The guest

Hopping over fallen logs, random rocks and an occasional bush, the zebra made his way towards town. As he did, the general chaos of the everfree slowly became more and more orderly, as if the mere proximity of ponies was enough to tame the strange forest. With cloak bound tight around his body, the stallion ruminated silently on this small realization as he deftly worked his way through the thick brush.

Above him hung the mid afternoon sun, its brilliance bathing the land in a bright glow which illuminated all but the deepest shadows. Which were growing fewer with each passing minute, the undergrowth slowly shrinking until only a few scattered trees stood between him and the edge of town. A small greenspace populated only by flowers, weeds, and the occasional passing pony would serve as his final obstacle.

One which he hesitated at the very edge of, his mind going back to the plan he had worked out in his mind. Though he practiced the darker arts, he was not some would be tyrant, or wanna be king. The zebra wished only to live well, surrounded by comforts, and willing servants who would do whatever he told them to.

To that end he had found the perfect targets and had begun to appear in town semi frequently. With his presence now known, his infiltration would be easily accomplished with only a few honeyed words. Knowing Ponyville’s penchant for panic, the zebra removed his cloak and tucked it into his bulging saddle bags.

Every last item of value he had to his name were in those bags, with only a few things remaining in his now abandoned cave home. After all, he did not intend to return to that place unless absolutely necessary in the event that he was driven out of town after being discovered. A possibility that was quite real, but also not one he expected to come up, especially given how cautious he had been.

With his cloak cast aside and secured, the zebra donned a small, disarming smile before striding confidently into town. As he did so, the stallion silently enjoyed the warm sun which banished the cold which had begun to creep up his hooves. Although comfortable out of the shadow, the zebra was also quite aware just how visible he now was.

A thought which made him consider the many dangers he may face in the small pony town. Chief among which were the elements of harmony, though it had been years since they had all lived in the same place. Only half remained in the small town, though the rest visited frequently, meaning there was still a chance he would run into them.

A possibility which was much smaller then it would have been a decade ago before the town had really begun to grow. Now the relatively large field which had served as a barrier between the town and the forest was now only a quarter of its original size. Construction stakes marked where the town would expand to in the coming years, pushing its edge right up against the Everfree.

It was a town which had seen relatively rapid development after six world renowned heroes had taken up residence there. Bars, small factories, and even a fairly tall apartment block were all visible from the edge of the forest. Ponies, gryphons, minotaurs, and even the occasional reformed changeling passed the zebra by, most of whom avoided his gaze.

The few who didn't gave him a friendly nod or a simple glance before proceeding on their way. All of which was fine by the stallion, for he aimed not to be loved, but merely accepted as that drew the least amount of attention. He briefly considered stopping for a late breakfast or wandering around the marketplace before he saw someone he had spent months avoiding.

The other zebra stood tall, her golden rings glinting in the afternoon light, mohawk standing straight up. For a moment the stranger’s gaze met Zecroa’s and the younger zebra’s chest tightened in fear. The shaman was perhaps the only other creature in a hundred miles who would be able to tell what his special talent was from merely a glance.

Zecora stopped, her shoulders tensed, and for a moment the stallion wondered if his plans were going to fall to ruin right there. For in the other zebra’s eyes the stallion saw an understanding of who he was, and what he was capable of. Then she nodded ever so slightly and proceeded on her way, as if telling the other zebra to simply mind his own business.

The message was clear to the zebra.

Don't mess with what she had planned for this place, and she would not meddle in his own affairs. This was a deal the younger zebra could accept, and so without a word having been uttered they both continued walking.

Though a little shaken, the younger zebra couldn't help but feel a little proud at having managed to avoid a confrontation. Zecora was, after all, the greatest foe he might have faced, had the fellow dark voodoo practitioner cared to stop him. He briefly wondered what machinations she had in the works before pushing that thought firmly out of mind.

Whatever she intended to do here it wasn't his business, and even thinking about it might be a bridge too far. Maybe after he had accomplished his goals he could speak to her and perhaps fish for some information. Until then he would need to become a lot stronger as he didn't like his chances of potentially facing off against such a knowledgeable foe.

Straightening his neck, the zebra trotted deeper into town, walking past the chaotic urban sprawl and into the heart of Ponyville. There the buildings were shorter, more rustic, and were a great deal more unique than the more cookie cutter structures that surrounded them. Here he felt a little more at ease, and surrounded by familiar landmarks the zebra quickly made his way to his final destination.

The general noise of the population seemed slightly lessened while at the same time fewer creatures walked the streets. It was, as if, the newly developed areas were their own towns separate from the former village at its heart. There were a few exceptions to this, such as the town hall as well as the zebra’s own destination, Sugarcube Corner.

He could see that the lunch crowd was beginning to file into the store, and a line was starting to form outside of it. Inside the bizarre gingerbread house slash bakery were numerous patrons milling about or sitting at the many tables. Several others were seated outside with their baked goods and hot beverages while a select few were chowing down on some rather delicious looking sandwiches.

It was a sight that made the zebra’s stomach rumble, and for something far more primal to stir in the base of his stomach. That last desire was one he pushed down deep, the stallion reminding himself that such needs would be fulfilled in due time. Right now he just needed to focus on one thing and one thing only, the help wanted sign which hung in the bakery’s window.

Two simple words written in black grabbed his attention, though he did give a glance to the small section beneath which stated that any applicants should have experience. Beneath that there was yet another addition which was written in pink and stated that training could be given provided they had the right attitude. As luck would have it the zebra himself had experience in just such a field, though it had been years since he had the chance to work in a real kitchen.

Memories of briefly being put to work alongside the village baker flickered past his mind before being dismissed.

The zebra strode forward, and slipped into, squeezing his way past the long line up which now exited out onto the street. Once inside he briefly looked around, noting that although the shop seemed to be mostly in order there were small things out of place. A cobweb there, a discarded cup no one had picked up over there, the tell tale signs of overwork were obvious to anyone with a keen eye.

You did not however need to be an astute observer to notice the rather irritated customers rankled over the long line. Their displeasure was obvious to anyone save for the seemingly oblivious young adult working behind the counter. The pegasus stallion in question had a light cream fur, and a deep brown mane which was filled with gel and styled in such a way that it rose forward before curling back in on itself.

He had a slight, almost effeminate build accentuated by narrow shoulders, and a slightly wider set of flanks upon which was an image of dark brown cake with a slice missing from it. His eyes were a similar color to his mane, a dark brown which contained the distinct look of someone who was both bored and irritated. Clearly he didn't want to be there, yet he continued to serve customers in a slow, methodical manner regardless of what he desired.

Occasionally the saloon style doors which separated the area behind the till and the actual kitchen opened to reveal a familiar sight. Mrs Cake’s movements were quick, her features drawn and deep circles were visible beneath her eyes. She would emerge just long enough to ferry an order or two before disappearing into the back once more.

Though it was clear from the looks she gave Pound Cake that she wanted to reprimand him for his slow pace she did not say anything. Even the way she glanced at her son, and her overall body language made it obvious that she was not pleased with the young pegasus. Though the zebra certainly was pleased with what he saw, for despite the mare being much older than him she was still quite attractive in his eyes.

She had retained her child bearing hips, a pair of flanks that would make most mares jealous, and an overall figure that the zebra liked the look of. She had the body of a milf, though her teal fur had lost a bit of its shine, and the swirly pink mane atop her head had more than a few grey hairs. The stallion didn't care about either of those things for the mare’s rosey eyes still had an inner fire that he couldn't wait to quash.

That could wait though, as he had a job to do at the moment, starting with grabbing the sign and trotting up to the front of the line.

“Excuse me but I’m here for the job,” stated the zebra.

Pound Cake looked the new arrival up and down. “Go on in and talk to my mom. She handles all that stuff though I’m gonna warn you right now, you don't have much of a chance.”

“And why is that?” Replied the zebra.

“Dad is the jealous type and will likely fire you after you’ve been here a few days,” answered the pegasus.

“Now you know that isn't true Pound Cake,” added a voice a second before its owner emerged from the back, her frilly pink and yellow apron now dirtied with flour. “Your father is merely particular about who we employ.”

“Didn't stop him from hiring that talentless hussy in Canterlot,” muttered the pegasus.

“Can I get some service here or what?” demanded an angry male tone from behind the zebra.

“My apologies. Please, come to my office so we can speak somewhere more private,” Mrs Cake offered.

“Why thank you ma’am,” the zebra turned and bowed slightly to the lime green earth pony he had cut off a few seconds earlier. “My apologies sir. I did not mean to intrude.”

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Now I want a large double double, three double chocolate donuts and-”

The zebra had already tuned out the offending male and was walking around the counter to where a smiling Mrs Cake stood.

“That was very courteous of you. It's good to know that if nothing else you know how to properly treat a customer,” she began. “My name is Cup Cake by the way, though you may call me Mrs Cake.”

The stallion smiled and nodded his head. “But of course. It was only fair and I am Shaka.”

Mrs Cake smiled, and stepped through the saloon style doors, holding one side open for the stallion. “Please come in, and don't mind the mess mister Shaka.”

Shaka strode into the background and took a moment to look around his surroundings. The bakery he had spotted on occasion was exactly as he expected it to be, messy but still semi organized. Every oven was in use, every workstation was covered with either flour or half completed baked goods.

A sudden movement caught Shaka’s attention, diverting his focus from the state of the kitchen to the fleeing form of a certain mare. The orange maned and yellow furred pony sprinted into a side room, giving Shaka mere moments to recognize Pound Cake before she was gone. Her long straight mane hung down over her teal eyes, nearly hiding the vibrant orbs completely from sight.

“Who was that?” Asked Shaka, though he knew the answer.

Mrs Cake sighed, the elder mare watching as a mixing bowl wobbled and nearly fell off the counter. “That was my daughter, Pumpkin. She is a bit shy, but don't worry she’ll warm up to you quickly if you end up being hired.”

Shaka hummed thoughtfully. “I hope you don't mind me asking, but does she not get out very often?”

Mrs Cake sighed, and turned to fully face the stallion. “She was having some trouble in school and struggled to make friends, so we thought buying her a laptop may help. Ever since then she has barely come out of her room. Just spends all her time playing video games and watching people play video games.”

“I’m sorry to hear that ma’am,” Shaka murmured.

Mrs Cake forced a smile onto her face and turned back towards her office. “But enough about my family woes let us get to that interview now.”

“Of course Mrs Cake, lead the way,” Shaka replied.

The older woman opened the door to her office and held it for the zebra, revealing a small space just big enough to fit a desk, two chairs and a filing cabinet.

“Excellent, come right in and take a seat,” Mrs Cake offered.

“Why thank you,” Shaka replied, seating himself on the other side of the desk.

A second later and Mrs Cake was seated across from him, a small smile gracing her strained and tired features.

“So, lets begin with your work history,” Mrs Cake declared, drawing forth a pen and paper. “What have you done and where-”

“I must say that you have quite the impressive, if rather eclectic resume,” Mrs Cake declared. “And your responses have been nothing short of exemplary.”

Shaka smiled, the zebra remembering all the times he had grilled former employees on the interview process so he knew exactly what to expect. He was half tempted to offer some kind of remark and mention that it was even easier then he had planned. In the end he kept his mouth shut, as he could feel the mare become slightly tense, as if the other shoe had yet to drop.

“Why thank you Mrs Cake. I’ve always dreamed of making a career of my hobby,” Shaka declared.

Mrs Cake nodded slowly. “Which is also quite commendable.”

“But?” Shaka prompted, leaning forward.

“But your countenance is a bit grim?” The pony sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry if that is impolite and I don't mean to be xenophobic-”

The zebra held up a hoof, giving the mare a wide smile. “I know what you mean, but I must counter by reminding you about what an accepting town Ponyville truly is. Why during my brief stay in the area I’ve already become quite familiar with many of its inhabitants.”

Mrs Cake hummed thoughtfully. “That may be true, but it wasn't long ago that the town shunned our only zebra for no other reason then simple paranoia and I don't want to see you hurt.”

Shaka leaned forward, and gently took the mare’s hoof, giving it a slight squeeze. “Trust me. It will be fine. The ponies of Ponyville have come a long way and if it makes you feel any better I’m more at home in front of an oven then in front of a cash register.”

Mrs Cake’s features softened slightly. “I suppose it would be nice to get out of the kitchen more often. Though we would have to ensure that Pumpkin Cake got used to you first.”

Shaka reclined in his chair and relinquished the hold he had on the other pony’s hoof. “I’m sure we will get along swimmingly. In fact I will speak to her immediately and make sure of that.”

“Well then, I can't really say no now can I?” Mrs Cake declared.

“I wouldn't hold it against you if you did,” Shaka replied.

Mrs Cake smiled honestly. “You know what? You’re hired.”

Shaka grinned back. “Oh that's wonderful. Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

“Could you start tomorrow by chance?” Mrs Cake inquired, only to frown. “Wait. You mentioned you didn't have a place to stay. Perhaps Monday would be better in order to give you more time to find somewhere.”

“Actually I was meaning to ask you,” Shaka announced somewhat nervously. “I heard through a friend that Pinkie Pie used to rent a room here.”

“Unfortunately the tower has been converted into a master bedroom as Pound and Pumpkin needed their own spaces,” Mrs Cake answered. “I’d love to continue renting it out but I can't ask that my two adult children share a room anymore.”

“Oh that's not where I was going with that,” Shaka corrected. “I was actually going to inquire about the so-called party cave she supposedly built beneath the store.”

Mrs Cake sighed, and ran a hoof down her face. “Don't remind me. It took forever just to make some proper stairs down into that place while also cutting off the secret tunnels that came from all over town.”

Shaka chuckled heartily. “That does sound like quite a hassle.”

“It was a massive expenditure that we initially thought of recouping by renting it out but noone wants to stay in some dingy, poorly lit sub basement that only has a single room,” Mrs Cake muttered.

“I wouldn't mind,” Shaka offered. “I’m sure that with a little work it would be a wonderful place to stay.”

“Are you sure?” Mrs Cake questioned, peering intelty at the stallion across from her. “It's too deep underground to have windows, and we didn't put much furniture down there.”

“I’m used to my living spaces being rather spartan as you say,” Shaka replied.

“Well alright then,” Mrs Cake declared. “I’ll find the key for you in a moment and we can discuss rent and whatnot tomorrow.”

“Is there a chance I could take that off my first paycheque?” Shaka inquired as Mrs Cake dug around through several drawers in search of the key.

“Oh of course,” Mrs Cake replied in a dismissive tone. “Here we are.”

The mare rose back up, a bronze key sitting on her hoof. “Just go around the back of the store and search for the cellar entrance. There you will find the stairs down.”

“Excellent,” Shaka declared, swiping the key from the mare.

“I would offer you a tour, but I’m afraid I have to get back to the kitchen,” Mrs Cake remarked apologetically.

“That's quite alright. I’ll get myself settled and come back up to say hello soon,” Shaka offered with a smile. “I want to make a good first impression after all.”

“Wonderful idea,” Mrs Cake declared. “I’ll make sure to warn Pumpkin that you’re coming so you two can get to know one another.”

“Perfect,” Shaka stated, standing up and extending a hoof. “You won't regret this Mrs Cake.”

“I sure hope not Shaka. We really need the help around here,” replied the mare, who shook Shaka’s hoof vigorously.

The zebra turned towards the exit, and reentered the bakery proper, his eyes scanning for any sign of the cute young mare he had seen earlier. Sure enough out of the corner of his eye he saw the orange maned female peeking out from around a corner. Shaka managed a smile and a wave before the girl let out a yelp and disappeared from sight.

“I should go check on her,” Mrs Cake remarked.

“Good luck,” Shaka called, the zebra watching his new employer go before glancing back into the front of the store.

There stood the effeminate young stallion who lazily continued to serve a never ending line up of customers. He barely seemed to give any thought to the angry ponies, or care about how slow he was going. The entire time he worked the stallion would stare at the door, as if he were waiting for someone to show up.

Shaka also noticed that a bundle of black leather had been stuffed into an open shelf beneath the register. It was hard to see exactly what it was, but that didn't matter as Shaka had seen the stallion wearing it on more than a few occasions. Shaka knew the Black leather jacket was emblazoned with a bright green snake on the back, and had several silver studs around the collar, cuff and torso area.

That wasn't what truly grabbed Shaka’s eye however, rather it was the stallion’s striking curves, and the surprisingly graceful way he moved. To Shaka the pony looked and moved like a mare, even though he could see the small sheethe nestled between Pound Cake’s legs. All of the zebra’s plans, and machinations briefly passed through his mind, threatening to make him pop a boner right there.

Pushing those thoughts from mind, Shaka made his way to the back of the store and exited into a narrow back alley. Glancing to the left, Shaka saw the cellar entrance as well as the pile of garbage that sat next to it. The sight irritated the zebra stallion, but he quickly reminded himself that he wouldn't be staying there for long.

Slipping the key into the lock, Shaka slipped into the winding spiral staircase before closing the door behind him. Trotting down deeper into the cellar Shaka began to hum softly to himself, his mind awhirl with all that had just transpired. He had completed the first part of his plan, and though it was far from the most important of steps, it was still quite pivotal.

Everything else hinged on having an in, and the perfect one of which was working directly with the family he intended to claim.

He landed at the bottom of the stairs and gave a brief look at his surroundings, noting the overall half completed state of the place. Other than the bathroom everything else was open, including the kitchen, living room and bedroom. Unpainted drywall covered the walls, but not the ceiling, though at least there were no stalactites hanging over him.

The space was sparsely furnished, with only a bed and a couch, filling the otherwise empty room. Not like he minded, though it made Shaka consider what he could do with such a space in the future. He imagined what it would be like if he re added the secret passageways and tunnels while also sealing off the main exit.

“It would make for a good ritual space,” he murmured. “And a good spot to hide away my more frowned upon ingredients in my possession.”

Shaking his head, the zebra quickly began to unpack his bags and set up his space. He had to work quickly in order to start getting his hooks in soon before they arrived and he missed his chance to play the hero.

Rising up from the depths, Shaka locked the cellar door behind him before turning towards the back entrance and noticed he wasn't alone. Mrs Cake was busy stamping out something, a small blush crossing her features when their eyes briefly met. The smell of smoke hung thick in the air, though Shaka wasn't sure if the scent was wafting in from a nearby factory.

“Set up already?” Mrs Cake inquired.

Shaka nodded. “I don't own very many things.”

Mrs Cake sighed. “In a way I envy you. To be able to just pick up and move whenever you desire must be incredibly freeing.”

“It has its ups and downs,” Shaka admitted. “For one its hard to start a family when you have little to call your own.”

“You want to start a family?” Mrs Cake asked incredulously. “I didn't mean to assume, but you are so young.”

Shaka smiled, and leaned against the wall. “You know in my home village most would consider me past my prime already.”

Mrs Cake snorted. “Well that's a load of hooey if you ask me. Your a charming young stallion who if you don't mind me saying is quite easy on the eyes.”

Shaka’s grin grew wider still. “Why thank you Mrs Cake. I have to say you still cut an attractive figure as well. I bet your husband is one happy stallion.”

The mare blushed and turned away. “Oh you’re just saying that to butter me up.”

“Do I look like the type to lie to my employer?” Shaka offered with a disarming smile.

Mrs Cake coughed awkwardly. “Right. We should probably get back inside. I don't want to leave Pound and Pumpkin alone for long.”

“Before we go. Would you mind if I asked you a question?” Shaka inquired.

“Of course,” Mrs Cake replied.

“Speaking of your husband… when will I meet him, and would he be okay with my hiring?” Shaka bashfully asked.

The mirth all but fled from Mrs Cake’s face and she let out an uncharacteristic snort of derision. “That old stallion had better be okay with it because I no longer care what he has to say. As for when you would meet him he should be back in a few days. Provided he decides to show up when he said he would.”

Shaka sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know we may have just met but if you ever want to talk I’ve been told I’m a great listener.”

Mrs Cake hesitated briefly before shaking her head. “It wouldn't be appropriate to discuss this any further though I appreciate the offer.”

“Of course,” Shaka bowed his head slightly. “Shall we go back inside?”

“We probably should,” murmured Mrs Cake who was the first to reenter the kitchen through the back entrance. “Pumpkin, are you here?”

“Here mother,” whispered the shy pony who stood half in the doorway which lead to a set of stairs leading up.

“Ahh there you are dear. I’d like you to meet Shaka, our newest hire,” Mrs Cake greated, extending a hoof to the zebra.

Who strode confidently up to the terrified pony and flashed her a wide smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Pumpkin. My name is Shaka and I hope that we will work well together in the future.”

The pony’s eyes went wide behind her straight mane, and though she shrunk down slightly, she didn't flee. “Oh um, nice to meet you mister Shaka. I like your mane,” she murmured, a small blush crossing Pumpkin’s face.

“Thank you. I like your mane as well. Even if it hides those bright blue eyes of yours,” Shaka replied.

The pony shifted uncomfortably from hoof to hoof as her face continued to glow brightly. “T-thanks,” she whispered.

“It's good to see you two getting along as Shaka here will be helping you in the kitchen,” Mrs Cake stated after walking up next to the pair.

“R-really?” murmured Pumpkin Cake who glanced expectantly at her mother.

“Indeed we will,” Shaka exclaimed. “I hope that you don't mind showing me the ropes. I haven't worked in a modern kitchen like this in some time.”

Pumpkin pushed her mane off to one side so her one eyed gaze could meet Shaka’s. “You can count on me.”

“Excellent,” declared Mrs Cake, who turned to the zebra. “Now then. Feel free to explore the town, or go upfront and grab a snack.”

“I don't mind starting immediately,” Shaka offered, glancing over the many half completed recipes laying on the counters. “It seems like you need the help.”

Pound Cake poked his head in through the saloon style doors. “Hey guys I’m gonna need a whole bunch of donuts.”

“How many exactly?” Mrs Cake replied, turning to her son.

“All of them. Were out,” Pound Cake replied.

“What? Did someone just buy all forty two we had?” Mrs Cake demanded.

“Nah I just forgot to tell you when we were running low,” Pound Cake stated before ducking back into the other room.

Mrs Cake sighed, and ran a hoof down her face. “Typical. Pumpkin, can the ovens handle another double batch of donuts?”

The mare shook her head. “I’m afraid not. We are already packed, but we can start preparing them at least.”

“Allow me to assist,” Shaka offered.

“Maybe that would be for the best… Though I don't like making you get right to work considering you just got moved in and haven't had a chance to get settled,” Mrs Cake murmured.

“Hey, you can't cut in line. I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes!” Shouted a voice.

“Buzz off old man,” barked another voice.

Pumpkin let out a surprised eep and ducked out of sight.

Mrs Cake grit her teeth and trotted over to the saloon style doors just in time to see a trio of brutish stallions push their way to the front of the line.

“Don't worry you walking antique. We’ll be gone just as soon as our newest member ditches this dump,” exclaimed the distinctly male voice of a leather jacket clad unicorn.

“It's about time you guys showed up. I was bored to tears,” remarked Pound Cake before donning his own leather jacket.

“And where do you think your going, hmm?” Mrs Cake asked, the mare tapping her hoof impatiently.

“With my friends,” Pound Cake replied, shrugging on his coat.

“Yeah and unless you want to replace your front window again I’d advise that you don't make a scene,” stated the taller of the two stallions.

Shaka frowned at the scene playing out before him, though inside he was grinning from ear to ear.

Mrs Cake let out a reluctant sigh and motioned towards the exit. “Just go.”

Pound Cake smirked and walked around the counter. “Come on guys. Let's go somewhere cooler.”

“Right behind you,” snickered one of the stallions who shared a wolfish laugh with his leather clad fellow.

Together the trio left the store, behind, an awkward silence settling over the establishment in their wake.

“Why don't I man the till while you work on that backlog?” whispered Shaka.

That seemed to snap Mrs Cake out of her trance, and the mare looked up at Shaka. “Are you sure? You don't even know the prices.”

“I’ve been through here enough times to get the jist of things,” Shaka declared, placing a hoof on his boss’s shoulder. “Trust me.”

Mrs Cake nodded slowly. “Alright, but if you have any questions don't hesitate to holler for me I won't be far.”

“I will,” Shaka stated before turning towards the first customer. “And what would you like today sir?”

The older stallion coughed awkwardly and pointed to the display with a hoof. “I’d like one of your eclairs please and a large black coffee.”

Shaka smiled, taking the stallion’s money while internally congratulating himself for his expert acting. “Is there anything else I can get you today sir?” Shaka inquired.

“No, and that will be to go,” stated the gruff stallion.

“Excellent choice, here you are sir,” Shaka stated before handing the man his order.

Oh yes. It's all coming together. Thought the zebra.