My Little Interstate: Justice is Magicby Fleetwood_BroughamChaptersProlouge: The AbductionThe Quest BeginsOn The RoadProlouge: The AbductionMy Little Interstate: Justice is Magic Another quality fanfiction by Fleetwood_Brougham (And TheZackAttack) --PROLOGUE-- This was it, her ticket to the fashion BIG-TIME! Just a few more minutes of stitching, and her greatest masterpiece yet would be COMPLETE! So, why not take a little bit of a break. “And,” Rarity mumbled to herself happily, looking at a clock on the wall, “It only took me 8 hours and 17 minutes!” Wiping her forehead with a tissue, she trotted downstairs, to the kitchen, for a sip of wine. She opened the icebox, and brought out what had to be her favorite beverage for that time of night (2 AM), a bottle of, “Hoity’s Own Red Wine”. Pouring some gently into a glass, she savoured the flavor, as it ran over her tongue, but it was a short romance, as she was interrupted by a loud pounding on the door. “Who is it?” she asked warily. “We’re CLOSED at this time of night!” Before she could react, the door was broken down, and two stallions burst in. “You Miss Rarity?” one growled. “Why yes, yes I am, “ She stated with dignity, “And I’m afraid you’re not here to look at the dresses.” “Oh-ho-ho,” one chuckled sarcastically, “She’s as smart as she looks, too. Come on, Dutch, let’s get ‘er.” By all means, Rarity was NOT a weak mare. She knew several martial arts to defend herself, but the two bruisers took her by surprise, lunging down on her, and throwing her in a burlap sack. “Eugh, LET ME OUT!” she demanded, rolling about to make the bag sway, “It’s DISGUSTING in here! What do you PUT in this?! I DEMAND to know!” “Dead bodies,” Dutch replied, “Or bodies that are ABOUT to be dead....” Thinking fast, Rarity knew she had to do SOMETHING. She had a pencil behind her ear, if she needed to change the design of a dress, and there was a scrap of paper at the bottom of the sack. Grabbing the paper, she scrawled out, “TAKEN BY THUGS, PLEASE HURRY, THIS BAG IS DISGUSTING,”, and dropped it through a rip in the sack, towards the bottom. The sack wasn’t completely solid, in fact, she could see where they were taking her: A beaten-up, black 1964 Chevrolet Impala Sedan on the other side of the street. “Well, at least it isn’t a lowrider,” she mumbled to herself. As they opened the trunk, she gave one last struggle, after seeing how PUTRID it was inside. “No, no, NO!” she whined, kicking the bag about again, “IT’S HORRIBLE IN THERE! THE TIRE IRON IS GREASY, IT’LL RUIN MY MANE! I CAN’T COMPREHEND HOW MANY TEENAGE FOALS PROBABLY LOST THEIR VIRGINITY IN THERE, THEIR MOM AND POP’S SEDAN’S TRUNK! I won’t let you take me, I WON’T!” *Slam* “This doesn’t feel right,” one of the bruisers sighed, “But at least hitting her with the trunk lid shut her up.” “Agreed.” The two brutes had a laugh, got in the car, and took off down the road, leaving the Boutique (And the note) far behind. In half an hour, Berry Punch, tuckered out from a night of drinking and partying, came stumbling down the street. She was so drunk, she didn’t know where she was, but she was HELL-BENT on getting home. “Oh lord, I wan’ be in ‘dat number...” she sang to herself, slurring almost every word, “When theh sainz come marshin’ in....” Unbeknownst to her, she stepped on a tiny scrap of paper, one that normally wouldn’t mean anything to her. ------The Next Morning--- Berry awoke from a wretched slumber. She barely had a WINK of sleep, her head hurt, and something sticky was stuck to her hoof. “Heh...” she thought out loud, “Maybe it’s...Another guy’s number?” But it wasn’t. It was a note. She read it, and nearly jumped out of her bed in surprise. “Oh, SHIT, I gotta find Spike..... Youtube Video She hurried out the door to her car, a red 1983 Dodge Aries. She turned the ignition key, but she only recieved the whining sound of the ignition. The engine refused to fire. “Oh, son of a bitch...” Finally, it started, and she lurched away from the curb, car sputtering, and blowing blue exhaust out it’s tailpipe. She raced through the city, running red lights, smashing mailboxes, and sliding across lawns, and finally attracting the attention of Sheriff Deputies Snips and Snails. “There’s one,” Snails commented, “Come on, Snips, GET ‘ER MOVIN’!” Now, these two, and the way they drove their ‘75 Dodge Coronet sheriff cruiser were probably more of a road hazard than Berry Punch, but they took off in pursuit anyway. What do we have now? TWO old Chryslers, barreling down the road, sliding across lawns, and narrowly missing other cars. Berry knew where to find Spike: Roseluck’s Diner, near the PV River’s Easternmost crossing, at Main Street. Finally, she drifted into the parking lot, and rear-ended a 1953 Buick Roadmaster, parked near the main door’s. Snips and Snails followed, and did the same to HER car. “Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” Snips yelled, drawing his gun, as she ran inside, “COOL IT! GET ON THE GROUND!” “Oh, PISS OFF,” she growled, “Everypony knows your gun is too heavy for you to carry when you have bullets in it....” “OH, YEAH?” Snips fired six shots, but no bullets came, only clicks. “She knows, Snails,” He whispered in awe to his partner. “Come on, let’s leave the all-knowing, Great and Powerful Berry alone, she deserves it.” The two numbskulls got back in their Coronet, paying no attention to the wreck that they had partly caused, backed out of the diner, and left, off to play cops and robbers somewhere else, while Berry stormed inside, to tell Spike about the strange note she found. And so began the epic adventure we shall know as, "My Little Interstate". The Quest Begins"I'll have some coffee, and a bagel." Spike sat at the bar stool counter at Roseluck's diner. He came here everyday. Around him were familiar faces, but not Twilight. Not one of the Mane 6. They had moved away long ago to find opportunity in the new territory. All accept Rarity, although she was planning on moving in the next few weeks to New York City. As he sat, enjoying his bagel, all of a sudden, he heard the screeching of tires, and the whooping of a police siren. He looked outside, and spotted an old Buick, rear-ended by a Dodge Aries, rear-ended by a COP CAR! "Oh, god," he chuckled, "Berry's in trouble again..." Surprisingly, the cops left after the accident, and Spike returned to eating his bagel. "SPIKE, MAN! THIS IS BAD! YOUR GIRLFRIEND'S BEEN TAKEN BY A BOOGIEMAN!" "Wha...?" An old stallion looked up from his food. "YER GIRLFRIEND'S BEEN TAKEN BY 'DA SLENDERMAN?! THIS IS BAD, AAAAAAAAGH!" The stallion commenced screaming, until a Ray, a local, came over to the table, and began to comfort the old pony, ensuring him that there was no Slenderman. "What?!" Spike didn't believe in boogiemen, but Berry could be on to something. Rarity would always call him first thing in the morning. "Well," he reasoned, "How do you know for sure?" She handed him the paper she had found, and Spike shrugged. "It could be ANYPONY!" he insisted, "Where'd you find this, anyway?" Berry shrugged. "Can't remember, but LOOK AT THIS, this is Rarity's handwriting! Plus, is there ANY PONY MORE GERMAPHOBIC that you know THEN RARITY? Look at this message!" "You're right," Spike agreed. As much as he didn't want to believe that Rarity was in trouble, he still knew he should check on her. "Hello? Rarity?" Spike peeked in the doorway of the Rarity's boutique to find the door laying on the floor. Somepony BIG had tried to force entry into her house; that was a bad sign. He looked around, to find the lights were still on. A glass of half-drunk, "Hoity's Own Red Wine" was on the counter. This was BAD! Rarity NEVER wasted any of her wine. Berry was right, somepony DID kidnap her, but the question was: How to save her? To hell with asking the police, those buffoons Snips an Snails would NEVER be able to find her. The only sensible thing to do, in this day and age, where not even the POLICE could stop some crimes, was to find her HIMSELF. But, why would someone want to obduct her? There HAD to be a clue somewhere around here. He walked upstairs to find an unfinished dress, another sign of her absence. It had to be one of the most magnificent gowns he had ever seen, and he decided to get a closer look. As he neared the table, he stepped back to admire how the gem pattern on the edges glistened in the light. It was wonderful, probably Rarity's best work yet. It was a shame it wasn't finished. Perhaps this was the reason that she was kidnapped, another dressmaker wanted her gone? Well, that was enough of the dress, he had to go find ponies to join him on this quest, and he knew just where to find them. "Attention, Ponyville!" Spike stood atop a stage at Ponyville Square, set up for an appearance by the Wonderbolts later that day. Several ponies, most of which he only knew from seeing around town, gathered around him, confused at why he was up there. "Rarity has been abducted by SOMEPONY, and I need you all to help me find her!" "And, what's in it for us?" Bon-Bon called, "What do WE get for the countless hours of searching, gasoline wasted, and danger?" "The satisfaction of knowing you helped someone in a big way." A lot of the ponies began to walk away, but Spike tried to call them back. "WAIT! What about YOU, Southern Pacific? You've always LOVED car chase movies, now you can BE IN ONE!" "Those were MOVIES, man! Those were ACTORS!" "Well, er, what about YOU, Mel? Haven't you always wanted to do something with your life?" "Not any more, I don't!" Spike sighed. "Is there ANYPONY who feels satisfaction in DOING THE RIGHT THING?!" The ponies began to scatter at the sound of a whooping siren. That could mean only one thing: "LOOK OUT, WE CAN'T STOP AGAIN!" A voice screamed over a bullhorn. Spike jumped out of the way at the last second, as a Dodge Coronet barreled into the stage, nearly tearing the wood structure in half. As the smoke cleared, Spike got up, off the ground, dusted himself off, and saw who were probably the TWO BIGGEST IDIOTS in Ponyville: Deputy Snips and Deputy Snails, of the Smith County Sheriff, emerging from the wreck, unscathed. "WE'RE IN!" Snips yelled. "In what? Big trouble, for fucking up again? THAT'S SPIKE! "We wanna join your gang of ROAD WARRIORS!" Snails added, with a big smile on his face. "Hold up." Spike was confused. "Who said anything about road warriors?" "Well, DUH!" Snips jeered, "Haven't you played, "Interstate '76"? You get a muscle car, rig it up with guns, and GO KICK FLANK!" "Easier said than done...Where am I gonna find a muscle car?" "We impounded a '70 Plymouth HEMI 'Cuda! We'll let you use that!" Snails insisted kept insisting that they come, and Spike DID need somepony to comewith him. "Alright," he agreed, "You can come." As the impound garage door opened, Spike was in awe at the massive sports car that he was to drive. It was a bright orange color, Vitamin C, as it was called in the catalog, with a black shaker hood scoop. This was a beast. This was a 'Cuda. "Well," Spike asked, "I guess we're supposed to hit the road now, but we DON'T HAVE ANY LEADS!" "Don't worry, bro," Snails told him, "I know a pony." They walked inside the precinct, to find a very familiar blue pony, with a gray mane locked in a cell. She was dirty, as if she had been sleeping in a dumpster for the last 38 years, but it was still her. "Oh, Great and Powerful Trixie!" Snips called, "We need you to show somepony the way!" "Alright, bring him to Trixie." As soon as she saw Spike, she instantly remembered him, as the driver of the Corvette that won the 2012 Apple Cider Classic 300. There were two chairs and a table in the cell, and on the table lay a crystal ball. Spike sat down in the chair facing Trixie, and was about to inform her of the situation, when she interrupted him with an impatient remark. "What do you need to know? Can't you see Trixie is a very busy mare?" "Well," he explained, "Rarity has gone missing, and I need your help to find her. What do you see in your crystal ball, Trixie?" "I see....A black....Chevrolet Sedan, on Border Highway 3....Towards Utah.....Rarity's in the trunk." "Thanks, Trixie." Spike would hug her, but she hadn't bathed in days, so he just rushed back to his car, Snips and Snails following "WAIT, AREN'T YOU GOING TO PAY TRIXIE?! SHE CAN MAKE YOU THE HAPPIEST DRAGON IN THE WORLD, IF YOU PAY HER! I NEED TO EAT TOO, YOU KNOW! Please? Don't leave me alone....." "So," Snips asked, as the three ran to their cars, "Where too next?" "You heard her," Spike told them, "Border Highway 3! They're heading for Utah, let's stop 'em!" As Spike started the 'Cuda, he felt his rage boiling up. He was going to get his Rarity back, no matter what. The 'Cuda and the Coronet raced away from the precint, the latter's lights and siren blaring, acting as a police escort, as they began the chase. On The RoadAs the two cars rolled along the Utah highway on that warm summer day, Snips and Snails began to make the trip unbearable. as they overused their C/B radio. “THIS IS SO COOL! Over.” “We’re V8 VIGILANTES! Over.” “Hey, Spike! Do we get to have CODE NAMES for the radio, come on back?” Spike shrugged, not seeing the harm in it. “Sure, why not? Over.” “Okay,” Snips giggled, “I’ll be...um....Er...” Spike facehoofed. I still wonder how they became cops. “Look, I’ll give you an example of a handle. My name on the radio is, “Flame”. Now, you two try, over.” “O-Okay,” Snails stuttered, “I-I’ll be....OH, I KNOW! FIRE EXTINGUISHER! ‘Cause, you’re....Flame....Eheh....Over.” “No,” Spike laughed, “That’s just stupid. How about, you two are Cuffs and Keys?” “Sounds like a plan!” Snips agreed, “By the way, where are we, over?” “According to the map, we’re about 5 miles South of Dodge Junction. That car’s probably gonna stop there to refuel, it’s the only gas stop until Wendover, and I’m pretty sure a sedan from the ‘60’s can’t make it through the desert on one tank, over.” As they drove along, 30 miles ahead, over the border, Rarity awoke in the trunk. It was cramped, she had duct tape on her mouth, she was tied up, it was dark, and, as she expected, the tire iron was brushing against her tail, covering it with automotive grease. She tried to use her magic to bust open the trunk, but the bruisers had duct taped her horn as well. “Homphw doph ‘dat ephn’ wphrk...?” she muttered to herself, “It Brphks all knwn lphws of mphgc....” “WAIT!” Dutch snapped, “RAY, did you hear that thump in the back?!” “What thump, Dutch...?” “THE MARE, SHE’S AWAKE!” “So?” “Ray,” he fretted, “If she sees us talking with the boss’s men, she’ll figure out something’s going on!” “HELLO? Earth to Dutch?” Ray mocked his partner by knocking on his head in Biff Tannon fashion. “ANYPONY IN THERE?! She’s in the TRUNK! How in the hell is somepony gonna see, if they’re in the TRUNK?!” “Well,” Dutch countered, still worried, “She could HEAR what we’re saying!” Ray groaned. “Alright, just pull over here.” He grabbed a baseball bat that had been laying beside him as the car came to a halt, and stepped out. Rarity was getting anxious. They had stopped, and somepony was opening the trunk! She was either saved, or screwed, but she decided to be optimistic. “Oh, phmnk you!” she sighed in relief, not able to see who was there in the intense sunlight, “You hmphve no idea phwat I’ph bn phrough-” *WHAM* Ray got back into the car, the noise in the trunk now silent. “WAIT!” Dutch shrieked in terror, quite out of character for a big, ugly thug, “DID YOU KILL HER?! THE BOSS SAID WE WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO KILL HER!” “Keep your pants on.” Ray replied gruffly, “I didn’t kill her, I took care of the problem. Now, let’s keep going.” “Well,” Spike remarked, as the two cars rolled past the town gate, “This is it, boys, Dodge Junction, over.” The frontier town hadn’t changed much since the old west, unlike Salt Lake City, the REAL Dodge City, Denver, and many others. The only thing added in the last 100 years was probably the gas station. The two cars rolled up to the Lunoco, to find prices up to 40 bits, or $10 US Dollars a gallon. Celestia had stopped issuing the old coins, but many still circled around the market. “Well,” Snails queried, as the three got out to stretch their legs during the refueling, “What now?” “We ask somepony if they’ve seen that car,” Spike declared, “Somepony around here who’s always looking at cars....LIKE THE SERVICE ATTENDANT!” Spike dashed over to a teenage pony, who was just shoving a gas pump nozzle into the tank of and awaiting Honda. “Excuse me, sir, can you do us a favor?” The teenager eyed them warily. “What kind of a favor?” “Have you seen a black car around here?” “Sure, plenty.” Spike tried to remember what Trixie said it was. “A, er...Chevy sedan, from around 1964.” “Sure have!” Spike’s heart nearly stopped. “HOW LONG AGO DID IT LEAVE?!” “A-About an hour ago,” the attendant stammered, “Man, they were FLYING!” He gestured to some skid marks that led from the service island, down to the curb, and onto the road. “You see that burnout? THEY did that!” “You catch the way they were going?!” “They were heading out toward the cherry orchard.” “That makes no sense,” Spike muttered to himself. If they were trying to leave Equestria, which is the sole purpose of the Border Highway, due to the train not running outside the borders, then why were they heading out toward the orchard? He then shook the clerk’s hand, and the three ran back to their cars. “OW, OOF! OOH-WHERE ARE WE GOING?! I DON’T LIKE THIS! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO HIT ME WITH A BAT?!” “There she goes again...” Ray seethed, “‘BUT, I THOUGHT YOU WANTED WHINING?’ I hope the rough terrain knocks her out....Why’d didn’t we duct tape it AROUND her head, so it WOULDN’T FALL OFF?!” The Impala bounced and rocked on the rough desert surface. They had left the highway to make sure nopony would follow them to where they were headed. “Okay, Dutch,” Ray instructed, pointing at some rocky hills in front of them, “Just over this range, and we’ve made it.” “Erererererererer,” Dutch droned, his voice vibrating as the car shook, “I don’t like this either, Ray! Besides, I don’t think the car will make it over the hill, it’s too steep!” “Just DRIVE, and save the complaining for your therapist.” Rarity could hear some of their conversation. She knew they were in the desert, but not where they were going. All she knew was that her best chance was on the hill. If she could somehow slide out of the ropes, she could bust the trunk open with the tire iron, and escape by rolling down the hill. The white unicorn was scared, but she knew she could make it through this. She was no damsel in distress! She was a STONG MARE, DAMN IT, and she was strong enough to make it through this! She had fought ponies like these two before, and she would WIN! For a moment, she remembered when it all started. 2044, Ponyville had become a WRECK. Criminals ruled, police were bribed, it was an awful little town. After the boutique was looted, and the library nearly burnt down, she had enough. One fateful night, she started her Porsche, got in, and began the life of a vigilante. She went by the handle of Gemstone on the C/B, and many a criminal learned to fear it. To her, it was like being a superhero, pouring her heart and soul into doing what the police couldn’t. After Sheriff Randolph died in 2047, the situation became much worse, as the precinct was arsoned, and protection of the city left to the Sheriff’s Department, who had their fair share on their plate already. The brief run at night became an all-night grind, every day of the week, every year. It was went from wonderful to horrible, from invigorating to draining, but she still had to fight. And, then, it finally caught up with her. She takes on night off the cycle, and somepony wants revenge. But, the question was, WHO? At last, the time had come. She could feel the car slow down, and the incline increase, as she slid into the back of the trunk, hitting her head on the lid in the spot where it curved over, onto the back of the car. Up front, Dutch was becoming paranoid. “We need to go back there and whack her again!” He whispered to his partner, “She’s trying to bust out!” “Dutch,” Ray replied, grabbing the bat, “I’d normally ignore you, but, she hasn’t shut up this long since we knocked her out, you’re probably right. Pull over, I’m going back there.” Rarity was nearly free of the ropes, and the tire iron was within her grasp, she was NEARLY FREE! Suddenly, the trunk opened again, and she was met by one of the thugs, who she could see clearly this time. “Oh, NOT AGAI-” *WHAM!* Near them, there was a red ‘73 El Camino, a blue ‘73 Plymouth Satellite, and a silver ‘72 Ford Gran Torino, all parked around the campsite. There was a fire burning in the center of the camp, and three ponies sat around it, waiting for it to die. “Alright,” Ray ordered, “This is it. Now, remember these rules around these rednecks: 1. never insult their cars. 2. Be friendly, and don’t mention Glen Campbell, they’ll go ON AND ON about that old human. And, 3. NEVER CALL THEIR LEADER BY HIS INITIALS, he HATES that.” As they parked, joining the circle of cars, a black unicorn with a blue mane, wearing a black cowboy hat ran up. He was very excited to see the two, and actually HUGGED RAY. “Good to see ya!” he exclaimed, giving Dutch a hug too, “You boys got the cargo?” Dutch nodded, and proceeded to open the trunk, revealing a beaten, bruised, sleeping Rarity. “Aw mah GOD,” the pony gasped, “WHAT DID YA DO TO HER? Don’t y’all know the boss wants her in good shape?!” “Well, sorry,” Ray shrugged, hoping they wouldn’t find out it was him who hit her twice, “At least she’s here in one peace.” “True,” the Unicorn agreed, “True. So, ah take it this is Dutch’s first time workin’ for the boss?” “Sure is,” Dutch replied, although he wasn’t having much fun, “I don’t like this business, but Ray here told me it was good pay. Is that true?” “It pays, that’s fer sure. Now, COME ON!” The unicorn began to drag a sleeping bag from one of the tents, packed it, and loaded into the canopy of the El Camino. “Now, help me get these, we’re packin’ up!” Dutch did as he was told, disassembling the tents with the three others, and turning around in shock to see that Ray was LEAVING HIM! Dutch dropped the bag, and ran toward the black Impala, as it rolled back up the hill. “WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME, MAN?!” he called, “PLEASE, DON’T LEAVE!” “You’re gonna guard the mare when the helicopter gets here!” Ray yelled back, “These guys have places to be!” After a few minutes, a black helicopter, which Dutch identified as a Sikorsky Sea King came flying over the hills, ready to pick him and the mare up. As it landed nearby, he picked the unicorn up, and placed her gently in his arms. He didn’t want to hurt her, like Ray did. Sure, she was a target, but even targets deserve DECENCY. He set her down on a bench, which she immediately clutched, and held tight to. He admired her for a moment, and then sat down in the co-pilot position, as it began to lift off.
Prolouge: The AbductionMy Little Interstate: Justice is Magic Another quality fanfiction by Fleetwood_Brougham (And TheZackAttack) --PROLOGUE-- This was it, her ticket to the fashion BIG-TIME! Just a few more minutes of stitching, and her greatest masterpiece yet would be COMPLETE! So, why not take a little bit of a break. “And,” Rarity mumbled to herself happily, looking at a clock on the wall, “It only took me 8 hours and 17 minutes!” Wiping her forehead with a tissue, she trotted downstairs, to the kitchen, for a sip of wine. She opened the icebox, and brought out what had to be her favorite beverage for that time of night (2 AM), a bottle of, “Hoity’s Own Red Wine”. Pouring some gently into a glass, she savoured the flavor, as it ran over her tongue, but it was a short romance, as she was interrupted by a loud pounding on the door. “Who is it?” she asked warily. “We’re CLOSED at this time of night!” Before she could react, the door was broken down, and two stallions burst in. “You Miss Rarity?” one growled. “Why yes, yes I am, “ She stated with dignity, “And I’m afraid you’re not here to look at the dresses.” “Oh-ho-ho,” one chuckled sarcastically, “She’s as smart as she looks, too. Come on, Dutch, let’s get ‘er.” By all means, Rarity was NOT a weak mare. She knew several martial arts to defend herself, but the two bruisers took her by surprise, lunging down on her, and throwing her in a burlap sack. “Eugh, LET ME OUT!” she demanded, rolling about to make the bag sway, “It’s DISGUSTING in here! What do you PUT in this?! I DEMAND to know!” “Dead bodies,” Dutch replied, “Or bodies that are ABOUT to be dead....” Thinking fast, Rarity knew she had to do SOMETHING. She had a pencil behind her ear, if she needed to change the design of a dress, and there was a scrap of paper at the bottom of the sack. Grabbing the paper, she scrawled out, “TAKEN BY THUGS, PLEASE HURRY, THIS BAG IS DISGUSTING,”, and dropped it through a rip in the sack, towards the bottom. The sack wasn’t completely solid, in fact, she could see where they were taking her: A beaten-up, black 1964 Chevrolet Impala Sedan on the other side of the street. “Well, at least it isn’t a lowrider,” she mumbled to herself. As they opened the trunk, she gave one last struggle, after seeing how PUTRID it was inside. “No, no, NO!” she whined, kicking the bag about again, “IT’S HORRIBLE IN THERE! THE TIRE IRON IS GREASY, IT’LL RUIN MY MANE! I CAN’T COMPREHEND HOW MANY TEENAGE FOALS PROBABLY LOST THEIR VIRGINITY IN THERE, THEIR MOM AND POP’S SEDAN’S TRUNK! I won’t let you take me, I WON’T!” *Slam* “This doesn’t feel right,” one of the bruisers sighed, “But at least hitting her with the trunk lid shut her up.” “Agreed.” The two brutes had a laugh, got in the car, and took off down the road, leaving the Boutique (And the note) far behind. In half an hour, Berry Punch, tuckered out from a night of drinking and partying, came stumbling down the street. She was so drunk, she didn’t know where she was, but she was HELL-BENT on getting home. “Oh lord, I wan’ be in ‘dat number...” she sang to herself, slurring almost every word, “When theh sainz come marshin’ in....” Unbeknownst to her, she stepped on a tiny scrap of paper, one that normally wouldn’t mean anything to her. ------The Next Morning--- Berry awoke from a wretched slumber. She barely had a WINK of sleep, her head hurt, and something sticky was stuck to her hoof. “Heh...” she thought out loud, “Maybe it’s...Another guy’s number?” But it wasn’t. It was a note. She read it, and nearly jumped out of her bed in surprise. “Oh, SHIT, I gotta find Spike..... Youtube Video She hurried out the door to her car, a red 1983 Dodge Aries. She turned the ignition key, but she only recieved the whining sound of the ignition. The engine refused to fire. “Oh, son of a bitch...” Finally, it started, and she lurched away from the curb, car sputtering, and blowing blue exhaust out it’s tailpipe. She raced through the city, running red lights, smashing mailboxes, and sliding across lawns, and finally attracting the attention of Sheriff Deputies Snips and Snails. “There’s one,” Snails commented, “Come on, Snips, GET ‘ER MOVIN’!” Now, these two, and the way they drove their ‘75 Dodge Coronet sheriff cruiser were probably more of a road hazard than Berry Punch, but they took off in pursuit anyway. What do we have now? TWO old Chryslers, barreling down the road, sliding across lawns, and narrowly missing other cars. Berry knew where to find Spike: Roseluck’s Diner, near the PV River’s Easternmost crossing, at Main Street. Finally, she drifted into the parking lot, and rear-ended a 1953 Buick Roadmaster, parked near the main door’s. Snips and Snails followed, and did the same to HER car. “Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” Snips yelled, drawing his gun, as she ran inside, “COOL IT! GET ON THE GROUND!” “Oh, PISS OFF,” she growled, “Everypony knows your gun is too heavy for you to carry when you have bullets in it....” “OH, YEAH?” Snips fired six shots, but no bullets came, only clicks. “She knows, Snails,” He whispered in awe to his partner. “Come on, let’s leave the all-knowing, Great and Powerful Berry alone, she deserves it.” The two numbskulls got back in their Coronet, paying no attention to the wreck that they had partly caused, backed out of the diner, and left, off to play cops and robbers somewhere else, while Berry stormed inside, to tell Spike about the strange note she found. And so began the epic adventure we shall know as, "My Little Interstate".
The Quest Begins"I'll have some coffee, and a bagel." Spike sat at the bar stool counter at Roseluck's diner. He came here everyday. Around him were familiar faces, but not Twilight. Not one of the Mane 6. They had moved away long ago to find opportunity in the new territory. All accept Rarity, although she was planning on moving in the next few weeks to New York City. As he sat, enjoying his bagel, all of a sudden, he heard the screeching of tires, and the whooping of a police siren. He looked outside, and spotted an old Buick, rear-ended by a Dodge Aries, rear-ended by a COP CAR! "Oh, god," he chuckled, "Berry's in trouble again..." Surprisingly, the cops left after the accident, and Spike returned to eating his bagel. "SPIKE, MAN! THIS IS BAD! YOUR GIRLFRIEND'S BEEN TAKEN BY A BOOGIEMAN!" "Wha...?" An old stallion looked up from his food. "YER GIRLFRIEND'S BEEN TAKEN BY 'DA SLENDERMAN?! THIS IS BAD, AAAAAAAAGH!" The stallion commenced screaming, until a Ray, a local, came over to the table, and began to comfort the old pony, ensuring him that there was no Slenderman. "What?!" Spike didn't believe in boogiemen, but Berry could be on to something. Rarity would always call him first thing in the morning. "Well," he reasoned, "How do you know for sure?" She handed him the paper she had found, and Spike shrugged. "It could be ANYPONY!" he insisted, "Where'd you find this, anyway?" Berry shrugged. "Can't remember, but LOOK AT THIS, this is Rarity's handwriting! Plus, is there ANY PONY MORE GERMAPHOBIC that you know THEN RARITY? Look at this message!" "You're right," Spike agreed. As much as he didn't want to believe that Rarity was in trouble, he still knew he should check on her. "Hello? Rarity?" Spike peeked in the doorway of the Rarity's boutique to find the door laying on the floor. Somepony BIG had tried to force entry into her house; that was a bad sign. He looked around, to find the lights were still on. A glass of half-drunk, "Hoity's Own Red Wine" was on the counter. This was BAD! Rarity NEVER wasted any of her wine. Berry was right, somepony DID kidnap her, but the question was: How to save her? To hell with asking the police, those buffoons Snips an Snails would NEVER be able to find her. The only sensible thing to do, in this day and age, where not even the POLICE could stop some crimes, was to find her HIMSELF. But, why would someone want to obduct her? There HAD to be a clue somewhere around here. He walked upstairs to find an unfinished dress, another sign of her absence. It had to be one of the most magnificent gowns he had ever seen, and he decided to get a closer look. As he neared the table, he stepped back to admire how the gem pattern on the edges glistened in the light. It was wonderful, probably Rarity's best work yet. It was a shame it wasn't finished. Perhaps this was the reason that she was kidnapped, another dressmaker wanted her gone? Well, that was enough of the dress, he had to go find ponies to join him on this quest, and he knew just where to find them. "Attention, Ponyville!" Spike stood atop a stage at Ponyville Square, set up for an appearance by the Wonderbolts later that day. Several ponies, most of which he only knew from seeing around town, gathered around him, confused at why he was up there. "Rarity has been abducted by SOMEPONY, and I need you all to help me find her!" "And, what's in it for us?" Bon-Bon called, "What do WE get for the countless hours of searching, gasoline wasted, and danger?" "The satisfaction of knowing you helped someone in a big way." A lot of the ponies began to walk away, but Spike tried to call them back. "WAIT! What about YOU, Southern Pacific? You've always LOVED car chase movies, now you can BE IN ONE!" "Those were MOVIES, man! Those were ACTORS!" "Well, er, what about YOU, Mel? Haven't you always wanted to do something with your life?" "Not any more, I don't!" Spike sighed. "Is there ANYPONY who feels satisfaction in DOING THE RIGHT THING?!" The ponies began to scatter at the sound of a whooping siren. That could mean only one thing: "LOOK OUT, WE CAN'T STOP AGAIN!" A voice screamed over a bullhorn. Spike jumped out of the way at the last second, as a Dodge Coronet barreled into the stage, nearly tearing the wood structure in half. As the smoke cleared, Spike got up, off the ground, dusted himself off, and saw who were probably the TWO BIGGEST IDIOTS in Ponyville: Deputy Snips and Deputy Snails, of the Smith County Sheriff, emerging from the wreck, unscathed. "WE'RE IN!" Snips yelled. "In what? Big trouble, for fucking up again? THAT'S SPIKE! "We wanna join your gang of ROAD WARRIORS!" Snails added, with a big smile on his face. "Hold up." Spike was confused. "Who said anything about road warriors?" "Well, DUH!" Snips jeered, "Haven't you played, "Interstate '76"? You get a muscle car, rig it up with guns, and GO KICK FLANK!" "Easier said than done...Where am I gonna find a muscle car?" "We impounded a '70 Plymouth HEMI 'Cuda! We'll let you use that!" Snails insisted kept insisting that they come, and Spike DID need somepony to comewith him. "Alright," he agreed, "You can come." As the impound garage door opened, Spike was in awe at the massive sports car that he was to drive. It was a bright orange color, Vitamin C, as it was called in the catalog, with a black shaker hood scoop. This was a beast. This was a 'Cuda. "Well," Spike asked, "I guess we're supposed to hit the road now, but we DON'T HAVE ANY LEADS!" "Don't worry, bro," Snails told him, "I know a pony." They walked inside the precinct, to find a very familiar blue pony, with a gray mane locked in a cell. She was dirty, as if she had been sleeping in a dumpster for the last 38 years, but it was still her. "Oh, Great and Powerful Trixie!" Snips called, "We need you to show somepony the way!" "Alright, bring him to Trixie." As soon as she saw Spike, she instantly remembered him, as the driver of the Corvette that won the 2012 Apple Cider Classic 300. There were two chairs and a table in the cell, and on the table lay a crystal ball. Spike sat down in the chair facing Trixie, and was about to inform her of the situation, when she interrupted him with an impatient remark. "What do you need to know? Can't you see Trixie is a very busy mare?" "Well," he explained, "Rarity has gone missing, and I need your help to find her. What do you see in your crystal ball, Trixie?" "I see....A black....Chevrolet Sedan, on Border Highway 3....Towards Utah.....Rarity's in the trunk." "Thanks, Trixie." Spike would hug her, but she hadn't bathed in days, so he just rushed back to his car, Snips and Snails following "WAIT, AREN'T YOU GOING TO PAY TRIXIE?! SHE CAN MAKE YOU THE HAPPIEST DRAGON IN THE WORLD, IF YOU PAY HER! I NEED TO EAT TOO, YOU KNOW! Please? Don't leave me alone....." "So," Snips asked, as the three ran to their cars, "Where too next?" "You heard her," Spike told them, "Border Highway 3! They're heading for Utah, let's stop 'em!" As Spike started the 'Cuda, he felt his rage boiling up. He was going to get his Rarity back, no matter what. The 'Cuda and the Coronet raced away from the precint, the latter's lights and siren blaring, acting as a police escort, as they began the chase.
On The RoadAs the two cars rolled along the Utah highway on that warm summer day, Snips and Snails began to make the trip unbearable. as they overused their C/B radio. “THIS IS SO COOL! Over.” “We’re V8 VIGILANTES! Over.” “Hey, Spike! Do we get to have CODE NAMES for the radio, come on back?” Spike shrugged, not seeing the harm in it. “Sure, why not? Over.” “Okay,” Snips giggled, “I’ll be...um....Er...” Spike facehoofed. I still wonder how they became cops. “Look, I’ll give you an example of a handle. My name on the radio is, “Flame”. Now, you two try, over.” “O-Okay,” Snails stuttered, “I-I’ll be....OH, I KNOW! FIRE EXTINGUISHER! ‘Cause, you’re....Flame....Eheh....Over.” “No,” Spike laughed, “That’s just stupid. How about, you two are Cuffs and Keys?” “Sounds like a plan!” Snips agreed, “By the way, where are we, over?” “According to the map, we’re about 5 miles South of Dodge Junction. That car’s probably gonna stop there to refuel, it’s the only gas stop until Wendover, and I’m pretty sure a sedan from the ‘60’s can’t make it through the desert on one tank, over.” As they drove along, 30 miles ahead, over the border, Rarity awoke in the trunk. It was cramped, she had duct tape on her mouth, she was tied up, it was dark, and, as she expected, the tire iron was brushing against her tail, covering it with automotive grease. She tried to use her magic to bust open the trunk, but the bruisers had duct taped her horn as well. “Homphw doph ‘dat ephn’ wphrk...?” she muttered to herself, “It Brphks all knwn lphws of mphgc....” “WAIT!” Dutch snapped, “RAY, did you hear that thump in the back?!” “What thump, Dutch...?” “THE MARE, SHE’S AWAKE!” “So?” “Ray,” he fretted, “If she sees us talking with the boss’s men, she’ll figure out something’s going on!” “HELLO? Earth to Dutch?” Ray mocked his partner by knocking on his head in Biff Tannon fashion. “ANYPONY IN THERE?! She’s in the TRUNK! How in the hell is somepony gonna see, if they’re in the TRUNK?!” “Well,” Dutch countered, still worried, “She could HEAR what we’re saying!” Ray groaned. “Alright, just pull over here.” He grabbed a baseball bat that had been laying beside him as the car came to a halt, and stepped out. Rarity was getting anxious. They had stopped, and somepony was opening the trunk! She was either saved, or screwed, but she decided to be optimistic. “Oh, phmnk you!” she sighed in relief, not able to see who was there in the intense sunlight, “You hmphve no idea phwat I’ph bn phrough-” *WHAM* Ray got back into the car, the noise in the trunk now silent. “WAIT!” Dutch shrieked in terror, quite out of character for a big, ugly thug, “DID YOU KILL HER?! THE BOSS SAID WE WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO KILL HER!” “Keep your pants on.” Ray replied gruffly, “I didn’t kill her, I took care of the problem. Now, let’s keep going.” “Well,” Spike remarked, as the two cars rolled past the town gate, “This is it, boys, Dodge Junction, over.” The frontier town hadn’t changed much since the old west, unlike Salt Lake City, the REAL Dodge City, Denver, and many others. The only thing added in the last 100 years was probably the gas station. The two cars rolled up to the Lunoco, to find prices up to 40 bits, or $10 US Dollars a gallon. Celestia had stopped issuing the old coins, but many still circled around the market. “Well,” Snails queried, as the three got out to stretch their legs during the refueling, “What now?” “We ask somepony if they’ve seen that car,” Spike declared, “Somepony around here who’s always looking at cars....LIKE THE SERVICE ATTENDANT!” Spike dashed over to a teenage pony, who was just shoving a gas pump nozzle into the tank of and awaiting Honda. “Excuse me, sir, can you do us a favor?” The teenager eyed them warily. “What kind of a favor?” “Have you seen a black car around here?” “Sure, plenty.” Spike tried to remember what Trixie said it was. “A, er...Chevy sedan, from around 1964.” “Sure have!” Spike’s heart nearly stopped. “HOW LONG AGO DID IT LEAVE?!” “A-About an hour ago,” the attendant stammered, “Man, they were FLYING!” He gestured to some skid marks that led from the service island, down to the curb, and onto the road. “You see that burnout? THEY did that!” “You catch the way they were going?!” “They were heading out toward the cherry orchard.” “That makes no sense,” Spike muttered to himself. If they were trying to leave Equestria, which is the sole purpose of the Border Highway, due to the train not running outside the borders, then why were they heading out toward the orchard? He then shook the clerk’s hand, and the three ran back to their cars. “OW, OOF! OOH-WHERE ARE WE GOING?! I DON’T LIKE THIS! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO HIT ME WITH A BAT?!” “There she goes again...” Ray seethed, “‘BUT, I THOUGHT YOU WANTED WHINING?’ I hope the rough terrain knocks her out....Why’d didn’t we duct tape it AROUND her head, so it WOULDN’T FALL OFF?!” The Impala bounced and rocked on the rough desert surface. They had left the highway to make sure nopony would follow them to where they were headed. “Okay, Dutch,” Ray instructed, pointing at some rocky hills in front of them, “Just over this range, and we’ve made it.” “Erererererererer,” Dutch droned, his voice vibrating as the car shook, “I don’t like this either, Ray! Besides, I don’t think the car will make it over the hill, it’s too steep!” “Just DRIVE, and save the complaining for your therapist.” Rarity could hear some of their conversation. She knew they were in the desert, but not where they were going. All she knew was that her best chance was on the hill. If she could somehow slide out of the ropes, she could bust the trunk open with the tire iron, and escape by rolling down the hill. The white unicorn was scared, but she knew she could make it through this. She was no damsel in distress! She was a STONG MARE, DAMN IT, and she was strong enough to make it through this! She had fought ponies like these two before, and she would WIN! For a moment, she remembered when it all started. 2044, Ponyville had become a WRECK. Criminals ruled, police were bribed, it was an awful little town. After the boutique was looted, and the library nearly burnt down, she had enough. One fateful night, she started her Porsche, got in, and began the life of a vigilante. She went by the handle of Gemstone on the C/B, and many a criminal learned to fear it. To her, it was like being a superhero, pouring her heart and soul into doing what the police couldn’t. After Sheriff Randolph died in 2047, the situation became much worse, as the precinct was arsoned, and protection of the city left to the Sheriff’s Department, who had their fair share on their plate already. The brief run at night became an all-night grind, every day of the week, every year. It was went from wonderful to horrible, from invigorating to draining, but she still had to fight. And, then, it finally caught up with her. She takes on night off the cycle, and somepony wants revenge. But, the question was, WHO? At last, the time had come. She could feel the car slow down, and the incline increase, as she slid into the back of the trunk, hitting her head on the lid in the spot where it curved over, onto the back of the car. Up front, Dutch was becoming paranoid. “We need to go back there and whack her again!” He whispered to his partner, “She’s trying to bust out!” “Dutch,” Ray replied, grabbing the bat, “I’d normally ignore you, but, she hasn’t shut up this long since we knocked her out, you’re probably right. Pull over, I’m going back there.” Rarity was nearly free of the ropes, and the tire iron was within her grasp, she was NEARLY FREE! Suddenly, the trunk opened again, and she was met by one of the thugs, who she could see clearly this time. “Oh, NOT AGAI-” *WHAM!* Near them, there was a red ‘73 El Camino, a blue ‘73 Plymouth Satellite, and a silver ‘72 Ford Gran Torino, all parked around the campsite. There was a fire burning in the center of the camp, and three ponies sat around it, waiting for it to die. “Alright,” Ray ordered, “This is it. Now, remember these rules around these rednecks: 1. never insult their cars. 2. Be friendly, and don’t mention Glen Campbell, they’ll go ON AND ON about that old human. And, 3. NEVER CALL THEIR LEADER BY HIS INITIALS, he HATES that.” As they parked, joining the circle of cars, a black unicorn with a blue mane, wearing a black cowboy hat ran up. He was very excited to see the two, and actually HUGGED RAY. “Good to see ya!” he exclaimed, giving Dutch a hug too, “You boys got the cargo?” Dutch nodded, and proceeded to open the trunk, revealing a beaten, bruised, sleeping Rarity. “Aw mah GOD,” the pony gasped, “WHAT DID YA DO TO HER? Don’t y’all know the boss wants her in good shape?!” “Well, sorry,” Ray shrugged, hoping they wouldn’t find out it was him who hit her twice, “At least she’s here in one peace.” “True,” the Unicorn agreed, “True. So, ah take it this is Dutch’s first time workin’ for the boss?” “Sure is,” Dutch replied, although he wasn’t having much fun, “I don’t like this business, but Ray here told me it was good pay. Is that true?” “It pays, that’s fer sure. Now, COME ON!” The unicorn began to drag a sleeping bag from one of the tents, packed it, and loaded into the canopy of the El Camino. “Now, help me get these, we’re packin’ up!” Dutch did as he was told, disassembling the tents with the three others, and turning around in shock to see that Ray was LEAVING HIM! Dutch dropped the bag, and ran toward the black Impala, as it rolled back up the hill. “WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME, MAN?!” he called, “PLEASE, DON’T LEAVE!” “You’re gonna guard the mare when the helicopter gets here!” Ray yelled back, “These guys have places to be!” After a few minutes, a black helicopter, which Dutch identified as a Sikorsky Sea King came flying over the hills, ready to pick him and the mare up. As it landed nearby, he picked the unicorn up, and placed her gently in his arms. He didn’t want to hurt her, like Ray did. Sure, she was a target, but even targets deserve DECENCY. He set her down on a bench, which she immediately clutched, and held tight to. He admired her for a moment, and then sat down in the co-pilot position, as it began to lift off.
