Lost Summer

“This museum is enormous,” marveled Cookie as the family entered yet another huge, unexplored art gallery.

“Yes, we definitely don't have enough time to see it all before the show this evening unfortunately,” agreed Rarity as she checked the floating fold up map.

“We could have come here for a week and spent all of our time here probably,” laughed Hondo, scratching his chin at a large cityscape painting.

“I wanted to go to the zoo,” moaned Sweetie. “Now we're stuck here forever and we won't have time to do anything I wanna do.”

“We still have tomorrow,” sighed Cookie. “Let’s just make the most of this. There's a lot of different things here. Find something in the museum guide that looks interesting to you and we'll go see it.”

Sweetie ended up taking solace in the exhibit of historical dioramas, not for the history but for appreciation of the meticulous miniaturization of the scenes. They stayed as long as they could, trying to milk the value out of their admission price but when everyone became hungry they knew they wouldn't be going to the exorbitant and fussy museum cafe. By the time they finished eating at a food cart in the park, it was time to get ready for the main event.

“Wow, mom, I barely recognize you,” gawked sweetie, scanning over her long black dress and coiled mane styled expertly by Rarity in the mediocre bathroom of their cheap hotel.

“Uh… thanks?”

“Dad looks the same though.”

“Can't improve on perfection,” shrugged Cookie.

“Oh, you,” he giggled, loading a fresh roll of film into his camera.

“Everyone ready,” panted Rarity, looking like she was clinging to a ship sinking in shark infested water.

“It's going to be great, Rarity,” droned her mother.

“Of course it is,” she blurted. “I'm not nervous! Who said I was nervous?”

Cookie turned to Sweetie who laid sprawled on the tacky orange bedspread with an open comic book. “Okay Sweetie, we'll be gone for two hours at the most but someone will probably come back before then. In that time, please behave. Keep the door locked. Don't open it or talk to anyone.”

“So just like when I'm at home with Rarity,” nodded Sweetie Belle.

“Yes.”

The sun had already set behind the unnatural canyon walls of skyscrapers as the three adults arrived at the glitzy venue.

“That's a real line,” whistled Hondo, scanning down the crowd of sharply dressed ponies gathered on the sidewalk at the door. “This whole fashion thing is pretty popular, huh?”

“Oh dad,” scoffed Rarity. “Put your badge on.”

“Right,” he grunted, pulling out his VIP pass. He slipped the lanyard over his neck as Rarity led them past a big skyward facing searchlight.

“I think this is our entrance,” declared Rarity as they came upon a smaller side entry without a wait.

“Designer?” inquired the pegasus mare at the door.

“Yes,” smiled Rarity, tingling all over.

“And you brought your plus twos.” She looked at the clipboard on her podium. “Excellent. Your name?”

“Rarity.”

She ticked the name and waved them through. “Enjoy the show.”

They went inside and down a short hallway to a security station where a couple of uniformed guards just waved them onward doing little more than acknowledging their existence.

“Well that was some lax security,” muttered Cookie.

“Must be a VIP perk,” quipped Rarity dismissively.

“They didn't even check the camera bag,” she continued.

They followed the hall which spat them out into the main showroom where dozens of fashionable ponies mingled with drinks around a vacant runway.

Rarity scanned the room dreamily, her eyes naturally bouncing between large congregations of gossiping ponies. “There's Prim Vest,” she gasped, pointing at a very flamboyant stallion in a gaggle of listeners. “And there's Aqua Rose and Cufflink. I can't believe it. The talent and prestige in this room right now. There's no structure here at all; I can just go right up and talk to them.”

“Isn't that what you’re supposed to be doing right now?” shrugged Hondo.

“I have to go talk to Aqua. She's mostly alone at the moment. I don't want to butt in on anything.”

“We'll stay here,” said Cookie. “We'd just get in the way.”

Hondo turned to his wife as their daughter frolicked away. “This kind of feels like some big award show.”

“In a way it is. There might not be any trophies or whatever but just being here in itself is a sort of award.”

Rarity cantered up behind the seasoned designer. “Excuse me. Aqua Rose?”

The mare turned. “Hmm?”

“Hello. I know you probably hear this a lot but I'm a big fan of your Mystique Collection.”

“Why thank you.” She held out her hoof to shake. “What's your name?”

“Rarity.”

“Do you have something in the show?”

“I do. A black and white bikini with-”

“Oh, the halter.”

“You've seen it?”

“I've seen the sketches. I'm interested to see how it plays on a body. My initial feeling is that it marries contemporary and classic beachwear like something from the Rock Salt era.”

“That's exactly what I was going for,” chimed Rarity with glee.

“Where are you based?” asked the stallion who was with her.

She chuckled. “Ponyville.”

He scratched his head in bewilderment. “Okay, you'll have to give me a clue.”

“The closest thing to it that anyone's ever heard of is Canterlot.”

Her parents got snacks and watched the conversation from a distance until she finally came back.

“That felt amazing,” gushed Rarity. “I really feel like I was meant for this.”

“Refreshments?” asked a unicorn server seemingly appearing from nowhere.

“Yes, please,” answered Rarity, taking a glass that looked like some kind of fruity daiquiri.

Cookie took one too.

“That's an enchanting necklace,” mused Rarity, looking at the mare's softly glowing accessory.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, looking down at the flickering gem dangling from her neck.

“What kind of gemstone is that?”

“I don't even know,” she laughed. “It's an heirloom. “I should really ask a jeweler what they think one of these days. Well, have a nice night,” her eyes flicked to her VIP badge. “Rarity.”

The server drifted away but cast a glance back at Rarity, not unnoticed by her mother.

She looked back. Why would she look back? There are non suspicious reasons to do that, thought Cookie. Admiring Rarity’s dress… admiring Rarity…

Cookie surreptitiously dumped her own drink into a nearby planter and then side-eyed her oblivious daughter. She looked back at the server who had emptied her tray and appeared to be making a beeline for the stairs before disappearing behind the crowd.

Cookie frowned but she wasn't sure if it was at the server or herself.

Rarity made the rounds like a hummingbird, introducing herself to as many partygoers as she could, trying to become a presence in their minds. She would intermittently check back in with her parents to find her dad talking to someone new each time but never about fashion. Usually about sports or mortgages.

“Maybe you don't need to give out information to everyone you meet,” suggested Cookie warily.

“I know but I'm trying to network here,” argued Rarity. “I have the eyes and ears of some of the most influential ponies in the industry right now.”

“Ms. Rarity?” called an underdressed stallion.

“Yes?”

“Name’s Pulp Kerning. I'm with the Manehattan Globe. I'm spotlighting new designers at the event. Do you have time for an interview?”

Her eyes bulged. “I’d love an interview.”

Cookie squinted dubiously at the press pass around his neck.

“Great. If we moved off to one of the side rooms it might be easier to hear.” He gestured broadly to the whole room where the sound system had just come alive with blaring music.

“Uh, the show starts in six minutes,” warned Cookie. “I don't think you have enough time.”

“You're right,” he laughed, checking his watch awkwardly. “Sorry, I'm new to this. If you're here afterwards I'll catch you then. Don't leave.”

“I won't. Sounds lovely.” - - -

A staccato of shutters and flashbulbs went off as Rarity's black and white criss-cross bikini hit the runway. The designer felt light headed as she watched the stone faced model strut to the end and strike a pose.

“This is unreal,” she shouted wide-eyed over the blasting music. “Can you believe this? I feel like I'm going to faint.”

Hondo practically shot a video as he snapped two dozen photos in forty seconds with his camera set on the drive function. The model turned and swaggered back to the gap in the black curtains and just like that it was over and the next piece was coming down the runway.

All these ponies came here. They saw it. They took pictures. Maybe they'd talk about it afterwards over drinks. Maybe it would be in articles or even on a cover. There was no telling how big or small of a splash her contribution to the fashion world would make until the reviews were in.

What if she was hired to do an entire line? Perhaps that was a premature fantasy but less than a month ago just being here was a wild dream.

Hondo left soon after her debut to check on Sweetie Belle. Cookie stayed while her daughter stood for an interview with the reporter they'd met previously. Then they left together despite Rarity wanting to live in the moment forever.

“We'll check out early tomorrow and try to meet up at nine,” proposed Rarity as they walked down the well lit prominaud. “We should have enough time to visit the zoo or whatever before the train.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” agreed Cookie, glancing behind them again.

They entered the glowing aura of the big awning of the Grand Palace. Rarity paused to say goodbye while her mother continued walking, the doorpony readying to open the door for her.

“Mother, you're not walking me all the way to my room are you?” laughed Rarity.

Cookie stopped, her mouth hanging open for a moment. “Uh… No… That would be silly.” She turned around slowly to hug her. “I'm so proud of you. Goodnight. See you tomorrow.”

She turned in the direction of her cheap hotel and departed from the light.

Rarity returned to her room alone and closed the door with a sigh. She chained it and locked the deadbolt. What a day. What an amazing day. Her brain was still buzzing with excitement but she was tired. She checked under the bed as she did every night. Then she checked behind the curtains. Then she examined the locks on the windows and the sliding door to make sure they could not open and drew the curtains closed. There was nopony in the bathroom or shower which was just a glass box with a frosted texture made to look like a mosaic of swirling water and waves.

Satisfied that she was safe and alone, she switched on the shower and yawned. There'd be no spa on this trip but hot showers were free and nearly as relaxing.

Rarity stayed under the water for an excessive amount of time even by her standards, enjoying just being in a nice bathroom and not paying the utility bill. When she finally stepped out she threw on a fluffy white robe and ripped open a face mask packet from the bathroom counter. She carefully unfurled the membranous face-shaped cloth and draped it over her muzzle. She lined up the eye holes and pressed it down until she could feel the coolness of the infused goop as it stuck in place.

“Nothing for the eyelids,” she muttered, turning her head this way and that in front of the mirror. “Might as well read a bit.”

She went to her bed and laid down on her back. Then she opened an in progress romance novel, levitating it over her face. She'd only flipped a couple of pages before she heard a quiet knock at the door.

Rarity turned to furrow her brow at the noise but got up, setting the book aside. It must have been her mother. That was her first thought. Checking up on her… Forgetting something…

Rarity put her eye to the spy hole to see a unicorn hotel attendant standing next to a large crate, as big as him, sitting on a luggage cart.

Hesitant to show her strange face at the moment, Rarity just raised her voice into the door.

“Yes?” she answered quizzically.

“Ms. Rarity? Sorry to disturb you. I have a gift here from an admirer at the Occasional show.”

“A gift?” she gasped, eying the huge box again. “Who sent it?”

He floated a sealed envelope into the air. “It doesn't say. Maybe it's in the letter.”

What an incredible gesture, she thought. She squinted at the stallion’s name tag, wishing to address the unknown attendant by name. The black text on gold read White Glove.

Rarity frowned anxiously. This stallion was not White Glove. He wasn't even the same color. The bellhop who had assisted her in settling in was light gray. This one was blue. Alarm bells went off in her brain. This wasn't right. What was happening here?

“Um, now is not a very good time,” she began, eye still glued to the spy hole. “Can you please take it to the front desk and I'll receive it tomorrow?”

The stallion scratched his neck. “But it's already up here. You want me to take it all the way back down?”

“You can just leave it in the hall if you wish and perhaps I'll get around to it eventually.”

“Uh, you have to sign for it though,” he countered.

Was that true? Did she need to sign for it? Wasn't it just the postal service that did that or did the hotel have some sort of bookkeeping policy?

“And what exactly is it that you want me to sign?”

“I'm sorry?” he blinked.

“You seem to have forgotten your clipboard and pen,” she put with dry condescension.

His eyes ping-ponged side to side in a panic and then he glared up close into the eye hole. “This would have been so much easier if you'd just opened the door,” he growled. His horn lit up and the door lock glowed as it began to heat up. He was trying to break open the door.

Rarity gasped and jumped away. She scampered to the bedside table and mashed the call button on the wall. Then she flew to the curtains looking to escape through the sliding door. Outside she could just teleport to a rooftop, a fire escape or the street below. But when she flung the curtains apart she found that her view of the city was blocked by a menacing figure in black waiting on the balcony. She skidded to a stop just as the pony teleported into the room.

Who were these ponies coming into her room? She was a virtual nopony small town designer, the poorest pony in the building, probably comparable to the janitor. What reason could they possibly have to conspire and target her like this?

Without waiting for introductions, Rarity floated the robust desk chair into the air and hurled it at the intruder like a bullet. The mare unicorn raised a foreleg to guard but the furniture still connected solidly, deflecting into a floor lamp with a crash. Her opponent cried out in pain and staggered to the side. Rarity lunged for the glass door trying to get a lock on anything outside but the glare made it difficult.

The intruder magically yanked her hind legs out from under her in mid leap. She sprawled out on the floor with a thud, losing her breath. The mare dragged her back and flung her roughly against the wall. The drywall cracked. Rarity winced as pain shot through her spine and she slumped behind the side of the bed. Before she could recover, the pony in black sent the upside down desk slamming down on top of her.

Rarity groaned as it continued to press down and squish her body. Only her head and one foreleg were free. She tried to teleport out but couldn't focus enough to make it happen so she squirmed and thrashed instead.

“I got her pinned,” yelled the mare standing above her. “Get in here! Where's the tranq?”

Unable to free herself, Rarity's eyes fell on the scattered contents of her overturned sewing kit and the shining edges of an open pair of sharp scissors.

Rarity strained. The implement flashed and flopped impotently in her fumbling power. Then the scissors stood at attention, point straight up. They shot upward, plunging deep into the chin of her attacker who rattled and gasped in surprise as she stumbled back. Her influence over the desk vanished in an instant.

Rarity drew a deep breath and wobbled back to her hooves, shaking off the furniture that had pinned her down.

Smoldering bits of the door lock fell to the carpet with a sizzle. The bellhop imposter pushed the door ajar. When it stopped short on the taut chain he swung a blade through the gap, snapping it in twain and he was inside followed by a third pony also dressed in black.

The skewered mare was in shock, trying to remove the scissors embedded in her jaw. Once again Rarity turned to the sliding door. She focused on the floor of the balcony, the only thing she could make out beyond her room and blinked outside. A chilling wind caressed her face for only a moment before she was teleported back into her room by someone else's magic.

Before she could even orientate herself she felt a blackjack meet with the side of her head sending stars through her eyes. She stumbled back into the wall and slumped to her haunches.

“You're much feistier than we were expecting,” growled the bellhop in annoyance as he floated a full syringe into the air. “Now hold still.”

Head still swimming, Rarity was unable to even focus her eyes on them, much less fight back. She could see who must have been the injured one with a hoof still clutching under her chin.

Out of options, Rarity screamed as loud as she could manage. Her last hope was that these thugs would be apprehend or chased away before they could complete their dirty plot against her, whatever it was. Such a disturbance wouldn't go long uninvestigated, especially in a nice hotel with particular patrons, but if they incapacitated her and removed her from the building before then, her chances of escaping or surviving plummeted.

As if summoned by her cries another silhouette with a glowing horn appeared in the doorway behind them. Once again the damaged chair went airborne and came down with a splintering crack over the stallion’s head.

The needle fell to the floor along with the stallion who landed on his chin with a grunt. Rarity looked past him to see her mother. The other two whirled around to face hur just as Cookie teleported into striking distance of the uninjured intruder. She whipped in a tight circle, sending her hind hooves into her face and driving her into the wall mirror with an explosion of glass. Despite her injury, the other mare jumped back and summoned an array of floating ice spears straight from the air which she began to lob at the off balance Cookie. A spear glanced off of her side with a stinging slice while two embedded in the wall as she evaded. The other two scrambled to pick themselves up to retaliate.

Running away at that moment never crossed her mind. Still stunned, Rarity struggled to her hooves and began to skulk unsteadily around the periphery of the wild brawl as she looked for a way to help her outnumbered mother. Unlike how the kidnappers had treated her, they were no longer using non lethal tactics with Cookie. Her head throbbed. That tranq needle. Where did it go? She looked around on the floor and was able to pick it out of the rug pattern just as an oblivious hoof came down and kicked it away.

The mare from the balcony collapsed on the floor with a gaping slice across her throat in addition to the scissor wound Rarity had given her. Now motionless she metamorphosed into a Kirin that was still mostly obscured by her black bodysuit.

Cookie wailed as an exploding fireball struck her broadside, singeing her coat and scorching her skin. She stumbled away from her attackers, releasing a blast of blinding ice crystals into their faces.

Rarity reacquired the syringe on the floor, still intact. She fumbled to secure it with her magic. Then she studied the fight, trying to pick out a foe to target in the violent scramble. Her mother was bloodied and struggling in a now one on two battle with adept opponents.

As the other pony in black hit the wall and came to an abrupt pause, Rarity saw her opening. She quickly stabbed the needle into her flank, jamming down the plunger in a single motion. The pony looked back at her, her horn crackling with electricity. It glowed and a bolt of lightning snapped through the room, striking her in the horn. Rarity crumpled to the floor expecting to get another volley or to be forcibly removed from the room but instead the mysterious pony fled, vanishing in a blink, no doubt seconds from collapsing herself.

Rarity's eyes fixed on her mother as her opponent cratered her in the wall. He yanked her out, threw her to the floor, coughing blood amidst a downpour of shattered plaster. The stallion stood above her, livid with a hoof to her throat, her own knife cocked in the air, poised for a killing blow.

Rarity's legs were rubber. She could only watch, unable to muster the necessary magic to intervene.

Just then, a great white blur came charging into the room. It was Hondo with his horn down. He blindsided the stallion, driving the point into his ribs. The train-like momentum of his enormous frame carried them across the room, straight through the sliding door with a tremendous crash and still onward through the balcony railing and over the edge into the air.

“Dad,” gasped Rarity in wide-eyed shock.

A rustling and a thud sounded through the jagged void.

“Hondo,” screamed Cookie, dragging herself to the hole. “No!”