked Applebloom. “Then that means that the ‘Sheriff’ at the dance was actually…”
“PC!” finished Stand.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” cried the three fillies.
“Wow Stand, I’m surprised you were able to figure that out,” Braeburn said. “I guess you HAVE been getting a little smarter.”
“Thanks. I AM smart. C-M-R-T. Smart.”
“I can’t believe PC completely outsmarted us again,” whined Applebloom with her face planted on the ground.
“Aw, don’t you be so hard on yerself,” said Uncle Strudel as he butted his head in the middle of the conversation. (Literally of course) “You fillies were smart enough to come up with the same idea as PC. Disguising yerself as the Sheriff and giving a small fraction of the bounty so that ya make a profit when ya give the bounty to the real Sheriff. You kids might actually be the first to actually compete with her.”
“Why don’t you kids just take a break from all this bounty huntin’ and just have some fun at the dance,” suggested Braeburn.
“I guess. But I have an important question. Uncle Strudel, how much do you know about PC?” asked Sweetie Belle.
“Aw, it is a looooooooong story,” began Uncle Strudel. He began clutching Sweetie Belle close to his chest as he prepared to tell his story. “Ah known her since she was a little filly.”
“On second thought, never mind,” said Sweetie Belle as she pushed the touchy uncle away. “We weren’t that interested anyway.”
“We should hear more about her from Uncle Strudel at some point,” whispered Scootaloo to Sweetie Belle. The ponies were making their way back to the dance. “It could be useful in finding out how to beat her.”
“But I don’t want to be smothered,” said Sweetie Belle.
“Come on, I gave up my scooter to that crazy uncle to help us get our cutie marks. What’s a little uncomfortable hugging if it means getting our cutie marks?”
“Well, we have to set a few standards for what we will and will not do for our cutie marks. Besides, there is probably some pony else in this town who knows PC as well as Uncle Strudel.”
“I don’t think anyone in this town knows PC as well as Uncle Strudel does,” said Braeburn as he was for the next song to begin, “She’s the mysterious type. Forget about her, just have some fun. It’s a party.”
“I guess we will have to listen to Uncle Strudel’s story later after all,” said Applebloom.
The Arrival
The sounds of the desert were quiet, all except for the sound of the Friendship Express headed toward the small town of Appaloosa. Unlike the trip of the Mane Six, it's engine was well filled with hot coal, being shoveled in by the fire pony. There was no need for stallions to pull the train to it's destination. Some of the train's passengers, Applebloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle, were beginning to grow restless.
“Ooh, I know, let’s try going to the engine room and help shovel coal into the engine,” suggested Applebloom. “We could get our cutie marks in that.”
“YEAH, CUTIE MARK CRUSADER COAL SHOVEL… uh, isn’t there a specific name for that kind of pony?” asked Scootaloo.
“Well, let’s just ask the guy,” replied Sweetie Belle.
As the three fillies ran toward the front of the car, Applejack jumped in to block the door leading to the next car.
“Nuh uh,” she said. “We all agreed tuh stay in this here car and not run around the train where you would disturb other ponies. Ah only agreed to let ya’ll come if ya’ll behave.”
“What’er you talkin’ about Applejack, let the kids roam around,” said Uncle Apple Strudel in his squawky accent. He was wearing his usual green leprechaun outfit.
“But we are almost at…” As Applejack turned to face Uncle Strudel, she noticed his beard was right up in her face. “Uncle Strudel, stop talking to me right in ma face. It makes other ponies uncomfortable.” Applejack stepped away from the ‘close talker’.
“Besides,” Uncle Strudel was whispering in Applejack’s ear. “I really want to take a look at that kid’s scooter. She never wants to lend it to me.”
“You can’t just take other ponies’ stuff while they… wait a sec…”
As Applejack paused to examine her surroundings, she noticed that the Cutie Mark Crusaders were missing. “They must have gone to the front of the train,” she said.
“Don’t yah worry, noogie noogie noogie,” said Uncle Strudel as he rubbed his hoof on Applejack’s mane, making her feel uncomfortable. “They’ll be fine.”
It was at this point that the train came to an abrupt stop.
“Well, we’re here. Let’s get tuh the front of the train so we can find th… DON’T TOUCH HER SCOOTER!” Applejack yelled as she spotted Uncle Strudel inching his way toward Scootaloo’s luggage.
The two ponies walked off the train and began to head toward the front. Uncle Strudel walked beside Applejack with their shoulders touching, causing Applejack to shift toward the train in an attempt to gain some personal space. Eventually she found herself pushed against the train as she was walking.
“GET OUT. NO PONY IS ALLOWED TO BE IN HERE,” said the fire pony. She had thrown the three fillies out the train. “It’s dangerous for fillies to be in the engine room.”
The three fillies landed facing a billboard at the station in front of the train engine.
“Huh, I guess we aren’t going to get our cutie marks as fire ponies,” said Applebloom.
“Yeah, it’s much too dirty as well,” Sweetie Belle said as she tried to shake off some of the soot on her body.
As Scootaloo turned up to look at the billboard, a couple of posters caught her eye. Dangerous looking ponies stared blankly into the distance, right under a giant "WANTED" sign.
“That’s it! We can be become Cutie Mark Crusader Bounty Hunters,” cried Scootaloo, pointing to the posters.
“That IS the best idea ever,” assured Applebloom.
To get a closer look at one of the photos of the suspects, Sweetie Belle stood on top of Applebloom, and Scootaloo stood on top of her.
“Looks like this suspect is a stallion with a black coat and blond mane,” pointed out Scootaloo. “Wanted for the burglary of Sheriff Silverstar’s residence. Name and cutie mark are unknown. Bring suspect to the office of Sheriff Silverstar alive for five hundred bits.”
“Ah know that guy.” Uncle Strudel had snuck up behind them, scaring the tower of fillies and causing it to fall over. “I first met him when Ah was moving to Appaloosa.”
Uncle Strudel and his son Braeburn were on a train ride to the small village which would one day be called Appaloosa. They were moving into the area to start the construction of the new apple orchard.
During their ride, they saw another pony in the same car as them, which was unusual for a very desolate destination.
“Helloooo, noogie, you new in town?” Uncle Strudel said approaching the strange stallion.
“Ahhhh, get away from my face ya creepy old coot,” he shouted in response.
“‘He didn’t seem to want to talk to me very much after that.” Uncle Strudel was grasping Sweetie Belle tightly against him as he told his story. “Ah still see him wandering around town, but he seems to ignore me.”
“Thanks for the info,” said Sweetie Belle as she desperately tried to break free of his grip. “Now let us go so we can get him.”
“Wait Uncle Strudel, you should come with us,” Applebloom said.
“Applebloom, do you really want him to come with us?” whispered Scootaloo, “He’s just going to suffocate us, in multiple ways.”
“If ya’ll are lookin for him, he might be at the Salt Flock. Ah see him in there fairly often,” Uncle Strudel said.
“But I thought fillies weren’t allowed to go in there,” Applebloom said.
“Yes, I suppose a responsible uncle would keep you out of there; but what’s the fun in that?”
“Well, I guess it would be better if he tagged along,” Scootaloo said as she turned back to Applebloom.
“Hold on,” Applejack protested. “Ah’m not okay with three fillies going into a saloon. I don’t care…”
“APPLEJACK! APPLEBLOOM!” Braeburn was running up to greet his relatives. “Welcome to AAAAAAAAppaloosa. Welcome back dad, how was your trip?”
“It was fantastic.” Uncle Strudel had dragged his face up to his son, Braeburn. Unlike Applejack, Braeburn just stood there and turned to Applejack as if nothing was wrong. “Applejack, you said you were gunna bring a barrel of Sweet Apple Acre cider with you,” he said. “You said its name was Al, right?”
“Shoot, Ah left him on the train with our luggage. He must be rotting in there.”
“Well, let’s get him then.” Braeburn began to push Applejack toward the back of the train where they were keeping the cider.
“Wait, Braeburn, Uncle Strudel is going to…”
But Braeburn wasn’t listening. He was far too enthusiastic about getting a taste of “Al”.
“Well now that Applejack is out of our manes, let’s goooo to the bar,” said Uncle Strudel.
“All right! Cutie Mark Crusader Bounty Hunters GO” shouted Applebloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle as jumped up and hoof-bumped each other.
The four ponies had arrived at the saloon known as Salt Flock. There was a large, muscular stallion at the entrance that was checking incoming ponies for proof of age. He had a dark brown coat and black mane. His cutie mark was a circle formed by three arrows. Uncle Strudel walked up to the guard and got in his face.
“Ah think you best be letting us in now,” Uncle Strudel said.
“Back up old man,” said the guard in his gruff voice. “My name is Stand, and it’s my job to keep the little ones out of here.”
“But I’ve always been able to bring in my younger relatives. Who asked for the policy…”
“Uncle Strudel?” Applebloom had pushed his aggravated uncle aside. “Let me handle this.” She walked up to the guard in a very confident, posh manner. “So sorry for the misunderstanding Mr. Stand, but we should have probably told you about the accident that happened to us.”
“Accident?”
“As is common knowledge, our small town of Ponyville gets attacked SO often. Perhaps you have heard about the attack of the Infantinites 6 years ago.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Oh man, they are gruesome creatures. If you ever come across one, never look them in the eye, cause they will turn you back into a child, FOREVER. That is what happened to me 6 years ago. It was horrible.” Applebloom managed to start making fake tears. Of course, there was no such thing as an Infantinite, but Applebloom had become a really good liar by practicing on the school bullies. It wasn’t a skill her sister was very proud of. “Ever since it happened, no pony has been able to take me seriously.”
“Sorry for the misunderstanding,” replied Stand. “You may enter.”
The four ponies proceeded to enter the Salt Flock through the double swinging doors. It was fairly quiet as there were only about four other ponies inside. The place wouldn’t get crowded until later in the evening. The room also had a back entrance with a single swinging door that covered the entire doorway, unlike the entrance. Other than the doorways, there was only a couple of windows on each side where light could enter. Small oil lamps illuminated the dark corners of the bar where the sunlight couldn't reach.
“There he is,” said Sweetie Belle, pointing to the suspect in one of the corners. His black coat and blond mane were easily recognizable. He wore a large overcoat which covered up his cutie mark. He was drinking from a tall glass bottle labeled Salty Malt.
“Wow, this bounty hunting is easy,” said Scootaloo. “Let’s get him.”
She began to run at the suspect, but her tail was yanked back by Applebloom.
“We can’t just jump on him, it will attract too much attention,” warned Sweetie Belle. “We have to lure him outside and get him there.”
“Good idea,” replied Applebloom. “I’ll go set up a trap outside that back door. Find a way to lead him out there.”
“You think you can set up an adequate trap?” asked Scootaloo.
“Well, I’ve recently been setting up traps to capture the pests that steal our apples, shouldn’t be too much harder to set up a trap for a pony.”
“Alright, let’s do this,” said Sweetie Belle.
After a quiet hoof-bump, Applebloom left out the back door, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle began to approach the suspect, only to find that Uncle Strudel was already there arguing with the suspect.
“Why don’t ya ever talk to me and my son? You’ve been ignoring us ever since we met on the train.”
“Well, you got up to half an inch from my face and yelled ‘Helloooo’ at the top of your lungs,” replied the suspect. “How do you expect me to react?” The suspect was aggressively pushing Uncle Strudel’s face away with his forehoof.
This action gave Sweetie Belle an idea of how to get him outside. “Hey, since you two CLEARLY have a score to settle, why don’t you take this outside? And settle this like real stallions?”
“Bah, I am not low enough to beat my hooves at an elderly pony,” the suspect asserted.
“What’re you talkin about? Ah’m still a hefty good fighter,” said Uncle Strudel as he got up on his hind legs and began to show off his forelegs.
Scootaloo began to join in the charade. “Yeah, sounds to me like you’re just chicken!”
At those words, the suspect’s previously apathetic face turned to a frown. “NO PONY CALLS ME A CHICKEN!” He then proceeded to take off his overcoat to reveal his cutie mark. It was a chicken with a giant red “X” on it. “My name is Antifowl, and my SPECIAL TALENT is not being a chicken. I accept this challenge. We shall fight until there is only one stallion standing.”
“Wait, why are we doing this?” asked Uncle Strudel. He was not yet ready to fight.
“Please Uncle Strudel, just play along,” pleaded Scootaloo. “I’ll… lend you my scooter.”
“OH SWEET CELESTIA, THANK YOU. Mr. Antifowl, let’s do this.”
As Antifowl began chugging his drink, Scootaloo ran out the front entrance and around to the back, where Applebloom was setting up the trap.
“Okay, he should be outside in just a few moments,” Scootaloo said.
“Wait, the trap isn’t ready yet.”
“Well, then what do we do? He’s already coming outside.”
“Try to stall him.”
Scootaloo ran up to one of the windows and saw that Antifowl had finished his drink and got up from his table. She tapped on the window to get Sweetie Belle’s attention. As Sweetie Belle turned toward the window, she saw Scootaloo making a “no” gesture with her hooves. Luckily, she was able to get the message.
“Uh, hold on you guys, I just…uh remembered something.”
“Oh?” Antifowl turned toward Sweetie Belle. “What would that be?”
“Um, it was… a song, to build up the dramatic fight you will be having.”
So the insults have been thrown
And the rage has now been sown
Then its time for the …
Sweetie Bell paused abruptly as she heard a tapping sound coming from the window. It was Scootaloo, she was gesturing toward the back door.
“Um, that’s all, time to start the fight,” Sweetie Belle said.
“Why? I was just getting into it,” said the eager suspect. “Did you know you have really good voice?”
Sweetie Belle started to blush, but quickly resumed a serious face. “Thanks, but now you must go outside and fight.”
Uncle Strudel was agreeing with Antifowl, “Ah too wanted to hear the rest of the…”
“Just GO!” Sweetie Belle’s voice cracked as she tried to shove the two stallions out the back door with her head.
“All right, all right,” Antifowl said as he walked toward the back door. “Ya know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were leading me into some kind of traAAAAHHHH.” As his foreleg stepped in the coil of rope that lay on the ground, it closed in on his foreleg, and he was hoisted up several feet into the air, dangling above the back door.
“WE GOT ‘EM, WE GOT ‘EM, CUTIE MARK CRUSADER BOUNTY HUNTERS.” The three fillies proceeded to turn around to look at their respective flanks. To their disappointment, they were still blank.
“Maybe we have to turn him in to Sheriff Silverstar first,” Scootaloo said. “Let’s drag him down there.”
“HEY, YOU THREE!” Stand the saloon guard had spotted them around the back of the saloon. “My boss just told me: There is no such thing as Infantinites.”
“Took him long enough,” Applebloom snickered.
“YOU WILL PAY FOR TRICKING ME.”
“RUN!” shouted Applebloom.
The three fillies immediately took off to the streets. The angry stallion chased after them.
“Well, uh, Ah guess our fight is cancelled,” Uncle Strudel said. “I gotta find those three young'ins before they get hurt."
“Wait, aren’t you going to turn me in to Sheriff Silverstar?” asked Antifowl.
“Why would Ah do that?”
“You’re a bounty hunter right?”
“Bounty hunter? What gave ya that idea?”
“Uh… never mind. Could you please get me down from here?”
“Nah, I gotta take care of my family first.”
“You’re just chicken because you know I would’ve won.”
But Uncle Strudel had ignored him and disappeared around the corner where the Cutie Mark Crusaders had run off.
“Huh, I guess that only works on me,” the dangling stallion said to himself.
The three fillies managed to lose Stand within the supermarket. The sun was setting on the horizon as they proceeded to walk back to the Salt Flock.
“Oh, I hope he didn’t escape while we were gone,” said Sweetie Belle.
“He didn’t escape, look over there.” Scootaloo was pointing to Antifowl, who was completely bound in ropes and being carried on the back of a strange mare. She had a bright red coat and an orange mane. She was wearing a black desperado hat.
“Hey, that’s OUR bounty.” shouted Scootaloo as she began to chase after the stranger. The stranger took notice and began to run away.
Although Scootaloo couldn’t fly, she could still use her wings to gain some lift, allowing her to run faster than the average filly. However, this was no ordinary stranger, as she began to outrun Scootaloo despite carrying the tied up stallion on her back.
As the stranger turned right around a street corner, Scootaloo grew tired and out of breath, still trotting in a futile attempt to keep up. As she looked around the corner, she saw the stranger talking with Sheriff Silverstar.
She’s going to take our bounty.
She walked up to the two ponies, “Hey, you,” *pant* “the cutie mark,” *pant* “crusaders,” *pant* “got him first. We deserve the…”
*WHIP*
The stranger had taken out a bull whip with her right foreleg and cracked the air in front of Scootaloo, causing her to jump. Now that Scootaloo was face to face with the stranger that stole their bounty, she saw that she was a fairly old earth pony, a bit younger than Uncle Apple Strudel. She also had multiple scars glazed across her face and body, including her cutie mark, which was a coiled bull whip.
“This is MAH bounty,” she replied in her heavy Southern accent. “Sheriff!” *WHIP* “Hand me the payment ah deserve.”
“Ow, okay okay,” replied Sheriff Silverstar as he was clutching the part of his leg that was whipped. He went back inside his office to get the reward.
The stranger began talking with her bounty, “So, judging by your cutie mark, I’m guessing that you committed this crime based on a dare from your friends.”
“Uh… yeah. That’s actually correct. But what was I supposed to do? They called me a chicken, and my special talent is not…” *WHIP* “OW!”
“All criminals must be brought to justice, no matter how naïve or immature the motivation for the crime.”
“Alright, here is five hundred bits.” Sheriff Silverstar had come out of his office with a bag of money. *WHIP* “OW, what was that for?”
“For capturing the suspect within a mere couple of hours of the posting, Ah believe Ah deserve an extra one hundred bits.” The stranger had a large glare in her eyes.
“But I remember,” began Scootaloo. “The poster said the reward was only five hundred…”
*WHIP*
The stranger had cracked the air in front of Scootaloo. “Stay outta of this kid,” she asserted.
“Uh, question,” began Antifowl, “How come you directly whip me but only whip the air in front of her?”
*WHIP*
“Ah make a rule of not whipping children,” she replied. “You on the other hand, are an adult criminal, and deserve no such sympathies.
*WHIP*
“OW! What was that for?” The suspect was recoiling in pain.
“Oh, sorry, mah body just does that sometimes.”
“Stop abusing the suspect,” replied Sheriff Silverstar. “He’s our responsibility now.”
*WHIP*
“Not until ah get my ‘Exceptional Efficiency’ payment.”
“OW, all right, fine.” Sheriff Silverstar counted out one hundred more bits put them into another bag before handing both bags to the stranger. As the Sheriff dragged the suspect inside his office, the stranger lifted the bag around her back. Then she turned to Scootaloo.
“Come, if ya goin’ to be a bounty hunter, yer are gunna need a few tips.”
“Um, I don’t know,” replied Scootaloo nervously. “I should really get back to my friends.”
*WHIP*
Dust flew from the ground where the stranger whipped right into Scootaloo’s face, causing her to cough.
“Come, Ah insist.”
Scootaloo was scared of this stranger and knew it might have been a bad idea to follow her, but Scootaloo couldn’t deny that the stranger knew what she was doing when it came to bounty hunting. She reluctantly followed the stranger behind the Sheriff’s office.
“Listen kid,” the stranger began. “You and yer friends have a lot of potential as bounty hunters. Most of the idiots that try to compete with me never even manage to locate a bounty. You three managed to snare one on yer first try.”
“Um, thanks, Applebloom worked real hard to make that trap.”
“But ya need to practice some common sense. Ah was in the bar watching you and your friends executing yer plan. It was smart of you to keep quiet about the bounty while you were in the bar, but you seemed to forget all of that once you finally caught him.”
“Oh yeah, guess we shouldn’t yell our motto at the top of our lungs.”
“And try not to leave yer bounty unattended. It helps to design your traps so that no one except yerselves can find it. That way, if ya have to leave yer bounty, no one else will be able ta find it. Cuz once you and yer friends left, stealing your bounty was quite easy. All Ah had to do was ‘remove’ the competition that had stirred up.”
“Okay, thanks for the lesson Miss…”
“Just call me PC.”
“What does that mean?”
“Over the years, it meant many things, but I like to think of it as ‘Pest Control’.”
“Cool.”
*WHIP*
Scootaloo jumped in shock after the whip had cracked cleanly behind her without physical contact.
“I wasn’t kidding when I said my body does that sometimes,” said PC. “Before ya reunite with yer friends, take a bit of the reward.” She took out the smaller bag of one hundred bits and tossed it to Scootaloo.
“Thank you so much,” Scootaloo exclaimed.
“No problem,” PC said as she tipped her desperado hat.
Scootaloo said goodbye to PC and ran off in front of the sheriff’s office. When she got there, the entire family (Applejack, Braeburn, Uncle Strudel, Applebloom, and Sweetie Belle) were all there waiting for her.
“Welcome back Scootaloo, have fun?” Applejack looked at Scootaloo with a frown.
“Uh, yeah I guess,” she replied.
“Well I sure hope so, cause when ya’ll went on your little bounty hunter adventures, Braeburn and I were stuck carrying all your heavy luggage to the house, despite the fact that we agreed that the three of you would carry all of yer own stuff.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“So to make up for our aching backs, you and yer friends will be getting up tomorrow in the early morning to help plant the new apple orchard. I know this is supposed to be a vacation, but I think a little hard work outta teach ya something about consideration for others.”
“Alright,” Scootaloo groaned. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle shared her facial expressions.
“Don’t even know why ya’ll pack so much stuff anyway,” Applejack grumbled.
The group of ponies had finally arrived at Uncle Strudel’s house. It was much smaller than any house the Cutie Mark Crusaders lived in. The ground floor was merely made up of a stove, sink and a table big enough for four ponies, all of which stood at various corners of the room. There was steep flight of stairs to the second floor in the back of the room.
After a quiet dinner, the Cutie Mark Crusaders were getting ready for bed, as they had to get up early the next morning. There were only two bedrooms in the house. The CMC would be sharing one, while the other three would use the other.
“Maybe we just aren’t adequate bounty hunters,” Applebloom said as she got into bed. “Let’s try something else tomorrow afternoon.”
“Don’t say that, PC was really impressed with us,” Scootaloo said. “We can’t give up on just the first try.”
“Who is PC?”
“She’s the one who stole our bounty. She’s kind of scary with that whip, but was nice enough to share some of the reward with us.”
Scootaloo pulled out the bag of one hundred bits that was given to her. Her reveal was met in awe.
“She said that we have the potential to be great bounty hunters. There are plenty of bounties running around this town, and we have three more days on our vacation. That means three more days to get our cutie marks in bounty hunting.”
Scootaloo followed up with the advice given to her by PC.
“All right, tomorrow we’ll get a bounty for sure,” Applebloom said.
Suddenly, Uncle Strudel burst into the room. “Goooooood night, ya little noogies,” he said as he rubbed his hooves along the heads of the trio who were already in bed. “Can’t wait to try out your scooter Scootaloo.”
“I just hope we can survive your family first,” groaned Scootaloo.
