**Baltimare, Equestria**
**002 Summer CC**
**Predawn Remissions**

Holy harmony, my flank.

That has to be the best type of sore. Yeah, I think I found myself a... my bed's pretty empty right now. Where is Truth? "Truth?" I wait a bit and don't hear anything. Apart from myself, I think my apartment is empty again.

"Truth? Are you here?" What is going on? She didn't fall down again did she? I've never seen a pony act like that before. My instincts tell me I ought to worry for her, but I don't know what to think about it.

Boy, oh boy, did she ever know her way around my flower patch. I don't know what she's doing for the rest of my life, but I want her a part of it if I get to partake in that. My dam told me to never get involved with ponies like her, 'All they do is buck and tuck,' but...

... Aw, who am I kidding? Dam probably knows firsthoof about all manner of bucking, but I don't think my dam ever got her pearl rogered by an avatar of bivalvia. or would that be cephalopoda? Gastropoda?

How do I even know those words? The only time I've ever used them were when my sisters and fillyfriends from school were looking up naughty words from the library back in Hollow Shades. Back then, we were young and our nethers burning with most of us having our menarche looming. We found things in encyclopedias and other books to spark our imaginations.

We learned about those words and what those creatures can do, and we had some great times after school thinking about them; 'what if a pony had one of these,' or, 'what if his spear could do this with that?' You could always tell who lost sleep the night before after our brainstorming sessions.

It was all of us.

And Truth Seeker somehow brought those fleeting nighttime filly fantasies into life. She actually made one of my old dreams a reality. How is a mare supposed to feel about this?

What happened to my kitchen? Every bottle of cooking sherry and my degreaser is empty, and several pieces of paper have scribbles all over them.

This one has a few legible words on it, "office," "Seeker," and a winking face.

I heard once that some intelligent ponies really excel at certain things but absolutely fail at others. I wonder if this is one of those cases.

*knock, knock*

What time is it? I don't normally get visitors. "Who is it?" I call.

"It's me," I hear through the walls. My neighbor, Open Microphone; she prefers 'Open Mic' or just 'Mic.' I'm in the basement. She's just above on the ground floor.

"Come in," I say loud enough for her to hear.

She enters and immediately recoils, "Oh!" Waving her hoof in front of her nose, "Please tell me you did not make this funk solo."

"N- no!" I try to roll my eyes, but I'm too embarrassed.

"Wait," she stops and looks at me, "are you being serious right now?"

Breathing out slowly, I respond, "How long have you known me, Mic?"

"A while," she replies, "and I've never heard of you having a sleepover before. And, girl, this sleepover," overdramatically, she sniffs hard, "was a doozy," and then coughs like she had an open onion jammed in her nose. It's not that bad... Is it?

My face heats up, "Wh- w- well, I -uh~"

"Hey, hey," her tone turns reassuring, "It's not a bad thing. It's really good, actually."

"R- really?"

Smirking, she says, "Oh, yeah. Nopony will be able to call you a 'fuddy duddy' anymore."

I double take, "Wait. They call me that!?"

"Relax~" She comforts, "I said they won't 'be able to call you' that anymore. I'll make sure of it."

Sighing, "So," I try to change the subject, "What brings you around down here?"

She walks over to my cooler, opens it up and removes some pear juice boxes, and hoofs me one, "Well," she starts, "believe it or not," while she answers I start drinking from the juice box, "my place reeks of spunk worse than yours."

Somehow, my juice found its way back out through my nose onto her face. "O- oh, I'm so sorry-" I start to say.

But she waves it off, "Please," grabbing one of my towels, "in my line of work," she wipes her muzzle, "bodily fluids are commonplace." She directs the musics at a few late-night clubs here in Baltimare. "But," raising an eyebrow at me, she continues, "I notice that you haven't asked whose spunk it was." Then she wiggles her eyebrows.

"W- well, I didn't want t- to presume-" She's been this way ever since I've known her. Sometimes, I wonder if we were too isolated there at the Shades.

"Eh, don't worry about it, Dawny," she uses her nickname for me, "but you may be surprised to hear that it wasn't from me. I came home yesterday morning and the place was covered in it."

That's somewhat concerning. "What do you mean?"

She just shrugs and gets me a new juice, "Means what it means. Landlady has a cleaning crew coming but said, 'it could take a while.' So, I was wondering if I could borrow your bed while they do that," then she looks me up and down with a side-eye, "but maybe your couch would be better?"

"Um, sure," I say, "I'm about to start getting ready for work, myself. Don't you have to as well?"

She nods, "Normally, yes, but I couldn't sleep with those fumes yesterday. So, I called out sick."

Ah, I guess that makes sense, but I start to apologize anyway, "I wasn't planning on cleaning the place up until after work-"

Placing a hoof on my shoulder, she reaffirms, "Don't worry about, Dawny. Like I said, it's better here than," she nods to the ceiling, "up there."

Curious, I ask, "Did the landlady check the place above yours?"

Mic shakes her head, "That's Cup's place. I told you about her. Right?"

I nod, "That's a tough situation she's in."

She agrees, "Yeah, but she is doing better."

"Oh, that's good!"

Open Mic goes over to my couch and lays down, "I agree. But I don't think what happened to my place was her. Maybe it was the place on top? Ponies all around the block seem to be getting friskier than usual. Or maybe it was a pipe in between the floors?" She shrugs and yawns, "Either way, it's not too big of a deal."

"Okay," I say, "Well, I should probably start-"

She interrupts me with an accusation, "-What do you think you're doing?"

"S- sorry?" I ask.

"Two things," she holds up a hoof. "First, I cannot allow a friend to leave her house in such a state without showering."

"Well, I mean, I wasn't exactly-"

"-You totally were," she says, "I can see it on your face." I hang my head a little, and she continues, "Dawny, I get it. You wanted to let everymare at your firm know, but you can still clean up and present some of that. perfume for them in a way that won't burn out their sinuses."

"How do you know about-"

"-My job. I told you," she replies. "Body fluids happen. It's just a thing."

"But how does music and- and- and-" I can't help but stammer a bit. This is embarrassing.

"You can either trust me," she says, "or you can drop by some night and see for yourself."

I shift on my hooves a bit, "I suppose I can think about it."

Mic smirks, "Good. I only wish I could convince Cup to go loosen up some, too. Celestia knows she needs a good time." I start to take a few steps as she continues, "And the second thing," I slow a bit but keep my ears directed her way, "you still haven't told me about your new special somepony."

I nearly stumble, "S- s- special somepony?" Mic nods, but I try to deflect, "I don't think I ever said 's- special-"

But she cuts me off, "-Oh come on, Dawny. Friends might help relieve stress once in a while, but," she breathes in through her nose long and hard, "what you two did was more than just friends."

Nervously licking my lips, I walk over to the scribbled note she left me, and Mic watches me. "Her name is Truth." That winking face doodle. Looking at it and thinking about her, why do my insides jolt and warm up all over? Smiling at the little picture near her sloppily written name, "She's a. ponicemare."

Open Mic, why do you have to be so wise of the ways of ponies? Her eyes are smiling with a knowledge that she doesn't speak. But we've all seen that look: 'somepony likes somepony~' Oh, fiddlesticks.

"Come on, Mic. I mean, it's not like I've fallen in lo... lo..." No. "No, no, no."

"Woah, there, Dawny!" She rushes over and brings me into a hug, "Calm down. This is a good thing!"

Whispering, I say, "You don't understand, Mic. I didn't keep my focus on my studies all through law college just for my resolve to just melt away from- from," one day of the hottest, steamiest. stickiest.

I try to swallow, but my throat feels stuck. My eyes, they feel-

Mic hugs me tighter and shushes quietly, "Sh~ it's okay." Barely audible, she breathes, "It's okay, Dawn. It's a good thing. This is something to celebrate."

"Oh, Dam," I cry to my birthing mother who is nowhere near here, "what do I do? I've never had feelings like this before. I passed over marefriends and herds for my career. I know about the law. I- I- I don't know about this type of friendship! I only know about the sisterly and family kinds."

I know it's a coltish thing to do, but I cried there with my friend and neighbor. She rubbed my withers with her hoof as I let my fears tremble and run down my muzzle. I didn't realize how scared I was of this.

I'm so glad Truth isn't here to see me like this. A mare's mare like that would not be impressed.

All I did was go in to work and defend a client -the most stubborn client I've ever! Ooh~ buck that teddy bear. But I never would have guessed I'd met the mare of my dreams when I walked into that interrogation. Then she just shows up at my office near the end of the worknight and sweeps me off my hooves.

Feeling a little better, I ask, "What do I do, Mic? Dam's a few hours away. I suppose I could write her."

"You can do that, too. Winning a mare's heart isn't the same as wooing a stallion. You know?" she says. "It's usually best to start as friends, but you two kinda skipped a few steps."

Oh. With trepidation in my voice, I wonder, "I- is that bad?"

"Mm, not necessarily." Her nose scrunches a bit. "Tell you what, I'll help you wash up and get ready for work, and we'll strategize some while we do. Alright?"

Relieved, I sigh, "Thank you, Mic, and hot water sounds pretty good right now."

As we mosey towards the bath, Mic asked, "Where is she right now?"

"Hm? Truth Seeker? I'm pretty sure she's-"

She stops, "Woah, woah, woah. Woah. What do you mean, 'Truth Seeker'?"

"Uh~ I dunno. Means what it means?"

"Like, Truth Seeker? The Truth Seeker?" Open Mic seems to be talking to herself as much to me right now, "The five time winner of Mares-mopolitan Magazine's 'Baltimare's number one most eligible bachelorette,' and Antler Magazine's 'shmexiest east coast ponicemare' for the last two!?"

I don't really know what to say, but Mic keeps going, "The same ponicemare who keeps getting praised by the law enforcement community in articles almost every other Baltimare newspaper issues and awards from the Mayor and Provincial Countess? That Truth Seeker?"

Mayor? Countess? Is she really- actually, after the snuggling she gave me, I guess it's possible that Truth is that amazing of a pony. She got me to shatter every personal record today. "I uh~ think so? She didn't really talk about any of that."

Mic just blinks, "... How?"

I ask, "'How' what?"

"How did you manage to get her into your bed!? ... Hey~ on a completely unrelated topic, you can just let me clean your beddings because-"

"-Ew! Mic! What? Why? And for your information, it just kinda happened."

Mic takes a breath, "Just. Look, Dawny, this~ changes a few things. I'm still going to help you, but we just have to get more serious about this. Strategic. You get me? Sweet Celestia, this would be easier if you bagged a model, but -no- you just had to shoot for the stars. Who's next? The Princess?" She laughs heartily as we resume our way to the tub.

My mind is almost as tingly as my flank right now, "I don't have any idea what's going on anymore."

**Somewhere in Baltimare, Equestria**
**Truth Seeker**

I don't have any idea what's going on anymore.

"Detective!" Somepony's running up to me and stops to catch her breath. "Hah, you, uh-" Her nose scrunches up like she's fighting off a sneeze. "Wow, that's. what have you been-?"

"What do you want?" I'm too hungover for this... or not hungover enough.

While she starts sputtering some flying feather response, I walk over to the nearest building and start knocking on some of the bricks, "W- well, the chief told us to find you and get you to sign off on some documents about 'the bear case.'"

"Bear case?" I ask. Ah! Here it is. A hollow sound from my hoof's knocks tells me to remove the brick.

"W- ah~? What are you doing, Detective?" She asks.

I'll have to thank Fat Pony for helping me to set these up. As I extract a bottle and a pack of hay-cigs from this drop-box and deposit some bits, "What about the bear?"

Who is this pony, anyway? Ponice uniform, loose fit, standard cover. Regulation mane style. Southeast shield has a nice big 'Six' across the bottom. A single gold mark on her sleeve shows her rank: private -the lowest there is besides a cadet still in the Academy. Nature-pony. Light green coat, cyan mane, aquamarine and royal blue eyes.

I start with the bottle while lighting one of the hay-cigs on my horn with the other hoof.

"Trussed Pardon," I realize who this is and offer her what's left of the drink.

"N- no, thank you, Detective," she says, but I rock it back and forth before her. The sloshing sounds call to you. "M- maybe just a sip," she concedes.

I drag on the cig, "Atta girl. Now, what's this about the bear?"

"Kah~!" She hoofs me back the bottle, and I put that in my pocket with the pack in another. We start walking. With a rasp in her voice, she says, "Magistrate took the defendant's silence as defiance and a confession. One life sentence for the banana. Another for the monkey. Contempt of the court. Disorderly conduct. Interfering with two separate investigations one of which is a missing colt. If one of the suspects ever shows up again, the case may be reviewed. Because of that, she'll be incarcerated locally instead of shipped out to Tar Tarus."

D@mn. "Which magistrate was that?" She's got a pair of solid brass ovaries. I should give her a pat on the back sometime.

... But that bear. Who is she trying to protect!? What that teddy bear's problem, anyway? All you had to do was give us something. We could have been lenient.

Pardon says, "I think -uh- Courting Advice presided over the sentencing."

"Alright," I say, "That's... where are we?"

She looks around and answers, "Not far from the train station, west side of the city, near the market Loaf." There are several markets in most towns and cities. Baltimare has a couple around the bay and the two major train stations where most of the foodstuffs would be brought in from various sources. "I think there's a library near here," she adds.

"What the buck is all this!" I yell and point. How could Pardon have not noticed the fact that we wandered around and found pandemonium?

Streamers. Confetti. Balloons. And more whipped cream and custard than anypony should ever see in one place in their entire life!

Somepony done gone up and lost her self-control. Thought it would be a barrel of laughs to start throwing cream pies and making jokes. There is not one permit posted. Anywhere!

And you can hear them: the screams, the shrieks, the... laughter.

Madness.

Absolute, utter madness.

And did she think about the consequences? No! Sticky fur and curdling cream everywhere -the absolute depraved me@nies- and the laughter-Laughter-LAUGHTER. It won't stop. None of the ponies here are keeping it together.

Pardon starts, "Detective, it looks like there's an ongoing par-"

"-I swear to Celestia, if you say the word 'party,'" I spit, "you will be cleaning up all of that spoiling milk with a silver spoon!" Party. PARTY. AH~! "There are foals present for bucks' sake."

She mumbles, "I don't really understand what that has to do with-"

I try to explain it so simply that even Trussed Pardon can understand, "-It is a school day, Pardon-"

"-you're excused, Detective-"

"-on their way to learn and become productive members of society, but how can they do that when they're sticky and smelly? Answer me that."

She says, "It's almost dinner time. There shouldn't be anypony at school-"

"-what kind of a debaucherous..." I drag on the hay-cig and whisper, "nag-bucker," Pardon gasps, "would do such a thing to innocents? They'll be stigmatized and bullied for only Celestia-knows-how-long just from the smell alone!"

The officer next to me says, "I don't see anypony who would... uh, instigate such -um- festivities, Detective."

"I can feel it in my bones. Her reign of terror will end. I will catch her this time." Looking down, I see a flier by my hoof that was printed up for the impromptu violation of city codes and all manner of decency and place it into a pocket. I answer with resolve, "Then the Chief is going to have to wait for those signatures, Pardon-"

"-no problem, Detective-"

"-because we are going to hunt ourselves," I slide on some dark sunglasses, "a party pony."

Author's Note

We briefly saw that party pony before Silly, Bright Mac, and Buttercup boarded their train.

Tar Tarus: did anyone notice the way Twilight pronounced 'Tartarus' in that episode with Cerberus? The show fixed this when the prison is mentioned in later episodes, but I still thought about that first usage, 'That's odd, but it does seem to separate the place from the Greek myth and the location in Equestria a bit.' So, I'm going to keep it that way. And they never did solve the mystery of how that guard dog got out.

Buck and Tuck: the term 'tuck' here is a shortening of 'tuck and run.' Essentially, the phrase means, 'pump and dump.'

A Character Lesson: So, I learned a few things while writing this week. First is about Truth Seeker. I don't know if she understands any of the directions I give her given that she's usually inebriated on every substance known to Equestria -and several it doesn't- but it's best to assume it doesn't even matter if she understands me or no; because she's just going to do whatever she wants regardless. Second, characters even I, the stenographer of this story, thought were one-use throwaway gags are not. They have their own motivations and agency and can just show up and do things that I never had any idea could happen, but that's exactly what they do: just show up. What can happen next is anyone's guess, but it is really fun to be in the front row seat of this and just watch while it happens almost in real-time. Consider that an official warning about characters popping in and out.

Colors: One might notice that I am quite terrible about describing a pony's colors as I don't do it nearly as often as I should. Sometimes it is intentional to hide a pony's identity (like with Pear Butter), but most of the time it's because I just don't think about it. I found this really cool generator once upon a time, but I haven't been able to re-find it. It showed a full page of different randomly generated ponies that would float around, and you could grab the page with your mouse and move the whole page around in any direction. The thing would keep generating new ponies; and even if you tried to return to something previously, it would generate new things. Once it's gone, it's gone. I also wonder what any readers imagine when they conceptualize the OCs. I could take some suggestions and work with those? I'll provide a list of OCs soon for that.

About Officer Trussed Pardon, I used an OC from Equestria Daily to advertise an 'OC Pony Creator,' because I couldn't find the generator that I wanted to find; and the image was cute. Also, a reminder from Chapter 3: pony irises have two rings; because a bunch of AI seem to do that to eyes, and I thought it was a neat little detail to include in this world that ought to feel both familiar and alien to ours.

100,000 words!? (╯°□°）╯