Scratch's Sparkle Scramble

Scratch’s Sparkle Scramble

Yet more pony fanfiction from the mind of Silvertie

02 - Scare Tactics

The doors of Canterlot General crashed open, and two ponies entered. Well, technically three - the third was being carried between the two oddly-dressed unicorns, hovering in a blueish-gold moire of magic.

“Help!” Lyra called out. “My friend’s been shot!”

Within seconds of those words being uttered, no less than three nurses had all but pounced on the trio, swiftly and gently nudging Lyra and Vinyl out of the way so they could get Octavia on a stretcher.

“What happened?” an orderly asked, biting his lip as he examined the hole in Octavia’s leg.

“We were, uh,” Lyra began, before hesitating. “We, um,”

“Walking!” Vinyl interrupted. “We were out for a nice, relaxing evening walk.”

“It’s... two in the morning,” the orderly said, confused. “And you’re all wearing... really weird clothes to go walking in. Where did you get that floral print shirt? Do shops around here even sell that?”

“We were at a fancy-dress rave,” Vinyl dismissed. “The club just closed, and we decided we’d go for a walk. While we were walking, a bunch of gryphons just...” Vinyl reared up and mimed firing a machine gun. “Fly by, bang bang bang. No idea why. They missed us, but poor Octy got hit in the leg. Then they flew off, and that was it.”

The orderly nodded. “I see, okay. We’ll take care of her for you - if you want, you can wait out here until she’s awake, it shouldn’t be too long. You’re lucky, it doesn’t look too serious.”

“Thank you,” Lyra nodded, spotting a seat and sitting down in it. Vinyl looked at the other free seat, and after a quick check to make sure nopony was listening, leaned in close.

“I can’t stay here,” Vinyl whispered, eyes unreadable behind purple shades. “I mean, I care about Octy as much as you, but I need to go back to the warehouse - if I don’t get that money back...”

Lyra frowned, but nodded grimly. “Gotcha. I’ll stay here, then.”

Vinyl nodded, and thumped Lyra on the shoulder. “Cheers. Won’t be long.”

======

The drive didn’t take long - now that it was laden down with only one pony, and not three, Vinyl’s rinky-dink little buggy’s Bevilmiter engine was able to pull the buggy to even greater speeds, and in no time at all, the buggy skidded to a halt outside warehouse six.

Or what was left of it. Smoke still trickled out of the building thanks to the “contingency plan” cinderbombs, and even though the warehouse was somewhere relatively remote, all the gunshots were sure to draw the Canterlot PD like moths to a flame.

Vinyl tugged the pig mask back on, and walked through what was left of the bullet-riddled doors, and bullet casings tinkled gently as she kicked them aside. Retrospectively, it was a miracle that they’d gotten out alive, let alone only Octavia being unlucky enough to get shot.

The warehouse was, carnage aside, largely devoid of anything of interest; even the dead gryphon that she’d nailed with a cinder bomb was gone - but his gun, the one Lyra had used to cover their escape; that hadn’t vanished with him. Vinyl picked it up, and turned it over in the air. Still looked in good nick, despite having been blown up and kicked about just recently. Empty, but you couldn’t have everything.

She floated it onto her back, and kept looking. She couldn’t see the bag of bits, and it didn’t really surprise her. LeGrande obviously didn’t make it to the top of the sparkle-dealing industry by just leaving three million bits behind in an escape. Celestia damnit.

She looked to where the gryphons had stood, and saw, to her surprise, a few packets of sparkle. She ran forward eagerly, and slowed when she spotted why they’d been left behind - stray rounds must have hit them in the gryphons’ bags, causing the precious crystals to spill out, and they’d just... dumped it. Said a lot about their production capability, the casual discarding of a substance that was, gram for gram, easily ten times more valuable than any other in the world, if not more so.

Vinyl picked up a semi-intact bag, and looking around, surreptitiously rolled it up to seal it, and shoved it inside her jacket. Waste not, want not, after all. A third of a bag of pure sparkle was still a good find. Hay, it was still too much for her, it’d go off before she even got through half of it - she’d probably wind up selling it on. Cut down, of course - nopony could ever really handle pure sparkle, it was always cut so the user wasn’t completely zonked out for a day or more.

Vinyl hung her head in shame. And here she was, relapsing back into a life she’d been trying to escape for a year now. She pulled the sparkle back out of her jacket and looked at it. Did she really need it?

There was a clatter of hooves behind her, and she looked to the doors of the warehouse, alarmed, as voices echoed around it.

“Sweet Celestia,” a voice breathed. “What the hay happened here? The door’s swiss cheese!”

“There’s a carriage,” another voice called out. “Somepony’s here.”

“Canterlot Police!” the first voice called out. “Get down on the ground, hooves behind your head!”

Vinyl panicked, shoving the sparkle back inside her jacket, and looking around for another exit. There wasn’t one. She patted her mask to make sure it was on nice and tight, and brought the gun to bear.

The two blue-uniformed police ponies jumped around the corner, and when they saw the pig-headed Vinyl pointing a gun back at them, rolled sideways. When they righted themselves, they’d split up, and had their own guns trained on Vinyl - Smith & Western model 36’es, the unicorn-made “Chief’s Special”.

“Freeze!” the first one yelled, an aquamarine glow of magic holding the weapon in front of the orange unicorn.

“Drop the gun!” corraborated the second, red magic from a purple unicorn.

“Not happening, boys,” Vinyl declined, pointing her gun anew at orange as she slowly moved towards the doorway and the officers. “Move and I shoot.”

“You can’t shoot both of us,” Orange said, calling Vinyl’s bluff.

I can’t shoot either of you with an empty gun.

“No,” Vinyl admitted, “But I can shoot one of you. Do you feel lucky?”

The policeponies stayed silent, their own guns not leaving Vinyl as she gradually got between them. She, in turn, kept her gun pointed at Orange, which naturally left her wide open for a surprise attack from Purple.

With a solid thwack, she was hit around the back of the head with the sturdy revolver, and stumbled, head ringing. Instinctively, she lashed out with her rear hooves, and was rewarded by a strangled grunt of pain as she kicked something long and soft - a throat.

Orange seized her moment of distraction to launch his own attack from the front, and with a hasty swing, Vinyl smashed the stock of the Talon into his jaw. He hit the ground hard, gun falling from his magical grip to the ground in front of Vinyl, who looked at it, and biting her lip, took it, stuffing that inside her jacket as well.

Oh Celestia don’t let  them actually arrest me now I’ll go away for so long oh sweet merciful Luna this was such a bad idea why did I think this was ever a good idea-

Vinyl poked her head outside, and seeing a clear coast, apart from the police carriage parked near her own, ran for her own, Talon gun floating behind her as she went. She heard a groan from behind her in the warehouse as she did, and she wasted no time in yanking the door open, tossing her weapon inside the carriage and starting the engine.

“Hey!” Purple yelled, coughing as he staggered out of the warehouse, gun in magical grip as he aimed it vaguely at Vinyl’s carriage. There was a series of loud bangs, and Vinyl ducked her head, weaving the carriage as shots bounced off the outside of her carriage and missed completely.

It wasn’t long before the shots died off as Purple ran out of ammunition, and Vinyl breathed a sigh of relief as she tugged the pig mask off, and gripping the wheel firmly to steady her shaking hooves, rolled out of the warehouse district and onto the main road, heading back into Canterlot proper.

She hoped this wasn’t going to be a thing.

======

Octavia’s eyes slowly opened to a blurred view of the ceiling - white tiles. Sterile bedsheet smell filled her nostrils, and she realized where she was. Between her and the ceiling, a blue-maned white unicorn wearing a white doctor’s coat and the traditional stethoscope around his neck was looking back at her, looking her in the eyes.

“I’m... in the hospital?”

That was what she meant to say. What came out was closer to:

“‘m... n d’ ‘ospit’l?”

“Easy there,” the doctor said, holding up a hoof, and clearing his throat. “I am Doctor Shear. You are in Canterlot General hospital, and you’re a bit groggy from the anesthetic. It’s seven in the morning, and you’ve just had magical surgery on your leg to treat a rather nasty gunshot wound.”

Octavia nodded slowly, working her jaw to get the numbness out as she looked around, taking in her new surroundings. It looked like a public ward, with beds and lockable closets set up for patients on both sides of the room, but she was the only one here today, it seemed. A single door led in and out of the room, in the middle of the aisle between the two sides of the room, to her right, and a tall window let fresh, rising sunlight in through the left, along with a gentle breeze from an open gap.

“So it wasn’t a dream, then,” she mumbled. “I did get shot.”

“You’d be surprised how many ponies say that,” Shear said. “Now, I know it’s not really any of my business, but... how in the hay did you get shot?” The Doctor ran a hoof through his mane as he gestured at Octavia’s leg. “I mean, I’m kind of a fan. Been to see a few of your performances - how does a mare like yourself get shot up? Aggressively negative gryphon critics?”

Octavia paused, and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know what happened. One moment, I’m fine, the next...”

Shear nodded. “I understand. Now, that bullet didn’t smash your femur - that’s a good thing, recovery would be a while coming if it was broken. As it is, you would be able to walk out of here before lunchtime.”

“That’s good,” Octavia smiled. “I expected to be here for a day, actually.”

“Well, that’s up to you - while your leg wasn’t broken, the bullet did a lot of damage to your thigh muscles,” Shear informed. “I don’t know what happened, but either that bullet was unusually destructive, or you managed to run on it for a short distance before succumbing; either way, it didn’t do your thigh any good. It’s healed up and your coat should grow back over it in time, but it’s going to be incredibly tender for a while. You might want to stay here overnight, give it some time to rest.”

“I’ll probably do just that,” Octavia nodded. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m just doing my job,” Shear dismissed with the wave of a hoof. “In the meantime, if you had anything on you that you need, it’ll be in this closet here.” Shear tapped the closet nearest Octavia. “Now, I’m told there’s a fair few ponies who were waiting for you to wake up - do you feel up to visitors?”

“Sure,” Octavia nodded.

“Good,” Shear nodded. “Because the first one in line is a police officer, and I think they want your side of the story for last night.”

Octavia gulped. “Um, okay. Don’t really have much to say other than what I told you, though.”

“I think it’s a formality,” Shear guessed. “He didn’t seem too happy about being here, if that helps.”

Shear bowed his head, and pulled the door open, slipping out of the private room and closing the door behind him. Octavia shuffled about, and grimaced when she moved her leg. She looked under the bedsheets, and saw bandages around her thigh. An experimental wiggle said that the Doctor hadn’t exaggerated about the pain, although she suspected it felt much better than it had... whenever she got shot.

She closed her eyes. And the police were already on her case. Octavia gritted her teeth as best as she could with a head that was still slightly lined with cotton. This was the last time she went along with one of Vinyl’s hare-brained schemes. More trouble than it was worth, really. And it wasn’t like she and Vinyl were that close to start with... who’d blame her?

Her ruminations were interrupted by the door opening, and a strawberry-red stallion wearing a tan shirt squeezing into the room, a haze of gold magic shutting the door behind him. Compared to Doctor Shear, he had the kind of build that suggested frequent vigorous physical exercise, and his shaggy yellow mane suggested he’d been up all night - all of it connected to a tired face that was liberally trimmed with grey stubble..

“Miss Octavia,” the stallion nodded in greeting, before using his magic to fish an identity wallet out of his shirt pocket. “I’m Vice Squad Captain Lightninghammer with the Canterlot Police Department, and I’ve got a few questions for you regarding your little accident last night.”

Octavia nodded numbly. “I’ll help as much as I can, Officer.”

Lightninghammer put his badge away, and pulled out a notepad. “Very good. Let’s start with the obvious: What do you remember?”

“Well,” Octavia stalled, her heart a flutter as she tried to stay calm. The old collaborative story trick. What would Vinyl and Lyra say if they were interviewed? “I don’t remember too much. I was just walking down the street after a party me and my friends attended, when I felt the pain in my leg; I fell over... can’t think of any reason anypony would want to shoot me.”

“Uh huh,” Lightninghammer nodded, taking notes. “Where did it happen?”

“Um,” Octavia swore internally, and thought up an excuse. An embarrassing one, but it beat getting caught out on a lie. “I was a bit... tipsy. Vinyl brought me to the party, so I don’t know where that was, and when I went for my walk, I was just a bit...”

“Drunk, huh?”

“Cider is powerful stuff on an empty stomach,” Octavia patted her belly gently. “Ha ha. I think I’ve learned a lesson on that front.”

“Nothing else you want to tell me?” Lightninghammer asked.

“Nothing springs to mind, Officer,” Octavia shook her head.

“Well, then,” Lightninghammer grunted. “Tell me, are you amazingly informed? In particular, about the last few hours?”

“I... wouldn’t know,” Octavia shrugged. “I was asleep, and haven’t had the chance to get my hooves on a newspaper yet.”

“Well,” Lightninghammer smiled. “It might interest you to know that around the time you got shot, we got reports of gunfire in the south-side warehouse district. There was a trail of blood not far away, like somepony ran a short distance on a shot-up leg before getting into a carriage. A patrol sent to investigate found the remains of a sparkle deal gone bad, evidence of firebombs, and - get this - somepony in a brown jacket and rubber pig mask, who assaulted them, stole one of their loaded sidearms, and managed to escape - they were suspected of having sparkle on them.” Lightninghammer leaned in close. “I don’t suppose you could shed any light whatsoever on what happened at the warehouses last night, could you?”

Octavia swallowed nervously, and shook her head slowly. Rubber pig mask. Vinyl.

“Sorry, I can’t be of any help, Officer. I wasn’t anywhere near the warehouses last night.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know where you were last night,” pressed Lightninghammer.

Octavia blinked. “Well, that’s true, but I don’t recall seeing any warehouses, so I think it’s safe to assume I wasn’t there.”

“Hmm.” Lightninghammer snorted, clearly dissatisfied with how the questioning had gone. “Miss Octavia, I know you are a prominent classical musician. I don’t know what you do in your personal time, and I don’t really care - but know this:” Lightninghammer lunged across the room, and startling Octavia, reared up on the side of her bed, bringing his face close to hers. “I know when ponies are lying, and you’re lying. You were there, you tried to make a sparkle deal, you got shot. The only thing that’s saving your sorry flank is the lack of evidence.” Lightninghammer poked Octavia in the chest with a hoof. “Consider this your official warning from the CPD - if we catch you anywhere near the sparkle trade again - hay, if we can connect you to any crime at all - you’ll be going away for a very long time, got it? Maximum sentence. No bail.”

Octavia’s eyes boggled as she struggled to look at the stallion in her face, and managed a small nod.

Lightninghammer backed off, and walked back to the door, giving Octavia one last look.

“The CPVC will be keeping an eye on you. Have a pleasant day, Miss Octavia.”

There was a click and a bang as the door was slammed shut, and Octavia finally sagged, sobbing and shaking gently. She took a deep shuddering breath, and looked at her hoof, shaking away like a leaf in an earthquake.

I was thatclose.

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Octavia sucked it up, quickly wiping tears from her eyes and sniffling.

“Come in!”

The door swung open under the force of another haze of gold magic - but this time, the ponies coming through were a lot more agreeable.

“Vinyl! Lyra!”

“Helooo, sicky!” Lyra called out, walking forward, unbuttoned floral print shirt fluttering in her wake in contrast to the ungarbed Vinyl. (Save for her usual goggles.) “How you feelin’?”

“Scared out of my wits by our local law enforcement,” Octavia replied. “Also, my leg hurts, but I should be free to go at any time, really.”

“Yeah, I want to apologize for that,” Vinyl said, shutting the door carefully with her magic and walking closer, trying to put a smile on and finding her gaze slipping from Octavia to her own hooves. “This is all kinda my fault. I got you guys involved, and one of you got shot for it.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Lyra dismissed. “How were you to know LeGrande would cheat us like that?”

“I shouldn’t have taken your safety so lightly,” Vinyl countered. “I should have made more arrangements - those grenades weren’t enough.”

“Hey, we got away just fine,” Lyra retorted, before pausing and smiling sheepishly at Octavia. “Well, mostly fine. Octavia took a hit, but she’s a tough girl. She’ll manage.”

Octavia looked at Lyra flatly, and the teal mare just laughed.

“Anyway,” Vinyl leaned in closer. “I went back to the warehouses-”

“I heard,” Octavia remarked, unamused. “Beating up two cops? Stealing a gun?”

Vinyl pouted. “I was wearing the mask, it’s cool. No way they know it was me. And before you ask, yes - I stashed all our masks and the gear back at my place.”

Octavia folded her hooves. “Nice to see you actually think ahead, for once.”

“Moving on,” Vinyl waved a hoof. “Money’s gone, as expected. Most of the sparkle was, too, but a few stray rounds hit the bags, and they just dumped the damaged packets there. I snagged one about a third full.”

“Vinyl...” Lyra growled. “Given recent events, that had better not be for your own use.”

“No, not really,” Vinyl denied. “It’s for personal use in the sense that I’ll be flogging this stuff as hard as I can, as fast as I can for cash or goods we need.”

“And why do you need cash?” Lyra asked. “Is that going to get you the three million you need so you don’t... you know.” Lyra put a hooftip to her temple, and jerked it away, miming a gunshot. “Blat?”

“Not even close,” Vinyl shook her head. “I’ve got less than a week - this money’s going to go towards buying the stuff we need so we can put the squeeze on the sparkle community, track down LeGrande, and take our money back.”

Lyra and Octavia were silent, just looking at Vinyl.

“You’re mad,” Octava declared. “Stark raving mad.”

“You sure don’t do stuff by halves, do you, Vinyl?” Lyra asked, laughing.

Vinyl closed her eyes and shrugged. “It’s a gift. You gonna be ready to get started tonight? I’ve got a lead we can start squeezing - Blueblood.”

“Hay yeah, I am,” Lyra grinned. “I haven’t had this much fun in... Celestia knows how long.”

“Count me out,” Octavia said. The words flowed through the ears of Vinyl and Lyra like a needle being ripped across a record.

“What?” Lyra held out hooves in pleading. “Is this about the getting shot? Because if so, I’ll make sure I take all the hits from now on, okay?”

“Yes, it’s about the getting shot,” Octavia sighed. “It’s also about the fact that I am officially on thin ice with the CPD - if I so much as sneeze at a crime, I’m going to go away. The captain of the Vice Squad knows I was involved last night! He’s got no hard evidence, but...”

“Come on,” Vinyl egged. “This is why we have the masks. We wear those and our disguises, we could probably get away with murder! As long as we don’t get caught, of course.”

Octavia shook her head. “No. Forget it - you two can do what you want.” Octavia folded her hooves again. “I’ll be staying here, thank you. I don’t want to go to jail.”

Vinyl closed her eyes, and sighed. “I... don’t blame you. I suppose I’ve already asked plenty, asking you to come along in the first place. Well, get well soon, Octy. Come on, Lyra, let’s go over the plans at my place.”

“Okay.” Lyra looked at Octavia. “‘Tavi... I wish you were coming along. It just won’t be the same without you being a constant, picky, rational wet blanket on all our wild decisions.”

“I guess you’ll have to make do without, then.”

Lyra nodded. “See you later, ‘Tavi. Hopefully tomorrow.”

The two unicorns turned, and in single file, left the room, closing the door behind them as they left. Octavia stared at the door, hooves curled into the blanket covering her, and bit her lip.

Did she make the right decision?

======

There was a scritching of stone just beneath the window, and with great care and stealth, a figure retreated along the wall of the building, sticking to the smooth surface in a way that didn’t seem physically possible.

The equine shape backed up, and thankful that nopony ever looked up, moved for the roof of the hospital. The sooner she was done with this, the sooner she could go back to her usual black bodysuit - she was of the opinion that white made her look fat.

It wasn’t long before the white earth pony flipped over the top edge of the building; the white suit masked every feature of her body, even using magic to change the color of her tail to match the suit. The only visible part of her body was her eyes and the space around them; a coat orange like a setting sun, and eyes that were a vibrant green.

She walked over to a small pile of objects, and reequipped them - a bandolier carrying an array of small, pointed shards of metal and the sheath for a long black sword went on first, and the second, she took in her hooves - a writing kit and a bottle of dragonflame, already keyed to the only pony she needed to talk to.

She laid out parchment, and with a practised motion, dipped her brush in ink and began to write.

Vinyl planning attack on Prince Blueblood. Awaiting orders.

-Sunset

She threw sand on the paper, cleaned it off, and rolling it up, shoved it into the bottle of dragonflame. Without even waiting for the message to finish burning, she packed away her equipment back into it’s pouch that rode on her back, and took a deep breath, causing her bodysuit to ripple, black color running over her once more.

Next to blood red, it was her favorite color.