Applejack: Private Investigator
Applejack stared out the window as she put down her glass. She'd just opened her new detective business, and after a promotion from the Cakes, she was expecting more action. She wasn't going to get paid for sitting in an office, drinking whiskey. Things hadn't being going too good on the ol' homestead either. After Big Mac got sick, sales plummetted and they had to sell the farm. Applejack didn't believe Granny Smith too much, that superstitious old mare, but when she told her she'd make a good detective, she believed her. So that was how she got here. She was a hard worker, perservering, but it was possible that the job wasn't as well suited to her needs as she thought. That's what she told herself, anyhow. But now she was stuck here, and she'd have to deal with it until they bought back the farm. No dyin' is gonna happen, anyhow. And though she didn't know it, her life and future was about to have a big change in those mext few moments. Because at that moment, a sobbing, hysterical, wine-drinking Pinkie Pie shuffled into her office. At this, the snoozy Applejack gave a start. After summing up Pinkie's state, she knew the kind of case this was going to be. Her lipstick was hap-hazard, smearing at the edges with tears, it looked as if she'd only put it on to look somewhat professional, but at this point, nothing was gonna help that. She had on a lacy dress that reminded Applejack of the one she'd worn while failing at convincing those bison. In fact, she was wearing the whole outfit! It wasn't her imagination. This was already looking bad. After a few more choking sobs, Pinkie began to speak. If you could call it that. It was more like speak-sobbing-whining than anything, but Applejack could still understand her. That was the most important part.
"Oh Applejack!" She began. "I ne-e-e-e-ed your he-e-e-e-e-e-elp. Would you plea-a-a-a-ase help me-e-e-e-e-?"
"Calm down now sugarcube, why don't you-"
"N-O-O-O-O-O!!! My life is over!!" She collapsed into a nearby armchair.
"Listen, just tell me what it is you're comin' here for."
"Well, *sniff* you see, *sniff*, it's a long story."
"Yeah, well, ya know I got all day to hear if you'll be kind enough to tell."
"Well, this involves a big secret. One that I don't know if I'll be able to tell."
"If you can give me the information without the secret, I'll take that."
"I suppose I could make this a bit less personal...."
"Go on."
"Well, I-I-......... I have a very special somepony....."
"Uh-huh."
"And he's......... well he's gone missing, and I fear the worst for him, oh Applejack!" Tears rose up in her eyes again.
"So-o-o-o......... That's all the info you have on the subject? Can you give some names, dates, somethin'?"
"His name's Candy Cake. He's grey, and his cutie mark is a pin and some balloons, he's got a short mane, oh, why don't I just show you this photograph!" The photograph showed the same pony as Pinkie's description; a philly chasing some butterflies.
"The last time I saw him, he was leaving on the train. And after he moved to Baltimare, no one heard of him again!"
"Now what about the day the train left? Any suspicious behavior?"
"He's always been a bit of a downer, but nothing really seemed suspicious about him, I guess."
"About the cost, how 'bout you pay me half now and the rest when I solve this whole thing, alright?"
"How much do you cost?"
"Well, I'd say about 1000 bits altogether."
"Applejack! You silly goose! you know I'm just living on a baker's salary, do you really expect me to pay that?"
"Fine, for friends I'll only charge 850."
"Lemme just look in my purse........"
A mad search ensued. Applejack hoped she would actually be able to get Pinkie to pay.
"I know I'm a detective, but if you notice anything, you keep me posted, alright Pinkie?"
"OK Applejack, I know you'll be able to help me out!"
Pinkie paid the money and trotted out of the office on a happier note.
And this was the beginning of the story.
Applejack figured the first she'd do would be to pour herself another drink.
"Shoulda got more information outta Pinkie." She mumbled to herself. Now how exactly would some philly go missing? He'd have to be either dead or kidnapped, and why anyone would want to kill this nopony was beyond her. At this point, because of the importance of the case, Applejack thought she'd go and check out that train for evidence, detective-like stuff like that was sure to point her in the right direction.
* * *
Applejack walked up to the station. After doing her research, she thought she had found the exact train that Candy had left on. Now she'd have to explain her case to the conductor. He was on break, eating a sandwich.
"Excuse me Mr. conductor, but could I have but a moment of your time?"
Now with the sandwich in his mouth it sounded like he was saying
"Wh-fhmt-is-it?"
But in actuality he was saying
"What is it Ma'am?
"I'm a private investigator, and I have this case, you see, so I was thinking I'd have to do some investigatin' on this here train."
"Well ma'am, some of my passengers are probably going to have an objection to that, so unless you're gonna convince them to get off the train, you'll have to do the investigation with a few living blockages. Other than that, I don't mind."
This would be a problem. But, Applejack coud just work around those ponies! Right? Maybe? This case was already going down the cider squeezer. She'd just have to ask kindly for those ponies to move, so she could do her work.
Upon entering the train, Applejack began dusting for hoofprints. Then she realized that there would be so many hoofprints, she'd never find the one she was looking for. She needed to call Pinkie and get more info. But why call Pinkie when she could look for him in the archives? She needed to get off this train and go to Mayor Mare. What a waste of my time! Applejack, you need to pull yourself together!
While walking to the mayor's office, Applejack thought she saw Pinkie again. Was she hiding behind that bush?
"Pinkie? Is that you?"
She was sure she could hear some sniffling over there! After inspecting the bush, it was clear that somepony had been there, but left before Applejack could get there. Perhaps there was a trail? Applejack pondered. A few broken branches led her into the Everfree forest. Why would Pinkie be in the Everfree forest? Rare cupcake ingredient? She continued along the trail until she came to a clearing. She would have kept walking, but the sight of two ponies halted her. This could be important for her case, and she didn't want to miss it. After squinting her eyes a bit, she found the two ponies to be Pinkie and Doctor Whooves! Those two? Together? Oh God. This was probably the secret Pinkie was talking about. Applejack muffled a gasp of surprise, but then the tension released naturally. She was probably just getting her hopes up. She'd have to listen for more, that's what she'd do.
"Oh Doctor! I was afraid you wouldn't come! After I heard the news, I had to come see you!"
This really was Pinkie and the Doctor. And it wasn't on time-traveling business either.
"Pinkie, it's the middle of the day. This is a really bad time, don't you think?"
"He's missing! In that case, it's never a bad time!"
"I understand Pinkie, but we never should have met. Someone will see us."
"But Doctor! You can't just leave me like this!"
"I have to Pinkie, I have to!" Pinkie began crying loudly.
"Pinkie! Are you nuts! I should leave now. Goodbye, Pink Princess."
Applejack didn't have time to hear Pinkie's sappy reply. That was her cue to get the hell out of there before she was seen by anyone. She ran out of the forest, still curious about the whole affair.
* * *
Applejack, rather than going to town hall, decided that after her encounter, she'd go back to her office for some thinking. Well, it's been confirmed now that Pinkie has more that a few "special someponies". Perhaps I should check all of their records, then. A bird sat on the windowsill. One of those annoying, sing-songy ones. Chickadee, I think. Applejack, getting tired again, was lulled to sleep by the sound of the bird.
Applejack: Private Investigator
Two ponies walk into a bar.....
Applejack woke with a start. She looked out the window, checking for daylight. The bird was gone, and the sun was setting. It was late March, and the days were starting to get longer. She tried to remember what it was she had been doing before she took her nap. Then the memory of the case came rushing back. She was still in a sleepy, trance-like state, but the harsh facts of the day jolted her back into reality against her will. Then, a decision was to be made. She could fall back asleep, (the most appealing option.) perhaps go to the bar down the street, or continue to work on the case. After only turning up an unrelated hushed romance that day, she figured she'd better hurry up and finish this so she could get her money and save Pinkie from an untimely heart attack. Mayor Mare was proably on her way out of her office by now, so Applejack began running to the town hall. It was nice to have a few minutes of freedom, with the wind in her mane, no such case to worry about at just that moment. After finally approaching the building, she walked in only to find that Mayor Mare herself had gone, and the only pony remaining was her secretary.
"Howdy, ma'am."
"Good evening." The secretary responded with a dull clatter.
"I'm Applejack, and I've come here to do some fact-checking for a certain case I'm workin' on, I'm a private investigator, ya see, an' I need some information about a certain somepony."
"What? Some kind of record?" The secretary replied rudely.
"Yes, exactly, is there some kinda Ponyville archives I can look at or somethin'?"
"Well it's not like everything is in the archives or anything, ponies have their own personal secrets, and it depends on who you're talking about. Some information is restricted."
"I understand that and all, but I'm an investigator and I need information to solve my case."
"Hmmm, I see. Whose file do you want?"
"A colt named Candy Cake."
"What a redundant, silly name....." the secretary muttered under her breath. "His info is right here." Applejack searched the piece of paper for knowledge. It had his birth date, mother's name, other irrelevancies. After scanning through those useless details, she found that the father's name wasn't listed. Then another detail hit her: the mother's name was Pinkie Pie. Applejack had hit paydirt. Now she knew why this pony was so special to Pinkie. But who could the father possibly be? She doubted it was Doctor Hooves, it was probably just a fling between those two. Heck, Pinkie had probably dated every pony in Ponyville. The picture used in the file was the same as Pinkie had showed in her office. Interesting to note, but not a significant detail
"There any criminal or medical records in this file?"
"Why don't you check for yourself?" the secretary responded sharply.
And yes, there were criminal and medical records in the file. Not that the secretary cared, apparently. According to the medical records, he was a small colt for his age, even though he'd already earned his cutie mark. So in that case, he's probably done growing. And at that realization, Applejack could safely assume that the father was probably a pretty small stallion. Or that the child was stunted. Now I wonder if emotional or mental stunting could have anything to do with that? The things one can learn about a colt with just the medical record! The criminal record contained nothing, although Applejack figured that like any young pony, he'd played a few tricks on his teacher. Perhaps if she talked to Cheerilee, she could learn more about Candy Cake's demeanor. But it was Pinkie's file she really wanted to see.
"I'm done with this file. Could I get Pinkie Pie's file from ya now?"
"Are you sure Pinkie's file is impertinent to your case?" What Applejack wanted to say was "What do you care, b****?", but she could see that fighting rudeness with rudeness wasn't gonna win out in this situation. So she replied politely,
"Yes, I am sure. Pinkie's the one that came to me with the case, ya see."
"Uh-hmmmm........." After a graceful moment of contemplation, the secretary regretfully handed over the document. Because the previous file had hardly contained any information, Applejack was overwhelmed with the amount of data contained in Pinkie's. Though the file wasn't as relevant this time, she was still curious about what Pinkie had done in her life. Apparently, she had ADHD and kidney stones. But it was her criminal record that surprised Applejack the most: Pinkie had been arrested two times for smuggling guns illegally and once for a DUI after a crazy party she'd thrown. Pinkie? Smuggling guns? There's no way I'm going down gettin' shot up by Pinkie Pie, especially over a silly case like this! Now Applejack had gotten somwhere. This called for a celebration down at the bar.
* * *
Applejack walked into the bar and sat down quickly, her sore muscles taking a rest on the hard barstool. The bartender was looking shifty, as bartenders do, but his shiftiness was accompanied by a twinge of fear, making Applejack nervous. Then he revealed the reason for his fear himself.
"You might want to clear out of here, miss."
"Well why would that be, huh?"
"I know this sounds crazy, but I heard that Ponyville's two undercover mafia bosses are meeting in this bar tonight."
"Actually, I'm a private investigator, and this sort of business might be good for my case."
"It's your funeral."
"I'll take a drink anyhow. Appletini, shaken, not stirred."
"You tryin' to be Pony Bond or something?"
"Can I retain my suave image for a few seconds without you interrupting me? Farmgirls don't get that chance!"
"Geez, just take the drink."
Applejack took a sip of the drink. Applelicious. It reminded her of the farm, what this was really about. Not getting to be a cool detective.
"Listen, Mr. Bartender, I'm sorry about my outburst."
"I'm a bartender. I've seen worse."
Some shady looking ponies started to walk into the bar. It looked as if the bartender's tip had turned out to be true. She recognized Octavia, a known cello dealer, a few others as well. But she wasn't expecting Pinkie to show up beside her. How the hell did Pinkie become the head of the Ponyville mafia? I s'pose I've figured out now why Pinkie's been smuggling those guns. I can't let her see me! Applejack tried to hide, but her orange colour wasn't exactly ideal for that purpose. Pinkie's gaze met hers. Crap! If Pinkie finds out I turned up nothin', she'll probably shoot me to death! Applejack was starting to get just a bit paranoid now. But then Pinkie only went to her seat at the head of a nearby table. Applejack could hear most of the conversation, but only sat there, pretending not to be listening. If Pinkie's the mob boss, some ponies have got to be holding grudges against her. Grudges make fine ponies do bad things. Like kidnapping your enemy's son. Pinkie began speaking.
"What do you think you're playing at, Octavia? You want your gun supply, then you're gonna have to spill the beans!"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Pinkie. Interactions have gone off without a hitch. Nothing's wrong."
"You know what's wrong! You did it! I know you did!" Pinkie's voice rose into a scream. Octavia responded to this coolly.
"I'm sorry, one of our legitimate businessponies has gotten a bit upset, pay no heed." The patrons of the bar returned to their chatter. Pinkie fumed in silence.
"I'm not doing any more business with you until you give him back."
"Then it looks like our business is over." Octavia and her entourage discreetly left. Then Pinkie began to approach Applejack. Her countenance was one of total hatred. After staring at Applejack for a few minutes, she clapped her hooves. Bodyguards began dragging Applejack towards the door. On the way out, she hit her head on several barstools and a doorframe, eventually blacking out.
Applejack: Private Investigator
Applejack awoke to find herself in what appeared to be Pinkie's basement. She was alone, and all the cheerful decorations Pinkie had put up down there were strangely ominous, making Applejack nervous. She squirmed, ready to run away from this nightmare, when it became apparent that she was bound to a chair. Looking down at herself and her bonds, she noticed that Pinkie had dressed her up in an old wedding dress. Every pony in Ponyville knew Pinkie Pie to be very silly and at times to the point of being obscure, but never did anyone suspect of her of having a serious mental problem, which it appeared that she did have now. But Applejack couldn't fully believe that Pinkie had snapped. Not until she walked into the room wearing a ninja costume. She tiptoed in and bounced across the room, doing cheesy ninja moves at the same time. She appeared to be making some kind of elaborate symbol to her bodyguards, who trailed behind her. Without making a sound, Pinkie gently untied Applejack. Then, Pinkie and her bodyguards began to whale on Applejack. Pinkie began ranting as well.
"Whee-e-e-e-e-ere is he-e-e-e-e-e-e-!" she shrieked. "I want my so-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n!" Applejack had sustained many blows to the head, and became extremely dizzy, but stayed up, reeling with pain.
"He's just my son! Why did they take hi-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-im!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" Blood trickled down Applejack's bruised forehead as she was knocked from bodyguard to bodyguard like a ragdoll. She cried out in agony as her first tooth chipped off, leaving only a bloody hole. Pinkie did a series of martial arts moves that left Applejack on the ground, writhing in pain. Pinkie leaned down to Applejack ear.
"I told you to find him. Why haven't you found him? You've given me nothing. So why should I trust you?" Applejack wanted to get away, but her leg was broken, and Pinkie's bodyguard's would take her down in an instant. Why the cuss did she listen to Granny Smith? Now, she was going to die. Pinkie pulled a gun out of what appeared to be thin air, and held it to Applejack's head. She cocked it, and paused for effect. Applejack didn't want to die. But at this time, it seemed apparent, and so Applejack thought that she'd say, or in her state, splutter out her last words.
"Pinkie, I don't know what you're......" Applejack's wounds pained her, and it hurt to even speak, but she still continued her last ditch attempt at survival.