Klugetown was... unique.
The city creaked and tilted a little bit, requiring any visitors to get their sea legs before they could be entirely comfortable.
Even then, getting comfortable wasn’t the best idea. Otherwise one might end up lost in the nooks and alleys of the city, kidnapped and sold, or eaten by some lurking monstrosity.
And Dumpster Fire, an intrepid Equestrian reporter who usually went by his much less embarrassing pen name “Firestarter”, was actually going there willingly. Of course, the dark grey earth pony had made his entire career on pursuing the stories that nopony else would, and this wouldn’t be the first time that such pursuits could potentially put his life at risk, so there was a certain cold comfort in taking this assignment.
The generous pay certainly helped too.
He swept a hoof through his fiery yellow mane, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he made the plunge. He also briefly checked his saddlebag, just to make sure he still had his notepad, camera, and personal pen. With the stares he’d been getting since he’d walked into town, it wouldn’t surprise him if he’d gotten pickpocketed already. Thankfully, he hadn’t.
Which wasn’t to say he wouldn’t be getting robbed. As he descended a long, dark staircase to the entrance of his destination, he encountered his first obstacle already. “I was told this place was free admission.”
The griffon in front of the heavy iron door raised an eyebrow. He was runty, with yellow feathers that resembled some kind of canary. “Dunno where you heard that. Fifty bits to get in.”
Firestarter frowned in annoyance. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the money, but his limited budget was intended for travel and boarding arrangements, not some entrance fee he’d never been informed of. “Look, I’m here on official journalistic business,” he protested, lifting the press pass around his neck for emphasis. “I should already have clearance from Miss Ebony to enter, so check your lists and let me in, please.”
The griffon was about to speak again, but then the door opened just a crack, and a fist the size of a cantaloupe and the color of an apple shot out, wrapping around his throat.
The griffon could only squawk as a meaty red arm emerged, followed by a shaggy red torso, followed by the entire body of the biggest minotaur Firestarter had ever seen.
He was nearly eight feet tall, the size of roughly three ponies standing atop one another, with arms thick as a pony’s head. He had an odd tattoo of a pair of feathery wings on his chest, and his burgundy horns had seemingly been filed down to blunt nubs.
The minotaur briefly glanced down at Firestarter, then stuck a finger into the griffon’s face. “Greaser,” he said in a deep, raspy Trottingham accent. “What have we told you about being rude to guests?”
“Sorry! Sorry!” Greaser coughed through the minotaur’s grip on his throat. “I’ll be good, Red Bull! I’ll be good!”
“Sorry, mate. ‘Fraid it’s too late this time.” Red did not look at all sorry. “Miss Ebony’s gonna want a word.”
Greaser’s eyes widened. “No! Wait! I’m so–” He was cut off by Red Bull tightening his fist to shut him up, before looking back at Firestarter. “Who are you?”
Firestarter was grateful he had worn his darkened shades today. They did little to hide the sudden fear anypony would feel facing such a giant, but it gave him at least something to hide behind. Trembling slightly, he lifted his press pass again. “F-Firestarter, from the Equestrian Scavenger. I have a scheduled interview with the owner of this establishment.” Please be scheduled, please be scheduled...
Red Bull nodded. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, Greaser. You get a reprieve.” He released the griffon, who fled, gasping, back into the iron door. “Follow me, sir. I’ll take you to Miss Ebony’s office.”
Firestarter let out an internal sigh of relief, glad that for all his bulk, the minotaur seemed reasonable enough. Just as long as he stayed on his good side. “Thank you. Just to be clear, I have been authorized to take photographs of the premises, with the sole exception of the office.” So please don’t crush the camera, or my skull, when I take it out.
“Don’t worry. I’ve been told what you are and aren’t allowed to do,” Red Bull assured.
The door led down another staircase, doubtless into the lower decks of the giant ship Klugetown resided on. But when they reached the bottom, Firestarter had to gasp.
The casino they’d entered was just as opulent and crowded as any in Las Pegasus, with rich red carpets, golden slot machines, and patrons cursing or blessing their luck.
“Welcome to the Mountain Underground Casino,” Red Bull introduced.
This... was not what he’d expected. Firestarter had to actually remind himself to do as he said he would and take out his camera, snapping a few pictures from the entrance and capturing a thorough artistic impression of the follies of gambling. This was definitely not what he’d be using his budget on. “Very interesting. I can see how this place funds itself.” Hoping Red Bull wouldn’t take offense to that, he followed him down the center aisle, surrounded by slot machines on each side.
As he went to snap another picture, a rather attractive mare waitress carrying a tray stepped into the shot. “Enjoying your stay here, sir?” she asked coyly.
“Er…” Stay professional. “I just got here actually, but yes?”
“Good to hear. Let me know if I can help make it even more enjoyable.” She winked and walked past him, deliberately letting her tail ruffle his side in the process. Hiding a small blush, he wondered what that was all about.
At least until he saw that waitress disappear behind a slot machine and reemerge as an equally attractive dragon to approach a table of dragons. “Oh.” He tried not to be disappointed.
“Changelings,” said Red Bull with a nod. “Don’t take it personally. They gotta eat too.”
He led Firestarter to a staircase, leading up to a raised room with a single giant, opaque window overlooking the rest of the casino. “Head on up. Miss Ebony is waiting for you.”
“Thanks for your help,” he said, putting his camera away and heading up the stairs. Already, he was mentally rehearsing the questions he wanted to ask as he approached the office door and knocked lightly, putting on his best business smile.
“Door’s unlocked!” came an unexpectedly pleasant female voice.
Firestarter entered the office. It was just as luxurious as the outside. Several bookshelves lined one wall, multiple landscape paintings lined the other. Behind the desk in the middle sat a tall, green-eyed black she-cat. She wore a two-tailed three-piece suit, with a rose in her lapel. She looked a lot cleaner than many other denizens of Klugetown.
Ebony stood to greet her guest, wiping her hands on a red silk handkerchief. “Mr. Firestarter. Welcome! I hope you’ve had a good first impression of my fine establishment?”
“For the most part, yes,” he answered honestly, extending a hoof in greeting. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Ebony. Are you ready to get started?”
She shook his hoof, gesturing to the chair across from her. “Of course. Take a seat and ask any questions you like.”
He did just that, taking a moment to pull out his notepad and pen for the interview. He cleared his throat and put his pen to his mouth. “We’ll start with the big one. Miss Ebony, what was it that first inspired you to form ‘The Mountain Underground’?”
She put her feet up on the desk, leaning back in her chair as she pondered her answer. “A bunch of reasons, some of which are kinda hard to explain. Easiest way to say it is that I saw a service was needed and decided to provide it. With how far all that friendship and harmony stuff is spreading, the naughty folks needed a spot to be themselves for a while, where the only bandits they’d get robbed by are of the one-armed persuasion.”
With practiced skill, Firestarter was able to transcribe her response verbatim. His mouthwriting left much to be desired, but he could read it and that’s all that mattered. It was almost like his own special encryption. “I see. And it appears you have hit on quite the demand indeed. Where did it begin? Who were the first takers?”
“The griffons,” she answered with zero hesitation. “Some lived in Klugetown already, and they had cousins outside that they told. After that came the Free Changelings. They needed a place to stay and love to eat, so I hired on some of them.”
“Interesting! Now, let me ask more about you in particular. You gave me a basic idea of why you formed this place, but were there any personal reasons involved, or was it really just good business?”
“There were a few,” she replied with a nod. “But that’s a bit of a long story.”
In response, Firestarter simply flipped over the sheet of his notepad to a blank page. “I’ve got nothing but time.”
“I used to be a traveling entrepreneur, selling... ah... medical wonders to the uninformed,” Ebony began, looking at the ceiling. “When the Storm King was defeated, I decided to expand beyond our little town and the surrounding desert, into Equestria. My antics were not exactly tolerated there anymore, and I was arrested. Now I’ve spent time in jail before, but you ponies weren’t content with that. You wanted to reform me.”
Firestarter could make a few guesses about what she was actually selling, but slandering his host would hardly be beneficial for the interview, so he transcribed her words as is, minus the suspicious pause. “And you took issue with that? No offense, maybe because I’m a pony myself, but I don’t really understand why wanting you to be a better person is a bad thing, especially as an alternative to jail. Could you elaborate?”
“Oh no, that’s not it at all. I understand perfectly why folks want the world to be safer,” she corrected. “But while I was in there, I sadly didn’t learn much about how to change myself. I did learn two important things though, while I was in that little reformation center in the county prison.”
He wrote that down, but not entirely satisfied, pressed further. “And what would those be?”
“Well, first off, I saw all the other folks like me,” she continued. “The griffons who couldn’t fit into their own home with all their bitgrubbing and anti-social behavior frowned on. Dragons and diamond dogs who’d gotten arrested for their usual greed. And don’t get me started on changelings that didn’t want to look like holiday ornaments. So I learned that I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t changed, and these folks needed a place to be themselves, and I had the head for business to fill that need.”
His jaw was getting a little sore by now, but he pushed through and forced himself to catch every word of that. “And the other important thing?”
Ebony had to think about that for a moment. “Y’know, how about I show you around? Might make that explanation a bit easier if you meet a few of my guests and staff.”
“Alright. That sounds fair.” He was privately relieved, but made a mental note not to leave without getting that answer. Much like the physical kind, he never lost track of those.
“We can head down through the casino, to the pit,” Ebony explained, getting up to hold the door of her office open for him.
“That sounds fine. You know the place better than I do,” Firestarter agreed, nodding politely as he exited the room. “Wait... what’s the pit?”
“You’ll see,” she replied with a smirk.
As they passed back through the casino, one slot machine lit up as the diamond dog at it got a jackpot. Gold coins flowed out, the bulldog-like canine doing his best to scoop them up. A bearlike Abyssinian wearing a shirt that simply read “Staff” glared at those around the winner, who seemed to be physically restraining themselves from nicking some of his winnings.
Firestarter had to admit, for a place that revelled in letting troublemakers be troublemakers, they seemed to have a pretty tight honor code. Perhaps because not being tight about the rules could potentially get it burned to the ground. Well, burned to the underground anyway.
Speaking of underground, Ebony brought him down another set of stairs to an even lower floor of the building. In contrast to the sounds of slots and exchanging bits above, from below came sounds that were decidedly more... violent.
They emerged into a practically cavernous room, filled to the brim with creatures of all kinds. It was dim, but spotlights illuminated a central platform where two creatures circled each other: a yak and a dragon.
That actually came as somewhat of a relief to him. “Ah, is this a wrestling match? That doesn’t seem so–”
That thought left him quickly as soon as the yak planted a swift hoof in the dragon’s groin. In response, the dragon let loose a jet of fire into his face, blinding him long enough to bite viciously into his shoulder. The yak roared in pain and pushed back, using his superior weight to bring the dragon to the ground and start pounding on his face, teeth flying with every blow.
Firestarter wasn’t sure if all the bloodstains around the ring came from them or previous contenders. “Oh sweet Celestia.”
The dragon tapped the side of the yak’s shoulder in surrender, and the yak pulled off of him. “All bets on Randolph the Randy may now be collected!” a voice called over an intercom.
“Street fighting,” Ebony explained. “Lots of species do it to prove themselves. Or they used to, anyway.”
“But they can’t now because of Equestrian influence?” he guessed, again grateful for his shades despite being underground. “I... can see why, but more power to them. Also, I think I’d like to move on before another match starts.”
“Close, but not quite,” Ebony chuckled. “I’ll explain later. Come on. Let’s go to the restaurant.”
“Sure...” Grateful to be going anywhere but there, he followed her out.
Not quite fast enough to keep from hearing a very painful-sounding crunch from the ring behind them. He couldn’t suppress a shudder.
The restaurant was... surprisingly peaceful. There wasn’t any fighting or gambling. Some sat alone, snapping at anyone who came near, but others sat in small groups, relaxing and chatting idly as they ate.
It helped Firestarter relax a bit, trying to put what he’d just witnessed behind him. He was still mentally debating if he wanted to include it in his report though. He generally disliked censorship, on principle, but even so...
Well, he could worry about that later. “It’s pretty nice here,” he admitted. “Quite a lot of cultural variety too. Anything you’d recommend?”
“Beer?” Ebony suggested with a sly smile. “Go on up to the guy behind the counter and see what looks good. It’s a buffet.”
Firestarter didn’t drink. Not because he was a lightweight; because he was a professional.
He didn’t much look it as he walked up to the buffet counter, almost immediately getting the stink eye from a heavyset porcupine Abyssinian. Given the atmosphere so far, he wasn’t sure if this was par for the course or if the fellow had something against reporters, but he didn’t dare ask for clarification. Instead, he tried to ignore his hard stare and looked down at the buffet selection instead. Just as he expected, there was a very large spread of foods from Equestria to Yakyakistan to the Dragon Lands to the “delicacies” favored here in Klugetown. Unfortunately, the wide variety of options made it exceedingly difficult to choose something, especially when he could still feel the porcupine staring silently at him.
“I’ll take... er... I don’t know... that?” He pointed to the first thing that looked even remotely appealing just to break the tension. He wasn’t even sure what it was, but it smelled strangely good and he wasn’t feeling very picky right now.
“It’s just a burger, kid,” the porcupine said in a scratchy voice. “It ain’t gonna beat you up. But the folks in line behind you might if you don’t hurry up.”
Indeed, several of the rather large, scary patrons had quickly formed a line behind him, and were giving him a stink eye to make the world’s largest landfills jealous.
“Not if they know what’s good for them!” Ebony reminded cheerfully.
It was like a switch had been flipped. The angry patrons suddenly gained the patience of saints, going into individual conversations as if they’d never been mad in the first place.
The porcupine put the burger on a bun. “You want anything on it?”
“Um... no, no, I think I’m good. Thank you.” He quickly took his meal and exited the line, not wanting to chance that switch flipping back on again.
Once he reached a safe distance, he set the plate down on a nearby counter and raised the burger to his mouth. “Well, I must say, your buffet certainly is popular.” He bit into it, chewing slowly on the unique flavor before swallowing. “And I can see why. I’ve never had a hayburger quite like this before, but it’s really something.” He took another bite, a larger one, savoring the taste. “Mmmm. Might have to get this recipe to bring back home.”
“Hm?” Ebony looked genuinely surprised. “Oh. It’s not a hayburger. It’s a hamburger. It’s meat. I’m pretty sure that’s rat meat.”
Firestarter froze mid-chew. “This is rat?”
“Mhmm.”
He looked at it in growing horror. “This is a rat burger?”
“Is there a parrot in here? That’s what I said.”
He swallowed. “I see.” Slowly, he set the burger back down on the plate, then pushed it gently away from him. “Excuse me for a moment.”
He promptly took off running for the nearest restroom and spent the next several minutes regretting his life choices. How could he have been so careless? He knew exactly how, of course, but how? It was one thing to violate his moral code; it was another to violate his own biology. Just because he was sympathetic to the needs of other races, that didn’t mean he wanted to be them.
On the bright side, there was absolutely no risk of him getting his appetite back anytime soon.
After washing out his mouth in the sink, Firestarter staggered back out of the restroom, groaning. “Ugh. Sorry that took so long, I... huh?”
To his extreme bafflement, it appeared he hadn’t taken long at all. In fact, the Firestarter already standing in front of Ebony seemed to be in the middle of a lengthy, albeit one-sided, conversation.
“Ma’am, so far this has been one of the best experiences of my life!” Firefaker praised. “In fact, if you don’t mind, could I buy you a drink? Or maybe dinner?”
Ebony locked eyes with the real Firestarter and smirked. “Maybe. If you can give me a good reason why you’re standing behind you.”
Fauxstarter looked confused for a moment, then turned. “Uh... Impostor! I demand he be removed by security at once!”
Firestarter picked up on what was going on here pretty quickly, and judging by the snickers he saw from some of the onlookers, his double wasn’t fooling anyone else either. The disgust he felt towards consuming meat faded for now, having found an amusing way to cope. He sauntered up next to himself, lifted his camera, and proceeded to take a rare dual-selfie. “A good effort, my friend, but as somepony who’s been undercover before, I recommend you get to know your role a little better next time.”
The double pouted. “Shoot.” In a wave of green fire, an unreformed changeling replaced his double. It stuck its hoof out. “Name’s Cocoon. One of the Free Changelings.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said genuinely, more amused than offended by the attempt. He shook their hoof in return. “Perhaps you could help clear something up for me actually. I’ve heard the name ‘Free Changelings’ before and I’m curious what exactly this group of yours is about.” He almost whipped out his pen and pad again, but didn’t want to make them uncomfortable.
Cocoon chuckled. It was hard to tell what gender a changeling was by looks alone, but she sounded female. “Straight to the point! I like it.” She winked at him. “We’re... pretty much what the name implies. Didn’t wanna reform, didn’t wanna risk trying to join other hives. We like our independence.”
“So in a way, you’ve formed your own separate colony entirely independent of the main changeling hives,” he repeated back, using the tactic to try to nail down what he would write in his report. “No wonder this place seems a perfect fit for you then.”
“More like a bunch of little scattered colonies, but yeah!” Cocoon confirmed. “Can’t tell you too much. Wouldn’t want the others to get mad at me.” She smiled a little wider. “But I’m sure a brave reporter like you can find ways to make me talk.” She wiggled the spots where eyebrows would be on a pony suggestively.
He cleared his throat, forcing some unfortunate mental images out of his mind. He’d already eaten meat; one vice was enough for the day. “Yes. Well. I believe that will do for now. Thank you for your time, Cocoon.”
“Aww. Oh well. I’ll be around if you change your miiiind!” She blew him a kiss as she left.
Ebony smirked. “Don’t worry. Cocoon’s harmless.”
“I’m sure,” he chuckled. “Is there anything else you would like to show me before we conclude our interview? I believe I’ve gotten a fair amount of material by now.”
The two were interrupted by a voice familiar to Firestarter, coming from a nearby blackjack table.
“Gah! Bust.” Greaser threw his cards down roughly as a dragon dealer took his chips away with a mildly amused smirk.
“Oh yeah, that guy,” Firestarter said, laughing off the incident from earlier just like the one with the changeling. “He tried to trick me into thinking there was an entrance fee to this place. Some of your guests here get pretty ballsy, huh?” He was still laughing about it.
Ebony’s body language changed in an instant. She visibly stiffened, and the grin froze on her face. “Excuse me... he WHAT!?”
Some patrons around them started to notice the lady in charge getting worked up. The air became tense as they stopped what they were doing to listen to what was going on.
Firestarter stopped laughing, growing a little concerned now. “Um... when I first came in, he stopped me at the door and tried to charge me fifty bits for entry. But it got sorted out, so it’s not that big a deal... right?” He smiled sheepishly.
Greaser finally noticed the silence around him. He turned just in time for his face to meet Ebony’s fist. Ebony hissed insult after insult as she dragged him over to Firestarter by his neck, throwing the bird at Firestarter’s hooves.
She punched him hard enough that some of his slobber got on Firestarter’s chest. “ONE RULE!” She kicked him in the chest. “ONE! RULE!”
Greaser desperately tried to squawk an apology, but every time he tried to speak up, he was silenced by another strike.
Firestarter took a step back in shock. “H-Hey, come on! It wasn’t that bad, was it? W-What’s the one rule?”
Ebony had to take a moment to physically force herself to calm down. “No hustling on casino grounds. You wanna try that out on the streets, that’s fine. But mess with my customers? The folks who come here to feel safe and have fun for a bit?” She flicked the claws on one hand out one by one, holding Greaser by his neck. “I. Do. Not. Appreciate. That.”
Greaser shakily gulped. “B-but I wasn’t on casino grounds! I was outside the door!”
Ebony paused. Then she smiled. Then she started to laugh heartily. Greaser hesitantly started to laugh with her, but Ebony’s laughter stopped immediately as she swiped her claws across his face, sending him stumbling backwards with four deep, red lines across his eye. Ebony pointed towards the door. “You’re lucky I’m in front of a guest right now. Get out. Don’t come back.”
Firestarter was too terrified to say anything more, rooted to the spot even as Greaser half-ran half-tripped out of there, clearly scared for his life.
About a minute passed before the other patrons started to get back to their work and pleasure, business as usual. Firestarter needed two before he could even form coherent words again. He swallowed tightly. “That... that was a little harsh, don’t you think?”
Someone tossed Ebony a cloth. She nodded to them in thanks as she wiped the blood off her knuckles and claws. “Let’s go sit down,” she said absently. “I’ll explain.”
Firestarter nodded, just as out of it himself. But not enough to keep him from recognizing the same gesture he’d spotted when he first met her in her office. Just how often had she used it? “That would be appreciated.”
The two of them went to a nearby table. They were quiet for a long moment, until Ebony spoke up. “Sorry you had to see that. I try not to lose it like that.”
“Is it... normal... for you to punish transgressors like that?” he asked hesitantly. “I know this place is important to you and all, but that was almost militant what you did to that guy. Was it really necessary? I’m just trying to understand.”
She shook her head. “No... no this was a special case. Take a look around this place. Tell me what everyone has in common.”
He did so, and it didn’t take him long to come up with an answer. “Everyone here is an outcast of sorts, just looking for a place to belong and be themselves.”
She nodded. “None of the folks around here have anywhere else to go. The Mountain Underground is one big safe haven for all the waste that the rest of the world decided it didn’t want. Whether it was right to not want us or not isn’t up to me. And don’t think I don’t know there’s pressure from other places, namely your Princesses, to try and get Klugetown to clean up its act. So this whole article thing is... kinda important to us.”
“So that’s why you invited me. I was surprised a place like this would even want attention from the press,” he admitted. “I’m not going to show bias here, but just to be clear, what is it you want my article to accomplish for you exactly? Publicity? Recognition? Acceptance?”
Ebony had to stop and think about that for a long moment. “I dunno. Part of it is publicity. The more folks here, the less likely they hurt someone or get hurt out there. In here, everyone knows the game. As in harm none, do as ye will. You wanna brawl? Sign up for the pits and fight someone who wants it just as bad. I guess I just want to show folks we’re not just a den of scum and villainy. We serve a purpose. Without the Mountain, none of us really have a place to go.”
He nodded, writing that down. “Good answer. Honest answer. So I’ll be honest too.” He took off his sunglasses and set them down on the table to look her in the eye and show her he meant that. “Regardless of what my impostor told you earlier, my first impression of the place hasn’t been entirely positive. I have half a mind to say that letting this much negativity run free is a disaster waiting to happen, and some of your policies can, and have, made me physically ill. But...” He tapped his pen against the pad in thought. “I’m indecisive on the angle I want to take. And what you’ve just told me is the main reason why.”
Ebony chuckled wryly. “Did I ever tell you what the other thing I learned was? In the reformation center?”
He set the pen back on the pad again. “No. You haven’t.”
She looked him dead in the eye. “I didn’t wanna reform at first, but as time went on, I got a little more optimistic. Started actually listening to the stuff the folks there said. I thought I was becoming a new cat. Then something else started to happen. I watched a lot of the others in there with me burn out. Go right back to crime. Some went to prison, some, from what I hear on the grapevine, went to Tartarus. When my mind saw all that as a business opportunity, one thought hit me in the gut: I’m never gonna change. I’m not able to, and I’m not the only one. Old dogs can learn new tricks, but it’s hard to forget our old ones. The world didn’t have a place for me and my kind anymore. So we could either keep fighting to make the world how we wanted it... or we could try and make the best of it, and carve out a little world of our own.” She shrugged. “Hope that makes sense. I’m not exactly a poet.”
She said that, and yet he nearly burned up the page with the speed he had to write that with. He smiled, still visibly conflicted, but satisfied with her explanation. “I think I understand. If there is nothing more... I believe we can wrap this up here.”
She nodded, standing up. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the front door.”
“Good idea. Wouldn’t want to get charged an exit fee,” he managed to joke, walking out with her.
For all that had happened to him tonight, it was a surprisingly uneventful leave. Soon enough, he was right back where he started, standing by the entrance at the bottom of the stairs. “Thank you for your time, Miss Ebony. Whatever I write about your establishment, I appreciate you opening up about it. Not a lot of folks in your position would be so willing.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied, shaking his hoof. “Thanks for hearing us out. Have a safe trip back to your hotel.”
Not a mere saying when it came to Klugetown. “I will. Keep a lookout for my article.” He bowed his head to her one last time, adjusted his saddlebag, and took off, not looking back.
Well, maybe just once.
A few hours later saw Firestarter huddled up in a dark hotel room, bent over a writing desk. His notes from the day’s events were tacked onto the wall in front of him, and at his seat, a blank piece of paper. His manuscript. He hadn’t just started writing, nor had he spent his time so far just staring at a blank page like a college student on their thesis. No, he had written plenty.
All of it was crumpled into neat little balls in the waste bin nearby.
Indeed, he had written plenty. But every time he started on the article, he found himself hopelessly lost on what direction to take it in. Whenever he praised the Mountain Underground, his mind thought back to the less-than-pleasant experiences he’d had. Whenever he condemned it, he remembered Ebony’s words, not exactly heartfelt, but certainly from the heart. He just didn’t know where to go with this, and every time he thought he had an angle, it soon ended up joining its brethren in the trash.
But... this was not unusual. Not for him. This wasn’t the first hard case he’d worked and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, not if he had anything to say about it. He’d built his career on working through such problems and this would be no exception.
So it was only inevitable that he finally came to an answer. Yes. I have it now. I know what I want to write.
Firestarter put his pen back to his mouth and then back to the paper.
This latest draft would become his finished product.
