A Hearth's Warming Buyout

Chapters

Mission: Ponyville
Firings and Flying Trains
Meet the Apples
Have Wings, Will Travel
Muffins and Magic Shows
Sun's out, guns out
Racing is Magic

Mission: Ponyville

Rarity briskly walked down the corridor leading to her boss’s office, ignoring the looks of admiration and jealousy from her coworkers with practiced ease. Two minutes to go, she thought and pressed her lips together in a slightly forced smile. Not enough time to triple-check your make-up. Too much time to avoid wondering what this is all about.

She wasn’t in trouble; that was a given. She hadn’t spent the last fifteen years of her life pulling all-nighters and sixty-hour weeks just to end up with a so-so record, after all. Also, when you’re in trouble, you don’t get an invitation to join the boss, but rather a visit by Tom from Security, who will kindly help you put your belongings in a small box and escort you out of the building. Besides, I already-... She turned around a corner and narrowed her eyes. “Hello, darling,” she hissed at the creature that was also waiting in front of the large office doors.

The griffon gave her a lazy smile and a casual, raised middle finger. “Hello, dweeb,” Gilda replied.

“Miss Belle, please have a seat,” the elderly pony sitting behind his desk muttered and pointed at the empty seat next to Gilda’s. “And please try not to escalate the hostilities to the point where I need to reach for the fire extinguisher again - she will see both of you in a minute.”

“I’d rather stand if it’s all the same to you, Kibitz,” Rarity tried, making a point to literally look down on the sitting griffon.

“It is not,” Kibitz replied without missing a beat. “Sit.”

“Ohhh, you got told,” Gilda whispered and didn’t make any effort to hide her wide grin as Rarity sat down next to her.

“Your fly’s open,” Rarity whispered back, staring straight ahead.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Gilda hesitating. “Like I give a crap, rookie,” her rival finally decided to call her bluff.

“I started one week after you,” Rarity replied evenly, not giving her the satisfaction or the peace of mind of revealing whether or not she had been bluffing. “One. Week.”

“A lot can happen in one week.” There was an edge in Gilda’s tone that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. “Always remember that.”

“You-”

“She will see you now,” Kibitz cut her off, his tone calm but firm.

“Thank you, Kibitz,” they replied and got up in perfect unison before turning towards the double doors leading to their boss’s office. The doors swung open with a quiet hiss and closed just as smoothly behind them. “Ma’am,” both of them said in a carefully practiced neutral tone.

The office was huge but sparsely decorated. Of course, Rarity knew that this was no accident or design quirk; everything in here had been carefully engineered to make the large desk and equally impressive chair in the middle of the room the absolute center of attention.

“Ladies,” Miss Lestia greeted them and slowly swung around on her chair to face them.

Rarity narrowed her eyes slightly as she considered that this, too, had been a carefully practiced motion. Of course it was. You don’t become CEO of a Fortune 500 company by leaving anything to chance.

The white-coated alicorn gave them a quick once-over, expression unreadable as usual.

Much like Rarity, Gilda was wearing a custom-made business formal suit worth a small fortune. Ignoring that Rarity had nailed the color coordination better, the sole difference in their outfits was that Rarity had gone with a dress skirt while her rival had opted for dress pants. Perfect look. Both of us. Should’ve taken the extra time for make-up to ensure an edge over Gilda. Or at least another cup of coffee.

“Heh.” Miss Lestia gave them a hint of a smile. “Not even a bandage? Did I interrupt you before things had a chance to get good?”

“She was late, Ma’am,” Gilda immediately explained, and Rarity barely resisted the urge to tear off her leonine tail for the jab.

“How unfortunate,” Miss Lestia commented drily. Then, without taking her eyes off of them, she opened a drawer and pulled out a butcher knife. “Would you like to wrap things up?”

“The moment passed-” Rarity started to reply.

“-but thanks for your consideration,” Gilda finished with practiced ease.

“Just as well.” She let the knife drop back into the drawer and closed it. A moment of silence passed. Then, when the two rivals had failed to seize the opening for a surprise attack, Miss Lestia smiled. “You are probably wondering why you are here.”

Yes. Rarity gave a careful noncommittal shrug. Next to her, Gilda did the same.

Miss Lestia picked up a remote and pushed a button on it. A projector hidden in the ceiling came to life and threw a picture at the wall to their right. It was a photograph of some rural area, taken from very high up. A few dozen homes that looked like something straight from the middle ages, some farms, and various other buildings were visible in the center of the shot, surrounded by what looked like literal miles of wilderness. “Ladies, say hello to Ponyville.” She nodded happily, then gestured at it for emphasis. “Tell me what you see.”

“Hell,” was Gilda’s immediate reaction. Rival or not, Rarity allowed herself a friendly laugh.

“Funny. But tell me how this looks to you.” Miss Lestia pushed another button. The image changed slightly - while most of the wilderness was still present, the village was gone entirely. In its place stood a massive, computer-generated building complex not unlike the one they were currently standing in.

Very, very much not unlike the one they were currently standing in.

Oh, I see where this is going, Rarity thought. Next to her, Gilda gave the projection a downright predatory grin, reminding Rarity once again that, beyond their professional rivalry and occasional friendly jokes, there were massive differences between them: I’m thinking about what floor would have the best view over the forest. She is fantasizing about personally bulldozing the village. Choo choo. She frowned. Do bulldozers go choo choo? I think they don’t. Hm.

Another click of the remote made them focus again. The areal view was gone, and instead, Rarity was looking at what seemed to be the first search result for “farm family with dog” on some stock photo site. Oh, and everypony is wearing flannel shirts for that extra country look BECAUSE HOW ELSE WOULD WE KNOW IT’S PROPERLY RURAL? IT’S NOT LIKE THE GIANT FARMHOUSE IN THE BACKGROUND MIGHT CLUE US IN!

“Meet the Apple family.” Miss Lestia either hadn’t noticed or had chosen to ignore Rarity’s slightly aggravated whine. “I want what they have.”

“A loving family?” Gilda asked, then snorted when Rarity spun around and gave her a wide-eyed stare. “Alright, that maybe was a bit close to-HURGH!”

The golden aura that had appeared around Gilda’s neck tightened slightly before moving upwards, forcing the griffon to stand on the toes of her leonine footpaws. Her beak opened and closed uselessly, and Rarity could hear just the faintest gasps coming from her. The impulse to help and defend her coworker clashed with the knowledge that said coworker was Gilda, and after a moment of hesitation, she simply looked straight ahead again. Don’t feel guilty; she had it coming. And do you really want to contradict your boss to defend your rival?

Miss Lestia walked around her desk and towards Gilda with measured steps, but her aura of calm was not as strong as the magical aura around her horn. “I would like to remind you that my sister and I reconciled after our... spat,” she said, deliberately keeping her voice even. “As such, what I am about to do should not be seen as an act of revenge.”

“Hrgh!?” Gilda asked, but there was enough pressure on either her windpipe or her vocal cords that she couldn’t be more verbose.

“Instead, please regard this as an errand.” Miss Lestia produced a coin seemingly out of nowhere and placed it in Gilda’s shirt pocket. “I would like you to get me a coffee from one of the vending machines.”

And with that, she opened a window, nearly causing a passing eagle to smash into the building due to the shifting air currents. Rarity had to drop into a slight crouch to fight the gusts of wind that swept through the office.

“No milk. Two sugars.” And with that, she magically chucked Gilda out and closed the window.

Rarity had to force herself not to react. It’s okay; Gilda has wings. Also, it had been a really low blow to invoke her sister, who had nearly caused the bankruptcy of this company out of sheer spite. So you don’t want to side with her in front of the boss. Besides, if that had been me, Gilda most likely wouldn’t have lifted a talon to help me, and I don’t have wings.

“Kibitz,” Miss Lestia said after pressing a button on her intercom, “I sent Miss Dawnstar on an errand.”

“I see, Ma’am,” came the immediate reply. A moment later, a short chime played over the PA system. Rarity raised an eyebrow at the loudspeaker in the office but chose to remain still. “May I have your attention, please,” Kibitz’s voice came from the speakers that had been strategically placed in the entire building. “As part of routine maintenance, all elevators and escalators will be taken down for the next ten minutes. If you scheduled a meeting on another floor, please factor in...”

Rarity tuned him out and allowed herself the tiniest of smirks. Yes, Gilda, have fun taking the stairs. It’s good cardio! “Your coffee is going to be cold, Ma’am,” she said, her neutral tone belying the fact that she had just witnessed her coworker being choked and defenestrated by her boss.

“Oh, please, you didn’t rise to your current rank without carefully studying every habit and preference I ever displayed.” Miss Lestia smirked even as Rarity stiffened. “And that’s fine. I can hire ten summa cum laude graduates before this meeting is over. But if I told any of those to buy some tea, would they know which brand I prefer? No. That’s why I keep you and Gilda around. Or... kept, at least.” Miss Lestia said and tilted her head at the projected image.

Kept me around? Past tense? Rarity’s eyes flicked over to the image of the Apple family. Ponyville. New company building. Her mind was racing towards a conclusion she hadn’t even dared to dream about, but she shut it down before it could cloud her senses. “Ah,” was all she managed to say without croaking.

Miss Lestia slowly sat down behind her desk again. “Anyway.” She was looking amused by Rarity’s struggle. “How is your sister?”

...what? “My sis-... I mean...” She quickly shook her head, trying not to dwell on whether or not her stammering had just worsened her chances of whatever her boss had in store for her. “Sweetie is doing fine. Top grades. It might just be her first year at Canterlot University, but if she keeps it up, she’ll be in the top ten percent of her class for sure.”

Miss Lestia very briefly narrowed her eyes, and Rarity feared that she would call out her lie. But the moment passed, and her boss merely nodded, faint and unreadable smile back in place: “I see.”

They stood in silence for a few more minutes, giving Rarity a chance to study the projected photograph a bit more: Lovely grandmother, she started with the oldest pony in the picture, probably built the farm herself two hundred years ago. I suppose the country life kept her fit if she only uses a walker at her age. Quite likely keeps a shotgun hidden near the front door, and even more likely won’t need it if you happen to threaten her family while being in grabbing range. Her eyes flicked over to the single stallion in the photo. Somepony missed his true calling in the moving business - I’ll bet you anything that he can lift a grand piano with one arm. The guy looks like somebody wrapped a mountain in a pair of jeans and lots of flannel and called it a day. She briefly imagined what would happen if he overheard anypony saying something mean about his family. When her mental images started to look like gruesome outtakes from a horror movie, she quickly moved on to the next pony. The mare was younger than the stallion, possibly putting her in Rarity’s age group if the photo wasn’t too old yet. But any similarity with Rarity ended there: this Earth pony meant business, and although she wasn’t as... imposing as the stallion, she still looked as if she had been raised on a steady diet of protein shakes. And if anypony said something mean about-... yeah, look, let’s just decide never to insult this family while any member of it is in earshot, okay? Okay. The last pony in the photo was also the youngest, but not by too much. And unlike the rest of her family, she didn’t look as if she could tear a car in half with her bare hands. Probably adopted.

The door to the office was pushed open with much more force than necessary, making Rarity jump. “Next time you send me BASE jumping, at least make sure I got my ID with me,” Gilda snarled. “The guard very nearly didn’t let me in.”

“Where’s my coffee?” Miss Lestia asked, completely ignoring the griffon’s rant.

“Machine’s broken. Something prolly came loose inside around the third time I threw the guard against it.” Gilda casually tossed the coin she had received earlier back at her. “Besides, if it’s not Spiffing Tea, you-”

“Yakshire Tea,” Miss Lestia and Rarity corrected her simultaneously.

“-won’t even touch it,” Gilda finished her sentence without missing a beat.

“Very well.” Miss Lestia sighed and pressed the intercom button again: “Be a dear and send the janitor to check on the coffee machine in the lobby.” She paused without taking her finger off the button. “Oh, and I believe it’s time for an audit. Get some folks from Personnel Resources involved and focus on security. I want guards, not push-overs.”

“Very well, Ma’am,” came the immediate reply.

“Right. Where were we?”

“Ponyville,” Rarity replied.

“Tossing employees out of windows,” Gilda replied.

“It’s always about you, isn’t it?” Rarity mused and rolled her eyes.

“And never forget that,” Gilda hissed.

“Ah, this is going to be so much fun!” Miss Lestia cheered and rewarded their antics with a surprisingly cruel grin. “I might have an official betting pool for the first casualty during your business trip.”

Business trip. Rarity’s eyes once again flicked over to the projected image. “You’re sending us to buy that farm?”

“Such lack of vision...” Miss Lestia sighed once again. “Gilda?”

“We’re going to buy Ponyville,” came the immediate and obvious reply.

Rarity mentally kicked herself for blurting out a far too timid mission statement. You’ve literally seen the plan, and you get stuck on that stupid farm? Argh!

“However, Rarity does have her eyes on the lynchpin,” Miss Lestia added to soften the blow somewhat. “Sweet Apple Acres is what is holding that village afloat. Once we own it, the rest of the villagers will have little choice but to sell as well.”

She pressed another button on her remote, switching back to the image of the computer-generated skyscraper. “The Ponyville location is perfectly suited for a second company headquarters. It will generate positive press about moving some of our poor, stressed employees out of the city. And if we play our cards right, the new Location Manager will oversee expansion into other parts of the nearby country. We could pull in ponies from Appleloosa and cater to non-pegasus ponies from the Los Pegasus area. Move out of the city, make the city come to us.” Her voice dropped to a low, seductive whisper. “The new Location Manager would be the second-highest position in the company, effectively becoming the CEO of that HQ and answering solely to me.” She smiled. “And who would be more deserving of that position than whoever delivers it to me?”

Rarity’s mouth went dry. Promotion. Massive, MASSIVE promotion. Number Two of the company? A pleasant shiver ran down her spine. “Cons-”

“Consider it done,” Gilda’s voice cut her off, and she jumped slightly - for a moment, she had forgotten that there was one major, griffon-shaped obstacle in her way.

Her eyes flicked over to her coworker, but that Gilda was gone. In her place was a feral griffon who would eagerly do anything it would take to get that promotion.

Literally.

Anything.

If Miss Lestia even remotely suggested right now that throwing me out of the window would be an acceptable way to end this contest, I would hit the asphalt in ten seconds flat. Very, very flat.

Miss Lestia didn’t seem to realize the change in Gilda’s attitude. Then she reached into a drawer and pulled out two thick Manila folders - Rarity was very glad that she hadn’t pulled out that knife again - which she rolled up and stuffed into cylindrical containers with a spark of magic. The containers quickly hovered towards and into two pneumatic tubes discreetly hidden under her desk. “The information we have gathered on Ponyville will be waiting in your offices. You will depart from here tomorrow at 8am. Whoever delivers me the ownership papers of Sweet Apple Acres and the rest of Ponyville wins.”

Gilda slowly turned her head to give Rarity the most predatory stare-down ever. “And what about the loser?”

“I have no interest in keeping somebody around who can’t even close a simple deal or stand up to her coworker.” Miss Lestia pretended to check her nails. “However, the new location could surely benefit from somebody good at reading her boss’s preferences and needs.”

Rarity’s eyes went wide at that. Whoever doesn’t win is going to be some sort of assistant or even secretary of the winner? Her eyes flicked over to Gilda, who was grinning openly now. Coupled with her glare of death, the look sent shivers down her spine. She took a deep breath. “And what if the winner has no need for a cut-throat opportunist under her?”

Miss Lestia gave her a thin-lipped smile. “You can cross that bridge when you get to it.”

They made it to the elevator without saying a word. The silver doors slid open, and the ponies inside rapidly left the cab when they saw that the company’s most ruthlessly competitive duo was about to enter.

The elevator doors closed, leaving Rarity locked in a box with her rival. She took a deep breath. “Well, talk about a sudden end-of-year shake-”

The grab came out of nowhere.

Rarity had, of course, expected it, and it wasn’t going to be her first physical encounter with her coworker. However, she was never quite prepared for the raw strength and speed that griffons naturally possessed.

She grunted when Gilda slammed her against the far wall, determined not to give her the satisfaction of more signs of pain. A taloned hand pressed her face against the wall while the elbow of the griffon’s other arm dug into her side. “No cream, no sugar,” Gilda rasped. “You better get around to memorizing my coffee preference early - I don’t tolerate mistakes in my banisters.” Rarity could almost feel her grin - Gilda had always enjoyed power play. “If I can’t use my coffee to coat my roof, then-”

The rest of the banter was lost amid a hailstorm of curses after Rarity’s hoof slammed into the side of Gilda’s knee. Gilda took a step back, giving Rarity all the space she needed to spin around, grab one of her assailant’s wrists, and twist it.

“YOU MOTH-AAAAaaaaa...” Gilda finally managed to take some pressure off her wrist by bending over at a weird angle, and Rarity expertly held her at arm’s length. For long seconds, the only sounds in the cab were the griffon’s quiet pants, but then she laughed: “Heh, ya finally learned to fight back a bit! Not too shabby!”

“Yeah, yeah, you like them feisty, I know.” Rarity merely rolled her eyes. “Has anybody ever told you that you talk too much?”

Before Gilda could answer, the elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened to reveal two mares waiting on the other side. “This is your floor, Miss Dawnstar,” Gilda’s personal assistant spoke up, her smile equal parts polite and smug, as usual. She casually reached into one of the apparently hundreds of hidden pockets in her cape and pulled out a mug. “I took the liberty to prepare your usual drink.”

There was the old saying, “Dress for the job you want - not the one you have,” but Trixie Lulamoon was either trying to play both sides or to see what she could get away with. Rarity could think of no other possible explanation for why Gilda’s assistant was wearing a grey skirt suit underneath a purple, star-spangled cape. The matching, oversized wizard hat completed the outfit of the company’s most eccentric and third-most competent personal assistant.

“At least somepony here knows how to please me,” Gilda snarled as Rarity released her from the wrist lock. She started to step out of the elevator but couldn’t help but give Rarity a pointed look over her shoulder. “But don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll learn that as well... once you accepted your place.”

Rarity gritted her teeth but barely managed not to take the bait. She only allowed herself a smirk once Gilda was outside the cab and the second mare had entered. “The word is ‘barista’ and not ‘banister,’ you halfbreed idiot.”

Her timing was perfect, with the elevator doors closing slowly enough to let her see how Gilda’s scowl turned into raw anger, but fast enough to make Gilda slam against them instead of into her. She gave the mare next to her a satisfied smile. “This never gets old.”

“Yes, the paperwork following your casual and repeated speciesism indeed never gets old, Miss Belle.” Twilight Sparkle pretended to smooth her already perfectly smooth skirt. “Shall I prepare the usual excuse that it was simply a play of words regarding Miss Dawnstar being half lion and half-”

“Later.”

“Oh?” Her assistant cocked her head, knowing better than to waste more words after Rarity had already cut her off once.

“What’s the fastest car we got?” Rarity asked as the elevator doors opened on her floor.

“The Corvid ZR1,” Twilight replied without even pretending to think about it, easily keeping up with Rarity’s brisk pace down the corridor.

“Book it. Starting tomorrow, duration... a week, maybe two.” Rarity pushed open the door to Twilight’s office and grabbed the cylinder waiting in the pneumatic tube. “We’re-”

“It has already been booked.”

Rarity nearly choked, then looked at Twilight, who had opted to use her cellphone to do her boss’s bidding as soon as physically possible. Did-... no, there is no way she was faster...

“For Miss Dawnstar,” Twilight confirmed her worst fear without being prompted.

“Did-... How-...” Rarity’s adrenaline high from the elevator ride was finally demanding release, and she gestured from Twilight to the door and back with far more energy than was strictly necessary. “Gilda was faster? GILDA. WAS. FASTER?”

“Miss Lulamoon booked-”

“HOW? HOW DID SHE MANAGE TO GET THIS ORDER IN FASTER THAN ME?”

“-the car-”

“HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO LET THIS SLIP PAST YOU?”

“five-”

“YOU FAILED TO DO ONE SIMPLE THING FASTER THAN TRIXIE?”

“-minutes ago.”

“YOU DON’T GET PAID TO BE SLOWER THAN FU-...” Rarity froze as Twilight’s words finally made it past her outburst. “...did you just say that she booked the car five minutes ago?”

“I did,” Twilight replied curtly as if her boss had not just gone on an insane, adrenaline-fueled rant.

“But... how...?” She led Twilight through another door into her own office and collapsed into her chair. Her personal assistant was already typing rapidly on her phone, probably to book whatever the second fastest car in the company’s motor pool was. Not that Rarity particularly cared - second best was not the best, and she definitely needed the best in everything for this mission. “Five minutes ago? Gilda was still in the meeting!”

“Aside from her brief excursion, yes,” Twilight said and pointed at the windows with one hand while still checking things on her phone with the other.

“Yes, that was glorious,” Rarity mused, then blinked. “THAT’S IT!” she snapped and jumped back to her hooves when she realized what must have happened. “She must’ve had a hunch that Miss Lestia was going to send us to Ponyville! So she called Trixie after beating up that one guy and told her to make the reservation!” She ignored Twilight’s increasingly confused look. “She’s cunning; I’ll give her that. Anyway.” She held up the folder. “Memorize this until tomorrow. You will brief me on the road.”

She raised an eyebrow when Twilight didn’t immediately move. “...did I understand correctly that this trip could take one or two weeks, Miss Belle?”

Rarity blinked. “...yes.” Is she questioning me? Is my assistant literally questioning my orders? Now? Today? On the day before a trip that will decide my fate at this company? “Is that a problem, darling?” She mentally kicked herself for that - her verbal tic worked well to nag Gilda, but it also tended to come through whenever she was particularly stressed, despite her having spent years of trying to get rid of it.

“Well,” Twilight said, being uncharacteristically oblivious of Rarity’s slip of the tongue, “it’s just a week until Hearth’s Warming, and-”

“You want to request time off?”

“Well, actually, it’s a public holiday, so-”

“YOU want to LEAVE me and make me go ALONE on this MISSION?” Her initial adrenaline levels had been depleted, but her body seemed to be happy to produce more. “Don’t you have ANY idea how IMPORTANT this is?”

“No.”

“And you want to just... just... go on a nice and cozy VACATION? Is THAT how-...” She blinked. “No?” She blinked again. “No, of course not... because I just held up a folder and ranted about a car, right?”

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment, Miss Belle?” Twilight motioned at Rarity’s fancy office seat. “I’ll make you a nice cup of chamomile tea. Not the dust they sell in tea bags, no worries. Proper, loose tea. And then you’ll tell me what happened.”

She’s right. The one actually urgent task had been organizing a ride, and Gilda outsmarted me there. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” There was absolutely no reason to go on an insane rant or to try to guilt-trip her about not working during a time when nopony should be working. She slumped onto her chair, and Twilight neatly spun around to prepare the tea. As polite as always. As professional as always. As reliable as always. As hyper-competent as always. “Twilight?”

“Yes, Miss Belle?” Twilight asked and promptly turned back to face her.

Rarity had no doubt about her own talents, skills, and general capabilities. She knew that she could have worked her way to her current position without Twilight, but she also knew that it would have taken her much longer to do so. And she knew one other thing: I can’t do this without Twilight. This is the most important moment of my career, and I need the best pony by my side to stand a chance here. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I... I’m sorry.”

Twilight blinked at that. “That important, huh?” she asked after a second and smiled. Before Rarity could acknowledge that she only used words like “please” or “sorry” whenever she needed a favor, Twilight had already gone into her own office, the folder slowly floating behind her on a cloud of magic.

Rarity leaned back in her chair and let out a long sigh. It’s okay. Twilight’s on the case. We can sort out whatever demands she puts forth. Most of the time, it’s just something absurd, borderline illegal, and unenforceable, anyway. I mean, even if I ever found the time to settle down and marry somepony, I’m reasonably certain she wouldn’t actually insist on naming my first daughter after her... right?

“Hey,” Twilight’s voice suddenly came from the other room, but it was clear that she wasn’t talking to Rarity.

I didn’t hear anypony come in. Phone call? She leaned ever so slightly closer towards the door.

“Yes.” A pause. “I anticipated as much.” Another pause. “Mh. Yes, good. Just according to keikaku.” She chuckled - one of the few genuine and open laughs Rarity had ever heard from her. “Look, you introduced me to the series; you have to live with the consequences.” Another pause. “Right, gotta go. Water’s ready. Seeya.”

Rarity watched silently as Twilight came back in with two mugs and a teapot, the folder tucked in neatly under one arm. “Ponyville, fascinating,” she commented even as she neatly placed the teapot and the mugs. She flipped open the folder and let herself fall backward, her chair racing all the way from her office to catch her, guided by a burst of magic. “I doubt that name even appears on most maps,” she commented as if she hadn’t just performed an advanced act of magical speed and precision without even looking. “Please let the tea steep, Miss Belle,” she muttered when Rarity reached for the pot. “While we wait, why don’t you tell me why we’re leaving town just before a public holiday?”

It took Rarity about five minutes to fill Twilight in: thirty seconds to say, “I need to buy this village in the middle of nowhere, or I’m going to become Gilda’s chew toy,” and the rest of the time to rant like a lunatic about what had possessed Miss Lestia to reward years of hard work with an all-or-nothing contest. During that entire time, Twilight had been silent. She had merely flipped through the pages of the folder and nodded every now and then. “So you see why I need you on this trip, right? Right?”

“Of course, Miss Belle,” Twilight replied and finally looked up from the folder. “I’ll handle transportation and contract prep work. Why don’t you drink your tea and then call it a day? Pack your bags, make sure you have a variety of clothes so you can choose the best suit or dress based on the situation, things like that. There are no appointments left in your daily schedule, there is little left to do here for you before the trip, and I can brief you on all of this tomorrow en route.”

“...you’re sending me home?” Rarity made a show of checking her watch. “It’s not even two in the afternoon! I can’t just go home at that time of day!”

Twilight gave her a brief look, and Rarity could see that she knew. Knew of her apartment, filled with things that looked good and very apartment-y, but ultimately had no soul. Knew that Rarity had picked her interior design on the day she had moved in from a catalog without even giving her choices a second thought. Knew that there was nopony waiting for her when she came home after yet another long day at the office. Knew that, if she went home now, Rarity would be wholly and utterly-

“Of course, Miss Belle,” Twilight’s voice cut through Rarity’s negative thoughts. “I wasn’t thinking of the implications about for image. I’m sorry.” She smiled politely.

“It’s fine; no need to apologize.” Rarity smiled back, but then her smile faltered. What exactly am I going to do here for the next four to six hours, then? Fret about the upcoming trip until I drive myself straight to a nervous breakdown? Twilight is right - it’s no use to start new projects today, and I wouldn’t be able to focus, anyway. I should go home, pack my bags, then take something that lets me sleep peacefully for twelve hours or so. “On second thought... why should I worry about my image? In two weeks, I’ll be overseeing the construction of my own company location!” She forced a grin. “Let them watch as I leave early! Let them gossip! I’ll show them soon enough! Right?”

“They will indeed rue the day they talked about you behind your back, Miss Belle.” Twilight got up and bowed slightly. “Few can stand in your way as long as you believe in yourself.”

Rarity felt herself nodding at that. “Yes! Exactly! What I need is this... this... attitude thing you keep mentioning...” She snapped her fingers impatiently.

“Posi-”

“Positive mental attitude! Yes, thank you!” She slapped her table and jumped to her hooves. “I need to remind myself that I clawed my way up to the top and that I can claw my way up even further!”

“Exac-”

“Confidence! That is what it’s all about! It’s about taking what you want and manifesting it into reality!”

Twilight backed off a little bit but still nodded. “For the record, the person who said that was talking about meme strategies. And then he fell down a waterfall. Twice, if my memo-”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Rarity knew that her assistant was always slightly on edge whenever ponies started to gesture and shout, but she didn’t pay her any mind - she was on a roll! “Actually, why don’t we turn this into a friendly bet, Twilight?”

Twilight’s smile locked up at a weird angle. “A... bet, Miss Belle?”

“A bet, Twilight.” Rarity gave her a grin.

“You know I don’t really like our bets.”

“Because you lose most of them.”

“Because I keep being a good sport about your abuse of loopholes.”

“Does it anger you that I repeatedly best you in intellectual challenges?” Rarity teased her, knowing from experience how far she could push.

For a fraction of a second, she could see genuine, raw anger in Twilight’s eyes. She knew that her assistant was barely holding back a barbed remark, possibly involving her three PhDs, fluency in five languages, or her officially certified IQ that was higher than the GDP of Latmareia. “What kind of bet?” she finally asked, her voice barely more than a threatening whisper.

“I bet that we will be home for Hearth’s Warming Eve, happy as we can be.”

“I-...” Twilight blinked at that, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. “...that’s ambitious,” she finally observed. “What are the stakes?”

“If I win, you owe me one bit.”

“And what do I get if you lose?”

“There is no way Gilda will need more than a week to pressure the locals into signing over their land.” Rarity took a deep breath. “So if we’re not home by then, it most likely means that I will be leashed to the desk of the new Ponyville location’s manager. In that case, you can literally pick whatever you like - it won’t matter anymore.” She shrugged even as she was trying not to let the mental image of Gilda’s victory get to her. “My apartment’s pretty nice, so I suppose you can have that. Or whatever else suits you.”

Twilight frowned briefly but then held out her hand. “In that case, I look forward to owing you that one bit, Miss Belle.”

“That’s the spirit, Twilight.” Rarity smiled and shook her assistant’s hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Author's Note

Notes, inspiration, credits:

Ahhhh, last names. "Rarity Belle" is a fairly widespread headcanon, but Dawnstar being Gilda's last name is - as far as I know - just my own thing. Astronomy- and star-related names are a common trend in MLP, and I liked the sound of it.
Spiffing Tea is a reference to Youtuber "The Spiffing Brit", who once actually got a "Spiffing Tea" branded tea box gift from ~~Yakshire~~ Yorkshire Tea.
Likewise, Rarity's little bit about confidence and manifesting your dreams into reality comes from Youtuber Muselk's video "this fortnite video will have 10 million views". (A video which is hilarious, but slightly exceeds this fic's age rating thanks to casual F-bombs. So google at your own risk.)
Translator's note: keikaku means plan.
Author's note: I have not actually watched Death Note but am aware of some memes.
You say Corvette, I say Corvid; you say writing around trademarks, I say that MLP mandates puns.
This fic contains no references to fake ambassadors, so a reference to Latmareia from Betraying Tempest will have to do.

Firings and Flying Trains

Twilight at least had not been lying about the train compartment - the two rows of seats facing each other looked very comfortable. Very, VERY comfortable. I’ve seen couches less comfortable than this, Rarity thought. Heck, I’ve seen beds less comfortable than this. She slipped into the compartment, claiming one of the window seats as her own. The two window seats shared a narrow table which she anticipated would soon be occupied by her tablet or at least copious amounts of notes. Twilight calmly took the window seat opposite her, and Miss Pie sat down next to Rarity, conscious of leaving her a fair amount of space.

“So,” Rarity said and gestured at the compartment, “we’re here. Let’s hear your plan. What’s the secret weapon?”

“Miss Belle, I wouldn’t call-”

She snapped her fingers. “Does the train fly? Is that it?”

“There-”

“Because it better fly; otherwise, I don’t see how we’ll beat Gilda’s sports car with a STEAM TRAIN with COZY BOUNCY SEATS!” She demonstrated the last part by bouncing on the seats in the most aggressive way possible. A part of her noted that it probably just made her look like a pouting child, but she was aggravated enough not to care.

“The flying locomotive is one platform further down, sorry,” Twilight informed her once Rarity had caught her breath.

Rarity raised an eyebrow and looked out of the window, following Twilight’s pointed finger. There was indeed another steam locomotive. It was almost entirely purple, and the purple robot face icon near its front gave it a vaguely sinister look. “That train actually flies?” She blinked. “How? And why aren’t we taking that?”

“Because Ponyville is in Equestria, not on Cybertron.” Twilight shrugged. “This is Astrotrain, Cybertron’s ambassador to Equestria. He is part of a hostile faction of machine entities called the Decepticons who want to enslave all humans, amass a substance called Energon, and conquer the universe, not necessarily in that order. When he is not relaying vague but empty threats to our government, he covers the occasional commute to Cybertron.”

There was a long pause. Finally, Rarity gave the locomotive another look. “Riiight,” she said, carefully choosing not to comment yet on whether or not she believed Twilight.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Twilight lowered the top half of their window and leaned out through it. “Good morning, Astrotrain!” she shouted.

“GOOD MORNING, MISS SPARKLE,” a booming, slightly distorted voice came from the train. It sounded foreboding but also quite polite. “HOW ARE YOU AND THE WIFE DOING?”

“Fine, thank you!” And with that, Twilight closed the window again and smiled.

No matter how long this train ride would be, Rarity felt that it wouldn’t be long enough for all the questions she had right now. Coupled with her sleep deprivation slowly catching up with her, she knew she had to focus on what was truly important right now: beating Gilda.

She was about to discard all thoughts about sentient space trains when suddenly, a horribly genius idea occurred to her. “So... what you’re saying is... that this... Astrotrain... can fly... and is looking for ‘humans,’ is that correct?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“So... hypothetically speaking, he would be going our way if somepony convinced him that there were ‘humans’ in Ponyville, right?”

Twilight’s smile froze.

Rarity started to grin and quickly turned to Miss Pie. “Madam Adjudicator,” she said before Twilight had a chance to protest, “since I’m not entirely sure about the minutiae of the contest rules, could you please weigh in on this change of plans?”

“Hm.” The pink Earth pony slowly tilted her head, and it occurred to Rarity that this was the most emotion she had shown all day. “Part of Miss Lestia’s company credo is that freedom is the right of all sentient beings, so I feel that sacrificing humans to a machine would create a slight conflict.”

“But there are no humans,” Rarity pointed out, reveling in the feeling of being one step ahead of both her hyper-competent assistant and one of the most feared employees of the company.

“That is correct,” Miss Pie conceded. “However, that brings us to the second issue: it is probably not wise to scam an ancient murder machine. Also, Miss Lestia has stated in the past that she has little interest in fighting the Decepticons again, so I believe I speak for the company when-”

“Miss Lestia did what now?” Rarity gawked at this. “Has Equestria been involved in some sort of actual conflict with a race of machine beings I literally never even heard of? Why? We have no humans, and I never heard of this ‘Energon,’ either.”

Both Miss Pie and Twilight exchanged meaningful glances. Finally, the former cleared her throat. “The war happened outside of the public eye and has been kept out of the history books for various reasons.”

“War? Miss Lestia, our boss, fought in a war against machine beings over non-existent humans?”

Miss Pie appeared to be uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “Officially, there was no war. Unofficially, I strongly advise against challenging Miss Lestia to a trial by combat over anything more meaningful than a restaurant bill.”

“Also, officially, there are no machine beings, so-”

“Yes, yes, fine, whatever.” Rarity cut off Twilight impatiently, even as more and more questions started to pile up in the back of her mind. “No flying train for me, I get it.” She focused on Twilight again. “So, how long is this trip going to take?”

“Eight hours,” Twilight replied immediately, once again not bothering to pretend that she had to think about it.

“EIGHT HOURS?” Rarity slammed the table with both hands. “EIGHT. HOURS?” She took a deep breath and barely resisted the urge to try punching her assistant. “Okay,” she wheezed and pressed her palms against her eyes. “Easy. Easy. The train probably goes in a straight line. Or something. But it’s slower than the Corvid. Much slower. The math doesn’t check out, does it? Does it?” She lowered her hands and gave Twilight a glare. “What is the estimate for a car to reach Ponyville?”

Twilight reached into her bag and retrieved a few seemingly random sheets of paper. “Miss Belle, there are multiple factors-”

“How long?”

“-one needs to take into account when-”

“HOW LONG, TWILIGHT?” The roar even made Miss Pie lean away a little bit.

There was a second of silence. “Four hours,” Twilight finally replied.

“Four hours?” Rarity felt an ice-cold dagger stabbing her intestines and slumped backward in her seat. “Four.”

It was over.

There was no way that Gilda would need more than four hours to close the deal. She had no idea what Twilight had been thinking, but she knew that her career was going to end hundreds of miles away from her destination.

Five minutes from now, she was going to cry. Ten minutes from now, she was going to consider jumping out of the train window. But now? Now? Now she was going to do something she should have done an hour ago.

“...you’re fired,” she whispered, her eyes focused on something infinitely far away.

“Miss Belle, you should get some sleep, and I will-”

“YOU’RE FIRED!” Rarity bolted out of her seat, summoning her last reserves to throw herself at her traitorous assistant. “YOU!” She batted away Twilight’s feeble attempt at defending herself. “ARE!” She wasn’t going to choke her, but she did grab Twilight’s head to make sure they were making eye contact. “FIRED!”

She stared down Twilight, her face inches from the other mare’s. Twilight’s eyes were wide, but then she somehow calmed down again. “You will have to call Personnel Resources,” she finally muttered. “They will also inquire about your reasons.”

A tiny part of her admired Twilight’s adherence to protocol even as she effectively guided Rarity on how to tank her career. “Sure. Sure.” She whipped out her cellphone and dialed the company’s main number.

“Good morning,” the operator picked up the phone after just one ring, “you have-”

“This is Rarity Belle from senior management,” she cut him off. “Patch me through to Personnel Resources.”

“...very well, please stand by,” the operator said after just a moment of hesitation.

Rarity flashed Twilight a cruel smirk. “I will burn your potted plant once I get back to the office,” she whispered while the hold music was still playing. “Never liked it, anyway.”

“Personnel Resources, this is Starlight Glimmer speaking,” a female voice finally interrupted the hold music.

“Good morning, Miss Glimmer,” Rarity said and sat up straight, determined to cling to her last moments of power in the company. “This is Rarity Belle from senior management. I want you to terminate the employment of my assistant, Miss Sparkle.”

For some reason, Miss Glimmer didn’t immediately respond. And when a reaction came, it wasn’t the one Rarity had anticipated: “You what? ...who?”

Rarity took a moment to look at her phone screen as if to make sure she had called the right company. “I want you to fire my assistant. Her name is Twilight A. Sparkle. But the ‘A’ is silent.” Not the right choice of words, but whatever. Sounds nice.

“...Sprkle?” Miss Glimmer asked, sounding equal parts confused and amused.

“The other one, Miss Smarty Pants,” Rarity hissed. “Don’t make me file a termination request for you, too. Look, just type her name into your computer! There is going to be only one employee with that name!”

“There are two entries for ’T. A. Sparkle,’ actually.”

What are the odds? “Nopony cares! Pick either! Pick both! Keep firing them until you get the right one! Do your job while you still have one!”

“Right. Right.” She could hear Miss Glimmer typing furiously. “Reason for the termination?” A pause. “For her, not me.”

“Willful sabotage of my business trip with the aim of ending my career.” Her voice almost cracked as she was saying that. Almost. “She threw away my shot at arriving at least shortly after Gilda, and now I’m stuck in a train that doesn’t even fly!”

“Few trains do that, actually,” Miss Glimmer remarked even as she was still typing. “Right. So. According to the travel plans you filed-”

“TWILIGHT MADE ME SIGN THOSE! YOU NEED TO SEE THROUGH HER LIES!”

There was a long pause as Miss Glimmer apparently checked her ear for hearing loss. “Well, since this is looking like it will be a contested case, I will have to run it past the Head of Personnel Resources. She is currently on a business trip, but I will make sure that she will take care of your request first thing next year.”

“NEXT YEAR?” Rarity gestured wildly. “I don’t have until next year! I need her fired immediately! Call your boss! Send smoke signals! Astral project! I don’t care how you contact her; just do it! Right now!”

“...of course, Miss Belle. I will call you back.”

“There you go.” Rarity smirked and ended the call. Then she sneered at Twilight, who was only looking mildly uncomfortable. “You will pay, Twilight. This is the price of your betrayal! I don’t know what sway Gilda or your precious wife have over you, but-”

A phone started to ring, and it wasn’t Rarity’s.

“Excuse me,” Twilight muttered and reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve her phone. “Sparkle,” she answered the call. “Good morning, Starlight!”

Starlight? As in Starlight Glimmer? Why did she call Twilight? She said she’d call her boss, not- Rarity let out a quiet wheeze. Oh, no...

“...yeah. ...yeah, she is a bit aggravated.”

This is not happening. I must have woken up in some sort of nightmare dimension.

“Mh. Exactly. The travel plans have been properly signed and filed, which should be enough to at least- ...that, yes. Yes.” She blinked when she saw Rarity’s look of disbelief. “Ah, hold on for a moment.” And with that, she reached into another pocket. A moment later, she slipped the second “Do not get mad for withholding information” favor over the table, ignoring Rarity’s slightly insane laugh. “Sorry, back now. Where was I...? Oh, right. Filed properly, needs to be contested, not our department, yadda, yadda, yadda. Besides, we’ll still reach Ponyville first, so this was just Miss Belle jumping the gun. Her application will be withdrawn by this time tomorrow, so just ignore it until then. ...mh, you, too, bye!”

Rarity watched blankly as Twilight stuffed her phone back into her pocket. “You... you...” Her phone rang, and she briefly considered just not answering it. Still, even with her doomed career, she felt obliged to see things through. “Hello?”

“Good morning, Miss Belle, this is Starlight Glimmer from-”

“Your boss is Twilight A. Sparkle?”

There was a pause. “She goes by T. Asmodeus Sparkle in our department,” Miss Glimmer finally half-corrected her. “But the ’T’ is silent,” she added, and Rarity could almost hear her grin.

She hung up without dignifying that with an answer. “Pillow?” she simply asked Twilight, who immediately produced a large, white pillow from her seemingly bottomless purse. “Thank you.” And with that, she pressed the pillow against her face and screamed into it for half a minute, removing it only when she was running out of air. “Thanks,” she croaked and slumped backward again.

It took her a moment to figure out what had changed during her fit, but she finally realized that the train had started its journey. Canterlot’s suburbs were moving past the window at a leisurely pace. No backing out now; we’re committed.

A part of her wanted to call it quits right there. However, another one was finally done reviewing all the new information she had been exposed to. And it wanted answers. “You-” She gladly accepted the water bottle Twilight had just pulled from her bag and took a big gulp. “You’re the Head of Personnel Resources?” she finally asked, starting on a fairly neutral note. “How can you possibly juggle being my assistant and that? And what made you apply for that position? Surely it wasn’t the money.”

“Ah, remember how, a few years ago, the Writers Guild of Equestria went on strike, thus delaying and sidelining-”

She was silenced when Rarity leaned forward and placed a finger on her lips. “If you are going to tell me that you literally applied to be the Head of Personnel Resources because there was nothing good on TV, I am going to strangle you with your own mane.”

Twilight considered this before giving Rarity a sheepish smile. “Next question?” she finally asked.

“...this is depressingly on-brand for you, darling,” Rarity remarked before letting out a sigh. “Fine. Next question.” She paused. “Wait, if you’re the Head of Personnel Resources, does that mean that you could fire me?” Not that it makes much of a difference right now...

“No,” Twilight patiently replied. “Only your higher-up can have you fired. In this case, that would be Miss Lestia or somepony directly authorized to speak on her behalf.” She motioned at Miss Pie. “However, the request would go through my department in such an event. So my signature would be somewhere on the paperwork.”

“Well, it’s a relief that you at least can’t fire me out of retaliation.”

“Why would I?”

“Because-...” Rarity frowned. This is all part of some inane, larger-than-life master plan, isn’t it? She somehow provoked me into trying to fire her. I have no idea WHY, but I know a setup when I see one. I’d ask for details, but I can barely comprehend those even when I’ve had some sleep and am not on the receiving end of them, so... next question. She took a deep breath. “...Asmodeus?” she asked. “Is that actually what the ‘A’ stands for?”

Twilight grimaced and simply flashed her ID. “Yes.”

Despite - or maybe because - of the cavalcade of mostly negative twists and turns, Rarity couldn’t help but laugh at seeing Twilight’s full name in print. “Twilight Asmodeus Sparkle?”

“Whenever I ask my parents about it, they change the subject,” Twilight sighed. “Speaking of which: next question.”

Rarity barely managed to hold back more teasing questions. Okay. Time for the big question. “You told Miss Glimmer that we would reach Ponyville first...?”

Twilight hesitated but then gave her a tiny, knowing smile. “There is a 95% chance of us arriving about two hours before Miss Dawnstar, yes.”

Rarity let out a tiny, insane giggle. She had no idea what Twilight was up to, but somehow, hearing the confirmation alone put her at ease. “Fine, I guess 95% beats our odds with the Mustang,” she conceded. “I’m not sure what crazy plan of yours delays Gilda by... six or so hours, but I’m guessing you’re not going to tell me right away, right?” When Twilight just shrugged apologetically, she sighed. “Fine. Just tell me what happens if your 95% don’t pan out.”

“The other 5% would cover Miss Dawnstar being paranoid enough to pre-empt my plan.” Twilight rummaged in her bag and pulled out what looked like a small remote control. “In that case, I would detonate the bomb I planted in the Corvid as a last resort.”

“...I’m almost certain that that’s just your garage opener, Twilight,” Rarity whispered after a long pause, “but just in case, I want you to hand the remote over to Miss-”

Twilight pushed a button on the remote.

“-NO!” Rarity yelped, then mentally kicked herself for falling for Twilight’s bluff literally five seconds after calling it. “...I hate you so much sometimes...”

Twilight chuckled and stuffed the remote back into her purse. “I apologize, Miss Belle. On a more serious side, those last 5% are indeed a major risk, but I figured you’d approve of a 95% chance of getting a multi-hour advantage over your rival.”

“I do. I do.” Rarity waved her hand. She leaned into her seat - with the mild swaying of the train, it somehow felt even more comfortable. I could think of worse ways to spend eight hours... “So...” She waved her hand again, this time more aimlessly.

“Shall I begin briefing you on Ponyville and Sweet Apple Acres?” Twilight volunteered and retrieved a metric ton of papers from her purse.

“Ah... yeah, sure... sure...” Rarity said, even though a briefing was not her most pressing concern right now. I need coffee... and breakfast... and a time machine so I can go back to last night and actually get some sleep...

“Excellent. I shall begin by briefing you on the Apple family.” Twilight shuffled her papers until she had found a page that was filled with names, neatly arranged into five columns, printed in a tiny font.

“...big family?” Rarity asked, trying to pretend to be interested.

“Quite.” Twilight didn’t seem to notice her boss’s lack of more active interest. “The head of the family is called Granny Smith. However, her grandkids effectively manage the farm: Big McIntosh, Applejack, and Apple Bloom. Further members of the family include...” She cleared her throat. “Apple Fritter... Apple Bumpkin... Red Gala... Red Delicious... Golden Delicious... Caramel Apple... Apple Strudel... Apple Tart...”

Rarity nodded drowsily. She realized that Twilight was reading the names too slowly... and with far too little inflection... which made it hard... to pay close attention...

“Baked Apples... Apple Brioche... Apple Cinnamon Crisp... Apple Cider... Apple Cobbler... Apple Honey... Apple Munchies... Gala Appleby... Jonagold... Lavender Fritter... Peachy Sweet...”

Gotta stay focused... but... it’s just... a list... so dull... just going... to rest my eyes... for one... second...

Pinkamena watched as Miss Belle closed her eyes. There was some fight left in the unicorn, but somewhere after the twentieth or so name, her breathing slowed visibly, and she started to lean towards the window.

Miss Sparkle quickly moved the pillow with her magic and expertly caught her boss’s head, taking great care to let her rest comfortably. “There you go,” she whispered. After a few seconds, once she was sure that her boss was fast asleep, she finally made eye contact with Pinkamena.

There was a word for the emotion she was experiencing, but she couldn’t quite place it yet.

Strictly speaking, Miss Sparkle was not part of her assignment. Miss Lestia had provided her with a detailed list of things to watch out for, and for some inane reason, “Twilight Sparkle, stunt driver, friend of the Decepticons (looking back, her coat color should have tipped Pinkamena off early on), and potential abuser of precognitive powers,” had not been on it. An oversight? she wondered.

“You seem tense,” Miss Sparkle finally said, lowering her voice a little bit to avoid waking up Miss Belle.

“I’m fine, Miss Sparkle.”

“You may call me Twilight.”

Pinkamena narrowed her eyes. There were diplomatic ways to handle it, and there were ways that involved her lying to the police about why a fellow employee had decided to eat her luggage. “Is Miss Belle aware that you have rigged this entire show so far, Miss Sparkle?”

Coupled with her even and slightly accusatory tone, that question was usually enough to make ponies break down and confess. Miss Sparkle merely rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You can do better than that.”

“So is that a no, then?” Pinkamena tried but gritted her teeth when the other pony didn’t take the bait. “Is Miss Lestia aware that you’re playing your own game in the middle of this assignment?”

Twilight Sparkle gave her a wide, almost predatory smile, and Pinkamena suddenly knew what her earlier emotion was called: fear. Not fear of anything physical - the unicorn probably weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet and wouldn’t have all that many defenses against sudden defenestration - but rather an almost primal fear that Pinkamena usually only experienced when Miss Lestia was up to something.

Pinkamena pulled out her cellphone. “I’m going to tell Miss Lestia that you’re sabotaging her contest for your own sick pleasure, and then I will throw you out of this window. Let’s see if Thomas The Decepticon Tank Engine catches you.” Without waiting for an answer, she thumbed Miss Lestia’s entry in her contact list.

Miss Lestia picked up after the first ring. “Good morning, Pinkamena. You’re early.”

“Ma’am, I-...” She frowned. “Early?”

“Please don’t tell me you have threatened Twilight with violence already...”

She had never been quite sure where Miss Lestia really stood on the subject of hospitalizing coworkers, but she was also a terrible liar. “Not threatened per se.”

“So you promised it?” A chuckle.

“...yes.”

“Good, good.” Miss Lestia paused. “Well, not the violence part, but that you didn’t go through with it yet. After all, it would be a shame if you had disposed of my little pet mastermind before she had fulfilled her special assignment for me.”

Pinkamena’s grip on the phone tightened. “Special assignment?” she wheezed.

Opposite her, Miss Sparkle calmly reached into her apparently bottomless purse and pulled out an envelope, which she placed on the table. Pinkamena already knew what would be written on it, but she still looked to confirm that the impeccable handwriting spelled out “Special Assignment: Twilight A. Sparkle.”

A part of her wanted to take the envelope and read through its content. Special assignments were rare and tended to have far-reaching consequences for everypony involved. But at the same time, she knew that the content of this envelope was strictly for the recipient’s eyes only (and that they were usually protected by powerful and creative enchantments). She took a deep breath when she remembered another fact about them: they were a sign of absolute trust. “Why was I not briefed on this?”

Miss Lestia laughed quietly. “Because you’re about to be.”

As if on cue, Miss Sparkle moved the envelope to the side, revealing a second envelope. Pinkamena gave it a long, hard stare before picking it up.

Written on the envelope were the words “Special Assignment: Pinkamena D. Pie.”

“Is there a reason why you didn’t give me my actual assignment in person?” It took a few tries, but she eventually managed to open the envelope with one hand. Times like these make me question my decision to not get a headset...

“Oh, but I did!” Miss Lestia laughed lightly. “You are the Adjudicator, and that is your task here. The envelope just contains a few extras.”

“I’m not amused.”

“You never are,” Miss Lestia told her. “That’s the problem.”

Instead of questioning that comment, Pinkamena unfolded the contents of the envelope, careful to not let Twilight see what was written on the sheets of paper. She was halfway certain that the unicorn knew what Pinkamena was about to read, but halfway certain was not fully certain, so she decided to play it safe. There was a cover letter of sorts, plus several attachments. She took a look at the letter.

Dear Pinkamena,

if all goes according to plan, you are going to-

She raised an eyebrow when she read the rest of the sentence. Then, after some consideration, she also raised the other one. With a flick of her wrist, she revealed the first attachment and cursed under her breath. “Well, now.”

“Yes.” Miss Lestia paused, giving her a chance to voice objections. When none came, she exhaled softly. “Do what is right, Pinkamena. Just keep in mind that you’re not the only one on this mission who has my complete trust.”

She gave Miss Sparkle a look. “...thank you for clearing things up.” And with that, she hung up and took a long breath. “It has been a while since I had an interesting task. Let’s see what you got in store for us.”

Miss Sparkle shrugged apologetically. “Not that much more, I’m afraid. You now know that I’m working against the clock, and I don’t know what will happen once we reach Ponyville. Which is why I decided to have as much fun as I could on the way.” She gestured at Miss Belle, who was still fast asleep.

Pinkamena raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lie, and you know it. You made sure to max out Miss Belle’s adrenaline to make her crash. Everything you did today, you did for her.” She leaned forward. “It doesn’t take a detective to realize that you are quite smart and possibly possess literal precognitive powers. So the only question is what the limits of those powers are that you may not be able to use them in Ponyville.”

“Heh.” Miss Sparkle leaned back in her seat and gave her a lazy smile. “Please, I can’t see the future. Anypony who thinks that is simply too afraid to consider the alternative: I’m not quite smart, I’m extremely smart.”

Pinkamena really felt reminded of her conversations with Miss Lestia at this point. “Hm. I believe I’m starting to understand. You scripted out multiple pathways and seamlessly guided the action along them to ensure the desired outcome. That’s why the race felt so natural, right? It wasn’t scripted because there was no one script to follow. And you do not see the future but keep the present on a very tight leash.”

“Excellent; I can see why Miss Lestia praised your observational skills. Yes, there were dozens of ways this race could have played out, and all of them had us ending up on this train. And now that we’re all on the same page, there is only one thing left to do.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a slightly oversized gun.

“Um.”

Noticing the way Pinkamena was tensing up, Miss Sparkle grinned. “Oh, please. I doubt this thing could put a dent in you.” Without breaking eye contact, she pulled down the window with a flick of her magic, pointed her gun through it, and pulled the trigger.

The flare shot into the sky with a loud hiss before exploding into a bright green shower of fireworks.

“I fail to see what purpose-”

Somewhere above them, a second train whistled. Pinkamena looked up through the window, then paled under her bright pink coat.

Astrotrain had been following them and was now slowly altering his course towards a new destination.

“What did you?” she whispered.

“Hopefully bought us a few hours,” Miss Sparkle replied, still grinning. “Now... as long as Miss Belle is asleep, do you have any further questions?”

Pinkamena slumped back into her seat, stunned. “Well, since you’re asking...” She gestured vaguely. “Do you have something to soothe my nerves? I feel I need it before I dare to ask how you managed to bribe a Decepticon.”

Miss Sparkle’s grin widened, and she pulled a large vacuum flask out of her purse. “Finally, somepony who appreciates that I brought tea!” She quickly poured a cup and handed it to Pinkamena. “And I did not bribe a Decepticon. Astrotrain and I go way back, and he still owed me a favor.”

Pinkamena looked from her to the cup, then back at her. “I changed my mind,” she finally muttered. “Is there alcohol in that bottomless purse of yours, Miss Spa-... Twilight?”

“-nudge her some more, maybe?”

“Mhrgh?” Rarity asked.

“Well, there you go. Now give me my flare gun back.”

“...mhhhrgh?” She blinked against the light. For a moment, she wondered why she had not closed the curtains, but her memory quickly came back in full force. “Bwah!” She quickly shook her head as she realized that she must have fallen asleep while Twilight had been reciting the names of the Apple family. “Terribly sorry, darling, I must’ve nodded off for a second!” She rubbed her eyes, then squinted at her secretary. Something was... off. Something had... changed. “...did you do something with your make-up?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow at that before thinking about the question. “Ah, I suppose it looks a bit different in the current lighting.”

Current lighting? Rarity looked through the window. Ah, she’s right, I suppose. The sun’s much higher now than it was-... She paled. “WHAT TIME IS IT?”

Twilight made a show of checking her watch. “It is now-”

“THIS LOOKS LIKE NOON!” She hastily grabbed her cellphone and pushed a button to turn on the display. “IT’S ALMOST TWO IN THE AFTERNOON?”

“I would have let you sleep for another hour or so, but I reason that you might want to take an hour or so to eat something and freshen up before we-”

“GILDA!” Rarity gestured this way and that. “DID SHE-...” Her rational side finally managed to tackle her panic. “-...no, wait, you’re way too calm about this. Gilda hasn’t made it to Ponyville yet, has she?” When Twilight gave her a tiny, but very knowing smile, she let out a sigh of relief.

“Speaking of Miss Dawnstar, you have a few missed calls.”

Rarity checked her phone again. Her notifications about missed calls were indeed piling up. “Before I call her and gloat, what do I need to know?”

Twilight tilted her head a little bit. “I believe it’s more important to keep in mind what you don’t officially know.”

What I don’t officially know? Is that a play on the whole secret war with these... what were they called... Decepticons? Why would she bring this up again? It has nothing to do with me calling Gilda about her not arriving-... Her eyes widened. “...what did you do?” she whispered.

Twilight took a deep breath and averted her eyes. “Why don’t you let Miss Dawnstar explain?”

Oh, no... Licking her lips nervously, she tapped one of the call notifications and put the phone on the table so that Twilight would be able to listen in.

“Yeesh, about time, dweeb!” Gilda picked up after two rings. “I was starting to think your phone flew out of a window during the race!”

“I was catching up with some sleep,” Rarity replied, careful to not give too much away too early.

There was a pause. “Wow, you managed to fall asleep despite being stuck in second place?”

Rarity allowed herself a smile but kept her voice neutral. “Ah, remember that time I tried out those audiobooks on meditation techniques?”

Another pause. “...no?” Gilda finally both answered and asked. “I’m fairly certain you never mentioned anything like that.”

Because I just made it up. “Well, anyway... you called?”

“Yeah, because-... Hold on, did your secretary bring you up to speed?”

“She told me you’d do that.”

A deep breath. “Okay, as you probably realized by now, your car isn’t moving even though you’re not yet in Dweebville, right?”

“...right,” Rarity replied after a second of hesitation. Very strictly speaking, it wasn’t even a lie.

“...you seem oddly relaxed about this.”

“Well... I guess... your car isn’t moving, either?”

“Yeah, cars tend to stop moving once they run out of fuel.” There was a pause as Gilda was likely trying to determine if Rarity was acting or if she was actually oblivious. “...Twilight seriously didn’t bring you up to speed, did she?”

“Afraid not.”

“And you also didn’t bother to check ANY news?”

Rarity froze. So far, none of Twilight’s plans had caused actual headlines, and Rarity had wanted it to stay this way. “Um.”

“Anzû help me,” Gilda muttered under her breath. “Look, I’ll make it short because you can read all about it on virtually any news site, anyway. All the fuel in a hundred-mile radius is GONE.”

“What do you mean? Fuel can’t just-”

“STOLEN! Some bandits stole all the fuel from all the gas stations in a hundred-mile radius!”

Rarity gave her phone a confused look. “...how did that happen? How would you even steal all the fuel from a gas station? Don’t they have huge tanks?”

Gilda groaned. “Look, dweeb, nobody knows, alright? All we know so far is that all gas stations have run dry, and the owners encouraged folks to try to make it to the next one or to the nearest motel. And all of them claim that they saw nothing, which means that either there was some sort of... I dunno... tunneling crew? Or that the robbers threatened them. Either way, we don’t know who took the fuel or how.”

“This doesn’t make any sense; how would anybody have the resources to steal several truckloads worth of fuel? Just for transportation alone, you’d need a whole line of trucks or some sort of-...” Her mouth went dry, and she looked at Twilight in horror. “-...train.”

Twilight gave her the faintest of shrugs.

Gilda either hadn’t noticed the pause or slight change in tone, or she didn’t care. “Yeah, though there aren’t any train tracks anywhere near the freeway.”

“...flying trains don’t need those,” Rarity whispered and slowly shook her head in disbelief.

“Flying-...?” Gilda scoffed at that. “Trixie, good news, you’re not the dumbest pony I talked to today anymore!”

“Ha-haaa!” Trixie’s voice could be heard from a slight distance. “The Great and Powerful Trixie once again beats the odds!” A pause. “What did she say?”

“Something about flying trains.”

“Ah.” Another pause. “Oh, no. What if the Decepticons sent their flying space train over and-”

“Aaand the title goes right back to you, Trixie,” Gilda cut off her assistant. “Congratulations, Rarity, it appears that you will only ever be second best, even in failure.”

Rarity allowed herself a thin-lipped smile. It was time to strike. “I come first where it matters. Such as the race.”

“Buzz off. Trixie was smart enough to get us back to the last gas station when she realized that we wouldn’t make it to the next one. Once a fuel truck comes in, we’re going to burn rubber. So even if you are also parked next to a gas station, you are still behind. So tell me, future coffee maid, are you banking your entire career on being serviced first and then catching up with us in the time it takes for a truck to reach our station?”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Of course I don’t.”

Rarity’s complete lack of anxiety made Gilda pause for a second. “Then what? You didn’t overtake us, and your car is out of fuel. How would you ever-”

“What car?”

“-...what do you mean, WHAT CAR? The car you are sitting in! The car I flipped off in our rear-view mirror when we hit the on-ramp! The car that is now stranded just like ours!”

Years of practicing her best condescending laugh finally paid off. “Ah-ha-ha, oh my goodness! Oh, Gilda...”

“What?”

“Gilda, Gilda, Gilda...”

“WHAT?”

“That car is sitting in a parking lot in Canterlot.”

“...what?”

Ohhh, that moment was SO worth all the trouble! I’ll give Twilight a raise if we actually pull this off. Or even better, make her Assistant Location Manager. She absolutely deserves it. “You see, Gilda-...” She paused. If I give Twilight all the credit, Gilda might take out her anger on Trixie for failing to think ahead just as much. “You see... when I reviewed our travel plans last night, it occurred to me that the car might break down or run into other problems during such a long ride.”

“...four hours is NOT a long-”

“So I wanted to play it safe.” She paused for full effect. “So we took the train.”

“...you took the train,” Gilda echoed, and Rarity could practically hear her will to live ebbing away. “Trixie?” she finally asked. “Why did you take us on a road trip when THERE IS A TRAIN THAT IS JUST AS FAST?”

Much to her credit, Trixie didn’t sound particularly intimidated. “There isn’t.”

“BECAUSE WE ARE STUCK NOW WHILE RARITY-...” Gilda stopped herself as her brain finally parsed the words. “There isn’t?”

“Of course there isn’t. If there was, they would have arrived, what, more than an hour ago? Besides, if there was, I would have told you.”

“But... but... then why did she go with an option that is so much slower? This would make absolutely no sense unless she was certain that-...” There was a long pause. “But... but...”

“Gilda.” When no answer came, Rarity knew that it was time to skip any further banter and instead deliver the coup de grâce. “Three sugars and a little bit of milk. You better get around to memorizing my coffee preference early - I don’t tolerate mistakes in my baristas.”

“YOU MOTHER-”

Rarity tapped the icon to end the call. “YES!” She slammed her hands on the table, making the phone jump slightly. “YES, YES, YES! OH, THAT WAS PERFECT!”

Twilight allowed herself a slight smile of her own. “Thank you for keeping Trixie out of harm’s way, Miss Belle.”

“Anything for my new Assistant Location Manager,” Rarity purred.

Miss Pie shifted in her seat but didn’t say anything. Twilight’s smile froze for a second, but she recovered quickly.

I can see not everypony shares my enthusiasm or optimism, but that’s fine. We’ll work this out. We won. Her phone rang, and Rarity wasn’t surprised to see the word “GILDA” on the screen. (She would have given the contact a more creative name, but knowing her luck, Miss Lestia would have spotted it at a bad time.) She tapped the screen. “Good afternoon, you have reached the future Location Manager of the Ponyvi-”

“SHUT THE-” Gilda’s scream was cut short by a weak croak. “Damn,” she rasped.

“Water?” Trixie’s voice was quiet but firm - a solid indicator that Gilda indeed hadn’t taken out her rage on her.

“Gimme.” There was a pause as Gilda took a big gulp. “Thanks.” A loud cough. “Rarity, you listenin’?”

“Sure, but be quick about it - I would like to sample the offerings of this train’s restaurant before we arrive in Ponyville. You know what they say - you shouldn’t buy an apple farm on an empty stomach.”

Another pause. “You will go to prison, Rarity,” Gilda finally hissed.

“Prison? Goodness, are you sure that was water? Because-”

“Listen closely. I don’t know how you did it, I don’t know how much you spent, but I do know that you’re behind this fuel heist. I am about to call the cops, and I will tell them that you banked your career on an option that would only be faster than our car in the one-in-a-million case that SOMEHOW, ALL GAS STATIONS-” Another cough, followed by a second gulp. “-that somehow, all gas stations magically run dry, leaving us stranded.”

Rarity gulped - it had not occurred to her that this stunt would have legal consequences. Well, it had occurred to her, what with the ancient murder machine apparently threatening gas station attendants with bodily harm if they blabbed, but it hadn’t occurred to her that Gilda would make the connection. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her about traveling by train. Then again, our travel plan is still accessible on the company intranet, so this isn’t exactly a secret. She frowned.

Twilight quietly snapped her fingers to catch Rarity’s attention. Then she quickly smiled and shook her head, followed by a surprisingly rude gesture aimed at the phone.

Okay, my miracle worker is on it. Somehow. Rarity sighed in relief. “Sure, you do that, darling. It’s not like you have anything else to do for the next couple of hours.” She tapped the screen to end the call before Gilda had a chance to reply. “Please tell me how this isn’t going to end with me going to jail, Twilight.”

Twilight shrugged. “Of course not, Miss Belle. Nopony has been harmed beyond simple delays. Part of the earlier blockade arrangement had been to divert as much traffic away from this route as possible, although it’s typically just used by trucks or for casual road trips, anyway. Astrotrain has already informed the authorities of his deeds and has taken full responsibility. The police have been instructed to smile and nod if anybody calls in with hot tips, but the case has already been closed. The whole thing will internally go down as a tense moment in Equestria’s relations with Cybertron while the public will be fed some convenient fairytale. Astrotrain will invoke diplomatic immunity, the stolen fuel will be returned tomorrow, yadda, yadda, yadda.”

Rarity nodded slowly, as if Twilight had not just ended a bombshell disclosure in the most flippant way possible. “...may I ask you a question?” She finally whispered. “Why did somepony like you become a secretary?”

“Guess.” For the second time today, Twilight was looking miserable. “I’ll give you a tip: It’s very, ah, depressingly on-brand for me, but not because there wasn’t anything good on TV.”

Rarity narrowed her eyes. “...you lost a bet, didn’t you?”

Instead of answering, Twilight made a show of sighing loudly. Then she checked her watch. “I’ll walk you to the restaurant and brief you there on what we know about Ponyville and Sweet Apple Acres. Miss Pie has already volunteered to look after our luggage. Oh, and you might want to call Starlight Glimmer at some point to undo my attempted firing.”

“What will it take to make you tell me the details?” Rarity couldn’t help but grin.

“There is not enough money or alcohol in the world to make me do that,” Twilight replied drily as she scooted past Miss Pie. “Follow me, please.”

Author's Note

Notes, inspiration, credits:

This was supposed to go live a week ago, but my computer nearly borked itself while trying to upgrade the OS. Fun times! Also, here's your mandatory reminder to regularly back up your files! It's all fun and games until your computer refuses to boot.
Anyway. This chapter is about peak crazy for this fic. Things will quiet down a bit from here.
I genuinely don't know why so many of my fics involve ambassadors. I guess the idea of diplomatic immunity fascinates me?
My headcanon middle name for Twilight is back as well, so this chapter truly has all my little quirks.
Anzû is a mythological being in several Mesopotamian religions. In some accounts, he was depicted as a lion-headed eagle, so the thought of eagle-headed lions regarding him as a patron saint or god amuses me to no end.

Meet the Apples

Rarity had had better food, but in all fairness, she hadn’t expected a dining car to compete with the three-star restaurants she usually visited. Still, it had tasted okay, and after having eaten virtually nothing all day long, she would have devoured even the greasiest fast food.

Twilight had done most of the talking during her meal, showing Rarity photographs of Ponyville and supplying her mainly with statistics. It hadn’t been the most insightful presentation, notably missing things like psychological profiles of the Apple family or incriminating evidence that could be used as leverage. Of course, that kind of thing would have been impossible to obtain, considering that they were talking about a family of farmers in the middle of nowhere and that Twilight had had less than a day of prep time.

“It’s about time,” Twilight finally told her and nodded at one of the windows.

Rarity followed her glance and sighed. The coziest village in a fifty-mile radius was coming into view. Also the only village in a fifty-mile radius, she silently added and rolled her eyes. “Right. I’ll go and fix my make-up. You get our things ready so that we can get going as soon as the train stops. We’ll visit the farmer, then the mayor to negotiate for whatever else we need to get a majority of Ponyville. If we play our cards right, we can buy the key assets in two transactions and be back home before midnight.” She got up, confident that Twilight would settle the bill.

“Of course, Miss Belle,” Twilight obediently intoned. “Although we won’t make it home before midnight.”

Rarity gave Twilight a look and narrowed her eyes. “...and why is that, darling?”

“...because this train will only depart tomorrow at-...” She leaned back a little bit when Rarity made strangling gestures in her general direction.

“We are stuck here overnight?”

“...you literally told me yesterday that we might be here for a week, maybe two.”

“Yes, but that was... words!”

“Well, yes, that is how telling me things usually works,” Twilight replied, unfazed by the long stream of rude gestures Rarity was performing in her general direction.

“Ugh! What are the odds that your murder machine buddy can give us a ride back?”

“Low,” Twilight replied without even pretending to think about it. “Also, murder machines tend to be built for efficiency, not safety or comfort. Sure, the trip would just take an hour or so, but I only brought one pillow to sit on, and it’s mine.”

“Fine, I suppose we can spend the night. I mean, once I buy the farm, it becomes company property, so I can get us the best rooms in the house, right?”

Twilight wasn’t looking entirely convinced, but she nodded anyway. “You’re one of the company’s best dealmakers, Miss Belle. If anybody can do it, it’s you.”

Rarity stepped out of the train and openly scowled at the hut that was trying really hard to pretend that it was the station building. I bet they don’t offer free WiFi in there. She paused. I bet they don’t even know what WiFi is. “I’m starting to get where Gilda’s coming from,” she muttered. “Should just burn the entire thing to the ground. And what’s that smell?”

Twilight slowly waved her phone around like some future tech scanning device. “I believe the natives call it... ‘nature,’ Miss Belle.”

“Funny.” Rarity huffed and motioned at her bags. “See if you can deposit these somewhere. Then call us a taxi.” When Twilight hesitated, she groaned. “Let me guess, few taxis in this village.”

“The nearest gas station is more than ten miles away. I’m pretty sure few of the locals even own cars, and the only roads around are the ones leading out of the village. Maybe-”

“Yes, yes, yes, we’ll walk. Fine. Take care of the luggage. I’ll meet you in the front of this shed.”

She motioned at the Adjudicator to follow her. “I hope you’re up for a short walk, Miss Pie.”

“I was raised on a farm, Miss Belle. I’m used to hikes and physical labor.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow at that. From what she had heard, nopony really knew anything about Miss Lestia’s pink-coated judge-slash-jury-slash-executioner, so it was downright shocking for her to casually disclose such a mundane background. “You grew up on a farm? What did your folks grow?”

“Rocks.”

“...rocks. As in... these rocks.” She pointed at the gravel in front of the building, then did a double-take. Oh, wow, Twilight wasn’t lying when she warned me about the lack of proper roads! These savages probably haven’t even invented asphalt yet!

“Bit bigger than that,” Miss Pie remarked drily but didn’t bother to elaborate.

“Okay,” Twilight said as she came out of the building. “The station closes in four hours, so we should pick up our things until then. Also, get used to paying for everything in cash.”

“Right. I’ll let you handle the small transactions, and I’ll take care of the big one.” She held up her silver briefcase. “Now, where is this farm?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Behind you.”

“Good, and here I was worried that this would be-...” She turned around and frowned when she saw no farm but only a few disgustingly cozy houses. Then she looked up. “-...hard.”

Sweet Apple Acres was looming over her from the top of a gigantic hill half a mile behind the houses. The hills surrounding the big one were packed with apple trees and seemed to go on forever.

“Wow, those photos did not do the place justice,” she muttered. “That’s... that’s several hectares worth of farmland, isn’t it?”

“Make that several hundred hectares worth of farmland,” Twilight corrected her patiently. “And that’s not even taking into account the topology of the hills.”

“Small wonder that we’re supposed to go after it first. It’s probably larger than the rest of the-...” She barely held back a curse when she realized something. “We have to WALK all the way up there?”

“Unless you wait a few hours - I’m sure Miss Dawnstar will give you a ride once she arrives.”

This time, Rarity failed to hold back her curse, but the reminder that she was working against the clock at least made her move.

"Thank... goodness,” Rarity wheezed when she had finally climbed Mount Applefarm. She had been ready to pass out three times and had cursed Twilight twice for not stowing a spare car in her bottomless purse.

However, the worst part was that she was somehow the only one who was out of breath. Miss Pie probably had superior Earth pony genes on her side, but Rarity had no idea what Twilight’s excuse was, other than magically being better than anypony else by default. She gave her assistant a glare. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t possibly resent her any more than I currently do.

Twilight seemed not to notice her superior’s state. “Wow, living in the city, you tend to forget how invigorating a nature hike can be!”

...and I immediately stand corrected, Rarity thought and tried not to listen to the voice at the back of her head that was telling her that no jury in Equestria would convict her for absolutely justified murder. “Just... get me somepony... to sign this... stupid contract.”

“Ah, you may get your wish sooner than you’d like,” Twilight curtly informed her, her silly smile replaced by her usual mask of professionalism.

Already? Rarity looked up just in time to see two members of the Apple family coming out of the farmhouse. I must look like a complete mess - why did I even bother to fix my make-up on the train? She forced herself to stand upright and took a deep breath. Okay, this isn’t ideal, but you’ve had worse starting positions. You can do this. She gave the two Earth ponies a look and identified them as Applejack and Big McIntosh. Both were dressed in dirty jeans and shirts that deserved a Medal of Honor for going above and beyond in their attempts to contain the physiques of their wearers. At first, they just appeared to be bulky, but as they came closer, Rarity realized that the lack of surrounding context had concealed just how big both of them were. She found herself staring at a wall of green and black flannel and had to tilt her head back just to be able to meet Applejack’s matching green eyes.

“Well, howdy!” Applejack immediately took the initiative before Rarity could make the first step. “We don’t often get visitors here, ‘specially no city slickers.” She gave Rarity a grin and flicked her cowboy hat up a bit, revealing more of her unkempt blond mane. Somewhere between the disarming smile, the freckles, and the muscles, Rarity was able to spot beauty, but it was well hidden under a layer of dust, dirt, and sweat.

“I suppose so, Miss Applejack,” she carefully conceded and forced a smile.

“Jus’ call me Applejack!” The mountain of a mare chuckled. “An’ y’all are?”

Okay, you get only one chance to introduce yourself, so make it count. She put on her best winning smile and reached into her jacket pocket to fish out her business card. “Rarity Belle of-...” Her voice trailed off when she saw Applejack’s friendly smile shifting into a very cautious frown. “I assure you there is nothing to worry about.”

“Uhuh.” Somehow, Big McIntosh managed to put multiple layers of meaning and implication into that one grunt. He quickly exchanged looks with Applejack, who ended up huffing.

“Whaddya want?” Applejack crossed her arms in front of her chest, and Rarity could almost hear the seams straining to not burst open under the pressure of her biceps. A distant part of her noted that Applejack’s upper arm was nearly as big as her head.

“Well, I suppose the metaphorical cat is out of the bag,” Rarity muttered and sighed as she handed her business card to Big McIntosh, who was acting a bit less hostile, at least at the moment. “Applejack, I have-”

“Actually, I changed my mind. I’d prefer if you called me Miss Applejack.”

Rarity took a deep breath. “I’m starting to feel that you know why I’m here.”

Applejack looked down on her both literally and figuratively. “Sweet Apple Acres is not for sale,” she hissed.

That’s what they all say. And she wouldn’t open with a statement like that if she wasn’t worried. “Of course it’s not.” She laughed lightly and noted the way Applejack’s eyes widened. “Ancestral family farm and all that. You have weathered hard times and endured, right? Surely your dearest grandmother told you tales of how-”

“Goodbye, Miss Belle,” Applejack interrupted her and pointed at the path leading downhill. “Please take your goons and leave our property.”

Rarity made a show out of looking as bored as possible as she took a deep breath. Then she slowly held up her suitcase with a spark of magic and snapped it open with her hands. Thanks to Twilight’s briefing, she didn’t have to look up the key facts, but holding up a piece of paper made things look far more official. “Sweet Apple Acres has generated roughly ninety thousand bits in revenue in the last year, is that correct? That is a definite improvement over the average of the years prior to that, mostly thanks to your initiative to diversify the product range you are offering for sale.” She glanced at the paper again. “Causing Sweet Apple Acres to almost break even for the first time in about half a decade. You are an impressive mare, Miss Applejack.” She paused for effect. “But you are no miracle worker. How much longer until the family savings run out? How-”

“Impressive?” Applejack snorted. “Y’all wanna see somethin’ actually impressive?”

“Are you going to perform a squat without causing your pants to tear open?” Rarity smiled when she saw the tiniest hint of a smirk behind the mask of contempt.

Instead of answering, Applejack turned around and marched into the house. Rarity resisted the urge to follow her - Big McIntosh was still blocking half the dirt road, and his expression implied that he might consider any wrong step as trespassing. Well, as even more trespassing than we already are, considering that I ignored her ultimatum. She was half tempted to coax some more information out of the stallion, but he didn’t exactly seem like the talkative type. Ultimately, the issue became moot because she could hear Applejack’s heavy hoofsteps coming closer even before the front door was opened again.

At first, it took Rarity a second to realize what had changed about Applejack, but she finally spotted two new accessories attached to her belt. On her left side was a lasso, neatly coiled up but undoubtedly ready to... do... lasso-y things... at a moment’s notice.

The other one was a gun.

“Um. M-... Miss Applejack, before you start shooting anypony, I might have to check with my secretary if her contract contains any clauses about her taking a bullet for me.”

“It doesn’t,” Twilight replied without even thinking. Then she hesitated. “...excuse me?”

“Lemme show ya what I think of your quaint ‘I’ll make y’all an offer ya can’t refuse’ speech,” Applejack said without reacting to Rarity’s attempt to throw Twilight under the bus. Before Rarity could react, Applejack had already grabbed her open briefcase and emptied it with a few hearty shakes. Then she snapped it shut. “Ya think ya can just waltz in ‘ere and make me sell the farm for a couple o’ thousand bits.” Somehow, her drawl was becoming worse by the second.

“I was actually thinking more along the lines of three point eight-”

“Y’all can show yer precious briefcase to yer boss an’ tell’em what happens to them if they try an’ lay their greedy hands on Sweet Apple Acres.” And with that, she tossed the briefcase up into the air.

“-million bits,” Rarity finished her sentence even as her eyes automatically followed the briefcase, causing her to miss the visual cue of Applejack drawing her revolver. The first shot nearly made her jump out of her skin, but by the fourth shot, her eyes were focused back on the briefcase, which was jumping higher with each bullet that pierced it. After the sixth shot came an eternity of silence, and the briefcase began to enter the atmosphere again.

The lasso came virtually out of nowhere, catching the briefcase in mid-air with unbelievable precision and- “Wait, what?” Applejack abruptly turned to face her, causing her to pull the lasso in at an odd angle, sending the briefcase flying straight at Rarity’s-

*WHAM*

“I vaguely recall sending you along on this trip to avoid one of my top employees being hospitalized,” Miss Lestia’s voice came through the satellite phone Pinkamena had packed into her suitcase.

“Strictly speaking, Miss Belle wasn’t hospitalized.” Does it count if the hospital is staffed by a single nurse who keeps the sole bed free for life-or-death cases? She tilted her head a bit. Let’s say it does. “Also, your intent was to keep them from murdering each other. And given that Miss Dawnstar has not even arrived yet, I am fulfilling that task more or less by default.”

“Yes. Speaking of which, I have received multiple calls from government agencies that don’t even officially exist, and they wanted to know if I still got my battle axe. You wouldn’t by any chance know why Equestria was about five minutes away from sending a less-than-polite request for an explanation to Cybertron, would you?”

“I...” Pinkamena desperately tried not to look at Twilight. “I can say with a certain degree of certainty that Miss Belle did not make deals with any flying trains.”

“I see.” Miss Lestia took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “So Gilda is still stuck in the middle of nowhere, Rarity has a mild concussion, and the Apple family intends to go broke just to spite us. And I don’t get to threaten a train with an axe.”

“Things are just getting started.” Pinkamena hesitated. “I mean, aside from the whole flying murder train business - I’m afraid you will have to make your own fun there.”

“I always have to do that.” A quiet chuckle. “How is Twilight holding up? Is she already planning some spectacular way to resolve everything before midnight?”

This time, Pinkamena did look at Twilight, who was busy looking miserable, sitting on the floor next to the couch Miss Belle was lying on. “She is too busy feeling guilty for not catching the briefcase before it knocked out Miss Belle.” There was a quiet groan, and Twilight’s head immediately snapped up. “Speaking of which...”

“Understood. Keep me posted if anything comes up.” Miss Lestia hung up, and Pinkamena stowed the phone away.

“Whu...” Rarity squinted against the light. “Whud... happen...” She tried to get up, but Twilight quickly held her down.

“Miss Belle, you need to take it slowly,” Twilight assured her. “You have taken a massive blow to the head, so please stay like this until we are sure you can stand.”

“Massive... blow...?” Rarity frowned, then groaned. “Ughhh... right. That crazy farmer must’ve knocked me out with my own briefcase.” She covered her eyes with one hand. After a second, she snapped her fingers, and Twilight had to pin her again. “This is GREAT, though!”

“Could we discuss this while I do some preliminary checks to ensure that-” Twilight was interrupted by Rarity’s impatient finger-snapping.

“Do whatever you need, but then I need you to call the company lawyers.” Rarity grinned even as Twilight fished a pen-sized flashlight out of her purse and pointed it at Rarity’s eyes. “We will-AGH!” She paused while Twilight shone the light directly in her eyes and swung the flashlight back and forth slowly.

Pinkamena wondered if this test was actually necessary to diagnose a concussion since being knocked out cold was already a strong indicator for that. Then again, I’m not a doctor. She paused. Then again, neither is Twilight. Probably. In the end, she reasoned that whatever test Twilight was performing did no harm, so she refrained from commenting on it.

“As I was saying,” Rarity said when Twilight turned the flashlight off with a click, “call the company lawyers. We are going to hit this Miss Applejack with a lawsuit for aggravated assault. Then we can offer to-”

“No.”

Rarity froze. “No?”

“Miss Belle, I apologize.” Twilight let out a long sigh. “I-... I already agreed that we would not press charges.”

“You WHAT?” Rarity asked and once again struggled against Twilight’s grip. “What could POSSIBLY-” She froze when she saw Twilight’s horrified expression.

“You...” Twilight got to her hooves and wrapped her arms around herself. “You were... you were just lying there, and you... you weren’t moving, and... and...” She took a deep breath and slowly dragged one hand from her forehead all the way along her muzzle. “I panicked. I’m sorry. I should’ve-”

“Twilight negotiated to have you transported as quickly as possible to the Ponyville hospital,” Pinkamena cut in, sensing that Twilight would sell her actions short. “She commandeered a tractor to take you there and then arranged for a proper place for us to stay since you were in no condition to spend the night in the tent she had brought.”

“I’m sorry,” Twilight whispered again, but Rarity ignored her for the moment.

“Okay, that’s a lot to unpack.” Rarity slowly propped herself up against her pillow to get a better look at the others. “First of all... this is not a hospital.”

“The nurse wouldn’t let us stay there since... there were not enough free beds,” Pinkamena bent the truth a little bit for the sake of conciseness. “She did give first aid and assured us that you won’t suffer long-term consequences as long as you take it easy for a few hours, though.”

“Okay, so...” Rarity slowly looked around and frowned when she realized that the couch was standing in a large hall and that nearly every wall was hidden behind tall bookshelves. “This is not a hotel room, isn’t it?”

“There is no hotel in Ponyville,” Pinkamena replied.

“This is the Ponyville library,” Twilight added, slowly snapping out of her panic flashback. “It’s normally closed since the last librarian left years ago, so we have the place to ourselves.”

“So you gave away our surefire leverage to buy the farm,” Rarity said, making Twilight wince, “because you were worried that I would die?” She smiled warmly, and Twilight relaxed visibly. “I suppose I can let that one slide, then.”

“Thank you, Miss Belle!” Twilight cried out and gave her superior a quick hug.

Pinkamena allowed herself a tiny smile. It was refreshing to see that, at the end of the day, the insufferable mastermind was still just a pony after all.

“Okay, yeah, that’s enough of that,” Rarity teased her and gently held Twilight at an arm’s length. Then she glanced out of one of the library’s windows and nodded slowly when she saw that the sun was setting. “Let’s call it a day and get some rest. And tomorrow, we will give this another shot.” A pause. “Unless Gilda finally makes it.” She sighed. “Well, you probably won’t let me walk out of here anytime soon, so I suppose we’ll just have to hope for the best, right?” When Twilight gave her a half-hearted nod, she let her head rest against the pillow again. “Knowing that crazy farmer, Gilda will just get a briefcase to the head as well.” She smiled and gave Twilight’s hand a quick squeeze. “This is not how I had hoped this day would go, but that happens. From the sound of it, you made the right call, Twilight.” She hesitated. “Thank you.”

She didn’t know what time it was, and neither did she care. She did know that she didn’t deserve sleep, much like she didn’t deserve the farm she had called home her entire life. She did deserve a prison sentence, though. No, the quiet voice at the back of her head chimed in, prison is for nice ponies who cheat on their taxes. Bad ponies who try to murder supermodels in cold blood get the guillotine. She groaned quietly and rested her head on the table.

The sound of heavy hoofsteps almost made her turn around - a part of her wanted to be left alone, but another part craved company. “It’s nearly midnight, AJ,” Big McIntosh scolded her quietly, but there was no malice in his voice.

Applejack finally turned around, and her older brother grimaced when he saw her face. “Can’t sleep.” I can sleep in my cell once this Miss Belle finally comes to her senses and calls the cops on me.

Big McIntosh grabbed one of the free chairs from the kitchen table and sat down unceremoniously. “It was an accident,” he finally whispered.

She got up with enough force to make her own chair fall over but barely managed to avoid shouting. Her grandmother had taught her manners, and one of those - admittedly rather specific - lessons had been not to shout obscenities at her older brother when everypony else was asleep. “It was not an accident!” she hissed. “Ah tried to show off an’ intimidate ‘er!”

He thought about that for a moment. “Been meanin’ to ask why you-”

“AH DUNNO, YA BIG-” She covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide in shock.

Neither sibling moved as they listened for any sign that they had just woken up their grandmother. After half a minute, both exhaled slowly.

“Ah dunno what-...” Applejack took another deep breath. “I don’t know what I’ve been thinking,” she finally said. She knew that her family could understand her drawl even after eighteen bottles of cider, but she was also the caretaker of Sweet Apple Acres, and as such, she wanted to put in an effort to not act like a dumb hick all the time. “Shoulda just punched her and be done with it.”

“Pretty sure that would’ve hurt her more than hittin’ her with that briefcase,” Big McIntosh mused.

The siblings engaged in a brief staring contest until Applejack caved and cracked a grin. “Jerk,” she muttered.

He extended a hand and ruffled her mane in the highly specific way only big brothers could get away with. “C’mon, try to get some sleep. We got plenty of work to do tomorrow.”

He is right, of course. But... Reluctantly, she pulled back. “When I close my eyes, I... see her,” she whispered. “The way she just... collapsed. Those bright blue eyes... just...” She trembled and leaned into her brother when he pulled her into a tight hug.

“She’s gonna be fine, AJ,” he whispered into her ear. “You and her two coworkers did a great job getting her to Nurse Redheart. And you got a promise out of it that no charges would be pressed.”

“I only got that promise because the other unicorn mistook me freezing up in shock for Equestria’s best poker face. She will probably hate me for that once she realizes that she gave in too fast.”

“Well, that’s how it sometimes goes in business.”

“Business?” she snapped and pushed herself away from him. “This wasn’t business!”

“She came to buy our farm!” Big McIntosh snarled, and Applejack immediately took a step backward. Her brother was incredibly hard to anger, but the flip side of that was that, once he got going, he really got going. He froze when he saw her wide eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered lamely and took a deep breath to calm down. “But ya gotta understand that these ponies came here to talk business. They didn’t come to talk about last season’s harvest; they came to prey on us because we’re strugglin’. An’ you better hope they will take no for an answer.”

Applejack nodded slowly. “You’re right. I need to focus more on what she had said before-...” They exchanged looks. “...-before the accident, fine, whatever.” She realized that she enjoyed focusing on the business side since it meant focusing less on Miss Belle’s lifeless body in front of her home. She crossed her arms. “Do you think her offer was genuine?”

He thought about this. “Genuine? Maybe. Uninformed? Definitely.”

“Yeah,” she conceded immediately. They both knew that the farm was not worth several million bits in its current state. “So why would she start with an offer like that?”

He shrugged. “Big company with more money than common sense? Though they usually do their research.”

“Definitely.”

“Maybe she’s in a hurry? Folks tend to overspend when they’re workin’ against the clock.”

She frowned. “But why would some city folks be in a hurry to buy a farm this far away from their home?”

“I dunno.” He sighed. “But I hope they take the next train home an’ take their money with them.”

“Yeah.” Because who’d ever want to get several million bits delivered by a mare like that?

Author's Note

Notes, inspiration, credits:

And thus, we finally arrive in Ponyville. Well. SOME characters arrive in Ponyville. Gilda will join the party soon, don't worry.
Before anybody points it out: yes, this fic runs on classic Hollywood "A blow to the head that literally makes you lose consciousness is nothing to worry about! Concussion, conshmussion, you just need a little bit of rest." magic. Ponies are just built different. Or something.

Have Wings, Will Travel

The knock on her door was quiet but not quiet enough.

“Mhrgh...?” Rarity groggily lifted her head, then lifted it even more until she finally managed to escape the gravitational pull of Equestria’s fluffiest pillow. “Wha...?” she asked when the knocking resumed. “One sec...”

The mattress was almost as soft as the pillow, making it a chore to get out of the bed. And when she did, she realized just how comfortable and warm it had been, making her seriously consider crawling back under her blanket.

Of course, it would be hard to go back to sleep, what with all the knocking at her door. “Fiiine,” she sighed and shambled across the bedroom.

The librarian’s old bedroom was small but very cozy, the absolute antithesis of Rarity’s Canterlot apartment. Here, every piece of furniture quite likely told a story dating back at least three generations. The fluffy carpet in the center of the room had probably been woven by hand by a kind, elderly lady a hundred years ago. And the door was massive - maybe it had even come out of the enormous tree this library had literally been carved into. Massive, but not soundproof, obviously, Rarity added and smirked as she put a hand on the handle. “Yes, what is-”

The door burst open with enough force to throw her backward, and she would have hit the floor if it hadn’t been for Gilda’s talons wrapping themselves around her neck.

“WHA-” The rest of her scream was lost in a strained croak as Gilda’s grip tightened.

“Cute heist, dweeb,” the griffon rasped, looking angrier than ever before. “But you always forget that murder beats clever.”

Her talons dug deep into Rarity’s coat, and the last thing Rarity saw was Gilda’s cruel grin as-

“BWAH!” Rarity sat up straight, her hands clutching her neck, searching for talons and finding none. “Ghaaaa... haaaaaa...” For a few seconds, she just focused on breathing. Deep, life-giving breaths as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

There was no griffon in her bedroom. The door was closed. She was in bed. Nightmare, her brain decided to state the obvious, as if it had to convince itself. “Goodness, what a way to-”

There was a knock on her door.

Rarity froze. Then, her eyes darted to the door. Only during the next knock did she realize that it wasn’t coming from the bedroom door. No, it was fainter, as if it was coming from the-

“I’ll get it...” Twilight announced to nopony in particular.

-front door. Rarity’s eyes went wide. “Oh no,” she whispered. “No, no, NO!” She tried to maneuver out of her bed - somehow, it was even fluffier in real life - and stormed to the door. She could feel a headache building up but decided to power through it. This is a life-or-death situation! That nightmare was a vision! Gilda is going to murder Twilight, then come after me!

She somehow managed to navigate the stairs from the bedroom to the library’s main hall without tripping. Then she struck her best fighting pose, ready to defend herself against... the griffon... that was lying face-first in the entrance.

“Miss Dawnstar!” Twilight exclaimed, unaware of how narrowly she had escaped certain death by choking. “Hang on, I’ll help you...”

Rarity blinked, then slowly relaxed her shoddy pose - she hadn’t been able to decide between the Legendary Cat Clutch and the Shaman Airborne Drop, not that she knew either of them beyond their depictions in Kung Fu movies - and walked over to Twilight. “Is she... dead?” she asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Twilight carefully levitated Gilda on a cloud-like magic field and quickly dragged her over to the couch. Rarity tried not to think too hard about the fact that this was likely the second time within twelve hours that she had to drag a lifeless body around.

“Ooohhh,” Gilda groaned, coming around just in time to drag herself onto the couch. “Thanks,” she muttered groggily, then slowly opened her eyes all the way.

It took a moment, but judging from how her eyes went wide while her pupils constricted, it was clear that Gilda finally realized who was standing in front of her. “You,” she hissed.

“You sound surprised,” Rarity muttered and crossed her arms. The pose would have looked far more intimidating if she had had time to change out of her nightwear. “Are you trying to tell me you came to our place by accident?”

Gilda gave her a look that was probably aiming for hatred but lacked the proper energy for it. “This was the only place with the lights on.”

Twilight did her best to avoid Rarity’s eyes. “I had trouble sleeping,” she whispered, “so I did some reading...”

“That doesn’t explain why you look like the walking dead,” Rarity told Gilda, sparing Twilight another lecture about how she wasn’t to blame for what had happened.

“Says the pony with the bandage around her head,” Gilda shot back, then weakly waved her hand. “But before you bore me to death with your story, can I get some food?”

Both of them looked at Twilight, who hesitated. “I’d prefer to stay - given how high the stakes are and what happened, I worry about Miss Belle’s safety.”

“Oh c’mon, I can barely-”

“I got it,” Miss Pie’s voice made all of them turn around. The pink-furred Earth pony slowly came down the stairs, dressed in the same business suit she had worn during the day. Rarity wasn’t sure if she had dressed so quickly or if she had slept in it, and she didn’t put either scenario past this pony. “After all, it is my duty to ensure that the contestants treat each other fairly.”

“Fairly?” Gilda asked and laughed even as Twilight left for the kitchen. “That’s a good one, Miss Adjudicator! How about addressing the fact that Rarity manipulated the race!?”

“Are you implying that Miss Belle organized the biggest fuel heist in the history of Equestria with only half a day of prep time?” Miss Pie’s deadpan expression looked extremely convincing, and not even Rarity could tell that she knew of Twilight’s undoubtedly insane scheme.

“Y-...” Gilda froze when she realized that Miss Pie had made an excellent point. She frowned but recovered quickly. “I told the Feds that you’re behind this. You will rot in prison.”

“I certainly don’t hope you’re banking your career on that, darling,” Rarity purred.

“I don’t have to - from the lack of gloating, I presume you failed to close the deal, so tomorrow it’s my turn to-”

“Hot... hot... hot...” Twilight came back from the kitchen with a steaming bowl. Rarity was moderately amused by the fact that she had apparently forgotten to use her magic to levitate the hot bowl, but didn’t comment on it. “Found some cans of stew that were still good. It’s not a lot, and if we stay longer, we should go shopping, but it should be enough to last us a day or two.” She handed Gilda the bowl, then frowned. “I wonder what’s taking Trixie so long.”

Gilda didn’t even react (or thank Twilight) and just took in the smell of her food.

Twilight’s frown turned into a mildly alarmed expression. She walked over to the front door and opened it. Then she stepped outside. There was almost half a minute of silence in the library before she came back in, eyes wide. “Miss Dawnstar?” she asked, her voice still surprisingly level. “Where did you park your car?”

Gilda hesitated, then blew on her food. “Parking lot.”

“...the parking lot of the Ponyville train station?” Twilight asked carefully.

“The parking lot of the gas station,” Gilda replied without even bothering to give Twilight a look. She ate a spoonful of her stew and nodded happily. “This isn’t actually half bad!”

“But... but...”

“I mean, it’s trash, but better than some of the stuff we can get in the company food court. You know, like that place that-”

“Gilda,” Rarity interrupted her even as Twilight was obviously still trying to convince herself that Gilda had not meant the gas station that was roughly two hundred miles away.

“What?” Gilda asked flatly. She didn’t like being interrupted on the best of days. “Look, you can’t have any. Go to the kitchen and make your own.”

Rarity exhaled audibly. “How did you get here?”

“I flew, dweeb,” Gilda replied and grinned sardonically. “And boy, are my wings tired!”

Twilight’s face locked up at a weird angle as several emotions collided with zero filter. Rarity could only guess what went on in Twilight’s head right now. Gilda unwittingly outsmarted Twilight’s plan. And managed to do it in a way that turned it against her wife and only her wife. She paled when Twilight reached out with one hand and made her Purse of Infinity Plus One fly over to her with a quick burst of magic. A quick look confirmed that Miss Pie was fully aware of the danger Gilda was in right now. I need to defuse this. The thought almost made her laugh. I need to save Gilda’s life. “Right. Um. Gilda, I need you to answer something real fast and without snark.” She waited a moment until Gilda was giving her a quizzical look. “Trixie is fine and happy and will definitely be here first thing in the morning, right?”

Gilda hesitated. “Well... it turns out that gas stations can’t just order a few truckloads worth of fuel with same-day delivery. It might take... a while...”

“A while,” Rarity echoed. She knew Gilda well enough to realize that something was wrong.

Behind Gilda, Twilight was also catching on to that sentiment. “The first fuel trucks should arrive at the gas station before regular business hours,” she said, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Trixie will easily be here before lunchtime.” A pause. “Do you agree with this assessment, Miss Dawnstar?”

Gilda blinked when she heard Twilight’s tone. She slowly gave Twilight a look over her shoulder, then quickly looked back at Rarity. “A word, please?”

“Miss Dawnstar, I fail to see any errors in my logic, given the assumptions I outlined. Would you please-”

“Hold on to that thought, darling!” Rarity quickly waved one hand and gave Twilight her most reassuring smile. “This will take just a moment.” She gave Miss Pie a quick nod, and the Earth pony positioned herself closer to Twilight while Rarity signaled Gilda to join her in the kitchen.

It felt weird leaving the pony responsible for everybody’s safety behind as she closed the kitchen door behind her and her nemesis, but in a very twisted way, Miss Pie was doing her job right now. “What did you do?” she hissed. “I swear, if you hurt your own secretary, I will-”

“Pshaw!” Gilda rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure our dearest Miss Adjudicator might hold that against me.” She crossed her arms... and lowered her eyes. “But Trixie... isn’t going to join us tomorrow, at least not before noon.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small keychain.

Rarity gave the keys a look. “What are you talking ab-...” Her voice trailed off when she realized that one of the key fobs bore the Chevallet logo. And while she wasn’t a car buff, she knew at least one car this company manufactured. “Oh heavens no,” she whispered and slowly turned her head towards the kitchen door.

Gilda exhaled slowly. “Yyyeah. In my defense, I pocketed those keys long before I left. Pretty shortly after our call. I was... aggravated. Shouting... happened.” She shrugged. “But look, it’s no biggie. Twilight might pout a bit, but she’ll get over not having any playmates in her income bracket for a day or two. I figure Trixie will call someone at the company to come to her with a spare key. Or a cab.” When she saw that Rarity’s horrified expression was not improving, she frowned. “What?”

“You...” Should I tell her? I mean, she probably doesn’t know, but I guess Twilight didn’t intend to keep this secret anymore if she openly told Miss Pie and me, right? “You... accidentally stranded Twilight’s wife,” she finally said.

“Twilight’s wife?” Gilda gave her a look of disbelief. Then she parsed that sentence. “Oh wow. Okay, now I actually feel kinda-...” She blinked a few times as she parsed that sentence again. “Twilight is married to friggen TRIXIE?” Her sharp laugh was out before Rarity could grab her beak. “OH WOW! And here I thought that Twilight was smart! Guess love really really makes you blind and stupid!”

They both turned to the kitchen door when they heard a commotion on the other side. Rarity sighed. “I can’t believe I have to save your ungrateful hide,” she muttered, signaling Gilda to follow her.

Even after a day full of surprises, Rarity still felt the sight of Miss Pie pinning Twilight to the floor while the latter was desperately trying to reach a crossbow was worthy of a place in the Top Five list. She did a double take at the medieval weapon. “...was that really your number one choice, darling?” she asked and picked it up after double-checking that it wasn’t loaded.

Twilight gave her a dark look, even as Miss Pie helped her to her hooves. “Given that we are indoors and that you would have stood in the blast radius, I couldn’t go for my rocket launcher.”

“I like her style,” Gilda muttered when Rarity only managed to open and close her mouth a few times. “But dweeb, sorry to say that your wife is stuck where she is for the time being.” She casually held up her car keys.

Twilight, in a display of her usual efficiency, seemingly went through all five stages of grief simultaneously. Miss Pie slowly raised her arms, looking mildly worried. Or at least she was frowning, which Rarity took as a sign of worry. Twilight raised her fists, then slowly unclenched them. One deep breath was followed by another as she apparently burnt through all her remaining energy just to stop herself from doing things to Gilda. Finally, she let out a long sigh. “Why?”

Next to her, Gilda exhaled slowly. “It was an accident. Trust me when I say I have nothing to gain from dumping my secretary in the middle of nowhere.” A pause. “Okay, that’s a lie,” she conceded. “I have a ton to gain from that. I mean, do you know how much she talks? She’s competent, but WOW, I have yet to meet a more annoying-...” She blinked when she realized that Twilight was not in the middle of a mad dash to punch her in the face. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Tch,” Twilight muttered and rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m listening. And do you know how much she talks? I live with her!” She started to slowly walk over to Gilda during her monologue. “And that whole third-person thing? It’s not an act. She talks like that.” She grabbed Gilda’s shirt with one hand to bring her face close to the griffon’s. “Do you know how disorienting it is when she talks like that during the height of passion?”

Gilda frowned as she tried to decipher Twilight’s euphemism, then grimaced. “Okay, that was way too much information, dweeb. But if you find her so annoying, why’d you marry her?”

“Because my love for her is absolute,” Twilight said, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “I accept her as she is, and she does the same for me. Do you know how rare it is to find a pony who can listen to the monologues of a genius like me?”

“Especially a genius as modest as you,” Gilda added, and they exchanged the most hostile grins Rarity had ever seen.

“And beyond mutual acceptance, there is our synergy.” Twilight stroked Gilda’s cheek in an almost intimate way. “You probably have no idea what either of us truly can do, but together...” She laughed at a joke only she got. “So the bottom line, Miss Dawnstar, is this: I would die for Trixie.” And just like that, she brought her knee up in one decisive motion, ramming it into Gilda’s abdomen, making her drop to her knees. “And I would kill for her,” she added, even though Rarity doubted that Gilda was able to hear her over the sound of her own violent coughing.

Oof, as satisfying as that was to watch, I really hope this doesn’t get me disqualified by Miss-

Rarity didn’t even have time to finish the thought before Gilda launched herself at Twilight and wrestled her to the ground. “KILL FOR HER, EH?” Gilda roared, and Twilight had to use all her strength to keep the griffon’s talons away from her throat.

After a moment of struggling, Twilight’s horn lit up, but nothing seemed to happen. Just when Rarity wanted to ask why Gilda wasn’t floating away or why Twilight hadn’t teleported to safety, a knife zoomed across the room, coming straight for-

“I believe you two have had your share of fun,” Miss Pie calmly said as she grabbed the knife before it could impale itself in Gilda’s skull. “But now I must ask you to cease the attempted murder.”

Gilda gave the knife and then Twilight a look. “Not bad,” she cackled and got to her feet. “I like your style, Sparkle. Are there any griffons somewhere in your family tree? You certainly got the attitude of one, hidden beneath all that politeness.”

Twilight got to her hooves and straightened her mane as if she hadn’t just completely blown a fuse and started a fight to the death with a griffon. “I’m sorry for the slight lapse of judgment,” she apologized to nobody in particular.

“It’s fine,” Rarity said. “Note to self, stop making fun of Trixie,” she added quietly, making Gilda chortle.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will see if I can fix this mess.” Twilight took her knife back, picked up her purse, then traded the weapon for a cellphone.

“Yeah, good luck,” Gilda muttered. “I lost my last bar of reception half an hour before arriving here.”

Twilight gave her a look. “You forget, Miss Dawnstar, that Trixie and I share a special bond. With love, everything is possible.”

“Love... doesn’t give you better cellphone recept-...” Gilda gave Rarity an exasperated look. “Am I the one who’s nuts here? Did I maybe give her a concussion just now?”

“That shows how little you know.” Twilight smiled confidently. “Love is the one thing we're capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space.” She paused, then snickered when she saw Gilda’s look. “Also, this is a satellite phone.”

“How can you stand her smarty-pants act?” Gilda hissed while Twilight was fiddling with her phone. Then she narrowed her eyes. “Also, since when did you know that my secretary was married to yours?”

“Just learned about that when the race started,” Rarity muttered. “And I already tried to fire her once today.”

“...she has contingencies against being fired?”

“Let’s just say that the revelation about the marriage was not the biggest surprise today.”

“Heyyy!” Twilight cheered, then froze. “Wait, crap, it’s the middle of the night, did I-...” A pause. “Thank goodness. ...yeah, we’re fine. Well... kinda fine. Long story. But hey, guess who just arrived!” She listened for a few seconds, then suddenly held the phone at arm’s length. Rarity and Gilda couldn’t hear specific words, but they got the general mood from the sheer volume of Trixie’s screams. “I think she knows,” Twilight stage whispered before carefully moving the phone closer to her face again. “Love? ...love? Yeah... yeah, she’s sorry.” Another pause as Trixie undoubtedly told Twilight in loud and no uncertain terms where exactly Gilda could stick her apology. Twilight opened her mouth again, then froze as Trixie apparently had more to say. “Well now... well now...” She was starting to grin.

“What?” Gilda asked. Rarity could tell that she was anxious, even if she was trying to hide it.

“Ah, Trixie just mentioned that you didn’t just forget to leave the keys behind.” She paused, and her grin widened when Gilda just gave her a blank look. Then, with a flick of her magic, she made Rarity’s briefcase float into her outstretched hand.

A second passed.

Then another.

Rarity realized what Twilight was hinting at just in time to cover her ears before Gilda let loose a horrendous screech that probably woke up half of Ponyville. “NO!” Gilda finally screamed once she remembered to use actual words again. She frantically scanned the library before patting her pockets, as if hoping that they were as bottomless as Twilight’s purse and contained her own briefcase. Then she cursed loudly and stormed over to where Twilight was standing. “GIMME THAT PHO-...OOoooOooOOOooo...”

This one-handed wrist lock was one Rarity had never even seen before, and she was quite happy about that because it looked even meaner than the one Twilight had taught her. Gilda was twisting her body backward until she looked like she had suffered a massive cramp during a limbo competition. “Yes,” Twilight said, “I’m sure Miss Dawnstar will be quite cooperative in getting you here. Isn’t it lovely when we all work together as a big, happy family?” She chuckled and let Trixie answer. “Yeah, I’ll check the maps. You send me your position, and I’ll-... yeah, sweet. Now get some sleep; we’ll probably only get one attempt at this in the morning.” She smiled. “Love you, too. Bye!” And with that, she thumbed her phone screen with one hand and let go of Gilda with the other.

“You... how will you get Trixie here?” Gilda asked and massaged her wrist.

“I-”

“She won’t,” Rarity said, scowling openly.

“Miss Belle, I-”

“Twilight, a word, please?” Rarity pointed at the kitchen and led the way without waiting for an answer.

Boy, this kitchen is rapidly becoming my least favorite room. Rarity took a deep breath. I don’t want to be the villain in this piece! I don’t want Twilight to hate me! But-... She exhaled slowly when she heard hoofsteps behind her.

“I-...” Twilight sighed, causing Rarity to turn around. “I’m sorry, Miss Belle,” she finally whispered. “I’m just-”

“You’re worried about Trixie,” Rarity said and tried to give her her best smile. “I understand. And I’m sorry that the plan you set in motion for me is now costing you personally.” She crossed her arms, praying that she wasn’t looking too stern. “But I can’t let you do this. You know that, right?”

Twilight nodded almost imperceptibly. “You are hoping to get another shot with Miss Applejack before Miss Dawnstar talks to her.”

“Yes. Do you think it will work?”

There was a long silence as Twilight did her best to focus less on her wife freezing in a car in the middle of nowhere and more on Rarity’s career. “Probably not, no,” she finally muttered and closed her eyes.

Crap. But I pretty much expected it. “Why not?”

“GUESS!?”

Rarity took a quick step back - apparently, Twilight had not burnt through all of her adrenaline and rage during her fight with Gilda.

“I-... I’m sorry, Miss Belle. That was unprofessional of me.” Twilight slowly unclenched her fists and moved a hand through her mane. “It’s been a long day, and I’m... just...”

“Just buy me a few hours,” Rarity whispered. “That’s all I need. Then you can work your miracles.”

“I still don’t think it’ll work.” Twilight started to pace. “In the most ideal case, it would come down to the question of whether Miss Applejack would agree to your offer if you made it while she is not flinging your briefcase around. Which I doubt. She strikes me as stubborn, and this farm is her world.”

“Her world is rapidly bleeding money.”

Twilight gave her a long look, and it took Rarity a moment to realize that it was a look of pity. “There are things more important than money, Miss Belle.”

The words hung in the air like an indictment, and Rarity was at a loss of words.

“Also,” Twilight continued as if nothing had happened, “just because her briefcase is missing doesn’t mean that Miss Dawnstar is just going to evaporate.”

“Ugh, you’re right, darling.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “This would be an uphill battle, even without Gilda.” She chuckled. “Heh. Get it? Uphill battle? Because the farm is-...”

Twilight was not laughing.

Rarity huffed. “The briefcase is my one trump card. As long as Gilda doesn’t have her contract at hand, I have a shot.” She walked towards the door. “Once I got Miss Applejack’s signature, I will make things up for you and Trixie, I promise.”

She had thought (and hoped) that Gilda would be asleep on the couch by now. It had been a reasonable expectation, given that the griffon had barely slept during the last forty-eight hours and had apparently spent several hours flying here. The next best case would have been a pacified Gilda enjoying her stew. After all, the griffon was almost tolerable when she wasn’t hungry.

What she hadn’t expected was Gilda sitting at the large table a bit further away, hunched over something Rarity couldn’t quite make out from her current angle. “What’re you doing?”

“What do you think, dweeb?” Gilda asked back without looking up.

“Well, if I had to guess, you’re doing something I won’t like.” She carefully moved closer - it was highly unlikely that this was some insane last-ditch ambush, but she hadn’t survived this long by underestimating Gilda’s potential for violence.

“I’m breathing, so I’m doing that by definition.”

Rarity allowed herself a brief smile at that. Then she saw what Gilda was doing. “Are you writing a contract?”

Gilda finally looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Not a contract. The contract.”

“You mean-...” She narrowed her eyes when she saw that Gilda was indeed writing the contract outlining the sale of Sweet Apple Acres. In longhand. “...did you memorize the contract?”

“Pshaw, buzz off,” Gilda muttered and held up her cellphone. It took Rarity a moment to realize that Gilda must have either taken a photo of the contract or downloaded a copy onto it. “Only a complete dweeb would memorize a contract like that.” She looked over her shoulder. “Sparkle, did you memorize yours?”

“Of course, Miss Dawnstar,” Twilight replied without thinking.

“See? Proves my point.” Gilda smirked. “But yeah, it’ll look stupid to present a contract on this tiny phone screen. And while it’s unusual, a handwritten contract is just as valid as one that came out of a printer.”

“But-... but-...” Rarity gestured frantically at her. “You were despairing! Screeching! I figured you didn’t have any options!”

Gilda sighed and put her pen down. “Do you have any idea how horrible my day has been? I’m this close to tearing someone’s throat out, I’m sleep-deprived, I’m exhausted, and I had to listen to Trixie’s karaoke power hour for far longer than the advertised hour. So yeah, realizing that I FORGOT MY ALL-IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS made me rage a little bit.” She held up the pen. “But I didn’t rise to my current position by letting a simple logistical failure stop me. There are always contingencies.” She turned back to her contract. “Now go to bed.”

“But-...” Rarity gestured at Gilda, then at Twilight, then back at Gilda. “NO!” she finally screeched. “Are you telling me that I just turned my ONE ally in this mess against me while trying to DELAY you? And then YOU AREN’T EVEN GOING TO BE DELAYED?”

Gilda gave her a sleazy grin. “I wish I could claim credit for that, but that’s all on you. That being said, Hearth’s Warming Eve would come early if your idiocy led to Twilight letting you down when you need her the most.” Her grin widened. “I would make sure to rub it in every single day you will last as my coffee maid.”

“The word is still ‘barista,’ Miss Dawnstar,” Twilight’s voice made both of them turn their heads. “And Miss Belle knows where my loyalty lies and that she can rely on me, even when she has to make a tough decision.”

“But that’s just it, Twilight,” Gilda replied lazily. “It’s not a tough decision for her. She makes the decision that benefits her, end of discussion.” She turned back to her contract, ignoring the way Rarity was trembling. “She doesn’t care about you. If she did, she would have suggested to let you bring back Trixie and only Trixie.”

The words made Rarity freeze. Not because they were true, but because she hadn’t even considered this option.

“But she obviously didn’t. She only cares about her career and won’t make even the smallest concession if there is a tiny chance that doing so will harm her. I know this because, at the end of the day, Rarity and I are the same.”

“Heh.” Twilight smiled and shook her head. “Maybe you and Miss Belle are the same,” she conceded, “but you’re giving both yourself and her far too little credit.” A pause. “Also, Miss Pie likely would have objected to stranding your luggage and the car.”

Rarity blinked at that, then forced herself to smile, too. “Thank you, Twilight. And...” She sighed. “And I suppose I can give you permission to do whatever miracle you want to pull off tomorrow morning. That way, Gilda can get some sleep as well.”

Gilda once again stopped transcribing the contract. “What’s the catch, dweeb? You have zero reasons to be nice to me.”

Rarity put on an impassive face. “You get stupid ideas when you’re sleep-deprived. And I prefer not having to worry about you pulling some insane and desperate stunt that might get all of us killed or indicted. That’s all.”

“Well, that, and you get to feel all high and mighty,” Gilda added and smirked. “Not to mention that you want to make extra sure to stay on little Miss Perfect’s good side, just in case she was feeding you a line about being loyal. And you didn’t actually answer my question, so I guess you’ll try to tack on some stupid demand later.”

“Whatever the reason,” Rarity said and stuck out her hand without confirming or denying anything, “let’s have a truce, at least until tomorrow morning. We’ll get Trixie back, and then we’ll visit Sweet Apple Acres together.”

“You want to come along?” Gilda raised an eyebrow. “Last-ditch effort to sabotage me so that we both fail?”

“Miss Applejack did this to me.” Rarity pointed at the bandage around her head with her other hand and grinned. “I just want to see what she will do to you.”

Gilda smirked. “Fine, I’ll let you witness my triumph.” She shook Rarity’s hand. “Let this be the last deal you close, dweeb.”

Author's Note

Notes, inspiration, credits:

Gilda's idioms are based on her being a ~~jerk~~ griffon and should not be treated as life advice. The actual saying is "Clear beats clever."
We all have dark secrets. Rarity's is apparently a love for old and probably badly dubbed martial arts movies...?
As much as I love Interstellar, I always found that quote about love transcending time and space odd and contrived. I'm sure there is some fifty minute video essay out there explaining why it makes 100% sense and is in fact the smartest part about the movie, but I and most of the people in the cinema just went "...what?" at it.
We are experiencing slight schedule slip. I'll have to try to force myself to pick up the pace.

Muffins and Magic Shows

Rarity’s more cynical side had fully expected to wake up with a pillow pressed tight against her face, but Gilda had stayed true to her word. Just as expected - psychopathic jerk or not, she is still a professional who will honor a deal. She yawned loudly as she dragged herself out of bed and opened her bedroom door. On the other side of the corridor, Gilda did the same. Oh, right, Miss Pie let her have the second bedroom for the sake of faaaiiirness.

It was almost comical how much the situation felt like staring into a mirror - Gilda had opened her door at precisely the same time as her, was coming out of a bedroom just like hers, was looking just as exhausted as her... Except I have some nightwear while Gilda is wearing the same sweaty suit she wore yesterday. She smirked at that. “Race you to the bathroom, darling?”

“Tch, suit yourself. I’ll see if the kitchen has some food that’s high in magnesium - I’m still feeling slightly sore from flying here, and my food additives are in my suitcase.” She cocked her head. “Think your secretary keeps a heating pad in that purse of hers?”

“Maybe, but I’m not going to tell her to give it to you, so you’re on your own,” Rarity said as she walked into the bathroom.

“I always am.”

Rarity frowned at that, but she kept it carefully hidden from Gilda. “Leave me some food, and I’ll leave you some hot water. Deal?”

“Sure.”

Somehow, it filled Rarity with immense satisfaction that Twilight was also looking at least moderately tired, mostly because it was a rare sign that she was not, in fact, disgustingly perfect in every way possible.

“You and Trixie share this weird energy bar addiction, y’know?” Gilda asked from her place under a massive heat lamp that definitely hadn’t been in the library last night. She adjusted her wings slightly to expose the largest area possible to the warmth.

“I do know, Miss Dawnstar,” Twilight replied wearily, even as she took another bite out of one. “They are efficient, and I will need a lot of energy.”

Gilda took a spoonful of her own breakfast - another bowl of whatever stew Twilight had found, and Rarity spotted a few sorts of nuts mixed into it - before giving her a look. “Right. For your mystery plan to bring Trixie here?”

“Trixie and the car, yes.”

“The car that is parked a few hundred miles away from here.” Gilda narrowed her eyes. “And you’re going to bring it here?”

“Well, strictly speaking, I won’t. I will help Trixie bring it here.”

Gilda exchanged brief looks with Rarity. “Not to question your, uh, genius, but... I call shenanigans. I may not be an expert in your magicology or whatevs, but you can’t tell me that you or my ditz of a secretary can teleport a car across those distances.”

Twilight opened and closed her mouth three times, likely to dumb down her explanation every time before deciding that it needed to be dumbed down even further. “Right,” she finally muttered, “I’ll try to make it brief. Ponies possess cutie marks, which fall into a variety of general categories. Some represent a specific skill, some a more general aptitude, some a special bond, and so on and so forth. Both Trixie and I fall into the broad spectrum that is often called Arcana, or, more colloquially speaking-”

“Magic,” Gilda finished her sentence. “You’re both magicians among magicians.”

“In a sense, yes. Trixie possesses an intuitive grasp of portals and general navigation of space in ways that would normally be impossible.”

“Yeah, kinda noticed that during the race.” Gilda looked down briefly. “...is that how she pulls stuff from under her stupid cape all the time?”

Twilight smiled faintly. “Indeed. She also enchanted my purse.”

“But her magic is-” Gilda gestured vaguely. “-expensive, for lack of a better word. She went through half a dozen of these stupid energy bars the moment the coast was clear.”

Rarity thought back to Twilight also showing a very healthy appetite after the race, and nodded slowly. She had never given much thought to details such as draining and replenishing magical energy, mostly because this was a non-issue for her. Although she was a unicorn, her own magic was more all-purpose, and the skillset bestowed by her cutie mark - granting her heightened proficiency when working with diamonds - had exactly zero application in her job.

“Correct. Trixie and I are blessed with extraordinary magical abilities, but with magic, there are limits to factors like range, magnitude, or available energy.”

“Right. If she was just able to open one of those portals to this place, she would’ve done so long ago.” Gilda cocked her head. “What is your skill, Twilight Sparkle?”

Twilight hesitated. “Outward application of magic. My field of expertise is not as easily described as Trixie’s.”

“You mentioned teleportation and transferring power,” Rarity said - despite or maybe because of the adrenaline rush during the race, she remembered that detail clearly.

“Yes, these are applications,” Twilight allowed. “Very, very broadly speaking, I can project magic in a variety of ways, ranging from magical fields to short folds in space to relocate myself and things in my vicinity.”

“...and that has what exactly to do with Trixie?”

“Trixie’s skill is effectively limited only by how much energy she can burn through at a moment’s notice and by how reliably she can place her exit portal. My skill is projection of magic.”

“...are you trying to tell us that you are going to send your power over to Trixie?” Rarity asked, then frowned. “You can send a burst of magic across several hundred miles to a specific recipient?”

“Yeah, not buying it.” Gilda abruptly got up and gave Rarity a glare. “If this was your plan to make me stop writing that contract, our dearest Adjudicator won’t be quick enough to-...” She blinked. “...come to think of it, where is she?”

“I sent her to the local bakery to buy as much sugary food as she can.” Twilight crossed her arms. “And we’re only here because you-”

“At what point did we reach the point where we can send Pinkadink on errands?”

“We did not, Miss Dawnstar. But we are here having this discussion because-”

“Whatever.” Watching Twilight twitch at being constantly interrupted seemed to give Gilda more energy than the stew did. “I’ll fetch the contract. Keep the heat lamp out; I’ll just finish transcribing it here.” And with that, she got up and turned to leave.

Rarity wasn’t sure if Twilight was more annoyed by Gilda treating her like staff or by her lack of faith. “Do as you please, Miss Dawnstar. You are free to watch once Miss Pie returns.”

Gilda turned around when she heard Twilight’s defiant tone. “Either you end up looking like an idiot, or I get my secretary back. Either way, I’ll be happy.”

“Isn’t that nice,” Twilight muttered and took another bite of her energy bar. “Meanwhile, some of us actually have to work for our happiness.”

“Yeah, these people are called suckers.”

Gilda walked back up to her room, and Twilight gave the stairs a dark look. Rarity coughed sheepishly. “Please, darling, only overclock the heat lamp if you are certain Miss Pie won’t disqualify me for it.”

Twilight gave her a quick look and smirked wearily. “Heh.”

“I know Gilda better than you,” Rarity added after a moment of silent contemplation, “and I can tell she is grateful for what you’re doing here. We both are. She is just bad at showing it.”

“Right. Right.” Twilight nodded slowly and sighed. “I just hope that Miss Applejack remains stubborn. I would be slightly aggravated if Miss Dawnstar fully subverted what little of a plan I had left.”

Rarity sighed quietly. “You and me both, darling.”

Ponyville was... cozy, Pinkamena readily admitted. It literally wasn’t much more by any metric, but it was cozy. What does it say that Miss Lestia’s two top employees jumped at the opportunity to bulldoze it just to build an office building in its place? She huffed as she walked along the wide, unpaved roads through the village. Neither of them even thought to suggest erecting the building next to the village. I’m pretty sure it would’ve been easier to buy parts of the infinite forest next to it. She grimaced. Granted, that would have meant openly disagreeing with Miss Lestia. And if there is anything most people are afraid of, it’s piano on the road. She stopped dead in her tracks and did a double take.

There was, in fact, a piano standing in the middle of the road.

And it was in front of the bakery Pinkamena was headed to.

She looked at the piano, then at the oddly cheerful - and definitely hand-painted - “Sugarcube Corner” sign. Then she looked at the ground. The piano’s legs had left four thin but deep furrows, indicating a significantly suboptimal transportation method. “Hm.” She shrugged and opened the door of the bakery.

She raised an eyebrow when she realized that the supposed bakery was more of a cafe, with several tables and chairs taking up more than half of the floor space. Something to keep in mind, maybe. It’s not exactly a restaurant, but Miss Dawnstar might not be in the mood for old stew for much longer. She looked from the only customer - a grey-coated pegasus in a dark blue mailmare uniform sitting at a table - to the pony behind the counter.

The employee - or maybe the owner? - of Sugarcube Corner, an Earth pony with a light blue coat and a two-tone light red mane, was giving her a mild frown. “Can I help you?”

Pinkamena narrowed her eyes a little bit. She knows why we’re here. Or at least she knows about the plan to buy the farm. But she might still be willing to do regular business. “Good morning.” She slowly walked over to the counter. “I require a tray full of... confections... to go. Cake, sweets, anything with a large quantity of sugar.” She took a look at the goods behind the employee. “And half a loaf of bread.”

“...of course, dear.”

“You should try something sweet as well.”

Pinkamena blinked. “Pardon?” She slowly turned around to find the pegasus pony with the blonde mane looking directly at her. Well... one eye was looking directly at her. The other one... wasn’t.

The pegasus smiled widely. “Feel free to have a seat! And have a muffin! It’s on me!” She waved at the bakery employee. “Mrs. Cake! Another chocolate chip muffin with blueberry-banana frosting for my new friend!”

...new friend? Pinkamena looked around to ensure that there were no other ponies she could have referred to. “Excuse me, but I believe you must be mistaking me for somepony else...”

The pegasus giggled. “I know everypony in Ponyville, and they are all my friends. So who else would be my new friend?”

“I will admit that makes sense... in the loosest way,” Pinkamena conceded.

Mrs. Cake placed a small plate on the pegasus’ table. On it was the most colorful, overloaded muffin Pinkamena had ever seen. “Have a seat, dear; it will take a few minutes to pack everything up, anyway.” She seemed a lot friendlier all of a sudden - had the pegasus implicitly vouched for her just now?

Pinkamena sat down at the other side of the small table and gave the pegasus a look. “No offense, but you seem oddly trusting.”

The pegasus grinned at that. “I just like everypony.”

“I wish I still had that same amount of innocence.” The words were out before she even had time to think about a reply. She frowned.

“You don’t?”

“No.” Pinkamena narrowed her eyes. “Used to. But I realized that-...” Her voice trailed off, and she gestured vaguely with one hand. She wasn’t used to reflecting on the events leading to her ascent to her current position.

“I bet you’re still a good pony, though.”

“I am a just pony.”

The pegasus giggled. “Yes, I am also just a pony.”

“No, I meant-...” Pinkamena allowed herself a faint smile when she realized that the pegasus was joking. Probably.

“Try your muffin,” the pegasus pointed at the baked good, and Pinkamena picked it up.

The muffin seemed to weigh a solid pound, with at least half of the weight coming from a mountain of dark yellow frosting with embedded blueberries. She carefully took a bite, trying to get a little bit of everything in her mouth. “Hm.” She chewed. Her first impression was a simple overload of sweetness, but as she chewed, she was able to place the various flavors: banana, blueberries, chocolate... “Mh...” This is pretty good! “Mhhh!” She swallowed and nodded slowly, then with more enthusiasm. Definitely better than the stuff they sell in the food court! I mean, not that I ever tried the bakeries there for more than a sandwich, but I never even saw a muffin like this on their shelves, so how could they sell a muffin this good if they don’t have a muffin this good this is just proper logic and- She reached up to her neck with her free hand and quickly checked her pulse. She couldn’t find it for a moment, but then she realized that it was almost too fast to detect with her lack of experience and admittedly crude method of measuring it. “This thing just gave me eighteen new, previously undiscovered kinds of diabetes, I think. I will also probably not sleep for the next three days.”

“Isn’t it the best?” The pegasus asked and grinned.

“Yeah!” Pinkamena nodded, then caught herself. Composure. You are a professional. “I mean... indeed, it is good.”

“Heh.”

“I might require a bag for this - I’m pretty sure I need to burn some calories before I can tackle the rest.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” The pegasus looked past Pinkamena with one of her eyes. “I think Mrs. Cake is done, anyway.”

Minutes later, Pinkamena carried her large cardboard box (and a much smaller paper bag) out of the bakery. The pegasus joined her outside a few seconds later and casually walked over to the piano. “Well, it has been a pleasure!” she shouted and got herself in position at one side of it. Then, using all her feeble strength and a rather ill-advised posture, she PULLED.

The piano moved less than half an inch.

“Wooo!” the pegasus cheered - apparently, this was far more progress than she had expected.

“Yes, goodbye.” Pinkamena had a mission to finish. She started to walk.

Behind her, the piano moved another half inch.

She hesitated.

What are you doing? She frowned at herself. You can’t be seriously considering this. Please. You have a task to do, and then you have even more crucial tasks to do. That’s your job. Just like this is hers. She gritted her teeth. MOVE, PINKAMENA!

Pinkamena turned to face the pegasus again. “Where do you have to take this?”

The pegasus stopped pulling and gave her an ever-friendly smile. “This is a delivery for Mr. Davenport’s shop, ‘Quills and Sofas.’” She winked. “Guess what he sells there.”

“...pianos?” Pinkamena asked, even as she tried to wrap her mind around the implications of the more obvious answer.

“Excellent question! Maybe! Though wouldn’t I be delivering a piano from the shop in that case?”

“...where is that shop? And who sends a piano by mail?”

The pegasus frowned briefly as if she hadn’t asked herself that last question several hundred times while making the world’s slowest delivery run. “Well, the shop is over there.” She pointed past Pinkamena, who turned around.

“I... don’t...” She squinted. “Do you mean the shop all the way over there? That has got to be half a mile away.”

“Yeah, sounds about right.”

Don’t do it, Pinkamena. You just met her. She has her job; you have yours. “...why don’t we trade deliveries?” You will be FIRED, and you will DESERVE IT, and Miss Lestia will RE-HIRE you only so she can FIRE you AGAIN.

“Are you sure about that?” The pegasus frowned but then gave Pinkamena a sly smile. “That box looks awfully heavy...”

“...heh.” Pinkamena allowed herself a half-smile. “It is of utmost importance that this box - and its content - gets to the Golden Oak library as soon as possible. Do you understand?”

“I’m the Ponyville mailmare; delivering things is my job!” The pegasus saluted.

She will ditch the box to sabotage you. In her eyes, you are part of evil corporate goons who want to destroy her way of life. “I want you to take an oath.”

“...Mrs. Cake can just make more, you know?” When Pinkamena just held out her hand, she sighed and shook it. “Fine... I, Muffin Mare, swear on my name-”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Pinkamena shook her head. “Your name is Muffin Mare?”

The pegasus frowned briefly. “Well, some ponies just call me the muffin mare, so I suppose it’s more of a title, but I liked the sound of it!” She grinned. “Others call me Derpy Hooves or Ditzy Doo. It’s all good, really.”

“Yes, great, but what’s your na-” She frowned when the pegasus silenced her by placing a finger on her lips.

“You will know what you want to call me in due time. Until then, you can borrow whichever name you like.”

Pinkamena tilted her head. Before this trip had started, she had only felt this confused during her chats with Miss Lestia. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

The pegasus laughed at that. Then she thought for a second. Then she laughed again. “Of course not.” She smiled. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Very well, Muffin Mare, you swear to deliver these baked goods as soon as possible?” Pinkamena held out her hand again.

“I do, Pinkamena.” The mare of many names shook her hand again and smiled. “See you around!” And with that, she flew off, box in hands.

“Okay... see you...” Pinkamena waved slowly, then gave the piano a look. “Right, then, let’s get this thing to its destination.” Earth pony magic was less flashy than the unicorn equivalent, but it certainly came in handy when one needed to subtly relocate an object’s center of mass or enhance its structural integrity. She picked up the piano and settled it onto one of her shoulders. “Oof.” Earth pony strength or not, carrying her load all the way to the shop would take a few minutes. But it’s okay. That oddball pegasus will take care of my delivery; hers doesn’t have to set a new record. She allowed herself another tiny smile. Muffin Mare. What a silly name.

She took a step.

Then another.

Then she paused.

“Wait, how did she know my name?”

Rarity normally enjoyed watching Twilight work. She found it oddly soothing to watch her assistant go through all steps of a given task in her calm, efficient way.

This time, however, Twilight was working to help Gilda. Granted, the net gain for her rival would be minimal, but it would not be zero. And when your entire career is on the line- She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly when she felt yet another anxiety attack coming on. Easy. Easy. The farmer isn’t going to sell, no matter how absurdly over the top the offer is. Let Twilight reunite with her wife, let Gilda glee about getting a piece of paper. None of that matters because the stupid mountain of a mare won’t sell. She rubbed her chin and looked up at the farm towering over the village. The library was in the center of the village, allowing her a clear view from her current seat in front of it. It will be mine. I just need to figure out an angle that works.

She eyed Gilda, who was pacing back and forth while giving Twilight impatient looks. Rarity narrowed her eyes - despite all the comments and jokes, it was easy to forget that Gilda was an actual, ferocious apex predator. An apex predator with a master’s degree in economics and a sick sense of humor, but still an apex predator. And one who had a bad day and now has had to watch Twilight doing some form of tai chi in front of her laptop for several minutes. “Um, darling,” she tried, “while I have all day, I believe my dearest coworker-”

“-is thinking you’re stalling,” Gilda hijacked her sentence.

Twilight slowly waved her hands back and forth before taking another look at her laptop, which was sitting on a small footstool. She adjusted her pose a little bit and resumed her motions. “What do you know about ley lines, Miss Dawnstar?”

Gilda frowned mildly. “Some... magic... conduit thing?”

“Fundamentally correct. A system of lines along which magic flows more easily. Measurable, mappable, but admittedly of little practical use for everyday applications, which is why ‘some magic conduit thing’ is about the extent of what most beings know about them.”

“Aaand you’re... doing what? Trying to find them?”

“Yes.” Twilight paused her hand-waving and pointed at the laptop screen. “There are rough maps of the lines in this area indicating that there should be ones around here that I can tap into.”

It was a rare sight, but Gilda seemed to be listening intently. “You’re trying to find a connection from here to some gas station in the middle of nowhere to... make magic flow?”

Twilight smiled happily. “Correct, Miss Dawnstar!”

Rarity stepped in - any instance of Twilight being on friendly terms with her nemesis put her on immediate high alert. “So you are going to send your magic over to Trixie to... what, super-power her portal spell?”

“Would love to, but no.” Twilight sighed. “Projecting magic is a lossy process even across short distances. Projecting it across several hundred miles would be unthinkable for a unicorn with average magical reserves. And actually boosting a spell across that distance would be an alicorn-level feat.”

“Then what’s the point?” Gilda growled, her mood rapidly shifting from scientific curiosity to impatient anger again.

“That’s the point.” Twilight pointed at the large, empty space in front of her.

Gilda squinted. “There’s-”

“To be more precise,” she continued, apparently determined to get her revenge for Gilda interrupting her earlier, “that’s the point where Trixie is supposed to open her exit portal. As opposed to, say, on top of the library. Or on the train tracks. Or inside the hills under Sweet Apple Acres.”

“You’re giving her a signal to home in on,” Rarity whispered. “That’s genius! And probably not as massive a strain on your reserves!” She paused when Twilight averted her eyes. “...right?”

“Ah...” Twilight nervously tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear. “Now might be a good time to ask you not to interfere if there is... screaming...”

“...darling, what-”

“Sure,” Gilda muttered, then shrugged when Rarity gave her a glare. “What? She’s not my secretary.”

“She is doing this for you!” Rarity hissed.

“No, she is doing this for herself. She just can’t avoid helping me in the process.” Gilda smirked. “She said so herself - our dearest Miss The Adjudicator would object to her stranding my stuff.”

“I can still tell her to cancel this entire operation,” Rarity whispered coldly.

Gilda narrowed her eyes for a second as she studied Rarity’s expression. Then she huffed. “But you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” Rarity admitted, “but...”

Gilda slowly tilted her head. “About time you get the idea to slap a price tag on your secretary’s hard work. Was wondering when that would come up.”

“Once the farmer tells you to get lost, you will not stay at the library,” Rarity answered the unspoken question of what exactly the price would be. “That will be my center of operations.”

“Sure, whatever, just point me in the direction of the hotel. I don’t even care.”

“Ah, right, right... the hotel.” She made a show of turning toward her assistant. “Twilight, darling, would you mind telling Gilda where the hotel is?”

“Eighty-six miles south of here,” Twilight pointed out lazily before focusing on her laptop screen again.

“EIGHTY-...” Gilda smacked her forehead. “Of course. No hotel in this pathetic excuse for a village. So where do you suppose I could stay?”

“I don’t even care,” Rarity echoed and shrugged. “Sleep in the car. Or ask Trixie if she packed a tent.”

Gilda started to gesture frantically before making a dismissive gesture. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. And you know why?”

“Because you believe that you will succeed.”

“Because I know that I will-” Gilda froze. Then she blinked. “Where’d you come from?”

Rarity frowned mildly. “Are you feeling okay? You know where I came-” Something in her peripheral vision made her turn sharply. “WHAT!?” Standing right next to her was a pegasus pony. Where did she even come from? Gilda didn’t even seem to notice her!

“Hiii,” the pegasus said and waved her arm happily. “Delivery!”

“I-...” Rarity glanced at Twilight, but her borderline-omniscient assistant seemed as baffled as she was. She took a small step back and gave the pegasus a once-over. The uniform strongly suggested that she worked for the Equestrian Post Office, which also supposedly explained the box she was holding. Not that that explains how she just... appeared like that. It sounds unlikely that post office workers get ninja training... “Delivery... for me?” That’s absurd - who would send a package by mail to a location I hadn’t even expected to be at?

The pegasus frowned briefly. “I dunno. The kind lady told me to deliver this box to the Golden Oak library.” She turned around just as Rarity was reaching for the box. “And this is the Golden Oak library!”

“...kind lady?” Rarity and Twilight exchanged looks again. “Are you talking about Miss Pie? Earth pony, half a head taller than me, pink coat, pink mane, smiles like this?” She put on her best stoic expression.

The mailmare giggled at that. “That’s her!”

Twilight fully abandoned her ley line search and joined them. “Is this-...” She leaned closer to the box and sniffed it. “Oh wow, that smells amazing. Is this from the local bakery?”

“Yep! Fresh batch, straight from Sugarcube Corner!” The mailmare opened the lid of the box, and when Rarity saw its contents, she had never felt more hungry than at this moment.

There were muffins, donuts, small pastries, slightly larger pastries... and one looked better than the next. Their frosting also covered the entire visible light spectrum, plus maybe a few spectra she hadn’t even heard of yet. And if they look this amazing, just imagine what one tastes like... She slowly reached out to pick up a muffin that had frosting with half a rainbow worth of colors on it, but Twilight slapped her hand.

Rarity blinked.

TWILIGHT.

HAD.

SLAPPED.

HER.

HAND.

“Are you mental, darling?” she snapped and rubbed her hand.

“These are mine!” Twilight scolded her. “You want some, you can walk to the bakery and buy them.” She gave Gilda a look. “That goes double for you!”

“I’m good, don’t worry, dweeb,” Gilda muttered. “Not into this whole sugary-sweet stuff.”

“Excellent.” Twilight nodded and took the box from the mailmare. “...where is Miss Pie?” she finally asked.

“She’s making a delivery!”

“Well... yes. She was making this delivery.” Twilight held up the box. “But she apparently isn’t.”

“We traded deliveries!” Rarity was starting to suspect that the pegasus had either eaten a few of those muffins or that she was just naturally bubbly-cheerful. “She made me swear an oath that I would deliver this box as soon as possible,” she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“...okay, that does sound like her.” Twilight frowned briefly but ultimately shrugged. “As long as she gets here again. I would like her to accompany Miss Belle and Miss Dawnstar on their trip.”

Rarity blinked when she realized that Twilight had only mentioned her and Gilda. “Won’t you be coming along?”

“Ah... quite likely not. I will take a while to recover and rebuild my strength.” She held up the box again.

“Darling,” Rarity said and laughed nervously, “you are holding roughly eighty thousand calories there. Surely you’re not suggesting that you will eat all of that?”

Twilight hesitated. “Well, Trixie will get half of the box since she will also use a lot of energy. We didn’t pack nearly enough energy bars for this feat.”

Rarity looked from Twilight’s deadpan expression to the box, then back at Twilight. “...you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“If I’m reading this map correctly, I will need to make at least three line hops, not even to mention the raw distance.” She shrugged again. “I might need to wolf down a quarter of the box just to not pass out on the spot.”

“Sounds like we’re in for a show,” Gilda commented drily.

Twilight grimaced. “Trixie is involved, so... yes.”

Gilda had the good - if somewhat odd - idea to drag the couch out of the library while Twilight was finishing her ley line research. Surprisingly, she even offered Rarity a seat. Even more surprisingly, she didn’t outright murder the mailmare when the latter also found a spot at the edge, right next to the griffon. She was, however, visibly annoyed. “...don’t you have deliveries to make?”

“I’m always where I’m meant to be,” the pegasus replied cryptically, giving Gilda a look with one eye while the other was somehow still watching Twilight. “Well, except when I’m not. In those cases, I’m not.” She giggled again.

Gilda imitated the giggle before scowling openly. “Look, Miss-...” She frowned.

“Mare,” the mailmare filled in the blank and offered her hand. “Muffin Mare!”

“...Muffin Mare,” Gilda echoed slowly, her scowl replaced by a look of disbelief.

“No relationship to the mayor,” Miss Mare added, as if that made the exchange any saner.

“...what’s the mayor’s name?”

“Mare! Mayor Mare!”

“...the mayor is also named Mare?”

“Yes!” Miss Mare cheered even as Gilda was edging closer to a nervous breakdown with each question. “Mayor Mare!”

Gilda blinked. Then she squinted at the pegasus as she obviously had a horrible hunch. “...what’s her first name?”

“Mayor!”

“...the mayor of this village is called Mayor Mare?”

“...been saying that since the start.”

Gilda very slowly turned to face Rarity, her sanity loss plainly visible on her features. “I will bulldoze this village,” she hissed. “And I will bulldoze that one’s house twice.”

“After you produce that proof of purchase, Miss Dawnstar,” Miss Pie intoned from her position right behind Gilda, making her twitch.

“Is today International Ninja Day?”

“That was about two weeks ago.” Miss Pie gave her a perfectly neutral look before nodding at the mailmare. “Miss Mare, I have completed your delivery. And I see you have completed mine.” She hesitated. “I do not, however, see Miss Lulamoon or a car.”

“Aha!” Twilight shouted and turned around. “But you will!”

“About time,” Gilda muttered, then gave Miss Pie a look. “We didn’t reserve you a seat.”

“It’s fine. Don’t feel sorry.”

“I don’t.”

Rarity caught a glimpse of the normally stoic Adjudicator rolling her eyes but wisely refrained from pointing it out. “Twilight, dear, are you saying you’re ready?”

“Indeed!” Twilight held up her phone and hit the dial button before placing it on the ground next to her laptop.

“Hey, love...”

Rarity could hear Trixie’s seductive purr even through the phone’s loudspeaker and across the distance between Twilight and her. She coughed - romance usually wasn’t high on her list of priorities, but she couldn’t deny that she would like to have somepony who greeted her like that.

“A-hem!” Twilight grinned sheepishly. “You’re on loudspeaker.”

“...well, yeah,” Trixie said after a short pause. “How else would the Great and Powerful Trixie address her audience?”

“Of course.” Twilight briefly looked up as if asking some divine power for help or strength. “Anyway. I have mapped out a path to your location, and we’re stocked up on snacks. Are you ready?”

“Ready?” Trixie let out some sort of indignant snort. “The Great and Powerful Trixie was BORN ready! Breathtaking feats of magic have been encoded into her DNA! There has been no day when-”

“Great!” Twilight’s smile was slightly forced. “I’m going to start now - the moment we establish contact, make the jump - I don’t know how long I can maintain the link!”

“Heh. You’re adorable when you’re worried. BUT FRET NOT, FOR-”

“YEP, STARTING NOW.”

Twilight got onto her knees and took one last look at the empty space in front of her, probably doing calculations involving the size of the car, portal... speed... and whatever else factored into her plans. Finally, she placed her palms on the ground and took a deep-

“Wait!”

Twilight yanked her hands away as if she had just put them onto a hot stovetop. “What!?”

“...what’re you wearing?”

Twilight froze. Then she slowly looked over her shoulder as if to double-check that she wasn’t alone. She cleared her throat, looking extremely flustered. “Love, this really isn’t the right time to-”

Trixie sighed in the most condescending way possible. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is talking about your stage outfit. Come to think of it, what does the stage look like?”

“Could we please just get this over with?” Twilight leaned back and covered her face with both hands.

“...you didn’t prep the stage, did you?”

“I placed an enchanted QR code where you need to go. You can home in on that. There is no stage other than that.”

“No stage!? Next, you’ll tell Trixie that you won’t be doing a show!?” Trixie let out a gasp. “And you! Are you in your work outfit?”

Twilight gritted her teeth. “What. Else. Would. I. Be. Wearing. At. Work?”

The purr was back. “You know exactly what, love.”

“No.” Twilight got up and started to pace. It occurred to Rarity that, aside from her panic attack yesterday, this was the first time her all-powerful secretary was looking out of control. “I am not going to put on that outfit. And I will not put on a show.”

“Well, then the Great and Powerful Trixie is afraid that she won’t be able to perform the portal spell...”

“Are you holding yourself hostage!?”

“Trixie will not apologize for having standards!”

Twilight gave the phone a long glare. A very, very long glare. After almost half a minute of silence, she let out a scream that made even Gilda jump in her seat. “UGH, FINE!” She stomped towards the library, shoving the entire couch aside with a flick of her magic. “BE THAT WAY! I’LL PUT IT ON!” She stopped at the door and finally gave her coworkers a look. “AND IF ANYBODY TOUCHES MY MUFFINS, I WILL MURDER EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU IN ASCENDING ORDER OF SCRABBLE WORD VALUE OF YOUR LAST NAME!” And with that, she went into the building, slamming the door shut behind her.

Gilda slowly leaned over to her. “You have no idea how satisfying it is to see somebody else being driven insane by Trixie.”

“Don’t tell her,” whispered back, “but it is also quite entertaining to see Twilight being a bit out of her depth.”

The door was kicked open again. “SHE WHO WHISPERS, LIES!” Twilight snapped. Somehow, she had changed into a completely new outfit within half a minute, and Rarity did a double take when she saw it.

The rational side of her brain told her that this was a typical stage magician outfit, but the other side was incapable of getting over the fact that her secretary looked highly ero-... er... very good. There was something to be said about wearing a white overbust corset on top of a black leotard, with all of that barely covered by a too-short black jacket. The addition of fishnet stockings and a black top hat rounded off the image. Only Twilight’s extremely grumpy look shattered the illusion of a career magician. “Not. One. Word.”

Gilda opened and closed her beak as she considered what Twilight might do to her if she went against that wish. Finally, she went with a wolf whistle, reasoning that that didn’t count as a word. Given that she didn’t spontaneously combust OR get a sentient train airdropped on her head, Twilight seemed to grudgingly agree.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this...” Twilight took off her hat and placed it upside down in the middle of the free space. She gave the phone one last glare before spreading her arms. “LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLADIES AND GENTLECOLTS! COME CLOSE, COME ALL! FOR YOU SHALL WITNESS... THE MISTRESS OF THE MYSTICAL! THE BUOY IN THE STORM OF MAGIC! THE GREAT! AND POWERFUL! TRRRRIXIEEEEEEEEE!”

She stood there, panting slightly. Miss Mare applauded enthusiastically, but she was alone.

“...tough crowd,” Trixie muttered.

“We’re all running low on sleep,” Twilight offered, but there was little conviction behind her words. “Anyway, shall we?”

“Fine, ready when you are.”

Twilight got on her knees and placed her hands flat on the ground again. She was most definitely not wearing the most fortunate outfit for this pose, and Rarity had to quickly slap Gilda’s side when she saw her going for a wolf whistle again.

Gilda gave her a grin-... then froze when they both felt something shift. Rarity held onto the couch as her body tried to parse which way it was falling. Magic, her brain filled in the blank. This wasn’t our sense of gravity sending out an alert but our sense of magic. Nothing is moving spatially, but the energy field around us has just changed. The magic aura around Twilight’s horn was traveling along her body, down her arms, and straight into the ground. She is actually doing it, she thought, only realizing now that she had apparently assumed that Twilight had been bluffing the entire time.

They could hear a few startled yelps throughout the village as Twilight’s magic raced along the world’s natural magic conductors. Rarity wanted to praise Twilight, but the words died in her mouth when she saw that her assistant was shaking. She started to get up. “Twilight, darling, you-”

“Don’t!” Gilda hissed and pulled her back down. “You have no idea what’s going to happen if you distract her now! And she literally told you not to interfere!”

“But-”

“OkAy,” Twilight half-shouted, half-whispered, “hALfwaY thERe, jUst-...” Her body locked up in a weird pose, and her mouth opened in a silent scream.

“TWILIGHT!” Rarity shouted, fighting Gilda’s grip. “LET ME GO, YOU-” She jumped backward when Twilight’s magic suddenly burst out along the ground behind her, literally scorching the earth to their left and right and only narrowly missing the couch and the library. Rarity took a quick look around and cursed quietly when she saw that the scorch marks were in the shape of two wings, making it look as if Twilight had somehow botched a ritual to ascend into an alicorn.

“FoCUs!” Twilight snarled, letting the magic around her horn flare up even more as she drew upon reserves probably nobody knew she possessed. “WHERE! ARE! YOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Her scream covered five different emotions as it increased in pitch.

This is it, Rarity suddenly thought. She miscalculated somehow. Over-estimated her reserves, maybe, or plotted out a wrong route. And now... now she is going to-... She blinked when she saw the top hat shaking. At first, she thought it was just a trick of the light, but after a moment, she realized that it really was moving. No way. A hand reached out of the hat, then went higher until one arm was comically sticking out of it. It blindly reached down until it found the brim of the hat. This is not happening. “Gilda, are you seeing-”

“Yeah,” Gilda whispered back, sounding just as baffled as Rarity, even though they were technically just looking at something Twilight had explicitly announced.

Before Rarity could find another way to voice her disbelief, the hand somehow picked up the top hat and spun it with a flourish. And before the rules of space and reality could puzzle out what was going on, Trixie had literally pulled herself and the Corvid out of the hat, ending up with her sitting in the driver’s seat and holding the hat out of the window.

“Wooow!” Muffin Mare cheered even as Rarity and Gilda stared at the scene with open mouths and wide eyes.

Trixie kicked open the door of the Corvid and jumped out, giving the small crowd her best grin. “BEHOLD! THE GREAT AND-” She had lost consciousness even before her body hit the ground.

Gilda cursed and jumped out of her seat. Rarity was about to make a snarky comment about how her cut-throat rival apparently cared a lot more about the well-being of her secretary than she had been willing to admit, but then she stole a look at- “TWILIGHT!” she yelped and rushed over to her own assistant, who was also lying on the floor, limbs twitching uselessly.

“Ghh-... GHHHH-...”

“Easy, easy, c’mon!” Rarity cradled Twilight in her arms, unsure what else to do. She was not trained in first aid, though she doubted that first aid classes covered cases like this. Fortunately, Twilight’s expression softened after a few agonizing seconds, and she at least seemed to not be in pain anymore. Rarity tried not to consider that this could be a sign of Twilight having lost whatever fight she had been engaged in. “You did it!” she whispered and forced a smile. “Trixie’s here!”

“HaaAaaaa,” Twilight croaked and gave her a forced grin of her own.

“Here,” Miss Pie whispered and held something in front of Rarity.

Rarity gave the colorful muffin a look and was about to dismiss it, but then she remembered that Twilight had emphasized their importance for a reason. She burnt through her reserves! She needs to recover that energy! She grabbed the muffin and held it up in front of Twilight’s mouth.

Twilight needed a moment to make sense of the object that had appeared in her field of view, but she slowly opened her mouth weakly and took a bite. “Hhhhh-...” She (barely) chewed and swallowed. It could have been a trick of the light, but Rarity was almost sure that she could see life returning to Twilight’s eyes. “Mhhh!” She opened her mouth again and took a larger bite. “MHHH!”

“That’s it, take it easy, chew, let’s not choke on-” Rarity’s reassuring smile froze when Twilight reached up and tried to stuff the entire rest of the muffin into her mouth. It didn’t quite fit, but Twilight didn’t seem to care and simply started to chew while a third of the muffin was still hanging out. Don’t say it, Rarity told herself and gritted her teeth. This is not the moment to complain about muffin crumbs on your business suit or her lack of table manners...

A few steps away, Gilda was apparently using a muffin of her own as a stand-in for smelling salt. Rarity wasn’t sure what was sillier - the fact that Gilda was trying that or that it seemed to work. What do they put into these things?

Twilight was finally starting to move, and Rarity wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be surprised that the recovering unicorn was reaching for the box of calories again. Miss Pie thankfully saw the gesture and brought the box over after handing Gilda a fair share of its contents. Rarity chuckled as Twilight stuffed an entire donut and then half a muffin into her mouth before she realized that she still had to chew. “...is something wrong?” she asked when she suddenly realized that Miss Pie was staring intently at Twilight.

“I’m waiting to see if she’s going to explode.”

“...pretty sure the time for explosions was when she performed her party trick,” Rarity commented and raised an eyebrow.

“Mh,” Miss Pie conceded and shrugged. “I had half a muffin back at the bakery, and I’m still feeling the sugar rush, even after delivering a piano.”

“Ah, I guess that makes sense, th-...” Rarity frowned. “...did you just say you were delivering a piano? Who would order a piano in this tiny village in the middle of nowhere?”

“Mr. Davenport of ‘Quills and Sofas.’ It’s a shop that sells quills and sofas, apparently.”

“...I see,” Rarity said and nodded, then gave Miss Pie the most exasperated, least understanding shrug ever. “Also, why were you delivering a piano?”

“It was slightly too heavy for Miss Muffin.”

“...of course,” Rarity muttered after a long pause. “Whatever was I thinking?” They both turned to Twilight when the latter coughed up some crumbs. Rarity noticed with alarm that the donut, the muffin... and two more muffins were gone without a trace. “...welcome back, darling?”

“Phew, that’s a solid start,” Twilight said to nopony in particular. “Thank you, Miss Belle, and apologies for causing you any distress. I think I can take it from here.” She slowly got onto her hooves... and collapsed straight away and onto Rarity. “...okay, I might need another muffin first.”

“You’re lucky you’re competent!” Rarity growled as she helped Twilight into a sitting position on the ground. “What you need is rest.”

“And a muffin. Or six.”

“Well, that’s not going to be easy - I doubt your wife will be willing to share.” Rarity pointed at Trixie, who was somehow trying to eat two muffins simultaneously.

“My wife just broke several laws of physics and... probably two laws of magic. She can have all the sweets she wants.” Twilight held one hand in front of her and watched it shake. Then she sighed. “Well, nothing caught fire at least, so I’d say that things went considerably better than-”

Rarity coughed.

Twilight blinked and gave her a look. Then she spotted the giant scorch marks on the ground. “-...ah.” A pause. “Well, at least I didn’t catch fire, so there’s that. Right? Right.” She gave the scorch marks another look. “...I hope that won’t count as vandalism.”

Somepony really needs to work on her priorities. “It’ll be fine. Once I buy the village, I’ll see to it that any charges will be dropped.”

Twilight gave her a smile. “Heh.” Then her smile faded. “I’m sorry, Miss Belle. This was quite selfish of me.”

Rarity sighed and idly adjusted a strand of her mane. “Apologize if your actions actually cause Gilda to get a signature. Until then, your actions now will allow you to focus on the matter at hand later. Assuming that Gilda gets shot down - or straight-up shot - as well, I need you to help me work out a second angle. And I believe you can do that better if you’re not worried sick about your loved one.”

The smile slowly returned. “If you feel better justifying your kindness with business logic, I won’t stop you.”

“I possess both, darling.” Rarity glanced up at the farm on the hill and narrowed her eyes. “I just can’t afford to show the former all that often.”

Author's Note

Notes, inspiration, credits:

International Ninja Day was on December 5, and I missed it.
Definitely not the first time one of my characters held herself hostage.
I will try to push out one more chapter before Jinglemas starts. Fingers crossed.
The mailmare delivered the bread to the kitchen before visiting Rarity, Twilight, and Gilda. I totally did not completely forget about it until the last once-over.

Sun's out, guns out

Rarity, Miss Pie, and the easily excitable mailmare had worked together to drag Twilight and Trixie into the library while Gilda had retreated to her room with her suitcase.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving these two alone here,” Rarity muttered after they had positioned them on the couch.

“They are married, Miss Belle,” Miss Pie pointed out and shrugged. “I believe there is no moral objection to leaving them alone to...” She gestured vaguely.

Rarity gave her an exasperated look. “I didn’t mean that! I’m worried because they’re both weakened. What if... I don’t know... one of them suffers from some magic aftershock?”

“...oh,” Miss Pie conceded and coughed. Then she slowly tilted her head. “Magic aftershock? Does such a thing exist?”

“I don’t know, but nobody here is a doctor.” She paused. “Okay, Twilight does have three doctor’s degrees, but none of them in medicine. Anyway. Point being, nopony knows if what she did was healthy. I mean, you’ve seen them. Twilight had some sort of seizure, for crying out loud!”

“Fair,” Miss Pie allowed and crossed her arms. “What do you suggest?”

“You stay here with them. That way-”

“No.” Miss Pie held up her hand when Rarity was about to object to the objection. “My task is to ensure that Miss Dawnstar and you play by the rules. I will not let you two go to the farm unsupervised.”

“Great, then you tell Gilda that we will stay here until we can all go.”

“She will likely just go by herself. In which case, I would accompany her the way I accompanied you.”

“I’m not going to let her go by herself!” Rarity hissed.

“This would be a good time to point out that you went without her before.”

“It’s not my fault she wasn’t here to come along!”

“Strictly speaking-”

“Anyway!” Rarity gestured impatiently. “One of us has to stay here, and it’s not going to be me.”

“I could stay!” the mailmare volunteered.

Rarity opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again. Another failed attempt later, she frowned deeply. “...with all due respect, why are you still here?”

“Got all my deliveries done for the day!” Miss Muffin cheered as if that explained everything.

“That would be a solution to break out of this stalemate,” Miss Pie said.

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I want to trust the life of my assistant with a pony I met literally five minutes ago.”

“Literally speaking, it has been longer than five minutes,” Miss Pie corrected her. The most annoying part was that Rarity was not sure if she was being pedantic on purpose or if that was just how she ticked. “And for what it’s worth, I trust her.”

Rarity blinked at that. “Do you, now? May I ask why?”

“Because-...” For a long second, Miss Pie was looking genuinely confused. “She’s-...” It was almost frightening to see the dreaded Adjudicator being at a complete loss and looking like, well, an actual person.

“She trusted me with the delivery!” Miss Mare chimed in.

“Yes!” Miss Pie was looking massively relieved to have been thrown a lifeline. “Thank you! See?”

Rarity narrowed her eyes. Okay, on the one hand, there is no way that delivering a box is on the same level as taking care of two unicorns who might literally catch fire at any moment for all that we know. Also, that is a flimsy basis for trust. She exchanged looks with Miss Pie. On the other hand, the odds of Twilight actually catching fire are probably slim, and if I accept, I could join Gilda without looking like I’m throwing Twilight under the bus. Which I totally am not doing. Also, Miss Pie’s job is to act as a judge, and while she couldn’t seem to find the right words, she did deem this crazy pegasus trustworthy. “Fine, I trust your judgment,” she sighed. “Miss Mare, thank you for your kind offer. If there is any way to repay your kindness, just say the word.”

“Three bits.”

“...pardon me?”

“Three bits. Per hour.” Miss Muffin beamed. “It’s my foalsitter fee!”

Rarity giggled at that. “I believe that can be arranged.” She turned around to the stairs when she heard Gilda coming down. “Hey, you won’t believe what-...” Her smile froze. “Oh, hay no.”

Gilda gave her a winning smile even as she adjusted her brown stetson and tucked the last corner of her purple plaid shirt into her jeans. Then she frowned, seemingly unaware of Rarity’s horrified expression. “Wait, nah, that feels dumb.” She pulled the shirt back out and flexed her arms to check the feel. “Much better!” Finally, she acknowledged her rival. “What do y’all think?”

She had packed a farm outfit into her suitcase, Rarity realized, even as Gilda spread her wings to test the width of the holes at the back of the shirt. It was never about the stupid contract. Or at least not primarily. And even after all these years, I failed to realize that there is always more than one layer to Gilda’s plans! Her eyes flicked over to Twilight. And she MADE IT HAPPEN. She scowled but barely managed to stop herself from making a move. Okay, stop, stop, stop. THINK, Rarity! You allowed this to happen, Twilight nearly killed herself there, and really, what are the odds that an act will make the farmer willing to sell? Plus, Gilda agreed to move out if-... I mean when the farmer says no. She gritted her teeth. “Let’s just go.” Besides, I can still strangle Twilight after I lose my job.

Somehow, being knocked out by her own briefcase must have temporarily erased her memories of The Hike Of Doom. “Why did I agree to come all the way up here again?” Rarity wheezed, gesturing at Gilda, who had the decency to look at least mildly winded. “An’ you... why didn’t you fly? Are your wings still sore?”

Gilda briefly took off her hat and fanned herself with it while she was catching her breath. “Wings are feeling a lot better, actually. But I want to conserve my energy. Besides... this way, I got to see your worried face the entire time!” She flashed her a grin.

“I’m hardly worried, darling,” Rarity muttered. “I just... can’t believe you’d think your ridiculous attempt at mimicry would help you.”

“Eh, maybe it won’t,” Gilda admitted and shrugged. “But this is actually fairly comfortable! And from what you said, I can probably use every advantage I can get, no matter how small it is.” She gave Rarity and then Miss Pie a dark look. “Of course, having you two suits hovering around me kinda ruins the effect.”

“Tch, please. You need us to be here.”

Gilda did a double-take at that. “I what now?”

“You need us to be here,” Rarity repeated patiently. “After all, if we weren’t here, there would be nopony for you to blame once you fail.”

“I would’ve blamed you, anyway,” Gilda muttered and turned around sharply, slapping Rarity with one wing.

Today, the farmers weren’t outside, so Gilda marched straight to the main house’s front door... looked for the doorbell... found none... and finally knocked sharply on the door.

The door opened, but it was impossible to look inside since Big McIntosh somehow completely filled out the frame. “Mh?” he asked and took a step forward, giving Gilda plenty of time to move backward.

There was no practical way to prove it, but Rarity could swear that she felt the tectonic plates shifting under the gravitational pull of his sheer mass in motion. He is probably barred from doing jumping jacks out of fear that he might alter the moon’s orbit.

“Well, gee howdy!” Gilda squawked in her best imitation of a country drawl. “They sure make ’em big out here!”

Big McIntosh gave her a look, then slowly focused on Rarity and Miss Pie. “...you with them?”

“They followed me home; can I keep ‘em?” Gilda flashed him a winning smile.

“This ain’t your home.” Big McIntosh leaned down a little bit, and Gilda took an immediate step backward. “Ain’t never gonna be yer home, either,” he added for emphasis.

Gilda nodded slowly to herself. “Right. Right. Look, can we just-”

“BLOOM!” Big McIntosh shouted over his shoulder.

“...yeah?” the youngest Apple sibling shouted back from somewhere inside.

“YA MIND BRINGIN’ ME THE OL’ ’73?”

Rarity could hear a sigh. “Fiiine!”

Gilda forced a smile. She didn’t like to be interrupted or ignored, but she wouldn’t be allowed to legally murder this family before she got a signature. Afterward... it would probably still be illegal, but Gilda was known to get creative with Easter eggs in her contracts. “Sir, I don’t know what this suit was offering, but I will make you this offer: round up to the nearest million from whatever she had promised, then add another million on top of that.”

WHAT? Rarity opened her mouth to argue but forced herself to remain calm, at least on the outside. Five million bits? There is absolutely no way she can spend that money. That’s what we had for the entire village! What’s she going to do, pay for the rest from her own-... She gasped. By the makers! That’s it! She’s literally going to burn through her private funds! That’s insane! ...and also brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that? Why didn’t Twilight think of that?

“...so ten million bits?” Big McIntosh asked and raised an eyebrow.

Why did this pony fail his math class?

“T-ten?” Gilda did a double-take at that. “TEN? Did she-...” She spun around and dashed over to Rarity. “What were you doing yesterday?” she hissed.

Rarity opened her mouth to answer, but then she noticed the slight smile on Big McIntosh’s lips. That was a bluff. He didn’t botch his math; he made Gilda flinch. She shrugged. “What, you think you’re the only one willing to spend her own money to secure this contract?” she asked, piling her own bluff on top of his. “So go ahead... pay up.”

Gilda only managed to stop her hands when they were an inch away from Rarity’s throat. “We will have words later,” she snarled, then turned around to walk back to the farmer, not even bothering with the wing slap this time. “Sir, we might need to-...” She froze.

Rarity leaned to the side to see past Gilda and immediately regretted her decision. The stallion had somehow managed to get his hands on an old-timey, lever-action rifle that seemed to come straight from a Western movie set. Where did that even come from? Does he keep a rifle next to-... She gasped when her brain reviewed the footage of the last two minutes. The old ’73. He was talking about a Whinnychester ’73, wasn’t he?

“Ma’am,” Big McIntosh said slowly, his polite tone betraying the fact that he was cradling a firearm in his arms, “I’m afraid that I must ask you an’ your friends to leave now.”

Gilda stood still for several seconds, but then she relaxed and casually walked back to him. “Yeah, right.” She stopped right in front of him and crossed her arms. “You’re not going to shoot me. Even if you had the guts to do it, this antique prolly doesn’t even work. Maybe it did a few hundred years ago when your great-great-great-grandfather built this farm, but right now, it’s probably just as run-down as the rest of this worthless farm.” She waited a second for a reaction. “Just a husk, reminiscing about its old glory days.”

Big McIntosh sighed. “You must be mistakin’ me for my sister,” he muttered. “She’s the one who’s easier to bait by talkin’ smack ‘bout the farm. I’m more laid-back and soft-spoken.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d be the nice one. Great physique for a threat, but that’s it.” Gilda smirked and cracked her knuckles. Then she placed one hand on his upper arm, digging her talons into his coat and skin. “Listen, I tried doing this the easy way, okay? But at the end of the day, I’m willing to fight for what I want.” Her grip seemed to tighten because even from the slight distance, Rarity could see that she was drawing a bit of blood. “Are you?”

Big McIntosh slowly looked down at his arm as if he wasn’t even feeling any pain. Then he looked back at Gilda. “This is unnecessary,” he finally muttered. “We ain’t sellin’ the farm, but you’re free to try violence on me if it makes ya feel better.”

“I might, yeah.” Gilda shrugged. “If you don’t sell, I lose my job.”

“If your job is to threaten innocent ponies and bully them into selling their farm, you’ll be better off unemployed.” Big McIntosh was looking rather unimpressed.

She pretended to not have heard him. “And if I go down, I will take it out on you.” She let go of his arm and inspected her bloodied talons. “On all of you.”

“This is between you and me.”

Rarity could feel the hairs at the back of her neck standing up. The conversation had ceased to be productive when Big McIntosh waved the gun around, and it had just gotten worse from there. This last exchange, however, had clearly crossed a line.

“This farm isn’t yours alone,” Gilda countered, seemingly unaware of Big McIntosh’s tone. “It belongs to you, to Granny Smith, to Applejack, and to Apple Bloo-”

Gilda had been hit by a car once. Canterlot traffic was terrible on the best of days, and Gilda’s habit of not looking both ways before crossing any given street certainly hadn’t helped. So one day, a driver had either not seen the clearly insane griffon who had just walked right in front of his car, or he hadn’t cared. Either way, Gilda had been sent flying (before taking out her adrenaline-fueled rage on the car with her talons).

The car, however, had not propelled her as far as Big McIntosh’s shove just had.

“Leave,” the muscular stallion growled. “Now.”

Gilda blinked. She was clearly still trying to process why her chest was hurting and what she was doing on her back on the ground. Then she got back up - Rarity knew her body language well enough to see that she was in a bit of pain, even if she put on a brave face - and smirked at him. “Sure,” she told him. “For now.” Then she turned her back to him and walked towards and then past Rarity and Miss Pie. “Next time, my offer will be significantly lower,” she announced loudly without even looking at him, “and you will wish you had been more thankful for my early generosity.”

Rarity gave Big McIntosh one last look before following Gilda. The stallion was clearly enraged, but while Miss Applejack’s rage had been a hot flame, his rage was a cold inferno. She shuddered when she saw the urge to kill hiding behind his overall calm facade. Right. I’m probably lucky that we don’t have to carry Gilda back down... in multiple pieces... “Wasn’t such a bad shot, actually,” she commented after mentally evaluating how to deal with Gilda in her current state.

“Zip it, dweeb,” Gilda hissed. She was mad but still civil (at least by her standards), which was much better than Rarity had expected. “Stupid farmer hits like a freight train, and I don’t think he was even trying to hurt me.”

“You got luckier than me in the violence department, trust me,” Rarity muttered. “Whole family is crazy.” Even though you were a colossal jerk while I had just been trying to negotiate.

Gilda huffed. “Suppose so.” They were marching away from the farmhouse and towards the long, winding path leading back to the village. Gilda absentmindedly plucked an apple from a nearby tree as she walked past it and rubbed it against her shirt. “Never had a fresh apple before,” she mused. “Not usually into this whole organic food stuff, but might as well try one, right? You’d prolly pay five bits for this back in Canterlot.” She inspected it, smiled, then lazily tossed it up in the air, watching it spin, and held out her hand to catch-

The apple exploded into fine mist in mid-air before Rarity’s ears even registered the sound of the rifle shot.

Before she could fully process what had happened, Gilda had already tackled her to the ground.

And then Gilda exploded.

Not into fine mist, but into rage.

Between the waterfall of swear words, Rarity counted fifteen threats to burn down the farm, eight to bulldoze it with its inhabitants still inside, and around a dozen or so to eviscerate various members of the Apple family (the exact count depended on whether or not their dog counted as a family member). The sole reason why the encounter didn’t end with Gilda spontaneously losing a lot of weight as part of the “bleed to death” fad diet was Rarity physically holding her back. “C’mon, let’s go,” she hissed. “Let’s just go!”

Miss Pie finally assisted her by picking the still screeching Gilda up and carrying her down the path. “That went well,” the Earth pony commented drily, as if not even noticing Gilda’s violent struggles. “I feel the need to point out that so far, every visit to this farm ended with somebody not leaving it on their own two legs.”

“Duly noted. Speaking of which, I believe you can risk letting her down now - her incessant screeching is back down to normal levels-” Rarity rubbed her ears for emphasis - Gilda had often lost her cool, but apparently, a life-or-death situation had unlocked a whole new level of sheer volume in her.

“Very well, I bow to your expertise when it comes to the rage levels of your coworker,” Miss Pie said and carefully placed Gilda on the ground.

“ABOUT TIME, YOU STONE-FACED B-...” Gilda snapped and pointed a talon at Miss Pie but stopped mid-swear when she realized how badly her hand was shaking. Muttering several curses under her breath, she hugged herself tightly before leaning against a nearby tree and sliding down into a sitting position.

A part of Rarity wanted to taunt her, to rub in the events of the past few minutes. A bigger part, however, remembered that Gilda’s first instinct had been to shove her out of the way of any more potential gunfire. Not that she’d ever admit as much. Just how she would never acknowledge that me holding her back probably saved her life. She huffed. “Some family, huh?” she finally asked and smiled.

“Is that why you’re walking around with a bandage?”

“I told you that Miss Applejack-”

“-did this to you, yes, yes.” Gilda interrupted her. “Did a bullet graze you?”

“She did a... slingshot... thing with her lasso and my briefcase.” Rarity frowned. “After pumping it full of lead.”

“You always had to be that tiny bit extra,” Gilda muttered and gave her a weak smirk. Then she sighed. “So. Apple family isn’t selling.”

“Would’ve been too easy,” Rarity agreed.

Gilda got back up and dusted off the back of her pants. “Yeah, looks like we actually gotta work for my promotion.”

Rarity rolled her eyes at the phrasing but didn’t comment on it. “By the way, you’re still moving out of the library.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Applejack had overslept exactly once in her life, more than a decade ago, and Big McIntosh still lorded it over her. Among all the promises she had made to herself, “never oversleep again” ranked just a tiny bit lower than “save the farm.”

Now, as she was waking up to noise and - more importantly - sunshine, Applejack realized that she had failed. “Ugh,” she groaned and tried to will herself to get up. It was surprisingly hard, mostly because she was not feeling rested. At all. Gee, I wonder why that is, she thought and rolled her eyes. Could it be because you spent all night just tossing and turning? Nahhhhhhh.

Any moment now, her brother would come in and laugh at her for oversleeping. Again. She could practically hear his voice as he called-

“BLOOM!”

Even in her sleep-deprived state, she realized that that was not her name. She also realized that he was sounding... annoyed? Angry? She tilted her head. Something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure how wrong yet.

“...yeah?” Apple Bloom shouted back from the kitchen.

What time is it if she’s already at work for lunch? Ugh, he’s never going to let me live this one down.

“YA MIND BRINGIN’ ME THE OL’ ’73?”

Applejack froze for a second before hurriedly grabbing her clothes from her chair. There were few reasons why Big McIntosh would ever ask to be handed his trusty Whinnychester outside of the occasional pest control season. However, “Miss Belle of McEvilCorp” (or whatever the company was called) probably counted as one of said reasons in the eyes of a stallion who was determined to defend his home.

Getting dressed in a panic was a lot harder than she had expected, but either Apple Bloom was trying to stall, or Big McIntosh had enough brain cells left to not outright murder a defenseless unicorn.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Applejack was hurrying down the stairs. It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine. You can talk. Make sure that Miss Belle is okay, then send her on her merry-

She arrived downstairs just in time to see her brother taking aim. She opened her mouth to scream something, anything, but it was too late. The gunshot made her freeze in place, one hand helplessly outstretched. NO! NO NO NO!

And then the cursing started.

The first thing Applejack noticed was the sheer range of the vocabulary. She hadn’t exactly been raised as a saint (or by saints), but right now, even Granny Smith probably could have learned a new word or two.

The second thing Applejack noticed was that the person doing the cursing was not Miss Belle, unless Miss Belle had participated (and lost her voice) in a late-night Turkey Call contest. So she wasn’t the target... or she’s now bleeding to death, and this is one of her coworkers swearing to burn down the farm.

She took a deep breath, trying to banish the image of Miss Belle lying in a puddle of blood from her mind. Then she took a look through the door.

Miss Belle and the pink-coated Earth pony were indeed at the rough edge of the road leading down to Ponyville. Thankfully, both of them appeared to be fine. The third person, a griffon, on the other hand, appeared to be slightly less fine. Unlike the ponies who were with her, she at least had shown some common sense about how normal folks tended to dress. Applejack especially approved of the hat, even though she was admittedly biased in that department. However, all style points were lost when the Earth pony flung the still cursing griffon over her shoulder and started to carry her away.

“Ah. Hey.” Big McIntosh only now noticed her. He worked the lever to eject the empty cartridge. “Sorry to wake you up like that.” He paused when he saw her still slightly horrified expression. “They were never in danger. You know my aim.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” She ran a hand through her mane and let out a long sigh.

“We’re down one apple, though.”

“Heh.” She smirked at that. We’ll be down a lot more than that by the end of the season, she added silently. “Was that griffon working for Miss Belle?”

He shrugged. “They didn’t go into details, but she looked like a rival. Offered even more money.”

“Wow... why? Is there a gold mine under the farm?”

“Beats me. Didn’t ask.” He held up his arm. There was blood dripping from it. “I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

“You’ll be hurting a lot more if Apple Bloom learns she has to mop up your mess,” Applejack commented drily and handed him one of her handkerchiefs. “I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

“Thanks.” He frowned. “Oh, and...”

“Yeah?”

“You overslept.” He grinned. “Again.”

“UGH!”

They walked back in relative silence - Gilda and Rarity had used up their annual supply of pleasantries, and Miss Pie was the silent type, anyway.

“I seriously hope Trixie packed a tent,” Gilda muttered when they finally got close to the library again. “Miss Lestia’s car is amazing to drive but too cramped to sleep in.”

“...you literally made Trixie sleep in it.”

“Yeah, but that’s just... Trixie.” Gilda shrugged, then shrugged again when she noticed Rarity’s exasperated expression. “What?”

“Have you ever tried not being a jerk?”

“You know I have,” Gilda hissed, then sighed and ran a hand over her head to smoothen out her feathers. “Didn’t work out,” she added quietly.

Rarity cast her eyes down. “Maybe if you-”

“What the-...” Gilda interrupted her. “HEY! DWEEBS!”

Rarity blinked and forced herself to return to the here and now. She looked up and saw who Gilda was shouting at: two pegasus ponies were openly admiring the Corvid.

“HANDS OFF MY CAR!” Gilda snapped.

“The car is company property and doesn’t-”

“NOT THE TIME, PONKIDONK!”

One of the two ponies immediately stepped away from the car, looking extremely guilty. Her long, pink mane hid most of her features and her yellow coat, but Rarity was impressed by what little she did see. Move to Canterlot, darling, and become a model. You certainly have the build for it, and I’d imagine the city folks would eat up your shy wallflower act. ...maybe ditch the hippie look, though - it’s so not the season for flowy blouses and wide-legged pants.

The other pony, a blue-coated pegasus with a literal rainbow mane and tail, was much lazier and merely gave Gilda a look over her shoulder... before doing a double-take when she saw her. “Well, hello there,” she practically purred and gave Gilda the cockiest smile ever.

Great. Been nice knowing you. Rarity didn’t bother trying to restrain Gilda this time - she was exhausted and trusted Miss Pie to disqualify her for the inevitable, excessive violence.

“I WILL-...” Gilda paused when the rainbow-y pegasus practically pranced over to her. “LOOK, THIS IS-...” Another pause, this time caused by the pegasus unfolding and pulling at one of Gilda’s wings. Apparently, her concept of personal space was gathering dust in a corner, right next to her survival instinct.

“Daaang, look at her wingspan, Flutters!” She shot her friend a lewd grin. “You know what they say about girls with big wings, eh?”

The other pegasus seemed to shrink under the sudden attention. Rarity couldn’t help but notice that this “Flutters” character seemed to have much larger wings than her obviously suicidal friend. Long and probably fragile versus short and made for sharp turns and high speeds?

“Yes, Dash, you have mentioned it once or twice-...” Her voice went from a whisper to barely audible. “...-per week.”

Gilda looked from one pegasus to the other. She clearly wasn’t used to being ignored, especially not when she was threatening ponies with violence. Finally, she snapped her wing shut, making this “Dash” pony jump a tiny bit. “Listen, dweeb, I-...” She froze when the pegasus ruffled the part of her chest fluff that couldn’t be contained by the topmost shirt buttons. “I WILL MURDER YOU!” she roared and raised her hand, ready to tear straight through the pegasus with her talons.

“...right, right, I’m sorry!” The pegasus didn’t look sorry at all, but she at least had the decency to take a step back and hold up her hands.

“Now make like a jet and scram!” Gilda snapped.

Jets don’t scram, you imbecile. Rarity wisely kept the remark to herself, but she still rolled her eyes. A scramjet is a type of engine.

“I’m going, I’m going...” Rainbow Dash gave her friend a meaningful look.

“Ah,” the wallflower pegasus said and nodded slowly, “all the better, really. Because... we... were going to race now, anyway...”

“...yeah! The... race! Of course! I wanted a... rematch since you... narrowly beat me yesterday!”

Rarity noticed the hesitation in the body language and speech patterns. Gilda likely didn’t.

“Same betting amount, then?”

“Sure, I’m gonna win my ten bits back!”

Gilda gave Rarity a sideways look. “Wow,” she muttered. “Ten bits. That’s going to buy you, what, a coffee?”

“Would you like me to ask Twilight where the nearest Spurbucks is?” Rarity asked back. The question actually made herself twitch a little bit - the library kitchen didn’t even have a Prench Press, and Rarity wasn’t sure how long she’d last without a proper, extravagant coffee.

“Probably right next to that hotel.” Gilda narrowed her eyes and watched the two pegasus ponies as they prepared for whatever race they wanted to do.

“Considering to join?”

“No. Not yet, at least.” Her eyes flicked to Rarity for a split second before focusing back on the race prep. “You’re not a hunter. You wouldn’t understand.” Her voice was low. “Always observe your prey first.”

Rarity frowned at this. Not so much at the predator talk but rather at the amount of energy Gilda was investing into making some random folks’ lives miserable. Is she still all riled up from the farm? I mean, it’d be understandable, but... She shook her head. No. This is more. “...are you hoping to make them bet their homes?”

“Maybe.” Gilda’s eyes were narrow slits at this point. “Doubt it, but a girl can hope. But I’d love to take the rainbow one down a peg.” She licked the corner of her beak. “Make her crawl in front of me. Make her actually feel sorry.”

“Riiight.”

“Okay, Fluttershy, roughly the same course as yesterday!” the rainbow pegasus announced, cutting Gilda’s power fantasy short. “Bakery, train station, town hall, back here. You okay with that?”

“Um.” Fluttershy gave Gilda a nervous look but then nodded. “You got it, Rainbow Dash.”

They both got into position. “Ready,” Rainbow Dash said, “set... GO!”

And with that, they were off.

“Wow,” Gilda said, sounding extremely unimpressed by their take-off. “At the speed they’re going, they might even make it back before sunset.”

“The village isn’t that large,” Rarity commented, though she had to admit that she had expected a bit more speed, at least from this Rainbow Dash. Then again, I don’t have wings, so what do I know?

In the end, it took the duo about two minutes to complete their race. Gilda didn’t comment on the fact that it was a photo finish, just as she didn’t say anything about how out of breath both pegasus ponies appeared.

“Yeeesh, that was a close one!” Rainbow Dash wheezed and gave her friend a thumbs-up sign. “But I think those ten bits are mine again.”

“I guess so,” Fluttershy conceded. “We should do this again at some point. You really got better since last time!”

“Ohhh,” Gilda chimed in, her voice a mocking sing-song, “you really got better!”

The two ponies exchanged quick looks. “Oh,” Rainbow Dash said, “you think you’re faster than me?”

“My mother is faster than you.”

“Yeah, that’s what she-”

“Dash,” Fluttershy somehow managed to interrupt her with a whisper.

“-...I mean, that sounds like a challenge,” Rainbow Dash caught herself. “Wanna lose ten bits?”

“...sure, it’s a start, dweeb.” Gilda smirked and tossed her hat aside. It was a blind throw, but she somehow still managed to hit Rarity with it. Then she spread her wings to their full extent and gave Rainbow Dash a grin. “And we can work our way up from there.”

“Sounds okay to me - that car’s looking mighty fine...”

“The car is not-”

“BLAH BLAH BLAH,” Gilda snapped, cutting off Miss Pie before waving her hand. “Not gonna lose the car, no worries...”

Rainbow Dash was looking rather amused by the exchange. “Alrighty, let’s start with a short one to warm up. How about to that cloud over there, around it, and then back here? We can do the full circuit later.”

“Sure. What’s with Lieutenant Woodstock over there?”

“Who?” Rainbow Dash asked and blinked. “Oh, you mean Flutters!?” She laughed. “I think she usually leaves it at one race per day - she needs to save some energy to care for all her animal friends.” The two pegasus ponies stuck out their tongues at each other.

“Fine, she can wait here to act as a witness once you start whining about losing.”

“She can keep track of everything you’re going to owe me once we’re done!”

“Right,” Rarity said to no one in particular, sensing that a jock-off was imminent. “I’ll go and check on Twilight and Trixie. You two have fun!”

“Once we’re done, I won’t even owe you respect, Rainbow Brite,” Gilda hissed, acknowledging Rarity’s words with nothing but a rude gesture.

Rarity wasn’t sure what she had expected. Maybe cuddling? Maybe two sleeping ponies and their foalsitter reading a book? Whatever her fantasy could have cooked up, it was not this.

The couch had been moved aside, and the center of the large interior had now become Twilight’s office.

More or less literally.

The table was the same one Gilda had sat at while transcribing her (now useless) contract. However, it had been moved to the center of the room. And while the computer could have been generic (if suspiciously modern-looking for the rather retro standards of Ponyville), the potted plant next to it was a dead giveaway.

Because Rarity knew this exact potted plant.

Because Rarity had seen this potted plant when she had walked through Twilight’s office while clocking out two days ago.

Because Rarity had vowed to burn this exact potted plant yesterday.

“...did you teleport your office into here, Twilight?”

Twilight looked up from her screen and took off her reading glasses. “Miss Belle!” She smiled. “How did-”

“Firearms were fired in my vicinity... again.” Rarity hissed, “So don’t feed me any ‘Miss Belle’ now!”

Twilight hesitated as she processed this. Then she gave Trixie, who was reading a book on the couch, a quick look. “...could you repeat the question, please?” she finally asked while Trixie got up and walked over to her wife. Gilda’s assistant was wearing her usual stage magician cape but had at least taken off her hat at some point.

Rarity gave her a grin through gritted teeth. Then she slowly reached out and petted the potted plant with exaggerated care. “Is this here-” She suddenly grabbed the pot and waved the plant around. “-THE PLANT FROM YOUR OFFICE?” She gave it a few more shakes for good measure. “IN CANTERLOT?”

Twilight leaned back but didn’t flinch. “I was moderately aware that you are not a major fan of my plant, but I feel that you are-”

“ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

“...no.”

“DO IT!”

“I just did.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU JUST-...” Rarity paused as she reviewed the last few seconds. “...is this the plant from your office?” she finally asked again, just to be sure she was interpreting Twilight’s literal streak correctly.

“It is not,” Twilight confirmed her hunch.

“...oh.” Rarity let out a long sigh. “Goodness, I’m sorry, darling. I’m just at the end of my rope here, and it’s been a long day, and for a moment, I thought that you had somehow teleported to Canterlot, which would have negated-”

“This is the plant from my apartment,” Twilight clarified. “It is, however, the same kind of plant, so it is understandable that you-”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!” Rarity gestured wildly, punching the air, before grabbing the plant, stomping over to a window, opening it, and then throwing the plant out, all while still screaming at the top of her lungs.

For long seconds, the only sounds in the room were Rarity’s deep breaths as she forced herself to come down from her sudden adrenaline high. Okay. Wow. That did not just happen. She stared at the open window, not daring to turn around. I did not just completely flip out, grab my assistant’s plant, and chuck it out of the window. She took a moment to review the events of the last minute. Okay. So apparently, I did do just that. Twilight is loyal to a fault, but even she has limits, right? She forced a smile before turning around.

Twilight and Trixie were looking surprised but not quite as horrified as Rarity had expected. The potted plant on the desk was also not looking as horrified as it should have, considering that it had just been tossed out through the window.

Rarity blinked, then gave the plant a dumb look. “...what?”

“Allow me,” Trixie told Twilight and walked around the desk before clearing her throat. “Oh, darling,” she suddenly exclaimed in an exaggerated high voice and gasped, “how thoughtful and efficient of you to set up a fully functioning workstation despite being fatigued! But you should have rested! Surely you are still a bit drained after that stunning magic show you performed with your drop-dead gorgeous wife!”

She’s right, Rarity thought and gritted her teeth, that is what I should’ve said. Well, minus the last part. And it’s what I would’ve said, but this contest and these villagers are driving me CRAZY! I’m not getting paid enough to get assaulted and shot at! She blinked and briefly considered this. Okay, maybe I am. My pay level would put some CEOs to shame.

“That wasn’t so bad!” Twilight praised her wife. “Lemme try to channel yours.” She cleared her throat. “Sparkle!” she rasped, sounding a lot like Gilda... if Gilda had been a chain smoker since birth. “Whoa, been busy, not too shabby! Remind me to hire you once this is over. Where’s your setup, Tricks?”

“Mh, sounds plausible.” Trixie nodded before giving Rarity a wide smile. “But the Great and Powerful Trixie shall now take questions from the audience!”

Rarity blinked, trying to catch up with the events and the dialogue. In the end, she decided to take things slow and start with the obvious issues first, even if they weren’t the most pressing ones. “I just tossed the plant out, so how is it back here?”

“Ah-ha!” Trixie briefly sat down on the edge of the table... just to be able to triumphantly jump to her hooves again. “The answer... is magic!” She said, making rather ominous gestures. “Be prepared to be bedazzled by the Great and Powerful Trixie’s mastery of the arcane!” Ignoring Twilight’s halfhearted protest, she grabbed Twilight’s cordless mouse and tossed it straight toward the window.

It hit the wall an arm’s length away from the window with full force and dropped to the floor with an unenthusiastic “Thud.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie may have pulled something while funneling a car across millions of miles,” Trixie muttered, sighed, then picked up the mouse with a flick of magic and chucked it through the window.

“...you do realize that, if that is the computer from Twilight’s office, you owe the company a new mouse, right?” Rarity asked after a second of silence.

“You would be correct... IF YOUR EYES HADN’T BETRAYED YOU!” Trixie reached deep into her cape and pulled the mouse out. “For the mouse has never left the library!”

...did she somehow connect the window with her cape via one of her portals? Rarity squinted at the excessive use of magic, especially right after they had both very convincingly sold a magical burnout a bit more than an hour earlier. “Dinner parties at your place must be fun,” she finally commented, giving Twilight a pitying look.

“You have no idea,” Twilight muttered and grabbed the mouse from her wife.

“Right. Right.” Rarity used a bit of her own magic to drag a chair over and sat down on it. “Okay... let’s get to the good bits. This plant... is from your apartment?”

“Correct,” Twilight dutifully replied, as if she had not just witnessed her superior suffering from a mental breakdown.

“Your apartment in Canterlot?”

“It’s the only apartment we own.”

“...what about our getaway place in-”

“That’s a vacation house and not an apartment,” Twilight quickly corrected her wife, barely managing not to blush.

Ahu. “So you... teleported your plant here.” She nodded at the offending party. “...and this computer,” she lamely added after a moment of consideration.

“Of course not. I couldn’t teleport this plant more than...” Twilight appeared to do the math in her head. “...a mile? Mmmaybe two if we order some more of those muffins?”

“...you two already ate all of those sweets?”

“One crisis at a time, please.” Twilight rubbed her temples. “But don’t worry, I sent Miss Muffin to buy more.”

“...oh right, she’s not here.” I’m really not on top of this situation, am I? “Also, it’s the thought of you two consuming another box of infinite calories that is worrying me.”

“Heh.” Twilight smirked. “It’s an acquired taste, and we acquired it.” She frowned as she realized that the conversation was drifting away again. “More importantly, the plant went through a portal, not a teleportation spell.”

“...because that makes so much more sense,” Rarity pretended to agree before giving Twilight an utterly bewildered look. “You two nearly EXPLODED while making a portal crossing HALF that distance!” she snapped. “And now you’re telling me you can make a portal ALL THE WAY TO CANTERLOT just like that?”

Twilight opened her mouth to reply, but Trixie impatiently snapped her fingers in front of Twilight’s face. “Spare us the lecture, love. The Great and Powerful Trixie will sum it up.” Ignoring her wife’s pouting, she steepled her fingers. “We didn’t make a portal. We have a stable portal connecting my cape and a fixed spot in our apartment. Which took quite a lot of prep work and several energy bars but was nowhere near the level of what we did today. The funny thing is that moving a portal like that is trivial.”

“You-”

Now it was Twilight’s turn to snap her fingers. “No, we couldn’t have bypassed the race, Miss Belle.”

“Oh?” Rarity stomped over to Trixie, grabbed her cape, and waved it around, ignoring its owner’s quiet protests. “Because it sure looks like we have a stable connection from here STRAIGHT TO YOUR APARTMENT!”

“We do, yes,” Twilight conceded in her usual, reserved fashion. “However, it’s a fairly small portal. I had to use some unstable shrinking spells just to get the computer through, so squeezing a pony through it is pretty much out of the question.”

“Ah, I-”

“And the exit point of said portal had still been in Canterlot roughly thirty hours ago,” Twilight added calmly.

“What do you-...” Rarity said before smacking her forehead. “Of course, Trixie - or at least her cape - would have had to get here somehow first.” She returned to her seat and rested her face in her hands. “I need a break,” she whispered. “I’m losing it.”

“Speaking of losing,” Twilight finally tried to set one hoof onto the possible minefield, “may I... ask... if...”

“Well, I’m not wearing Gilda’s collar and brandmark yet, which should answer your question,” Rarity sighed. “Long story short, Big McIntosh is not any easier to negotiate with.”

“You mentioned gunshots.”

“Yeah. I pity whoever is dumb enough to try to break into the farm. Miss Applejack has her revolver, he has a rifle. I don’t even want to find out what their younger sister has. Probably a howitzer.”

“Hm. So how do you want to proceed?” Twilight propped her hooves up on the table and gave Rarity a focused look.

“You tell me,” Rarity muttered. “Preferably while your wife isn’t listening in on whatever grand plan you cook up.” She gave Trixie a quick look. “No offense, but you work for the opposition.”

“None taken,” Trixie replied calmly. “Twilight and Trixie always keep business and pleasure separated.”

“And let me guess,” Rarity asked, “the pleasure is great and powerful?” She rolled her eyes when Trixie gave her the widest grin any pony had ever given her. “Anyway. Gilda’s burning through her adrenaline by racing the resident jock, so that should buy us a few minutes. Is there any stew left? Assuming that Gilda doesn’t win Rainbow Dash’s house in the next ten minutes, I’d be technically ahead of her if I start my lunch break-...” She frowned when both assistants appeared to be deep in thought all of a sudden. “...anything wrong?”

“...the name rings a bell,” Twilight whispered, “but I can’t immediately place it...”

“About my height,” Rarity tried to help them out, “light blue coat, rainbow mane and tail, wings on the short side, which I guess means that she’s built for-”

“-SPEED!” Trixie yelped and snapped her fingers at Twilight, who was looking equal parts delighted and horrified.

“The retired Wonderbolt!” Twilight gave herself a dope slap. “Of course, I should’ve guessed as much when you mentioned a jock!”

Rarity gave them a wide-eyed look. “...that cocky jock is a former member of the Wonderbolts?” she asked slowly as if hoping that they would correct her. “As in, the elite flying squad back in Canterlot?” She whistled. “Wow. Then again, her glory days are probably long over - her speed was nothing to write... home... about...” She paled under her already white coat. Of course. There was no way she’d be this slow during her race with the other pegasus with the enormous wingspan. I had been right all along - I just hadn’t expected a trap. ...and neither had Gilda. “...hold that thought, darlings,” she whispered and hurried towards the door, desperately trying to hide her growing smile.

Author's Note

Notes, inspiration, credits:

Not a lot to say about this one other than "Happy first anniversary!"
Thank you to everybody who is still following this fic (and to everybody who decided to join late and made it this far). I know it's a slow one, and it wasn't my smartest idea to make a seasonal fic this long, so I appreciate it that people are sharing my love for it.

Racing is Magic

Rarity groaned when her alarm clock finally announced that she could stop tossing and turning in her futile quest for sleep.

She had decided against any sort of sleeping pills at the last moment, scared that she’d somehow sleep for too long on this crucial day. Now she wondered whether ten hours of nightmares, anxiety attacks, and crying into her pillow had been the wiser choice. “I can nap for a bit in the car,” she muttered as she dragged herself to the bathroom. I just need to look awake and strong while dealing with Gilda. Once we’re on our way, I can relax.

The shower helped. A bit. A look in the mirror after getting dressed and applying makeup told her that she would be able to pass for somepony who had gotten... at least three hours of sleep, which was an improvement. “It’ll have to do,” she muttered while reaching for her phone. A few taps and slides later, she had ordered a taxi to pick her up. “Okay,” she said and took a glance at her To-Do list. “Breakfast will have to wait until we’re on the road. Note for the housekeeping service has been written. I guess all that’s left to do is to wait-” She raised an eyebrow when her phone started ringing. “Hello?” she answered the call.

“This is Prancing Princess Taxis,” a female voice on the other end answered her. “We’re calling to confirm your order for-”

“Goodness, I did not install an app and make an account just to have my order immediately questioned, did I?”

There was a slight pause, but the operator was apparently used to complaints. “Of course, Miss Belle, I apologize. We will send the second taxi on its way, then.”

“Good, and next time-...” Rarity blinked. “...second taxi?”

“The one you ordered, Ma’am. The one in addition to the one that’s already on its way to you.”

Rarity narrowed her eyes. She could think of two people who would have the foresight to order a taxi for her on this day, and Twilight would have sent her a text message to announce it. “I see,” she said and took a deep breath. “My bad, I apologize. Feel free to undo my order and bill my account for whatever cancellation fee applies.”

“No worries, Miss Belle,” the operator replied, opting not to gloat over Rarity’s about-face. “The taxi should be at your place in two to three minutes.”

“Splendid, thanks for catching... my mistake.” Rarity hung up and forced herself not to throw her phone against a wall. “Great,” she hissed after having calmed down a bit, “this day is off to a splendid start.”

By the time she had dragged her suitcase outside, she could see a yellow taxi waiting for her. She saw who was sitting on the back seat but didn’t bother to wave or perform other, less polite gestures with her hands. Instead, she simply crammed her suitcase next to the one that was already in the trunk and entered the car, sitting on the free back seat. “If you wanted to talk, you could have just called,” she muttered, staring straight ahead as the taxi started moving again.

“You wouldn’t have answered my call,” Gilda pointed out calmly, then sighed. “Temporary truce?”

Rarity moved her head ever so slightly towards Gilda and rolled her eyes. “Well, the driver probably carries a taser, and it’d be awkward if one of us needed medical attention before the contest even starts, so... sure, truce.”

“Heh.” Gilda crossed her arms. “Real talk: you look like you got roughly as much sleep as I did.”

Rarity finally turned to give Gilda a good look and found herself agreeing - the griffon had seen better days, and the bags under her eyes spoke volumes about how little sleep she must have gotten. “This isn’t how I wanted our rivalry to end,” she admitted.

“Yeah, it sucks. Years of subtle and not-so-subtle maneuvering, and now it all comes down to whoever makes it first to the middle of nowhere?”

“Well, there is negotiating to be-”

“Pah!” Gilda gave her a look. “We have fixed upper limits in our funds for buying the entire village, and we both know the stupid apple farm is the biggest asset to be acquired, so what’s left to negotiate?” There was a moment of hesitation. “Well, okay, aside from me flexing my talons or you showing a little leg.” She ignored the way Rarity was grimacing at that. “But let’s be honest, when you’re throwing around six or seven digits, threats of violence or promises of sex won’t really move the needle all that much.”

True. We may start with a low bid, but by the time whoever is second starts knocking at the door, we would default to the highest amount and pray. Rarity frowned as something occurred to her. “What happens if the farmer refuses to sell?”

Gilda opened her beak, then closed it again. “I’m pretty sure that that would fall under not being able to close a deal,” she finally whispered.

“Surely she wouldn’t demote both of us, right?”

“I forgot that you’re a naive fool before your first coffee,” Gilda muttered and let her head hit the side window. “She made it clear that neither of us is irreplaceable. And if this deal falls through, we will have failed to do our job. We’ll be lucky if she allows us to pick up our successor’s dry cleaning.”

“I’ll admit that sounds probable.” Rarity clenched her fists. “So, what do we do?” She knew the griffon was as nearly as intelligent and twice as cunning as she was, so if anybody knew how to think outside the box, it was her.

“Here’s the plan.” Gilda gave her a smile that was equal parts fake and reassuring. “I will arrive first in Ponyville. I will talk to the farmer. I will buy the farm, then the village. You, meanwhile, will arrive last. You will address me as Miss Dawnstar. And you will remember how I like my coffee.”

There was a long silence. “Right,” Rarity finally said. “I remember now - your plans always sucked.”

“If you have better ideas, let me know.” There was a hint of sadness in Gilda’s eyes. “I promise I’ll be all ears.”

The car came to a halt, and a quick look outside showed that they had arrived at their destination. “I’ll keep you posted,” Rarity muttered and pushed open her door.

She grabbed her suitcase while Gilda paid the driver - it had been her cab, after all - and raised an eyebrow when she realized that the company parking lot was more crowded than she had anticipated. Aside from Twilight, Trixie, and Miss Lestia, there was also a moderately sized crowd of onlookers and a small refreshment stand with various beverages, a popcorn maker, and even a hot dog vendor. However, the biggest eye-catchers were the two cars that stood side by side, polished to perfection and ready to take their passengers on a massively fuel-inefficient ride at roughly half the speed of sound.

Rarity felt a pang of anxiety when she saw the arctic white Corvid ZR1, Miss Lestia’s go-to choice when it came to business trips. She was no car buff, but she knew that she was looking at serious power, wrapped in the sleek body of a sports car. The perfect vehicle for a race. Of course. The car next to it was nothing to laugh at in terms of power, either. Still, the Fjord Mustang was quite obviously the bulkier car. It looks like it ate a Corvid for breakfast and then asked for seconds. And... are those back seats? Why did Twilight get a car with back seats? Toss them out! Surely we can squeeze out at least a tiny amount of additional speed that way, right? She took a deep breath to calm herself down. Easy. This race will not be decided by such minimal optimizations, so let’s not cause a scene by asking for a hacksaw.

“Miss Belle, delightful timing!” Twilight met her halfway from the crowd and picked up her suitcase with a flick of magic. “Miss Lestia wants to make an announcement, we still have to go over the travel plans, and I have a tiny personal request to make.”

Announcement? Personal request? Rarity frowned but nodded slowly. “As long as I can get a cup of coffee somewhere along the way...”

“I packed a thermos, no worries,” Twilight assured her. “I also made some tea for you to calm down later on.”

“...why would I need to calm down?”

Twilight tilted her way this way and that. “One thing at a time, Miss Belle.”

The uncharacteristic secrecy set off several alarm bells. “Twilight, I demand-”

“Well, look who finally arrived!” Miss Lestia’s voice cut off Rarity’s protest, making Twilight smile happily. “My two favorite dealmakers!” Her voice carried across the entire parking lot without the need for amplification.

“Miss Lestia,” Rarity said and smiled warmly.

“Boss,” Gilda added. “We’ll be ready once Trix takes care of my stuff.” In the background, Trixie was already doing her best to squeeze Gilda’s suitcase and her own into the Corvid’s tiny trunk.

“Of course, of course.” Miss Lestia gave them a thin-lipped smile. “Before you burn rubber, I do have to add one minor condition for this challenge.“

“Condition?” Gilda asked with an audible edge to her voice - she had never liked surprises.

“Yes,” Miss Lestia replied happily, as if she had missed Gilda’s tone. “To ensure that there aren’t any regrettable accidents and that this competition will proceed fairly and within legal bounds, I would like to take certain precautions.”

“Oh no,” Rarity snarked, “there goes your plan of murdering me and setting the barn on fire...” Her smile widened when she saw Gilda’s glare.

“I want both of you safe and sound,” Miss Lestia chimed in, her smile slightly forced. “And I want this competition to be decided by skill, not by whoever is the last employee standing.”

“I’ll make sure to make a daily vlog of both of us,” Gilda said, not bothering to hide her annoyance. “So you can keep track of us that way.”

This time, Miss Lestia’s smile was both genuine and slightly smug. “I did not build a business empire by micromanaging my employees, Gilda.” She raised her hand, and a pony stepped up from behind her. “Ladies, in case you haven’t had the pleasure yet, meet P. D. Pie. She will act as a judge for this competition.”

The Earth pony standing next to Miss Lestia nodded courtly, and Rarity briefly wondered if she was very good at color coordination or just incredibly bland. Her light pink coat made the darker shade of pink of her mane - kept in a strict bun - stand out nicely, and her minimalistic pantsuit likewise used two shades of grey for a similar contrast. “Pleasure,” Miss Pie said evenly and without any inflection.

Rarity searched for any hint of an emotion in her eyes and shuddered when she found none. This pony was not happy, sad, pleased, or angry - she just was. And suddenly, she realized where she had heard that name before. Oh, no...

“Pleasure’s all mine, PewDiePie,” Gilda replied, obviously determined to test the waters by tossing a grenade into them.

“It’s P. D. Pie,” the Earth pony corrected her evenly and without any hint that she was mad. “Short for Pinkamena Diane Pie. But you will address me as Miss Pie.”

Gilda laughed at that - she had never been impressed by a quiet act. “Hey, check it, Rarity! Miss Pie here drew the short straw and now has to act as your babysitter!” She hesitated a bit when she saw Rarity’s expression.

“Please don’t antagonize the Adjudicator,” Rarity whispered.

“Well, yeah, she’s an adjudicator.” Gilda shook her head in a way that signaled that she was too annoyed to catch the nuance in what Rarity had just said. “I mean, that’s who you send to, y’know, act as a judge. That’s what the word means.” She pulled out her cellphone and did a few quick taps. “Adjudicate. Verb. To settle a legal case or other dispute. To act as a judge.”

The urge to correct Gilda was there, but Rarity simply smiled and nodded instead. Worst case, I get free entertainment. Best case, I get to watch Gilda getting stuffed into a trashcan. “Ah, my bad.”

“Yeah, your bad,” Gilda sneered, obviously happy that she had won a battle of intellect against Rarity.

Miss Pie cleared her throat. “I assure you that straws were not involved, Miss Dawnstar. Miss Lestia is sending out two of the company’s best assets, so she-”

“Blah, blah, blah.“ Gilda strolled over to the refreshment stand and grabbed two soda cans. “Here, lemme show ya what you’ve been asked to judge, Pinkadink,” she said and idly tossed one of the cans at Miss Pie, who caught it easily with one hand.

“It’s Pinkamena-”

Gilda dug her talons into her can, puncturing its sides. Then she quickly raised it to her beak and shotgunned its contents before smashing the empty can against her head, crushing it with a mildly satisfying “Crink.”

“-Diane Pie.” Miss Pie sighed as Gilda gave her a wild grin. “Ah. Yes. I have read your file, Miss Dawnstar. You are a savage, even by the high standards set by your species. Very focused on the rule of the strongest. A solid asset in the corporate world and an effective leader, but a nuisance to have as a coworker.”

“You talk way too much,” Gilda said and waved at the second can. “Show me what you got, then I’ll decide whether to toss you in a dumpster or simply ignore your incessant screeching once the party’s gettin’ started.”

Miss Pie gave first Gilda and then the can a bored look.

Then she calmly shoved the entire can into her mouth.

The first bite produced a muffled “PSSSHHH-POOMPH!” and the subsequent chewing resulted in loud crunching noises.

“Ah,” Gilda commented lamely when Miss Pie swallowed the remains of the can. “I’m starting to remember now. P. D. Pie as in P. D. ‘once took an office chair to the face by an uncooperative employee and then billed him for breaking company property on top of firing him for the history of bribery she had uncovered’ Pie, right?” Then she walked over to Rarity, trying not to look too unnerved. “Next time,” she hissed, “just tell me that she is the Adjudicator; capital A and all that jazz.”

“My sole flaw is that I only told you once,” Rarity replied and smiled widely.

Gilda smiled back, then lowered her voice: “Humiliate me like that again, and I will eviscerate you.”

“You tried before, so why should I start worrying now?” Rarity’s smile turned into a smug grin.

It was of course a risk to antagonize Gilda even on the best of days. Now, after she had been embarrassed in front of several dozen ponies and her boss, Gilda was pouring her entire willpower into not murdering Rarity right on the spot. Finally, after half a minute of looking as if her whole body had cramped up, she exhaled and unclenched her fists. “She won’t protect you once I win this,” she hissed, then turned around abruptly, slapping her with one wing. “Well, our car is a two-seater, so I guess it’s okay if Miss Pie rides with Miss Belle, right?”

“Of course, Miss Dawnstar,” Twilight was quick to answer, cutting off whatever snarky reply Rarity could have thought up. “In fact, I anticipated this turn of events and already adjusted our travel plans accordingly.”

Gilda stopped in mid-stride and turned towards Twilight. “Well, now, how about that?” She gave Twilight one of her rare, genuine smiles. “Tell you what - once all of this is over, you won’t have to worry about your job.”

Is she-... IS SHE TRYING TO POACH TWILIGHT FROM ME?

“My job is not on the line here, Miss Dawnstar.” It was Twilight’s absolutely neutral expression that sold the line.

Gilda blinked once, then again for good measure. “We’ll discuss this later, then.”

Rarity watched briefly as Gilda chatted with Trixie while the latter was still doing her best to fit two large suitcases into a trunk designed for a moderately sized purse. Then she turned her attention to Twilight. “Please tell me you have a plan,” she muttered.

Twilight turned towards her, and Miss Pie respectfully took a step back to let Rarity interact with her assistant in peace. “Of course I do, Miss Belle. Speaking of which, you still have to sign off on the plans and schedules which I sent you last night for review.”

You know very well that I don’t have the patience to read your essays on the best of days, darling. “Yes, it was a gripping read,” she lied, and they both smiled at that. “You know I trust you, so just tell me where to put my signature.” Twilight quickly produced a tablet and thumbed through several pages, and Rarity signed each one in rapid succession.

Twilight checked something on the tablet. “Good. The documents and schedules are now on the company intranet servers. It’s always good to leave a paper trail, should the need for review arise.”

“Sure, sure. So are we ready to go?”

“Ah, one more thing.” Twilight reached into the inner pocket of her suit jacket and produced a thick envelope. Ignoring the way Rarity’s eyes went wide, she started to file through its contents.

“Um, darling,” Rarity said and laughed nervously, “with all due respect, but I feel like this is not the best time to cash in your favors.”

“You are correct,” Twilight whispered before pulling out one sheet of paper. “And I’m not here to redeem any favors, but to change one.” She handed Rarity the old note, followed by two new ones.

Rarity looked down at the old note, then back up at Twilight. “Awfully generous of you to not make me sing the Kitty Dance song, but what do you want instead?” She looked at the new ones. “Two vouchers... for me to not get mad at you... for withholding information until it becomes funny?” She narrowed her eyes. “Any particular reason you need these?”

“Yes,” Twilight answered. “Two, in fact.” She hesitated, then pointed at the two notes. “Obviously.”

“Is this information that will endanger the mission if you withhold it?”

“No.”

Rarity shrugged, then burned the old favor with a spark of her magic. “Fine, then do as you please.” She signed the two new notes and handed them back to Twilight. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Rarity slipped onto the passenger seat of the Mustang and let out a content sigh as she felt the cool leather even through her suit. Miss Pie sat behind her. She had not said a word since her introduction, which Rarity approved of for the time being.

Finally, Twilight opened the driver-side door and slipped onto the seat next to Rarity. “Please make sure your seatbelts are properly adjusted,” she said. “Our schedule might get disturbed if one of you flew out through a side window.”

“Well, it’s not like we can go very fast during rush hour,” Rarity said but reached for her seatbelt anyway. The last thing we need is the police pulling us over just because I decided that the seatbelt’s color clashes with my suit.

“There is not going to be rush hour traffic from here to the highway,” Twilight replied and pushed the ignition. The Mustang’s engine came to life, its low growl sending a shiver of pleasure down Rarity’s spine. “The police is blocking off the streets for us as we speak.”

“You asked the police to disrupt traffic on such a scale?” Even after years of service, Twilight still managed to surprise her with her forward-thinking moments.

“Technically, you did.” Twilight didn’t even bother to look uncomfortable. “It was the eighteenth document you signed a few minutes ago.”

“Ah.” Rarity frowned. “Do I also have a brilliant plan to finance the complete shutdown of more than a mile of road in the middle of Canterlot at 8am?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Twilight laughed quietly to herself, and Rarity paled under her coat. The last time she had heard this laugh, Twilight had agreed to do Rarity’s taxes. And now, her tax returns were almost on par with her annual salary. Somehow. Possibly because her apartment somehow counted as both a church and a nature reserve now.

“I don’t want to know my brilliant plan, do I?”

“No, you don’t.”

“Right.” She eyed Twilight’s easy grip on the steering wheel, and an odd thought crossed her mind. “Um, no offense, but given that we are probably going to set a new land speed record for the drive to the highway... do you have any training in this sort of thing?”

This time, Twilight did look a bit uncomfortable. “...yes.”

“That didn’t sound particularly reassuring, darling...”

Twilight did not make eye contact. “I took lessons in stunt driving and car racing in the Crystal Empire during my honeymoon.”

“Okay, that-” Rarity did a double-take. “Honeymoon? ...you are married?” She glanced down at Twilight’s hand and blinked when she saw a ring. Was that always there? How long has she been married? How did this never come up? “But-... I mean-... When-...” She took a deep breath and leaned back in her seat, causing the leather to creak quietly. “Wow... okay... so... you’re telling me that you took lessons in handling a car like this in... high-speed situations.”

“Yes.” Twilight was still looking uncomfortable somehow. “My wife and I-” She paused briefly when Rarity did a second double-take at that. “-spend quite a bit of time racing each other in all sorts of cars. And I am contractually obligated to point out that...” She grimaced. “...she is better than me at this.”

Rarity couldn’t help but smirk at that. The very concept of Twilight A. Sparkle, certified super genius, not being the best at something was somehow endlessly amusing to her. Okay, let’s not taunt the lady who will be responsible for not driving your car into a wall at five hundred miles per hour. She forced herself to downgrade her smirk into a silly smile. “Well, that... that happens to the best of us, darling. Can’t win them all, right? It’s okay to not be the very best at literally everything.”

“Thank you, Miss Belle.”

“Besides, you don’t need to be the best driver in all of Equestria today. All that matters is that we beat Gilda at this race. And you can do that, right?”

Somehow, her words only seemed to make Twilight more uncomfortable. “The chances are slim, I’m afraid. The ZR1 and the Mustang are not worlds apart in terms of specifications, but there is a subtle difference, compounded by our car carrying a larger load. In addition, benchmarks rarely test under street race conditions, but my estimate is that the ZR1 may have the upper hand in maneuverability, especially when it comes to taking corners.”

She reached into her pocket and handed Rarity one of the two new favors. “And like I said, my wife is the better driver.”

“And like I said, it doesn’t matter if your wife-” Rarity froze when her brain resolved the implication. Very slowly, she leaned forwards and looked past her stone-faced assistant. In the other car, Gilda was sitting in the passenger seat. Next to her, Trixie Lulamoon was revving the engine with the most lunatic grin Rarity had ever seen. “Oh, good heavens, no...” She very slowly focused on Twilight again. “YOU MARRIED TRI-”

“GO!” Miss Lestia announced, and the roar of two engines drowned out the rest of Rarity’s question.

Rarity had never cared much about car statistics. She of course had a general understanding of concepts like “0 to 60 in x seconds,” but she had never felt what such numbers implied. Now, forced deep into her leather seat by the sheer force of the Mustang’s acceleration, she was starting to understand what she had been missing out on.

Somewhere, somepony was screaming as the two cars practically flew onto the street; it took her a moment to recognize her own voice. She glanced at Twilight, then back at the road, then immediately wished she hadn’t done that. A skyscraper was rapidly coming closer, and her brain barely had time to comprehend that they were still accelerating towards a T-junction. SLOW DOWN SLOW DOWN SLOW DOWN-

Twilight manipulated the gear stick and yanked the wheel around. The Mustang started to turn sideways far too soon for Rarity’s liking, but instead of driving straight into the houses that had been on their right side, the car kept drifting down the streets, leaving burnt rubber in its wake. Twilight worked the gear stick again, and the Mustang started to work its way around the corner, finally moving forwards again instead of just sideways.

WE MADE IT! WE ACTUALLY MADE IT! Rarity let out a slightly insane laugh. I CAN’T BELIEVE WE-

The ZR1 moved past them, having taken the corner far more tightly than the Mustang had been able to.

“NO!” Rarity yelped as she was forced to stare at the back of the Corvid, its license plate “CEO-LESTIA” silently taunting her. “GO FASTER!”

Twilight didn’t even bother to respond to her futile demands. She stayed absolutely focused on the road, undoubtedly working out the physics of the next three curves in her head. “Sharp right coming up!” she finally shouted. “Hold on to something, don’t scream, don’t grab the wheel!”

This does NOT instill confidence, darling! Rarity thought but did as she was told.

The corner was coming closer.

And closer.

Something told Rarity that last time, Twilight had started the wide-radius drift much sooner.

One car length in front of them, the ZR1 started to turn, leaving its own set of skid marks. Only now did Twilight turn the wheel, and Rarity’s grip on the handle in the door tightened. Then she made the mistake of looking to her left.

Both cars were moving sideways.

And the distance between them was shrinking.

“FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-”

Rapidly.

“-UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-”

In the other car, Gilda was looking out through her right side window, and she seemed to be at least as horrified as Rarity. Unlike Rarity, however, the griffon either had better reflexes or less trust in her driver - she grabbed the wheel.

The Corvid altered its course from one moment to the next, moving away from the Mustang. Of course, sudden course alterations were never a good idea at high speeds. Doing them while going around a corner? Also bad. And combining these two scenarios? In the city? There is going to be a Corvid-sized hole in a wall in about one second. Her heart skipped a beat when she considered the alternative: Unless the wall is stronger than the car.

There was no time to even think about screaming a warning - not that it would have done any good: at its current speed, the Corvid would probably need several hundred yards to stop, and it had less than ten.

Rarity couldn’t will herself to look away in horror... which was good because otherwise, she would have never believed what happened. One moment, the car was inches away from the wall, and the next, it squeezed itself into a narrow alley, only avoiding the walls because they happened to align perfectly with its current course.

Twilight shifted into a higher gear and sped down the now empty road as if nothing had happened. “Okay, the on-ramp for the freeway is just a few blocks down this road. If we can keep this-”

“WHAT THE HAY WAS THAT!?” the question finally found its way from Rarity’s brain to her mouth.

“Portal spell,” Twilight replied. “Trixie excels at them.” She briefly glanced at Rarity’s still horrified expression and sighed. “Please, Miss Belle, I know Trixie very well. And even if she had somehow panicked, the car itself has emergency enchantments to maximize the safety of everybody involved.”

The car is enchanted? The thought immediately struck her as silly - if any vehicle on the planet was enchanted, then it was Miss Lestia’s. And enchantments aren’t that cost-prohibitive - each car in the company’s motor pool probably has half a dozen enchantments; I just never stopped to think too hard about this. “O-...” She cleared her throat when only a croak made it past her lips. “Okay. So... are we in the clear?”

Twilight frowned at that. “What I did was a risky move. We’re technically in the lead, but there is no telling where Trixie is right now. And I made her mad - she hates to use magic in races because she feels that it amounts to cheating.”

“Then why did you provoke this situation!?”

“Because the Corvid would have smoked us on this straight road, especially with more than a full car length head start.”

She grimaced. Twilight was most likely right, but Rarity was too agitated to admit it. “So now what?”

“On-ramp,” Twilight simply replied and pointed at the entrance to the freeway that was quickly getting closer.

“Right.” Rarity took a deep breath and let her hand run over her seatbelt, as if making sure that it was still there. We can drive more strategically and slowly build a lead once we’re on the freeway. There are going to be more cars there, so that’ll hopefully put an end to this kind of reckless-

The Corvid literally came out of nowhere.

One moment, the Mustang had been the only car in sight; the next, a portal opened in the middle of the road, spitting out more than three thousand pounds of metal moving at more than a hundred miles per hour.

This time, it was Twilight’s turn to drastically change course, and she did it with just a tiny bit more finesse than Gilda had done. Their car went into a brief, uncertain skid before deciding that, yes, moving straight towards the nearest house was a fantastic idea.

There was not even time to curse - Rarity’s last word on this plane of existence was going to be, “Right.”

The house wall came closer.

And closer.

And-

There was a flash of light, and suddenly, the Mustang was a LOT further away from the wall. However, it was still (and now again) speeding towards it.

Twilight stomped the brakes with enough force that Rarity briefly thought that her hoof would punch a hole in the car’s underbody and skid across the asphalt. The magic aura around her horn, which was already going strong, flared up even more, and the car slowed down with enough force to throw Rarity against her seatbelt, producing a slightly undignified, “HURGH!”

The car stopped maybe two yards away from the house, and Rarity finally noticed that the entire exterior was wrapped in Twilight’s magic, with multiple chain-like extensions anchoring it to the street and even the houses behind them. Then, accompanied by a slow exhale, the magic aura faded.

Rarity waited a moment to allow her life to finish flashing before her eyes. “Wh-...” She stopped herself when she felt a rush of nausea coming up. For the first time today, she welcomed her decision to skip breakfast.

“Apologies, I had no time to put up a proper stasis field when I applied the brakes.” Twilight did not look particularly sorry, but Rarity had learned long ago that, most of the time, her assistant was simply too busy to waste time on proper social cues. Case in point: right now, she was rummaging in her purse with both hands while her magic aura operated the phone menu integrated into the dashboard.

“This is Lieutenant Flash Sentry speaking,” a surprisingly smooth and friendly voice came over the loudspeakers after two rings.

“This is Tango Alfa Sierra, requesting blockade adjustment for Objective Bravo,” Twilight said even as she grabbed an energy bar from her purse and unwrapped it.

“...Miss Sparkle, need I remind you again that this is the Canterlot Police, not the army?” the pony on the other end of the call asked after several seconds of silence.

“Well, you are not the army,” Twilight said and smirked. “I, on the other hand, only opted against doing this race with my tank because you asked nicely.” And with that, she unceremoniously stuffed the entire energy bar into her mouth.

“The LAV-25 is not a tank, it’s not street legal, it wasn’t built for racing, I would have ticketed you for using its armaments within city limits, and owning one does not actually make you part of the army.” Lieutenant Sentry sighed. “You know what? I’m not paid enough to argue with a madmare who somehow managed to buy a ta-... military vehicle. You are cleared for Objective Bravo, Tango Alfa Sierra.”

“Mh,” Twilight replied, still chewing, and pushed a button on the dashboard to end the call.

“Miss Sparkle,” Miss Pie suddenly spoke up from the back seat, startling Rarity - the Adjudicator hadn’t made a single sound during the entire race, and Rarity had completely forgotten about her presence. “Since Miss Belle seems to still be in shock, will you allow me a few questions?”

“Mh-hmmm?” Twilight encouraged her even as she put the car back in gear and started to speed down the road.

“First of all - I thought the talk about your military equipment acquisitions were simply tall tales. Are you saying that you actually own an armored vehicle? Also... why?”

Twilight finally swallowed. “Ah, it was the result of a friendly bet with Miss Belle. I told her that I had a firm grasp of the tax code, she didn’t believe me...” She made some vague gestures with her right hand. “Well, long story short, I bought it from my tax returns a few years ago. About the reason... well... it’s a neat conversation starter, and it’s fun to take it out onto off-road tracks on the weekends?”

There was a long pause. “I see,” Miss Pie finally said, her voice and face as unreadable as before. “Second question.” Her eyes briefly flicked over to Rarity. “Why are we moving away from the freeway on-ramp?”

Freeway on-ramp? Rarity frowned. She found it hard to think, even as her adrenaline was slowly dropping back to sane levels. What’s the significance of the-... She blinked as her brain reluctantly unsealed her short-term memory, even if it meant revisiting the near-collision with the Corvid and the two near-collisions with a house wall. ...freeway on-ramp. Corvid. Gilda. THE- “-RACE!” she finally yelped.

“Ah, there we go,” Miss Pie muttered.

“TWILIGHT!” Rarity frantically looked over her shoulder - the on-ramp was barely visible by now - and then at her driver. “WE’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!” Her rational side finally released the ugliest of truths before taking shelter behind blast doors: “WE’RE LOSING THE RACE!”

Her assistant let out a quiet sigh. “We are heading towards Object-”

“YOU ARE COSTING ME MY CAREER!” Rarity grabbed the wheel. “TURN THIS THING AROUND!”

“Miss Belle, I already used up a healthy burst of magic a minute ago, so please don’t make me waste more.” Twilight grabbed her wrist without taking her eyes off the road before twisting it.

“HNNNGYAaaahhhh....” Hidden away in its bunker, her rational side quipped that she should have seen this move coming, not so much because she knew how to do it herself, but because Twilight had been the one to teach it to her in the first place.

When she was sure that she had Rarity’s attention, she let go again. “If you don’t mind, we can discuss this on the road. After all, we have an appointment to keep.”

“...appointment?” Rarity asked even as she was rubbing her wrist.

“Yes. The one outlined in the travel plans you reviewed and-”

“YOU KNOW I DIDN’T!” Rarity roared, but neither Twilight nor Miss Pie flinched. She took a deep breath. “Just tell me where we’re going, darling.” To the airport, maybe? We could rent a small plane and jump out with parachutes over Ponyville...

Twilight drifted around a corner with ease and pointed at the large building a few hundred yards in front of them. “There.”

“...the train station?” she identified the building and raised an eyebrow. But then she slowly nodded. “I see... if we take a high-speed train to whatever city is closest to Ponyville, we could narrowly beat Gilda!”

“Even better, Ponyville has its own train station!” Twilight one-upped her, though her smile was looking a little bit forced.

“Ponyville has a train station for high-speed trains?” Rarity narrowed her eyes, trying to read her assistant’s expression. “...no?”

“NO.”

“Miss Belle, just trust me and board the train. I even reserved a comfortable compartment for us.”

Rarity had held her tongue while Twilight had parked the car at the train station. She had held her tongue while Twilight led them through the massive building, all the way to one of the most remote platforms (though at least she had volunteered to levitate all three suitcases with her magic). And she had held her tongue despite Twilight refusing to share more details about what her grand plan was.

However, seeing their mode of transportation was her breaking point: “THIS IS A STEAM TRAIN, TWILIGHT! A LITERAL LO-CO-MO-TIVE!”

“Yes, and if it leaves without us, Miss Dawnstar will arrive in Ponyville before us.”

Rarity was trembling. A part of her was convinced that Gilda would arrive in Ponyville long before this quaint steam locomotive managed to make it a mile out of Canterlot. But a bigger part of her acknowledged that Twilight was a genius, if an eccentric one at times. Then again, she is apparently married to Trixie of all ponies! Trixie! Who is not just working for The Enemy, but is also TRIXIE! I’m not gone far enough yet to think that she is working against me, but REALLY? Little Miss Glitzy-Ditz? Though aside from that, Twilight’s record so far is spotless... and I would look like an idiot if I openly or implicitly admitted to Miss Lestia that I had not bothered to read “my” travel plan and that I needed a car. Again.

“Also, you would have to drive by yourself since Miss Pie and I will have taken the train,” Twilight added. “And you hate driving cars yourself.”

“Well, that is-...” Rarity froze. “Did you just read my mind, darling?”

“My special talents in terms of magic are teleportation and transferring power, not telepathy, Miss Belle.” Twilight allowed herself a sly smile. “But I have worked for you long enough to be able to take an educated guess most of the time.”

“Point.” Rarity smiled for the first time in what felt like an eternity. “Fine, I’ll go. But once we’re seated, I want to hear a few details.”

Author's Note

Notes, inspiration, credits:

I am sadly not a car buff. My general understanding is that the ZR-1 would laugh at the Mustang in a straight race in terms of max speed, but that it likely wouldn't be able to utilize most of it in a race with ninety degree turns. Beyond that, I prioritized fun over even longer car research, so there is a solid chance that parts of this chapter fall under "Artistic License - Cars". If you are a car buff, I hope you understand and will show mercy.
The LAV-25 is apparently not a tank, although I am not a military hardware buff. You may be starting to see a pattern here.
Apparently, PewDiePie exists in this universe. ...