My name is Octavia Melody. I used to be a spy until being put out to pasture. When that happens, one has nothing. No cash, no credit, no job history. You’re stuck in whatever rural hometown you have left. You do whatever work comes your way and rely on anypony who still talks to you: a faithful but raunchy old friend, a freewheeling daredevil unlucky in love, and your mother too if you’re that desperate. The bottom line is, as long as you are down and out, you aren’t going anywhere.
A crossover with Burn Notice. In cooperation with Captain Unstoppable Prereading by Jake the Army Guy
What the movies do not portray about covert work is how easy it is to become caught up in one’s own hype. I’ve seen it happen, and so myself, I try to stay humble.
Though sometimes, one gets humbled.
I’d arrived in Griffonstone. The contacts I expected to meet, griffons of course, had picked me up from the prearranged meeting place. Griffonstone is not a desirable place to wait on any street corner, and though I’m fortunate enough to be colored to blend with rock architecture, I’m still a pony. The locals had been eyeing me before the gang rolled in.
I had memorized the dossier on these toughs. Any small piece of information could prove useful, so even though I was not expecting anything out of the ordinary, it was good practice to know the intel front-to-back each time.
Even still, just being prepared did not actually stop the deal from going bad.
A bruiser named Gluto was the leader here. Even under his tracksuit, I could tell he’d probably gotten to his position by being the biggest - quite literally.
Gluto Griffon organized crime
I’d been invited into his home by his underlings. That had already put me on edge. Griffons are abrasive, but have strong nesting instincts. An invitation into their home makes things personal. That was a touch closer to him than I had intended this business to get.
Speaking of getting close, they also patted me down for weapons. I hadn’t brought a concealed gun or a knife or anything of the kind, particularly because I expected this.
“Octavia Melody,” he said as I entered the room. It wasn’t a greeting. He said my name as if weighing it, taking measure of me.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I said with a smile, masking my already growing unease. Gluto was not smiling.
“I’ve come to make the final arrangements for the payment,” I went on. “In exchange for your guarantee of security of the Gutter Isles trade routes, we will transfer a sum of-”
“Where’s the money?” he broke in.
“I’m making the arrangements for the transfer,” I reminded him.
“I was told that you had it.”
“No, I’m-”
“Had it with you,” he insisted.
I gestured to my flanks, completely uncovered. Aside from my pink bowtie, I wore nothing. No pockets. “I’m afraid that is not the case. I have come to arrange for the money to be given to you. Who told you that I would be carrying it?”
“You don’t have the money?” he said, frown deepening into a scowl as he walked over to me, flanked by two of his associates. “Where the hell is the money?”
Griffons are very particular about their bits. My ears swiveled as the two griffons who’d led me into the house edged closer to my hindquarters, tightening an increasingly uncomfortable circle.
I raised a hoof. “I’ll get your money, I’m-”
POW
I saw the fist he made, and I saw it coming at my face, managing to duck most of the force. However, there wasn’t much I could do about the attack from behind that knocked me to the floor.
If one can take charge of a fight, there is a certain rhythm, and pace. With training and experience, fighting becomes much easier. However, five-on-one, when you’re already starting from the ground, is long odds. Adding to that, I was still under the impression that this deal could be saved. So I took my lumps, trying to protect my head.
They did eventually let me up. I was half-feigning bad injuries, and still aching pretty well all the same. Even after someone has just gotten through beating you, sometimes the sympathy card still works.
It didn’t today, however. “Take her down to the shore and see if the fish are hungry,” Gluto said. His tone suggested that he didn’t much care, which gave me hope, but also told me that his underlings might take the path of least resistance since they hadn’t been given specific orders.
Two of them pulled my limp self out of the house by my hind legs and took a turn for the cliffs. I focused on catching my breath, so that I didn’t miss my moment. It was a little difficult because they weren’t too careful about dragging me.
By the time I could hear the ocean, dashing the base of the cliffs, I’d gotten my head back together enough to retain an idea. Having a plan is always good, but absent that, muscle memory and instinct will have to do.
The two of them paused at the edge of the cliff. In the second it took them to come to a halt, turn to me, and lean down to take better hold, I knew it was time to take over.
I kicked both hind hooves up to both chins. Due to my awkward position, I couldn’t put much power behind the attack, but it was more than enough to set them off balance.
I kept moving into a reverse somersault and the moment I had all four hooves on the ground again, charged. A headbutt to the torso will likely drive the wind from anyone, and the griffon hit the ground again.
If one must fight, taking advantage of terrain is key. Griffonstone is mostly rocks. Rocks are harder than skulls. The griffon was dazed, but I could already tell he wouldn’t be down long.
The other one had just gotten up. Rather than facing him, I turned away. If he didn’t know to guard against the most basic of earth pony attacks, then he deserved to be bucked in the stomach and sent clear off the edge of the cliff. Maybe he would even get his wind back and wings working before he hit the water.
Wasting no time, I grabbed the prostrate griffon in front of me, yanked half his primary feathers with my teeth, and then, lifting him over my head, pitched him over the edge of the cliff, too.
Do-or-die adrenaline is your friend, but you must pay the price after. I ungracefully stumbled away from the cliff, aching even more now, spitting feathers and heading for the train station in as direct a fashion as I could manage. I’ve taken my fair share of beatings in this line of work, but it never gets easier.
At the train station message desk, I straightened up, adjusted my tie, and smoothed my mane. I’m sure I still looked as battered as I felt, but confidence goes a long way.
“I’d like to send a telegram, please,” I said to the pony behind the desk, who until I had arrived had been reading the newspaper. He looked concerned about whatever had happened to my face, but did not comment, instead just taking down my message.
JOB WENT WRONG STOP PAYMENT DID NOT ARRIVE AS SCHEDULED STOP PLEASE ADVISE STOP
I could have run the morse key myself, but this was his job and I patiently waited for a reply to come back. He did me the courtesy of writing it down, but by the time he had finished the card, I had already interpreted the news. I read the message anyway, because I could hardly believe it.
TAVI THEY PUT YOU OUT TO PASTURE STOP RISKY JUST TO TALK TO YOU STOP SORRY STOP GOOD LUCK VINYL STOP
“There was also a ticket to Ponyville included,” the messenger added.
My head swirled. Well, even more than when I’d been beaten. How had this happened!? They had just kicked me out? Why? And secondary, why bungle my operation? A fake justification to let me go? A manufactured reason to pin to me in order to prove why I should be pastured?
“Send a message back,” I urged. He took it down.
WHO BLOODY PUT ME OUT TO PASTURE STOP HOW DO I GET BACK TO THE BARN SO TO SPEAK STOP NEED INFORMATION AND RESOURCES PLEASE HELP STOP
We waited. I hoped and prayed that the extra words for color would help get my dire situation across and not just waste fees for extra characters in the message.
I worried slightly what the message pony would think of the conversation, but reasoned that “out to pasture” didn’t betray anything about me or my work.
Five minutes passed. No reply.
“Send another one,” I insisted.
Before he could, the telegraph tapped. RECIPIENT LEFT THE OFFICE AND DID NOT LEAVE FORWARDING ADDRESS.
My shoulders slumped. The company was my lifeline. They’d provided my ticket here, and were supposed to get me back to Canterlot after the job was finished. As the griffons had already learned, I had nothing else on me.
But now I was out. I had no idea why, but I did understand that I was in deep trouble. There was no branch of my bank in Griffonstone. I’d purposely not carried any significant amount of money in order to avoid the situation that had just befallen me. Who had told the griffons that I would be carrying the payment? The same person who ordered me kicked out? And again, why!?
“This ticket,” I said, referring to the one my friend(?) Vinyl had sent. “I need to get it changed to Canterlot.”
“It’s nonrefundable, sorry.”
There weren’t a whole lot of better options. In fact, a ticket back to my hometown was actually about the worst option I could imagine. It didn’t get me answers. It didn’t solve my predicament, and stood a fair chance of making it worse.
But...after the day I had experienced, I would rather be on a train going anywhere but here.
Boarding the train, I leaned against the window. As the train began to move, I listlessly watched as the sun set over the passing scenery. My sunglasses were pinched between my head and the glass, but it hurt less than it would have to move my aching body, so I let it be. That left me alone with my thoughts.
In my line of work, I have found that there are some skills which are absolutely vital. I have a good ear for tones and languages. I can read a room. I have a certain amount of dexterity. Not to mention idealism slowly being crushed by an unfeeling world. I also have an unusual ability that seems to put captions in front of my eyes for important people and details. Maybe it’s a mental health issue, but it does come in handy sometimes.
All of these are good skills for what I do.
I’m speaking, of course, about the music industry, where I got my cutie mark. However, there are also many parallels to covert action.
I don’t like the word “spy.” If nothing else, intelligence gathering is only a very small subset of my job and what I do. I’ve never really come up with a better term than spy, however, because I never have to tell anyone the truth about what I do for a living.
Or did, anyway. I had heard that ponies like me were occasionally put out to pasture. But they usually did something to cause it. Not that I’m a paragon of honesty - nopony is in this business - but after wracking my brain I could think of nothing I had done to warrant being kicked out.
I had kept my head down. I had done my job, and done it well. I was good at being a loner and meticulous in my work. That was part of why I had been recruited. Well, and I was willing to do anything to get away from home.
And now, my only option was to ride this train back to Ponyville. Home.
I fell asleep at some point, which only brought me to Ponyville faster. The train pulled into the station on a bright and sunny morning. I’d gotten stiff overnight, and only barely managed to disembark under my own power. The pain wasn’t as sharp as the fresh injuries had been, but the ache had settled into my bones.
I stood on the train platform and blinked blearily at the town in the light of the rising sun. It had been years since I’d visited. The place hadn’t changed that much. I had.
Ponyville Hometown, once
Well, I had a few things to do. I set off.
Down at the bank, they told me they’d never heard of me.
“I created my account in this very building fifteen years ago,” I argued. “Lately I’ve been living in Canterlot and using the branch there, but my account certainly does exist. I accessed it less than a week ago.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Ms. Melody. Could somepony have closed it on your behalf?”
Yes. I ground my teeth. Finding out exactly who had put me out to pasture was now a step harder since they’d removed all my assets. Not to mention, I certainly had no unclassified job history or line of credit to my name.
I would be unprepared if I didn’t have a second, secret bank account. But it was in Canterlot, and I didn’t have the money to get there.
I stepped out of the bank onto the sidewalk, slipping on my sunglasses and letting out a deep sigh through clenched teeth. I had rarely been so close to losing my cool, even when fighting the scum of the earth over the last few years.
Speaking of cool, a suave voice said, “Hey doll face, I appreciate that your beauty takes up so much space that it fills the great outdoors, but I hope I could just pass by you for a moment.”
I realized I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk. I also realized, as I looked around, that I knew the two-tone blue pegasus stallion who’d spoken. “Soarin?” I said in surprise.
Soarin Old friend
He paused, apparently taken aback. He glanced me up and down and a look of realization came to his eyes. “Octavia? Long time, no see! What are you doing here?”
“I’m wondering that myself.”
“You look a little rough,” he said in a quieter, more respectful voice.
“Probably,” I agreed.
He glanced around. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“I would be grateful.”
We headed to a tavern that I knew but had never entered before. I’d left town before I had much interest in drinking. Soarin was apparently a regular, enough to get us a secluded table away from the windows. He ordered a Bahama Mama.
I glanced at the menu - would it kill them to have something healthy, even just a fruit plate or yogurt? - and then ordered a Manehattan.
When our drinks came, Soarin went to the trouble of a toast, though informally, not even giving a speech, just a quick clink of glasses.
I’d first met Soarin in Canterlot, years ago, and also in a couple other locales around the world. He’d been a respected member of the Wonderbolts, the aerial demonstration team, but before that he was also an accomplished member of special forces. Joining the Wonderbolts late in his career had been him taking a relaxing job.
We’d worked together, peripherally, a time or two on certain operations. I couldn’t exactly call him a close friend, but he was a known quantity for me, and perhaps the closest thing I had to an associate in Ponyville. I just hadn’t been expecting him.
“So what are you doing here?” I asked.
“I retired a few years back and decided to settle down and live the slow life.” He took a sip of his drink.
“Slow life? In Ponyville? You do realize it’s the monster attack capital of Equestria, right?”
He grinned. “That’s why it’s also the drinking capital of Equestria, and the swooning-mares-in-need-of-comfort capital of Equestria.”
I shook my head. “I suppose that’s why you’re also comfortable calling mares on the street ‘doll face.’ As if their reactions to that aren’t as scary in comparison to monsters.”
“Hey, I’ve gotten slapped a few times.” He shrugged. “Frankly, knowing you, I’m a little surprised you weren’t one of them.”
He cocked his head and his flippant attitude pulled back for a moment, leaving the calculating military stallion I knew underneath. “So what’s going on with you?”
He could have pointed out my bruises, or my attitude, or the fact that I was in Ponyville. But he didn’t, just let me talk.
I slowly worked through the events of the past day as we both drank. I had an empty stomach, but the whiskey in my drink made things hurt a little less.
In any other situation, I probably would have prioritized secrecy. But the company had put me out to pasture, so clearly they didn’t care about me any more. I trusted Soarin more than them now.
“So there it is,” I finished. “I’ve got nothing. I can maybe get to Canterlot and get this sorted out, but I’m going to need to get a few things in order first.”
Soarin hesitated, but then said, “I’m a little broke, but I can loan you the money for a ticket.”
I almost took him up on it. But no. Now that I’d had some time to think, rushing into things might not be in my best interest. “I need to take stock. I need a place to stay, and money, and some time to gather information and put together a plan. Instead of a loan, can you help me with a job?”
“Hmm.” Soarin sat back in his chair. “You know, I did hear about something from my friend, Spoiled Milk. She’s having a little tiff with her husband, Filthy Rich. He’s the owner of Barnyard Bargains.”
“I already don’t like the sound of this,” I replied. I knew about Barnyard Bargains. It was the biggest store in Ponyville, even when I was still here. But more to the point, I really didn’t want to get involved in marriage troubles. I already knew too much about that from, er, childhood experience.
“Well, it should be low-threat. You won’t need to carry a piece or anything,” Soarin said. “But if you do want one, I know a guy.”
The front door of the tavern opened. I’d been monitoring traffic out of the corner of my eye, and now nearly turned to stare. I could hardly help myself. The mare who walked in was every color of the rainbow and she had an aura of being the center of attention on top of that.
It seemed she was a regular here, too, and came over to our table. “Soarin,” she said, and glanced at me. “Who’s this?”
I knew who she was, though we’d never met before. A reputation like Rainbow Dash got around.
“She’s an old friend,” Soarin replied, introducing me.
“An old friend? Of Soarin’s?” Rainbow grinned. “Are you a spy?”
Rainbow Dash Not funny
Soarin laughed. I didn’t. Rainbow joined us at the table.
“So my guy,” said Soarin, continuing the conversation to me from earlier. “If you ever need a weapon, he can get you anything. He’ll keep quiet about it, too, won’t tell anyone anything.”
“And?” I said. It seemed slightly strange that he would promote somepony when I hadn’t asked.
“What ‘and?’ The guy is rock solid! Steady as they come! Also, his sister might be easy on the eyes and makes the best apple pie you’ll ever have.”
“There it is,” Rainbow chuckled. She apparently knew Soarin at least as well as I did. “Keep settling for random sugar mamas, because that mare will never settle for you.”
The three of us spent the rest of the evening discussing my situation. Soarin seemed to trust Rainbow, even as the two of them continually traded verbal jabs in a buddy-buddy sort of way. That didn’t make her automatically trustworthy in my book, but as I had already decided, there wasn’t much I had to lose. What was the company going to do - put me out to pasture more?
When one is on the run, a safehouse is invaluable. But when one is back in her hometown with no money, she takes what she can get.
Such as the loft above the turnipery.
Hayseed - whom I didn’t know, but vaguely recalled his family from when I still lived in town - showed me around. The loft was small, being just the empty space beneath the peaked roof of the barn. And noisy, from the machinery running downstairs processing turnips. And smelly, from the turnip detritus.
He led me to the top of the stairs and unlocked the room. “It ain’t much.”
I thought he was going to say “but…” He didn’t.
He was also correct. It wasn’t much.
“And what would you charge for rent?” I asked.
“Well...ain’t nobody ever wanted to rent it before. He shrugged. “Fifty bits a week?”
Soarin had told me he was mostly broke, but had the leeway to loan me fifty bits. I now hoofed it over to Hayseed.
Hayseed The landlord
After that expenditure, I was back to square one. Well, to be more accurate, square none. I’d never been so broke. It was thoroughly humbling. I’d never really thought about money before, and now every decision I made had to revolve around it.
So I was about to go talk to the estranged wife of Ponyville’s richest citizen.
I didn’t know how Soarin came to know Spoiled Rich née Milk. I could guess, though. She liked suave ex-military ponies. He liked sugar mamas. It was, I might say, a pattern I had seen before.
I was fortunate that Spoiled Milk was not a type of pony I had often seen before. I’ve run into all sorts of deplorables in my time, but small-town-rich-bitch is not a common one. Though, as I soon realized, I’d much rather deal with diamond dog gangsters.
Soarin had given me the address and I knocked on the door. It was a mansion. That doesn’t mean a lot by Ponyville standards, but it was still measurably higher-rent than most of the thatched-roof cottages around town.
Spoiled Milk opened the door. I didn’t know her, but sometimes you can just tell. She was a pastel earth pony with a decided permanent sneer.
“Good morning, ma’am. Soarin told me that I may be able to offer you some help with a problem.”
“Hmmf. Well, come in.”
The house, while large, wasn’t well furnished. There were expensive things, but not a lot of them. Given what Soarin had told me, Spoiled Milk was apparently the one to move out with the estrangement.
“Could you tell me a little bit more about the situation?” I asked.
She looked me up and down. I’d done my best to minimize my lingering injuries. Rainbow Dash had given me a free shower by pulling a cloud down to kick water out of it over my head. I’d made sure my tie was straight. Really, I didn’t look or smell too bad today. Overseas, I’d sometimes been forced to show up to business meetings looking worse.
“I want my diamond brooch,” she said. “My husband is holding it hostage in exchange for our daughter.”
“He wants custody of your daughter?”
“He’s such a pig. I can’t believe he would do this.”
She had paused for the barest fraction of a second before replying. I barely caught it. Her attitude in the few moments since I’d met her had already given me the impression that I wouldn’t be getting the full story, and this confirmed it.
“Is your daughter home?” I asked.
“No, Diamond Tiara is out somewhere. Soarin told me you were coming here.”
“Okay, this diamond brooch. Can you tell me more about it? What does it look like? Where I should search first?”
“You can’t miss it; it’s nearly the size of a baseball. Filthy probably hasn’t bothered to move it out of our bedroom.”
Filthy - Mr. Rich - her husband, I mentally corrected.
“I used to wear it all the time, to parties and galas, sometimes even just out in town,” she went on. “Those were the days. He gave it to me back when...well, I can’t get through to him now.”
I could actually see her nose turn up again as her attitude shifted.
“What did he say when you asked him for it?”
“I told you - he wants Diamond Tiara.”
With a name like that, I could definitely see where the filly’s mother’s priorities lay.
“Alright,” I said. “How much is this worth to you?”
She gave me a look remarkably like Hayseed when asked for a price. “I don’t know, five hundred bits?”
Maybe I should be a little more proactive and attempt to set prices myself. At any rate, I couldn’t afford to be too choosy. “Alright, but I’ll need half up front.”
Her nose started to turn up again, but she did get out her pocketbook and pay me.
Spoiled Milk The client
I headed straight over to Filthy Rich’s house. He was the proprietor of Barnyard Bargains, the biggest store in Ponyville and selling just about anything. Spoiled Milk told me that he didn’t actually work at the store anymore, just came in occasionally to check up.
I walked up to Filthy Rich's front gate. Now this was a mansion. It had manicured topiaries and an ornamental wall and the works. It was probably the biggest, nicest residence in town, save for maybe the crystal palace that had replaced the library.
That change was weird for me, by the way, having been out of town for a couple of years.
I knocked on the door and a butler opened it. I told him, “I’m here to see Mr. Rich about a custody matter regarding his daughter.”
I was led through the house - even more impressive from the inside - and out back to a patio and pool.
A stallion with a salt-and-pepper mane lay on a lounger. His cutie mark was bags of money. His tie had a money sign on it. Yes, this was Mr. Filthy Rich.
There were a couple of fillies in the pool, all of them decades younger than him. Even younger than me. I’ve read that some of the noble ponies a few centuries ago used to have ornamental garden hermits as a passing fashion. The modern day equivalent was apparently ornamental pool girls. Maybe this explained why Rich was broken up with his wife.
The butler introduced me. “Ms. Octavia to see you, sir.”
“Thank you, Garcon.” Rich gestured to the lounger next to him and I sat, though he made no effort to get up from his recline.
I had to convince him to give me the brooch. However, it was risky. If he didn’t give it to me, and I had to...acquire it some other way, then talking to him first would make me an automatic suspect.
I may not have been quite as nubile as the folicking pool girls, but in terms of laying charm on older stallions I liked to think I could hold my own, when I had to. I removed my sunglasses and smiled - with my eyes, too - and said, “Mr. Rich, thank you for hosting me today. I wish I had come with a better topic of conversation, but I’ll do my best to make this as quick as possible.”
“What custody issue does Spoiled want to debate now?” he asked, tone appropriately poolside, but somewhat weary.
“It’s about her diamond brooch, in relation to the custody.”
“I kept every receipt of everything I ever bought, and in the proceedings for our pending divorce, all the jewelry was to go to me.”
He thought of the brooch as his property, and had a court ruling to that effect. Convincing him to give it up just got harder.
I was about to speak again when the fillies began to get out of the pool. One of them came over and hugged Rich’s neck. “Thanks for letting me use the pool, daddy.”
“It’s no trouble, Diamond.” He cocked his head. “I know you have homework, so you and your friends shouldn’t delay too long.”
She mock-pouted, but headed for the house. I saw that her cutie mark was a diamond tiara.
Diamond Tiara The daughter
I didn’t let it show on my face, but felt quietly embarrassed at my earlier assumption.
“It’s not even my week for custody, but my daughter still hangs out here,” Rich said to me. He gave a what-can-you-do shrug.
Well, at least my instincts about Spoiled Milk not being up front had been correct - I hadn’t gotten the whole story. I wondered what my next course of action was, and how I was going to morally justify it to myself. Was I going to break into someone’s house and steal jewelry for a mere two hundred and fifty bits? It wasn’t as if I hadn’t done more for less in my career, but with the half-up-front payment, I at least had some time to think about it.
“So what was this about the brooch? And the custody?” he asked.
“Spoiled Milk believed that it belonged to her, and implied that it was somehow related to the custody deal,” I explained. It would have been tough to wiggle out of so direct a question, and he might yet say something to reduce my sympathies for him.
“If you aren’t privy to details of the arrangement, then I take it you aren’t here from the lawyer’s office,” he said. “What are you, some kind of private facilitator?”
“A word for it, I suppose. But that also means I don’t have to do things on the books.” I decided to dangle that detail, to see what he would say.
“How much is the bitch paying you?”
Again, I had a pocket full of bits at the moment, but that wasn’t going to last forever. “Five hundred.”
He laughed out loud. “You know that brooch is worth almost twenty thousand? Hell, I might just give it to you and have you go sell it just to spite her.”
I thought about it.
“Tell you what,” he said. “I actually have something private I needed done, something off the books. Why don’t we use it as an audition, to decide if I give you the brooch?”
“I’d need something up front.”
“You didn’t even ask what the job was.” He nodded. “Alright, come with me.”
I followed him into the house, to his office. There was a folder lying on the desk with Flim Flam Grand Plan written on it in bold letters.
“Two stallions stopped by the other day with a business proposal,” he said, gesturing me to a seat opposite his desk. We sat, and he gave me the folder.
I glanced at the documents inside. Seed Money to Open a Satellite Store.
“Now, the fellows that brought it to me, Flim and Flam, are…” He paused, and then just came out with it. “...rumored con artists. I’d be willing to pay for definitive proof that this either is or isn’t a scam they’re trying to sell me. What are your rates?”
Business investigation wasn’t exactly what I had been picturing, but it seemed low-threat. Emboldened by my deal with Spoiled Milk, I proposed, “One thousand. Half up front”
I saw a playful look in his eyes. “That’s more than your job for Spoiled. Do you consider this more difficult than the job she gave you?”
I did my best to match his smile. “Do you consider yourself more generous than her?”
He laughed. “A thousand it is.”
Filthy Rich Also a client
He grabbed a piece of monogrammed stationery from a pad on his desk and wrote out the receipt. I hadn’t expected or asked him to do it, but I suppose he really was a businesspony.
He let me keep the folder of documents and I said I would get right to work. I would, certainly, but the five hundred bits he gave me, plus the payment from Spoiled Milk, would go a long way towards getting me set up for my real goal: to figure out why the company had kicked me out.
Garcon the butler let me out of the house. I headed back towards my meager base of operations. It wasn’t much, as Hayseed had said, but I’d stayed in literal holes in some particularly grim places before.
I was passing a monstrous purple building built into the hills near the outskirts of town, wondering idly what it could be and when it had been built, when Rainbow Dash appeared, spiraling down from a cloud overhead. “Hey Octavia, I’m glad I saw you. You need money, right? Maybe you can help me with something.”
My my, the jobs were piling up. Maybe my luck was finally beginning to turn around. “What did you have in mind?”
“So, I’m a guest lecturer at the School of Friendship.” She gestured at the building.
Oh, so this was the School of Friendship. I’d heard of it, of course, but hadn’t paid much attention to anything else about goings-on in Ponyville.
“I just happened to be scheduled on a day when we were having the teacher auditor in.” She groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m not even a real teacher, but it’s such a pain in the ass to get inspected. I swear, I’d almost rather go for an ass inspection.”
“And what do you expect me to do?”
“Well, you’re good at the whole secret identity thing, right? Think you can fake being a teacher?”
“For how much?”
“Fifty bits a day.”
I shook my head. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I do need money, but for that amount can’t afford to spend a whole day off the other jobs I’m working.”
“Ugh. Fine. I just wish it didn’t have to be such a pain. The inspector is always asking me to ‘curb my over-enthusiastic outbursts’ and going on about ‘professionalism.’”
The inspector likely had a point, I thought, but didn’t say.
I was just about to disengage from the conversation, when Rainbow suddenly curtailed it for me, glancing over my shoulder in sudden distaste. I heard somepony’s hooves approaching.
“Ms. Dash, I wouldn’t keep asking you to curb your over-enthusiastic outbursts and going on about professionalism if you didn’t need lifestyle improvements. Why, you’re even hanging out with my daughter now.”
My hackles went up in sheer panic. I turned my head, even as I dreaded seeing the face that went with the voice. “Mum?”
Standing in front of the school, I faced down my mother for the first time in years. She hadn’t changed much, still wearing that purple suit jacket and disapproving look at the sight of me.
Rainbow Dash snickered at my predicament and flew away to the school.
“Well Octavia, what are you doing back in town?” my mother asked.
“I’m just back for a few days,” I said, mostly truthfully.
“You didn’t even come see me.”
“The visit isn’t over yet, mum.”
“And another thing, where did you pick up that ridiculous accent?”
The Canterlot School of Subterfuge. It was partially to make me sound sophisticated, and partially to disguise where I was born. I changed the subject, because I didn't need to see her reaction if she found out I now had the secondary ability to spell words with extraneous “u”s, such as colour.
“I’m in the middle of a job right now, but I-” I grit my teeth “-I promise that I will visit you before I leave town.”
“That won’t be good enough, I’m afraid.”
“Well, what do you want?” I snapped.
“Come have dinner with me tonight,” she said, slightly surprising me that she actually had a response to my intended-rhetorical question. Though, I probably should have expected that from her. Always prepared. Always in control. Dad couldn’t take it, not that he was any great stallion anyway. I only missed him because when he was gone, all her attention was focused on me. I also left town as soon as I could.
“I’m not sure I’m available tonight,” I said.
“Well, what else do you have going on?”
I could either tell her what I was doing, or cave. I sighed. “What time?”
She actually let me go, after talking at me for a few more minutes about arrangements for the evening. Though maybe, as Rainbow had told me, she needed to get to her job inspecting the school.
I escaped. Not my proudest moment, running from my own mother, but I had faced changeling feelings-dealers that I would rather see sooner than her. There was a reason I hadn’t returned to Ponyville all these years.
Shaking off the encounter and heading back for the center of town, I studied the file Mr. Rich had given me. On initial inspection, I agreed with his gut feeling that the Flim Flam brothers were out to scam him. Their proposal was just too...good. Not only too good to be true, but just too polished and slick in general. Someone had clearly spent a lot of time thinking about this paperwork, how it would look, and how it could be convincing.
Granted, maybe they just had really good advertising. That’s why I did my best to operate on facts, rather than opinions. I trusted my gut feeling, but only if I didn’t have better information. My job involved much more research than the average viewer of spy movies would believe. For ponies like me, information is the most valuable resource.
I was almost to the library to conduct said research when I realized that it didn’t exist anymore. How was I supposed to find a new library if I didn’t know where I could go to look up information?
However, on the front of the castle, I found a sign. Castle of Friendship. And then, in smaller letters below it, another sign. And library. Oh good.
The building was small for a castle, but Princess Twilight didn't live there anymore. It seemed a nice place, made of sparkling crystal. No matter; it could have been a pigsty as long as it had reference books.
Libraries are fantastic places. Not only are they educational, but they’re free, and one can kill as much time as she likes there. In addition, they’re quiet, and it’s generally easy to spot people who don’t belong.
Such as the Flim Flam brothers, who I noticed immediately as I entered the building. They had helpfully put a picture of themselves on the logo of their business proposal. They were a tall pair of unicorns wearing striped vests and boater hats.
Flim & Flam The businessponies
Meeting them like this mucked with what I had intended to do, gathering information before going to see them. If I simply ignored them while I researched, only to confront them later, they might be suspicious. It was a difficult decision, but instead I pressed forward with the inklings of a plan as I walked up to them. They were huddled over a few economics textbooks as I approached.
“Good afternoon, gentlecolts.” I flashed the folder. “I would like to talk to you about your business proposal.”
In perfect coordination, the brothers, who were clearly twins, glanced at each other before turning back to me with wide smiles.
“The name’s Flam, ma’am,” said the one on the left.
“My brother’s him, my name’s Flim,” said the one on the right
“And how can we be of assistance?” they chorused, both of them shaking my forehooves simultaneously.
A greeting tells you a lot about a pony. These two had clearly rehearsed this. They’d thought long and hard about how ponies saw them and how to put a little razzle dazzle into things. Well, another could play at that game.
“My name’s C. Sharp,” I said, dusting off an old cover identity. I nodded to one of the library’s meeting rooms. “Could we talk privately, gentlecolts? I have a few questions about this proposal.”
They were happy to oblige me and the three of us sat down at the meeting room table, Flam closing the door with his magic.
I laid the folder out in front of me for easy reference. “First off, I was wondering if this was all-exclusive of the contract, or if there were any supplementaries?”
“This is everything. We wanted to make it as easy as possible,” Flim said smoothly.
I nodded. “So in your plan to open a Barnyard Bargains satellite store, were you aware how many times in the past Mr. Rich has been solicited by others to grant franchise rights?”
“Well, it’s not about those who came before, it’s about the businessponies like us who can get the job done now,” said Flam.
“We’ve got more business qualifications than anypony in the business,” said Flim.
“Guaranteed!” they chorused.
“Such as?” I asked, folding my hooves on the table and fixing the two of them with a stare.
They actually sang.
“Well little lady, we’ve got your opportunity.”
“To expand to new communities.”
“To sell goods and commodities.”
“And every single kind of oddity.”
They stood up and were really getting into the pitch.
“Two stores open in Manehattan-”
“-sale volume up in reaction.”
“Fillydelphia hosts us too-”
“-one store open, shiny and new.”
“Breaking ground in Baltimare-”
“-brand new store opening there.”
“Saddle Arabia loves us most-
“-four stores there, not to boast.”
“Flagship store’s in Trottingham-
“-it’s where we made our name, Flim and Flam.”
They struck a pose. I have to admit, I was momentarily swayed by the presentation. I can’t help it; ponies are naturally susceptible to song and dance. I’d used the tactic myself.
Getting ahold of myself, I asked, “So with a series of successful businesses under your own name, the Flim Flam Brothers Emporium, why would you like to license the Barnyard Bargains brand?”
“We were thinking how to sell more stuff,” said Flim. “And then it came to us, why not sell entire stores?”
“Filthy Rich has enough on his plate right now,” said Flam. “We’ll use our extensive network to set up a new store, and all he has to do is pay the rights to put the Barnyard Bargains name on it, and in return receives a share of the profits.”
“Tell me about your network,” I said. “If I counted correctly, you have eight stores, half of which are in Saddle Arabia.”
“That’s correct. We leverage foreign socioeconomics to ensure everypony gets the best prices,” said Flim.
“Your stores in Saddle Arabia are also branded as the Flim Flam Brothers Emporium?” I said, glancing at the paperwork.
“And they’re the finest-quality Equestrian-style emporiums in the country!” replied Flam.
I had been in Saddle Arabia only a few weeks ago, and there hadn’t been any business of the kind, much less four. But I’d already been pretty sure Flim and Flam were just out to make a quick load of bits and the franchise they were supposedly opening would be worth less than the paper on which this proposal was printed.
But I didn’t say that. Instead, I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “That’s good. That’s what I wanted to hear. I hope you gentlecolts might be open to a different type of business.”
They caught my shift in tone, but were still nodding and smiling. “Certainly, we could alter the deal if-”
“No, I’m not interested in Mr. Rich’s deal. I’m talking about for me.”
Now they paused. “Oh, you are not his representative?” said Flim.
“Then how did you come into possession of the very exclusive offer that we created for him?” asked Flam.
“Oh, I found it...lying around,” I said, deliberately. “But fortunately, you two are exactly the kind of ponies I was hoping to meet. You see, I need the use of a network.”
The two of them traded glances and then matched my posture, leaning a little closer and talking a little quieter. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well you see, I have quite a lot of product that needs to be transported, distributed, and sold. It’s the type of thing that could easily be...added to a regular shipment. Ponies all over the world would be quite interested in what I sell. And the profits are quite attractive.”
“Well, Miss C. Sharp...as we’ve shifted to the service industry, we may not have quite the business model you seek,” said Flam.
“Our business caters to more...traditional products,” added Flim. Both of them started to lean back from the table.
I leaned forward into the space they were vacating and touched both of their hooves. “You don’t understand. I’ve worked very hard to find a partner for this, and I think your extensive network of stores makes you two perfect. If you want, we can go to a more secure location and I can lay out exactly what I’m asking, just so there are no misunderstandings. Like the last partnership I attempted, who claimed to be in the logistics industry, but his company was all a shell and in actuality was one donkey with a pair of saddlebags. I very much dislike cleaning up messes like that. Like my name, you’ll find that I can be very sharp sometimes. So having said that, I hope you can appreciate my urgent interest in your network of stores.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to have to do cleanups, would we?” said Flam. He grinned weakly. He and his brother were still edging towards the door.
“Why don’t we meet again soon?” I said. “I’d like to get a tour of one of your stores.”
“Well, we’ll see if we can pencil you in,” said Flim.
“Busy busy,” added Flam. They both got up and hurried out the door.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. Well, that went better than expected. I hadn’t thought I would get this job knocked out in just one afternoon.
Collecting the paperwork, I walked out of the meeting room. I checked the nearby wall clock. I had enough time to get back to the Rich house, report in, and maybe even pick up the diamond brooch and return it before I had to be at my mother’s house.
I set off at a trot, heading back to the mansion. Passing through the front gates, I pulled up short before reaching the front door. It was slightly open.
Frowning, I cautiously pushed it wider, revealing that the frame was splintered as if somepony had bucked it open. There was a broken vase on the foyer floor.
Despite the damage, I heard not a sound. Where was the butler? Where was anypony?
As I stealthily made my way into the Rich house, I still didn’t see any indication that anypony was home.
There was a red stain on the kitchen floor. I didn’t have time to stop and investigate, having not yet finished checking the rest of the house. There was a knife in the hall, its tip stuck in the hardwood floor. It matched a missing one from the block on the kitchen counter. Had somepony tried to defend themself? I still hadn't encountered anypony. I hadn’t been gone that long, so I had expected Rich to still be home. And the butler, of course. How many more staff were there? I wondered about Diamond Tiara and her friends.
I finished looking around the first floor and glanced out the window. There was nopony outside near the pool. Starting up the stairs, a board creaked under my hoof and I heard a faint gasp.
“Diamond Tiara?” I called.
A long moment passed. “W-who are you?” she replied.
Locating her voice, I finished climbing the stairs and stood in front of her closed bedroom door. “My name is Octavia. I met with your father earlier today. Where is he?”
“They t-took him.”
“Who took him?”
“I don’t know.” I heard her sniff loudly, and then she began to sob.
I needed to find him so I could finish the job he’d given me, and I needed to do that so I could finish the job his wife had given me. I needed to do all this because I needed money to get things in order so I could figure out how and why I had been put out to pasture.
Diamond’s crying was starting to interrupt my thinking.
I walked closer to her door and knocked. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
“What-” She paused, apparently getting herself under control. “What do you want?”
“I’m going to need to know everything that happened if I’m going to find your father.”
She jerked the door open. “You’re going to find him!?”
Now that the door was open and we were face to face, I saw that she wore too much makeup for a filly, and crying had only caused it to run.
“That’s right.” I wasn’t sure how she had gone from scared to sad to urgent in the course of thirty seconds. Teenage hormones, perhaps. I’d never been good with teenagers, even when I was one. Maybe that was why I was the one who felt awkward in this conversation.
“I’ll need to know whatever you can tell me,” I prompted. “What did you see? What did you hear? Other senses?”
“It...it started when the front door slammed open,” she said, haltingly, as her eyes went to the floor. “There were some loud voices, and fighting. I heard my father ask what was going on. I almost went downstairs. If I had…”
She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I went to the window, and saw four stallions dragging my father away.”
“What about the butler, Garcon?”
“Huh?” She looked at me. “I don’t know.”
“Do you know of anypony who would want to hurt your father?”
“No.” She seemed emphatic.
“Did they say what they sought? Money? Did they ask about you?”
“No.”
Flim and Flam didn’t strike me as having enough spine to do anything like this, not to mention not having enough time to put it together after their meeting with me.
I got Diamond to describe the ponies who took her father. She hadn’t stared out the window too long, and had only seen their backs, anyway, but a basic overview of coats and characteristics was better than nothing.
“I’m going to find the ponies who did this,” I said.
“But…” she seemed lost, looking at my face, but not really focusing, as if thinking too hard. “Why? Who are you?”
Your father owes me money, would probably not come off well in this situation. Little as I cared for some rich girl’s feelings, I was at least tact-aware. “I’m a business associate, and there are no police in Ponyville to handle something like this.”
I couldn’t believe that was still the case after I had been gone so long, but had bothered to check just in case when I got back in town. It was the monster attack capital of Equestria, after all, so crime was not even an afterthought.
She sniffed. “What am I going to do?”
“You can go to your mother, can’t you? Isn’t it her week for custody anyway?”
“Ugh. Fine.” She turned and grabbed a backpack from where it lay on the floor. I stepped out of the doorway to let her exit the room. As she passed me, she paused. “Just...hurry, okay? I’ll get daddy to give you a reward.”
My my, that made the third member of their family that had commissioned me today.
Diamond Tiara Yet another client
“One more question. Do you have any tomato juice in the house?”
She gave me an odd look. “No, why?”
I thought again about the red stain in the kitchen.
I saw her out of the house and over to her mother’s. It didn’t sit right with me leaving her alone, but if whoever took her father hadn’t even bothered to glance around the rest of the house, then clearly they didn’t care too much about Diamond Tiara. At any rate, I couldn’t be in two places at once. After dropping her off, I headed for Soarin’s place.
He’d told me where to find him, but I was slightly surprised what awaited me when I knocked on the door of a small house on the outskirts of town. I had been under the impression that he was living the high life on whatever bachelorette would take him in. Maybe this was just his in-between pad.
Soarin greeted me. “Hey, sorry about the place,” he said, a trace of embarrassment on his face.
The house, while relatively clean, was essentially empty. No tables, no bookshelves. There was a lawn chair and a pool inflatable in front of the TV. Also, some alcohol.
“Jeeze, I think Octavia is actually doing better living above a turnip processing barn,” quipped Rainbow, who was already there. Apparently her day of teaching was done. To Soarin, she said, “Weren’t you staying with that heiress, whatshername?”
“We’re taking a break,” Soarin muttered.
“Well, good to have a backup safehouse,” I said charitably. “It’s not even above a turnip factory. I thought you said you were broke, Soarin.”
“Your broke and my broke are two different things. Look, I’m crazy enough to deal with burned spies all day long, but taking on the national revenue service, hell no. Why do you think this is where I call home? Just because I was a little dishonest on some tax forms.”
Soarin gestured around. “I mean, you are welcome to say, if you want. There’s space, seeing as the only rooms I use are the living room, bedroom, and the hot tub room.”
“I’ve already paid the rent at the turnip barn,” I replied, neutrally.
Soarin had a seat. “So what can I do for you today? How’s it going with Spoiled Milk?”
“Your first job after getting put out to pasture was dealing with Spoiled Milk?” said Rainbow. “Wow, being pasture-ized must be terrible.”
Jokes at my expense do not bother me, or at least they usually don’t. I ignored Rainbow and briefly explained what had taken place at the Rich house. That got both of their attention. I finished with the descriptions of the stallions Diamond Tiara had seen.
“Hmm, I might have heard of a few of those guys,” Soarin said. He glanced at Rainbow, who was sprawled across the inflatable pool ring in the living room. “You remember that one scrap we got into back when we tried dating?”
“You aren’t dating?” I asked. As close as they seemed, I had thought so.
“This idiot?” both of them said simultaneously. They glanced at each other, and then laughed.
“No,” said Soarin, “but we do share certain mutual interests.”
“Yeah, I’m interested in seeing him fail at actual love,” Rainbow said.
“Oh, ouch, it’s not like you’re doing so hot yourself.”
“At least one of us doesn’t get thrown out of Sweet Apple Acres on sight.”
“Bitch.”
“Ass.”
“We really need to get you a girlfriend, Soarin.”
“You volunteering for another round?”
“You think I could play housewife? “
“Point taken.”
I broke in. “I’m sorry, does this catty bickering help?”
“Sure it does,” said Soarin.
“Yeah, it’s a great teambuilding exercise,” said Rainbow.
They both said it with straight faces.
Rainbow, Soarin “Bitch,” “Ass”
I shook my head. “I meant does this catty bickering get us closer to the ponies who might have taken Filthy Rich?”
“We’ll have to work some contacts,” said Soarin. “If we get lucky, we can maybe locate their hidey hole and hit them tonight.”
He started to get up. “Anyway, Octavia, while you’re here, can I get you something?”
The two of them were both drinking some cheap local brew. I wasn’t thirsty, but did realize that I hadn’t eaten all day.
“I am hungry,” I allowed.
“What do you want?”
“Do you have any yogurt?”
An old fallback of mine, the closest thing I had to comfort food. Yogurt is good for you. It has protein, vitamins, and other essential nutrition. It doesn’t require any preparation. It tastes good. It’s available all over the world. It wasn’t a full meal, but I thought I would be much more likely to find only snacks in Soarin’s house anyway.
“Sure, it’s in the fridge,” Soarin replied.
The kitchen was just off the living room and just as barren. Paper plates filled the trash bin. A drawer was slightly open revealing plastic forks and knives. I opened the refrigerator door.
“These are jello shots,” I said.
“What’s the difference?”
Aside from the not-yogurt, there was nothing in the fridge but cheap booze and hot sauce. I sighed and came back out of the kitchen. “Nevermind. I’ll pick some up tonight...tonight! Oh blimey, I forgot! I need to go to dinner with my mother and I’m going to be late!”
I spun in place, heading for the door. There was a bottle of wine sitting there on the floor, so I grabbed it. “I need this!” I ran out.
It’s fortunate that wine isn’t carbonated, because I galloped all the way to my mother’s house. I even made it with seconds to spare before six o’clock, though my mother was already opening the front door and wearing a disapproving look. Well, it wasn’t as if she ever had any other expression, or not that I had ever seen.
“So you came.”
“Yes, you did invite me.”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you to come, Octavia, this is your home, too.”
House, maybe, if she actually left it to me in her will. Home...well, I hadn’t lived there in years, nor did I want to.
She stood back from the door to let me in. She cast a sideways look at the wine bottle, but didn’t say anything. I had no idea what brand it was, but trusted Soarin. Sure, his idea of good booze was “cheap,” but if this was in an actual glass bottle, then he must have picked something decent.
“What were you doing associating with Rainbow Dash?” my mother asked.
It wasn’t as if I would be tarnishing Rainbow’s reputation with my mother any further by telling her the truth. “She tried to pay me to take over for her at the school.”
As it turned out, that was a great thing to say, because it was all my mother talked about for the next hour over dinner. If she knew that I wasn’t paying attention to her monologue, she at least didn’t stop and scold me for it.
You know, I used to disdain times like this when she used to talk at me, but as I sat there decided it was certainly better than me having to be engaged in the conversation.
I just made sure her glass was full of wine and thought about my life predicament.
My mother is not a standout cook, but she wouldn’t let herself be bad. It was also the first home-cooked meal I’d had since a few years before when I’d saved the life of a Saddle Arabian emir and he’d insisted I join him for dinner, even if it was his palace chef doing the actual cooking.
So I’d done a lot of cooking for myself. I wouldn’t let myself be bad at it, either, because sometimes the alternative had literally been eating bugs.
I had been uninterestedly monitoring the conversation as it shifted to my mother’s recent health problems - which I thought were mostly in her head - the suspicious neighbor, and a zebra couple who had moved into town who were also suspicious.
After our plates had been empty for an hour or so, the wine ran out. Remarkably, my mother took that as a natural stopping point of the conversation.
“You can stay in your old bedroom,” she said.
The direct comment brought me out of my haze, signaling that I had to start responding again. “Actually mum, I have a place. They’re expecting me.”
Hayseed probably didn’t care either way, but I had paid him.
At the same time, I did kind of want to see my old bedroom. Was it exactly how I had left it? But if I asked, she would surely use it as leverage.
Instead, I excused myself to use the restroom. I did, in fact, but on the way back detoured to my bedroom.
The sign with my name that I’d made in school art class was still there. How long had it been? I quietly opened the door.
I was almost expecting the smell of dust, but no, she wouldn’t allow that. The room was exactly as I had left it, though perhaps a little neater. It also seemed a little smaller than I remembered.
My eyes fell on the cello case leaning against the wall. The strongest sense yet of unwanted homesickness fell on me. I shook my head and closed the door. No, both of us could be stubborn about this.
I was nearly back to the dining room and considering how I could end the night early when there came a sudden ringing of the doorbell.
My mother answered the knock at the door to find Soarin there.
“Good evening, Ms. Harshwhinny,” he said. “You’re looking well tonight. I hope I could speak with your daughter.”
“And what business do you have with her, Mr. Soarin?”
Soarin wasn’t afraid of anything that I knew of. He didn’t cringe in front of my mother’s glare, but he did notably choose his words carefully. “She asked me to help her find a friend of hers.”
I managed to intercept them before the conversation went any further. “Ah, good, you're here, Soarin. Mum, I have to go, this could be important. Thank you for dinner.”
She caught me by the shoulder as I started to walk past her. “When will I see you again?”
“I don’t know, mum.”
She stared at me for a long moment, and then pulled me into a hug. Of all close-combat moves, I should have expected it, but felt as surprised as a hooked fish and just as limp as one in her embrace.
She still smelled exactly like I remembered. Her jacket still used the same brand of starch. Her mane tickled my nose as it always had.
She pulled back after a moment. “It was good to see you, Octavia. Don’t be a stranger. I will see you tomorrow.”
An order, not a request. I nodded stiffly and followed Soarin out of the house.
“Jeeze, she never changes,” Soarin muttered as we walked away.
I looked at him sharply. “Exactly where did you meet her before?”
“Whoa!“ he lifted a hoof. “I know I have a certain reputation, but I assure you I have never had relations with your mother. Cross my heart. She used to do military inspections in Canterlot and the unit I was with passed under her illustrious gaze a time or two.“
I relaxed. I hadn't been accusing him, but it did put my mind at ease to hear him deny it anyway.
Rainbow was waiting a block away and fell in pace with us. Unlike Soarin, she hovered instead of walked with me. Maybe that was one reason my mother was always gouging her on professionalism.
“So we’re doing this?” she said.
“No reservations from me,” I replied. “Though, I want a thorough look at the intel first, tonight if we can.”
“Could we maybe do it tomorrow night?” she asked.
“A stallion’s been kidnapped. What could be so important to put this off?”
“Big Mac is going to be showing me some of this private collection and I don’t want to miss out on that.”
Based on what I had heard previously, and the way Soarin fake-retched, I said, “Rainbow, are you dating an arms dealer?”
Not that I cared, but it’s important to know where the members of your team stand with outside contacts.
“I like to think of him as... a hobbyist,” she replied.
“Well, I happen to be a little flush with cash. I suppose picking up a few items from his collection might not hurt. How about we go with you tonight?”
“How good is Mac’s eyesight?” Soarin asked. “Am I going to be able to get away with a fake mustache and calling myself Buck Wingley?”
“Not likely,” Rainbow laughed.
I laughed, too. “You’re still using that cover ID, Soarin?”
“Hey, Buck Wingley is forever.” He saluted with a feather and said, “I’m going to go set up a few things at my place. Meet up with me there after you get done at the farm, don’t let Rainbow spend too long there, and we can still get this done tonight.”
Rainbow and I headed for Sweet Apple Acres. We still didn’t know each other well enough to have much to talk about, but that only gave me time to observe her on the way. She fidgeted, and kept glancing back at me, apparently taking my trot as too slow. Too bad.
“How long have you known this Big Mac?” I asked.
“Oh, well I used to hang out with his sister a lot, and between the two of them, I eventually picked the one that had a penis.”
“I didn’t know your standards were so low.”
She glanced me up and down pointedly. “Not that you qualify.”
Not that I’d want to date somepony whose only standards were “male, preferably.”
I’d never seriously dated in my life. I’d never even really had relations with anypony outside my line of work. Relationships should not be built upon lies and deception, and I couldn’t be completely honest with any but a coworker, sometimes not even then. Said coworkers came and went, and occasionally had competing interests. At this point, I had conceded and lamented that I had picked the wrong employment for love.
That didn’t seem to limit Rainbow, or her beau. As a former resident of Ponyville, I vaguely remembered the name Big Macintosh. I knew Sweet Apple Acres, of course. They made excellent cider.
My first impression upon meeting Big Mac was that he did certainly live up to his name.
Big Macintosh Big
He wasn’t much for talking, however. Or at least, he didn’t try to get a word in edgewise between Rainbow’s chatter. She kept up a monologue about Mac, guns, and herself, sometimes simultaneously, as Mac led us to the barn.
He apparently trusted Rainbow enough to not even ask who I was and began to display the goods. Throwing open a couple of heavy trunks revealed all sorts of war-issue surplus. He opened a few cabinets to reveal sniper rifles and shotguns. He opened a couple of false panels on the walls that were hiding automatic weapons. Rainbow swooned.
“We’re doing a rescue mission,” I said.
Mac started to reach for the belt-fed machine guns.
“Something with less collateral damage.”
He frowned and glanced at a rack of slightly smaller weapons.
“Not to draw attention to us.”
“Ah got explosives,” he said, speaking for the first time that evening.
Big Macintosh The arms dealer
“This is more of a hobby for him, so you just pick what you want,” Rainbow advised me. “I’ll look at the explosives, though. Did you get a new shipment of C4, Mac?”
While she dove right back into her running commentary, I examined a few pistols, grabbed a familiar one, checked it over, and then loaded it and put it in my saddlebags.
When it comes to weapons, I’ve handled a lot in my line of work. The best gun out there is one that works. Certainly, I have favorites just like anypony else, but ultimately, one is better than none.
Blades, too, are certainly better to have than not. You should try to avoid knife fights, but you’re even more out of luck if you don’t even have a knife. Plus, a knife is useful for a lot of things: stripping wires, ropes, eating, the list goes on. I found a decent folding knife in the pile and added it to my saddlebags.
I was now equipped. Rainbow was still talking.
“Do you need anything else?” I called. “This may be quite dangerous, so I understand why you would want to stay here with a big, strong stallion to protect you.”
“Danger is my middle name!” she replied, subtly flexing. I’m not sure who she was attempting to impress. Certainly not Big Macintosh who outweighed her by at least double.
On the other hand, my suspicions of Rainbow being easy to manipulate through her ego were proving to be quite accurate.
We were moving again shortly, going to meet up with Soarin. Rainbow was still fidgeting, though had begun to relax the further she got from Mac.
Soarin seemed confident in her, but I still hadn’t seen her in action. I knew where I stood with Soarin. He may not have been a frontline soldier any more, but I trusted him. So with Rainbow, I couldn’t help but ask, “Have you done anything like this before? I don’t want to resort to a fight, but an operation like this may require speed and violence. Do you think you can handle that?
Rainbow gave me an insane grin that more than answered my question, but left me with others.
“I’m a Wonderbolt, remember?” she said.
“Yes, but are you fast?”
I knew she was fast. I’d heard of her before I met her, and if there was one single thing to know about Rainbow Dash, it was that she was fast. I was mostly trying to needle her to see how she reacted to criticism.
She didn’t take my bait, merely shrugging. “I’m faster than you.”
Maybe the negging teambuilding exercises she did with Soarin were actually worthwhile.
When the two of us arrived back at Soarin’s house, he’d prepared the briefing to orient us to the target area, drawing up a few vague sketches on cocktail napkins. The careless level of quality of the visual aids was slightly insulting, but I’d done more with less, and I appreciated him trying.
According to Soarin’s sources, there were a couple of known criminal groups in the area, such as PY-12, but the ponies who’d taken Rich apparently matched those of a group called the Third Street Thugs. An odd name, because Ponyville didn’t have a Third Street, but nothing to dwell upon. Their hideout was across the railroad tracks in the limited industrial zone that had apparently grown in the last few years.
At night, a place like that would be empty, all the better to spot ponies like us coming. When one couldn’t be stealthy, then the answer might be to go loud in a much different direction. A hole in a secret plot was best filled by marching a brass band through it.
“Do we know why they took him?” I asked, after we had finished our plan, which involved further scribbling on napkins.
“Best guess?” Soarin said. “Ransom.”
“Normally you don’t kidnap the pony who is the one that has the means to pay the ransom.”
“Well, if any luck, that means these guys are dumb.”
We could only hope.
The three of us headed for the hideout. It seemed to be some kind of old bulk cargo storage building for railroad use, but had been supplanted and surrounded by larger buildings. Our approach was stealthy and pre-coordinated. There might be the slightest chance that these so-called Third Street Thugs had seen my face before, since I had been at Filthy Rich’s house. Rainbow certainly was well-known about Ponyville. So instead of us, Soarin - or rather, Buck Wingley - knocked on the front door.
Rainbow and I headed for a skylight at the back of the building, her carrying me to the roof. I could already hear Soarin making a big deal at the front door, something about gas line inspections.
He seemed to have that under control, so I focused on my own task. Being basically a warehouse, the building was one large open area, though looking down through the dirty window I could see a few roomlike partitions had been made with old crates. From the overhead view, it was easy to spot Filthy Rich, tied to a chair and blindfolded.
I could hear Soarin at the door, apparently responding to the thugs’ irritation at the disturbance. “Hey, don’t give me guff for the timing. I wouldn’t be out here in the middle of the night inspecting your utilities if it wasn’t a serious issue. Now I poked around the meter and these numbers are way off.” He tapped the prop clipboard he had brought.
One of the goons started to speak, but Soarin cut him off. “And another thing. You might want to consider getting the meter itself replaced. That model is so ancient I think I saw one carved on a stone tablet once. Who’s your primary payee for the monthly bills?”
It looked like Soarin was successfully drawing the group of thugs towards the front door. I opened the window and held it for Rainbow. She slipped inside and then caught me as I came after her. We dropped in next to Rich. That put the three of us behind a partition and out of sight of the door.
In a low voice, I said, “Mr. Rich, it’s Octavia. Please stay quiet. We’re going to get you out of here.”
“Wha-” he started to say, before remembering himself and clamming up again. I pulled the blindfold off and started working on the knots in the rope that bound him to the chair. Easy enough with the knife I’d picked up at Mac’s.
When he was loose, I walked forward to peep around the edge of the crate pile. Soarin was still talking, which I took to be a good sign. I waved to Rainbow.
She took Rich up through the skylight. He looked a little startled by the whole situation, but that was fine as long as we got him out. Rainbow was back in a few seconds to pick me up.
I was dropped off on the ground behind the building next to a wide-eyed Rich. “Let’s go,” I ordered, nudging him forward with my shoulder. He was still a little in shock at the quick turn around from captivity, but responded and I guided him away at a trot. Don't look at us, nothing suspicious, just out for a walk.
Rainbow departed, to signal Soarin. Rich and I kept walking.
As we passed under the lights of the train station, he finally said, “Well this was certainly unexpected, but I thank you very much, Ms. Octavia.”
I relaxed just enough to glance at him and smile briefly. “I couldn’t very well finish the job you gave me if you weren’t around.”
He chuckled quietly. There was still a trace of nervousness in his manner. Good. Caution kept you alive.
We were almost to Soarin’s place before Rich asked where we were going.
“Clearly, your house isn’t safe,” I said.
His eyes widened. “What about Diamond?”
“She’s with her mother.”
“Oh, Spoiled would have words with a kidnapper,” he said, mostly to his own amusement.
Rainbow and Soarin, being pegasi, had traveled faster and were already waiting when we got to the house.
“You know, if that had gone on much longer, I think I could have sold them on a new utility plan,” Soarin said.
“We’ll drop a tip to the Royal Guards, they’ll come to town and make some arrests, you can testify, and hopefully that will put this behind us,” I said to Rich.
“Why did they grab you, anyway?” said Rainbow.
“Well…” He hesitated. “That’s a little bit of a long story.”
Gathered at Soarin’s house after the successful operation, Filthy Rich thanked us profusely for rescuing him. I was hoping that would translate into a particularly generous reward, but did not voice that thought out loud.
“Frankly, I’m even more impressed that you got in and out without those thugs even knowing,” he gushed. “I’d call you action heroes, but maybe that’s not even impressive enough.”
“Well, it takes skill to complete the mission without raising an alarm or needing to fire a single bullet,” said Soarin, modestly. Rather unmodestly, he added, “Now, real panache would be bilking the thugs out of a five hundred bit ‘gift’ to ‘misplace’ the gas meter inspection paperwork while signing them up for a new utility plan.”
“Did you actually try to do that?” I asked.
He chuckled. “They don't call me Buck Wingley for nothing. I thought about it, but you were too good at your side of the operation at getting Rich out so I didn’t have time.”
“So why did they kidnap you, anyway?” said Rainbow to Rich.
It took him a few minutes to lay out his side of the story. Soarin had given him a drink and he pulled heavily on it between paragraphs.
“During the hours I was in captivity, I had a lot of time to think about this. I also received a clue when I overheard the gang arguing. A couple of them wanted weapons from me instead of money. Then, one suggested that they get me to give them both money and weapons. That kept them arguing for quite a while.”
“Do you have weapons?” I asked.
“My store sells all manner of things, though the items that some ponies call weapons I call sporting equipment,” he said tactfully. “But I don’t think that was what they were talking about. You see, I had a run in with government suppliers a few years back. This was around the time that Princess Twilight was ascending and who would be protecting Ponyville was called into question if she were to move to Canterlot. So the Royal Guard was looking at perhaps setting up a garrison here. They’d contacted me for supplies. Somewhere, a wire got crossed, and they instead ended up shipping supplies to me - including an entire trainload of clearly-marked military-grade weapons. Of course we sent it all back, but there was a front-page newspaper article and even today ponies occasionally come into the store on the assumption that we sell such things. I keep a file of contact information of various government agencies, just in case.”
I actually remembered this incident. I hadn’t been involved, but in my line of work, the story got around. Particularly because I knew the ponies who’d crossed the wires. Unlike Rich’s assumption...it hadn’t been an accident.
Cover can mean many things, but in the end it boils down to hiding the truth. It can be a fake name. It can be a prop, such as briefcase of blueprints if you’re posing as an architect. It can be a grand public display to distract from the fact that something is going on behind the scenes.
Such as misdirecting a trainload of weapons to Barnyard Bargains, in order to disguise that several crates were instead being passed to ponies like me. A trip like that allowed several opportunities for the paperwork to be creatively modified along the way. I doubted that anypony had planned on there being a newspaper article and the backlash on Rich’s business, but as long as there was no hint about missing weapons, then the operation was a success.
And, I suddenly saw an opening, a connection back to the company.
“Could you get me a copy of the contact information you have?” I asked. If I were lucky, there might be a familiar name there, and now if I could find the right spin, I might have some leverage, or at least a way to open the conversation with somepony so I could ask why I had been put out to pasture.
“Well, I suppose I could do that,” Rich said. He paused. “But I do also owe you quite a substantial reward. You certainly went well above and beyond on the original job I gave you.”
The less he knew the better. I didn’t correct him, just presented him my notes on the Flim Flam brothers to complete the original job for which he'd hired me.
Going beyond that original job, we decided Rich should lay low for a couple of days, until we’d fully dealt with the Third Street Thugs. We made arrangements for him to stay with Soarin.
In the meantime, I caught Diamond Tiara after school the next afternoon.
She seemed surprised to see me stepping out of an alley towards her, and perhaps even more surprised that I knew the route between the school and her mother’s house.
I lowered my sunglasses. Ponies have large eyes, and concealing them can make one seem subconsciously untrustworthy. Not that I particularly needed Diamond to trust me, but I did bring her good news. “You’re father’s safe.”
“Oh thank Celestia!” She let out a giant breath, head dipping towards the ground.
I hadn’t realized she was under such tension, though I probably should have assumed. She hid it well. I said, “I’m surprised you went to school.”
“Well, I couldn’t tell mom anything was wrong.”
I sensed very deep-seated family issues there, and avoided them. “He’s laying low for the moment, but I’ll let you know when you can go back to his house.”
“So you found him? After those stallions took him? What happened?”
I wasn’t sure how much Rich would want his daughter to know, but there was no hiding the fact from Diamond that he had indeed been taken. “Some associates of mine are very good at solving these kinds of problems.”
“So you’re like...secret agents?”
I winced, however accurate that might have been. “Nothing so dramatic. Now that your father is back, I doubt he will want word of this escapade to get around. I’d also ask that you not discuss my involvement.”
“Keep it a secret? So you are a secret agent?” She smiled, the first time I had seen her do so in the short time I had known her. I would have been more reassured if it didn’t hold so much mischief.
Despite that, she was earnest enough. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anypony. I’m just so happy to have daddy back.” She started to shake my hoof, but then just went ahead and hugged.
An embrace from a filly was not exactly the reward I had expected from this job. But Rich seemed generous enough, so I would be sure to get some sort of monetary compensation, too.
That evening, I headed for Rich’s house. The old adage about criminals returning to the scene of the crime is partially true - for example, if they think the pony they kidnapped and who escaped from them might have gone home.
Rainbow was with me. Rich was staying at Soarin’s place and Diamond was at her mother’s, so we had the house to ourselves. We didn’t turn the lights on, just waited around. I helped myself to some yogurt from the refrigerator.
We’d brought some equipment: a few basic night vision sets, tripwires, door braces, and duct tape. Not that we were expecting a battle, but it’s always better to punch above your weight.
Pursuant to that, we rolled heavy tonight.
Being a defender gives you certain advantages. You have time to survey the ground and build up your cover. You don’t need to worry so much about portability and concealability of your weapons.
Ponies will debate to death the relative stopping power of various pistols, but none compare to a shotgun. And, no shotgun can match the accuracy, range, and capacity of a rifle.
Around midnight, when even the birds were quiet, it was easy to hear a few sets of hooves coming up the cobblestone driveway. I thought I heard wheels, too.
Rainbow and I were on the second floor. I was in Diamond Tiara’s room, in fact. We’d opened windows slightly in order to hear sounds such as those, and also to fire through if it became necessary.
I slipped next door. I could vaguely make out the sight of Rainbow in the darkness. “Are you ready?” I whispered.
Clack-clack. “Totally.”
I paused. “Is that a shotgun?”
“Hmm? Oh! Like it? I saw it at the barn and couldn’t resist. What can I say? Mac knows his stuff. He really polished up the action. He’s almost a better gunsmith than an arms dealer. He’s great with his hooves.”
“I didn’t need to know that,” I said, trying to convey annoyance as well as I could at a whisper.
“Well, he’s good with his hooves, but being an earth pony he also sometimes holds things with his mouth, and let me tell you, if he's good with his hooves, he really knows how to use that ton-”
I started shooting out out the window.
The custom carriage coming up the driveway was quite distinctive, with a flame paint job and chrome wheels. We’d left the porch light on, and it was easy to make out the carriage as it came closer. Based on recon I knew it belonged to the Third Street Thugs.
The two stallions pulling it nearly planted on their faces ducking to avoid the bullets I’d fired over their heads. As they wheeled around to run for it, the passengers in the carriage almost fell out, but they too kept their heads down.
Sure, we could have just killed them, but bodies are easiest to dispose of when they leave under their own power. Plus, Rich - nor I - needed that kind of attention.
When they were well out of sight and earshot, Rainbow and I policed our brass and left.
The next day, the Guard came to town on an anonymous tip, rounded up the Third Street Thugs, and Rich was able to return home. During the time he’d crashed with Soarin, I think didn’t much care for it. Either one of them.
As Soarin complained, “Now I’ve spent a night with Spoiled Milk and her ex-husband?”
“Nopony asked you to sleep with him,” Rainbow replied with a grin.
Soarin rolled his eyes in such a way that indicated he was mostly angry with himself for giving her the opening.
After Rich was back home and settled, I went to visit him. He’d already seen my work regarding the Flim Flam Brothers, and it was time to balance accounts. Rich had not actually promised to give me the diamond brooch for my efforts, but given his generosity so far, and what he owed me, I was fairly confident.
But just in case, I had one more card to play, if it came down to it.
He received me in his office and invited me to sit. “As promised, the rest of the payment for the Flim Flam investigation.” He pushed the bits across the desk to me.
He leaned forward, seemingly still intent on speaking, so I did not prompt him. “As for the rest…”
A cloudy look went across his face. “...Ms. Octavia, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I recently learned a few things about your situation that trouble me.”
My situation was supposed to be secret. I was more disappointed than surprised that he might have found out, though. Rich was a pony of means, and with means came ways.
“You’re Harshwhinny’s daughter, right?”
“...Oh! Yes, I am.” This time, it was a little more difficult to conceal my surprise.
“I get the feeling that she would not sanction you doing this kind of work,” he said. “As a parent myself, I wouldn’t want to go against her wishes. And her, specifically. I think you’ll agree with me that there’s nopony who would want to cross your mother.”
“So I see you’ve met her,” I said lightly.
His tone shifted. “That’s also partially why I’m hesitant to give you the contact information that we talked about, out of concern about what you might do with it. If you catch my drift.”
“I think I've shown you that I can be discreet.”
He nodded. “Not to doubt you, but I’m just a humble small-town businesspony. I'm concerned about what might happen if it were revealed that I was the one who provided this information to you.”
Time to play my hand. “I think we’re past that. I notice your butler, Garcon, still hasn’t come back after getting a whiff of this. First he tried to sell you out for the assumed weapons, and he’s still out there with this secret. Even if he doesn’t have the full story, he’s a threat to you. But if you help me, it would be easier for me to help you.”
He studied me, brows knit. After a long moment, he slowly sat back in his chair. “I suppose you’ve more than demonstrated your ability by this point. Alright, Octavia, name your price.”
“Let’s start with the diamond brooch.”
His eyes went up and he smiled. “Oh? I thought you’d already earned that.”
He took it out of his desk drawer and put it in front of me.
What had Spoiled Milk said, a gem the size of a baseball? Hardly. Though, it was still quite a rock. Worth the custody rights of a filly?
From a different drawer in his desk, he produced a portfolio case. “I have records of the mistaken shipment here,” he said. I noticed his voice had lowered.
The two of us spent a few minutes going over it. It was enlightening.
Leaving his house that day, I immediately went to hock the diamond brooch. Following that, I paid Spoiled Milk back her two hundred fifty bits for canceling the job. I didn’t give her time to sputter and complain. Unlike my own mother, this was one middle-aged mare I could pointedly ignore, and honestly I found the experience refreshing, even as I was somewhat aware I was projecting my emotions about my mother onto Spoiled Milk.
Soarin wasn’t pleased that I’d angered one of his sugar mamas, but a third of the money from selling the brooch placated him somewhat.
“Wow, and I did basically nothing,” said Rainbow, receiving her third.
“I’m glad you said that,” I replied. “I’m going to need a favor.”
We were ready to move on Garcon, Rich’s former butler. Rich had acknowledged that Garcon might know a few of the contacts that had been part of the weapons deal. Maybe he was still in touch with them. It seemed likely, considering the kidnap of Rich.
I felt as if I could have done more. I’d had direct contact with Garcon, yet had still been surprised that the butler was in on the kidnapping. I wasn’t sure if I was getting slow, or if I had simply been distracted with the situation. Either way, I had to do better.
The records Rich had showed to me in confidence did not point directly back to my old employers. It wasn’t going to be that easy to track them down. However, a few of the names were familiar, intermediaries. They might know who I needed to talk to. And to get to them, Garcon might know how.
However, he knew my face. I would have to sit this one out. Besides, there was no better talent for recon than a pegasus, so Soarin and Rainbow took the task.
“I'm kind of disappointed,” said Rainbow. “When you asked me for a favor, I was hoping it had to do with explosions.”
“Why would I ask you that?”
She shrugged. “I was just hoping.”
“Well, at least we’re just staking out a house,” Soarin said. He elbowed Rainbow. “We'll spend some quality time together.”
Rainbow looked like she wanted to say something snarky back, but instead asked, “If we see this guy Garcon, can we go ahead and grab him? That would make interrogation a lot easier if we didn’t have to lure him out. I hate having to shake my ass to bewitch stallions, or whatever the hell it is my friend Rarity does.”
“As I recall, you’ve only ever attempted to seductively shake that axe head you call an ass once or twice. Everypony else you punched or kicked,” Soarin said.
“Having to do it once was one time too many. I know you have no problems whoring yourself out, but some of us have dignity,” Rainbow huffed.
Soarin shrugged, unperturbed. “Can't lose what you never had.”
Rainbow turned to me. “We’re going to get going.” She grinned. “Have fun.”
“Perhaps.” Though I was under no illusions that I would. In return for Rainbow doing this, I had to teach her next class at the Friendship School.
I am fortunate - perhaps - that I had taken more unusual jobs than this in my career. I like to believe that I have the ability to handle any new situation, through long experience and training. I was under no impression that being a substitute teacher would be easy, but felt optimistic.
Children tend to wear their feelings openly. That does not mean they are simple. Even young ones can have complicated life situations - me being an example. I have always found children very easy to read, though I occasionally feel lost about what to do with that information.
Rainbow had already set things up, so when I walked into the school that morning, they were expecting me. I already knew where the classroom was, however, so I didn’t ask for any help from the front office nor show my face there longer than necessary.
Down the hall, I found that Rainbow’s classroom was a pure reflection of herself. It was airy and covered in Wonderbolts memorabilia. I glanced at the lesson plan on the desk. The notes said I was supposed to speak on loyalty. I could think of a few examples. A bad one: my recent betrayal at the hooves of my former employer. Hmm, it might even make a good story to keep kids interested, if I spun it as fiction.
I flipped a couple of pages in the lesson plan, in both directions. Each day was scribbled “loyalty” in Rainbow’s writing and nothing else.
The door opened and I glanced up to see a pink unicorn mare coming in. She smiled. “Hi, Ms. Octavia, right? I’m Starlight Glimmer, the principal.”
I introduced myself, studying Starlight as I did. Habit, mostly, particularly after failing to notice anything about Garcon the first time I’d met him. That didn’t mean I was at fault or should have been able to sense ill intentions with a glance, but it did sting slightly.
With my glance at Starlight, I decided that she didn’t seem like a bad principal or a bad pony, either. Something about her caught my attention, though I couldn’t quite decide what it was. Maybe the way she carried herself. After all, Princess Twilight wouldn’t pick just anypony to run this school.
“So what are your skills?” she asked.
Close combat, stealth, espionage, counter espionage, sabotage, survival, improvised weapons, and lying. “I play the cello.”
“Oh really? I know Rainbow arranged for you to take over her class for today, but would you be interested in a permanent job as a music teacher?”
It had been actual years since I had last played. I wasn’t sure how rusty I might be. At the same time...I had to admit it was one of the few things I truly missed about my life from before. It was my special talent, after all.
And a job offer for steady employment. I wouldn’t need to get my old job back. I wouldn’t need to put my neck on the line. I would be doing what I loved.
So why in Equestria did I say, “Thank you for the offer, but unfortunately I must decline due to other commitments.” Maybe I wasn’t quite yet ready to let go of my unfinished business.
I saw Starlight’s eyes drift to my cutie mark, but she nodded. “No problem. Let me know if you need any help managing the kids today.”
She turned to go, but a shadow fell across the open door. My mother stepped into the room. She glanced at me as Starlight paused. “Oh, Ms. Harshwhinny, I didn’t expect you here so early.”
“I made a special trip today to inspect your music program.”
Starlight paused for a long moment, brow furrowed in thought. She eventually looked at me. “Ms. Octavia, I know you had planned to cover for Rainbow today, but would you mind coming with us to the band room? I’ll make other arrangements for this classroom.”
I suddenly had a bad feeling about this. Well, even more than my initial surprise at meeting my mother at this school.
We followed Starlight down the hall, my mother and I on opposite sides of her.
“What is Rainbow Dash doing today instead of her job?” my mother asked.
“She said ‘personal business.’ I didn’t pry,” I replied. Starlight apparently had nothing to add to that.
At the music room, Starlight opened the door for my mother, who entered. Starlight then said, “Oh wait, I forgot something. We’ll be right back.”
She nudged me a few steps away and let the door close. In a low voice to me, Starlight said, “I apologize for this situation, but I hope you can help me out. This inspector has extremely high standards. The truth is, we don’t really have much of a music program. I don’t want you to lie to her, but it would be a favor if you could portray the program as positively as possible. Er, given your role as a substitute teacher.”
I had yet to meet a single student, or even see the inside of the music room. On the other hoof, I was fully prepared to deceive my mother, or at least well-practiced at it. I nodded. “No problem.”
Starlight Glimmer The client
We went back to the music room, where my mother was looking disdainfully at the empty seats of an orchestra arrangement in the large practice room. I sized up the place as quickly as I could.
“What would you like to see first?” I asked.
She eyed me. “So you’re a music teacher? How do you play?”
I wasn’t expecting a softball. That didn’t reduce my apprehension, though. Nothing for it, then. I opened one of the cello cases lined up around the wall.
The instrument inside was a base model, the kind a school would buy, and dusty. The strings looked brittle. It was surely out of tune. I picked it up.
Some mares would struggle with the weight of such a large instrument. I was used to it, or I had been once. At the least, I was in good shape all around, and propped it up to begin tuning. Standing there with the cello, I was still trying to decide if I should trust my muscle memory or very carefully plot out what I was doing. I was so caught up in doing so that I missed the nostalgia of drawing the bow across the strings for the first time in years.
“Are you tuning it?” mother asked. “Are these instruments not in peak condition?”
“Time ensures that nothing stays perfect and unchanged forever,” I replied.
Mother had tolerated the cello when I was a filly, but had never really liked it. She couldn’t change my special talent, and was never accepting of the fact that music was unlikely to bring me fortune or power.
I touched the bridge and then cranked the pegs. Another stroke of the bow. There it is.
I closed my eyes and leaned into the cello. Something simple, something I knew by heart. Before even the national anthem, the first song that came to me was the theme of Ponyland Pals, a cartoon from when I was a kid. I won’t say that learning to play the song was the reason I took up the cello, but the two events happened near-simultaneously. I’d practically played it constantly around home.
The opening notes put a flutter up my spine even as I played them. Octavia Melody: covert operative, weak to children’s music.
The last time I had played was for a cover during a job. It had been almost five years ago. Before that...well, I’d been home. It had been so long since I’d simply been caught up in the music, doing something that wasn’t a means to end, or killing somepony. Just a way to create, to express, to actually feel something comforting.
The song was short, just a jingle really. I finished it, and opened my eyes. Mother looked like she’d seen a ghost.
No, that didn’t mean wide eyes and gasping mouth. This was still her, after all, and she’d sooner tell a spirit that it haunted rather poorly than she would scream. I doubt Starlight even noticed her change in expression.
But I saw it, and had no idea what to make of it.
“I think that will do,” she said, quietly.
Mother had never shown anything but contempt for the song. I’d played it so much when I was a filly. How long had it been since she’d heard it?
Moreover, I wasn’t sure I had much more in me. I was, as I suspected, rusty after so long. I didn’t know if I could remember another song.
Mother turned to Starlight. “Things seem to be in order.”
“Glad to hear it.” Starlight shot me a quick look of gratitude behind mother’s back and then escorted her out of the room.
I let out a long breath and gently placed the cello back in its case. After that, I turned for the door.
I didn’t know why my mother was here today. Maybe it was just a coincidence. She hadn’t let on to Starlight that we were related, either.
Out in the hallway, I heard the faintest sound of voices. The air had changed subtly. I glanced at a wall clock. Classes had now started for the morning and students had passed through the hallways and were now behind closed doors.
I heard hurrying hooves, and Diamond Tiara rounded the corner, nearly crashing into me. She gasped in surprise even as I steadied her. “Octavia! What are you doing here?” She glanced behind her and said in a different tone, “Are you undercover or something?”
“This would be a poor place for it,” I said, gesturing to the empty halls. “No cover to be under.” I looked at her. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“I’m running kind of late. It’s been hard to leave daddy behind these mornings,” she admitted. “I should get going. I have Loyalty class first.”
“What a coincidence.” I smiled. “I think I can arrange for a hall pass.”
Class went well. Once you’ve faced your mother in the morning, a dozen youngsters are trivial. I stuck with my plan to tell anecdotes about my life cleverly disguised as parables. Not everything I had ever done involved stealing secrets or punching perpetrators. Sometimes, a story about loyalty can come from sticking with long hours of boring paperwork, because it was simply what I had been told to do.
Though in the lens of that, my employment had been somewhat less glamorous than even I usually considered it.
Through class, Diamond Tiara didn’t exactly hang on my every word, but knowing what she knew about me, perhaps she could see through some of my narrative veneer.
At the end of the day, I left a few simple notes for Rainbow and departed the school. To my surprise, a visitor was waiting for me at the school gate.
“Mum?”
“You can talk to me, you know,” she said. “What are you doing, Octavia?”
She was going to have to be more specific, but I took a guess what she meant. “Today was a favor.”
“For Rainbow Dash? And how do you know her?”
“I met her only a few days ago.” Attempting to pander, I said, “Surely you agree that I may be able to teach her a thing or two.”
“You never tell me anything. I was completely surprised to see you here today.”
I thought about her reaction when I had played. My eyes went to the cello case on the ground beside her. With the juvenile band stickers on it, it could be none other than mine, from years ago.
She saw me looking. “I thought you might want this.” She picked up the case and held it out. Surprised, I took it.
The dynamic between us had changed. I was still reeling, trying to figure it out.
I took a leap, extending an olive branch of my own. “Mum...I’m busy tonight, but can I come over tomorrow?”
She nodded. “I’ll make dinner. Bring your cello.”
I made my way back to the turnip loft to drop off the cello, mind in a fog. It only made me look forward to interrogating Garcon more, to distract myself.
Was that what I was doing? Avoiding the problem? Was the conversation I just had with my mother a problem?
I shook my head and got into the headspace for interrogation. I headed for Soarin’s place.
Garcon was hooded and tied to a chair in Soarin’s living room when I walked in. He reacted slightly to the sound of my entrance.
Soarin wordlessly gestured to me. Ready to go.
I took a glance over a few pieces of paperwork Soarin and Rainbow had apparently taken from Garcon’s place. There didn’t seem much particularly notable. It would have been nice if he was the kind of pony who kept records of misdeeds so we wouldn't have to do the interrogation.
No matter. I turned and approached the chair. “Mr. Garcon, is it?”
Even though he knew he wasn’t alone in the room, he still jerked slightly at my voice. “Who are you?”
“Come now, have you really forgotten me so soon?”
“...Octavia Melody?”
“I suppose you can guess why you’re in this situation now. Mr. Rich was rather cross about your contribution to the failed kidnapping.”
When a pony is accused of something, their reaction is telling. Will they make an excuse? Deny it? Defy it?
“What do you want?” he said. Straight to business. Good boy.
However, that wasn’t how my strategy worked. I began to circle his chair, walking slowly. “What makes you think I want something?”
It threw him for a loop, as intended. He paused, and then gestured as well as he could when tied up. “Uh...why-why else would you do this?”
I could actually see the hair on his neck stand up as I circled behind him. I paused and leaned forward to his ear. “We didn’t get to the Third Street Thugs before the guards did, but we did get you, so that’s a consolation. We had intended to do this as a group but...lucky you.”
“Ponies will be looking for me,” he said.
“All the more reason to get started quickly.”
He seemed to seize on another idea. “Well...you’re new in town, right? Pinkie Pie will be looking for you.”
“Pinkie and I have an agreement.”
The agreement was don’t hassle me, I’m a local and carried the implication of the dirt I had about how Pinkie pulled off her party planning surprises. Secret dossiers, slight of hand, and preplanned supplies hidden everywhere? Maybe I should have been an entertainer.
“Why are you doing this?” The stress in his voice was building.
“Oh?” I smiled to myself, not because of the irony, though it was, but because of the subtle tone it added to my voice. “You think kidnapping is wrong?”
He struggled to reply for several seconds. “What if...what if I told you who I was doing this for?”
“Are you proposing some kind of deal?”
“Yes! That’s right!”
“Hmm. Well, I suppose that would depend on who they are. On the one hoof, we have direct betrayal from you. On the other...well, I suppose you will just have to tell us.”
Garcon talked. I gave myself a pat on the back for the interrogation. It hadn’t taken that long to break him. I didn’t even have to touch him.
Some ponies have signature methods of torture. They’re psychopaths, and if I’m being honest, not very good at interrogation if they have to resort to inflicting pain. Not that I hadn’t gotten physical every once in a while, but I wasn’t using bowstring for strangling or anything.
There was an old joke, at least among cello players, that competition for First Chair in the Canterlot Philharmonic could be rather cut-throat at times. The rest of the joke doesn’t translate well to civilians, but it was a play on garrotting somepony with catgut.
Soarin, Rainbow, and I left Garcon tied and hooded, stepping outside to discuss what he had told us.
“Wow, you’re more slick-talking than I expected,” Rainbow said. “I didn’t know you could do that in addition to taking direct action like rescuing Rich.”
“Maybe you can’t,” said Soarin, saying the same as I had thought.
“Oh please,” Rainbow shot back at him. “You only get mares because you pick the old ones who can’t run away.”
“Speaking of running away, are we going to get after this gang tonight before they find out we have Garcon?” I said.
The three of us quickly reviewed what he had told us.
Apparently, we had just irritated the largest organized crime group in Equestria.
PY-12 was a near-boogiemare of a gang, or at least according to many parents. It primarily infested the underbelly of cities, but since I’d been gone there was even a branch started here in Ponyville now.
They were mostly a problem because of how big and widespread they were. Sure, they got up to all kinds of crime, and occasional murders and drug running, but I’d never personally had a tiff with them. In fact, some of my coworkers had occasionally engaged them for connections or information.
Okay, yes, they were still a menace. I wasn’t going to lose sleep over disrupting them. More importantly, though, if I got lucky, I might be able to use their connections to the company.
They were big enough and organized enough that when they moved into a town, they co-opted the smaller gangs already there. The Third Street Thugs had become PY-12’s errand boys, even if they didn’t realize it. Garcon had been the well-placed go-between. It was good that he felt no particularly loyalty to either gang, because otherwise he might have refused to talk during interrogation.
We had enough information to go find PY-12. Garcon had usually met up with his contacts in the gang at the Starry Night club. That was another thing, Ponyville also now had a nightclub since I’d been gone.
I was going to need camouflage. As Octavia, I had Garcon’s attention. Ideally, that wouldn’t have happened, but it couldn’t be helped now and regardless it seemed like a safe step to isolate my name from what I was about to do next. PY-12 might be on edge, now that the Third Street Thugs had been rolled up and if they already knew Garcon was missing. It was best for me to put on my best fake identity.
Putting together a disguise is much more complicated than just dressing up. One has to change her clothes, hairstyle, and even posture, gait, and voice. The point is to eliminate as many points of comparison as possible.
Plausibility is also a concern. It’s fine to be disguised, but not if it’s only going to draw more attention. A disguise for Manehattan wouldn’t work for Ponyville.
The surefire way to blend into the background of Ponyville was to pretend to be a native. So I decided to call myself Jazz Apple.
“You’re in with the family, the Apples aren’t going to take too much offense to this, are they?” I asked Rainbow.
“In with the Apple family?” Soarin razzed. “Do they know?”
“Well yeah, I think Mac knows we’re dating,” Rainbow defended.
“You think?” I said.
“Please! Who can say no to this?” She gave a flourish with her wings.
“I did,” Soarin volunteered.
“Because you have a pie fetish,” Rainbow shot back.
I broke up their sparring. “Soarin, depending on how this goes, we may need a heavier hoof, so could you go get some charges from Mac? Preferably ones that won't kill the neighbors. Rainbow, I’ll need you to come with me to the club, so put on a nice dress-”
“How about Rainbow goes to the farm, and I’ll come with you to the club,” Soarin suggested. “Maybe I’ll play the bodyguard? Gay best friend?”
“I wouldn’t mind going,” said Rainbow. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Mac. Plus, my piece has been acting up so I can drop it off with Mac while I’m there”
“No, I need you on this,” I said. “In a club, two mares together are much better for this kind of thing. Soarin, why don’t you want to see Mac?”
“It’s not that I don't want to see him, I just think you need me on this more than you need me, you know...going to see him…”
I stared at him.
“I mean, it’s a big club! You haven't been there before, and I know my way around a bar and…”
Rainbow was also now staring at him.
“Wow, is it getting hot in here?” he said, despite us being outdoors. “Hey, I think I got some yogurt in the fridge now-”
“Soarin-” I said.
“I’m trying to watch my figure, and that’s all I ever see you eat and you look great!”
“Soarin-”
“And I heard this club makes the best Bahama Mamas, always in the mood for a Bahama Mama!”
“What did you do?”
“What? Nothing! Innocent as can be!”
Rainbow facehoofed. “Oh my Luna, you got caught didn’t you! Mac caught you in Applejack’s room!”
“We were not in her room!”
I sighed. “Rainbow, you’re supposed to be fast, right? Can you - quickly - go get the charges, then put on a dress and meet me at the club? Soarin, if something happens, I’ll need you outside the building.”
“What are we doing with Garcon?”
“Make sure his knots are tight, and depending on how things go tonight, we’ll deal with him later.”
Plans made, we split up. I swung by the turnip factory to grab a purple sequined dress I’d bought off the rack earlier in the day. I lit a cigarette and let it burn in an ashtray while I put the dress on, fixed my mane, and slapped on some makeup. In a dark club at night, nopony cares if it’s perfect. However, overall appearance is still the sum of small touches. Now that I smelled like tobacco smoke, I also tucked a cigarette behind my ear.
I headed down at Starry Night, pausing outside to study the building. Before I left town, I never would have guessed a place like this would come to Ponyville. How times had changed.
If it had been built a little earlier, I wondered if I would have left town. Probably still yes, but the doubt was there.
No time for this line of thinking. Rainbow landed beside me just then. She was dressed and carried a jumbo-size satchel. Soarin was just after her. She gave him the whole bag.
“Well now, I said to get us ‘charges,’ not ‘a hydrogen bomb,’” I commented. I’d already slipped into a more appropriate local accent for my cover name. Strange how my affected one had become my natural default.
“I can’t believe I’m the one talking about moderation, but we don’t have to use all of them at once,” Soarin said. He nodded to the two of us. “Good luck.”
Rainbow and I walked into the club. The music was already thumping. It wasn’t doing much else, just thumping. Okay, perhaps I actually wouldn’t have spent much time here if given the choice.
Garcon had told us the descriptions of who we sought, and where they usually hung out in the club. There were some semi-reserved private booths in the back. I scanned the room. Rainbow had told me that she was more attentive only when she was flying, plus she’d already gotten a drink somewhere, so I wasn’t holding out too much hope that she would spot our targets first.
Who I spotted first was Diamond Tiara.
“She’s your student; is she old enough to be here?” I pointed her out to Rainbow.
“I don’t think so, but I’d be a hypocrite if I called her out for rules I totally ignored at that age.”
“I think this is part of why my mother keeps giving you failing inspections.”
I glanced back across the room and sighed. Letting Diamond be was risky. She might approach us at an inopportune time while we were in the middle of something. I couldn’t count on her spotting Rainbow, her teacher, and shying away. I was going to have to get ahead of this.
I had the length of the dance floor to figure out what I was going to say to her. Diamond was with another girl, a grey filly with glasses. Neither of them noticed me until I cleared my throat.
It took her a second to recognize me. Apparently the disguise was holding. “Oh! Octavia, what are you doing here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing, considering it’s a school night and you’re also underage.”
“Well…” She did look a little bashful. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not personally, I just wouldn’t advise it.”
“Who is this?” the other filly asked.
“Oh, she’s…” Diamond looked at me, apparently realizing I was dressed up, and said, “just somepony I know.”
“Well, she is kind of right, DT,” said her friend. “Maybe we should call it an early night.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Diamond. As soon as her friend was out of earshot, she leaned closer to me and said, “So are you doing some kind of mission here?”
There was really no denying it, if she had already sussed it out. What else was I going to say? That I liked dancing?
“I’m actually glad I ran into you, Diamond. Could you do a favor for me? I need somepony distracted.” I didn’t say that somepony was actually her.
“Really?” Her eyes sparkled.
“Do you see that stallion over by the bar? He’s got a gold necklace. Do you know him?”
“Hmm. No, I don’t think so.”
“I need you to hold his attention. Whatever you have to do, dance with him, talk with him. As long as possible, or until I call you off. Can you do that?”
“Well, sure, but...what if he wants to do other stuff?”
“Drop the bomb that you’re underage and then walk away.”
She nodded. “Okay, here I go!”
I had no idea who the stallion was, but the job would keep Diamond occupied. As she departed, I looked around again for the PY-12 members who usually hung out in the club.
I was in luck. The booth Garcon had told us about was being used by a few ponies that seemed to match the description. I caught Rainbow’s eye, and the two of us walked forward.
Picture a gang. It conjures a certain mental image, does it not? One would think that sort of pony would try to be unique and recognize their own stereotypes, but when it came to PY-12, one would be wrong. They were all very easy to spot, especially in a club in a small town like Ponyville.
I made my approach, walking up to the booth. Rainbow had already conceded to letting me do the talking and hung back a few paces, enough to make it look like we weren’t together in the crowded club.
Building a relationship from scratch takes time. It has to feel natural. You have to manipulate ponies into meeting you halfway, making them think it was their idea.
I start off with the name. When using a fake identity, it’s important to get misinformation ahead of the facts. Ponies tend to latch on to the first thing they hear, and anything they learn later that contradicts it is treated with scrutiny. So rather than not introducing myself, I went out of my way to call myself Jazz, so if any of them happened to hear of me later, they might not immediately believe my name was Octavia.
I smiled to the four of them in the booth. “Hello folks, I’m Jazz Apple. I understand that y’all might be able to help me.”
A red-colored unicorn mare in a tattered denim vest eyed me. I took this to be Scarlet Sunrise, based on description. She wasn’t the local leader, but looked to be the highest ranking here tonight. Her cutie mark was of a Bloody Mary - maybe I should have Soarin sweet-talk her.
In response to me, she replied, “Maybe. What are you looking for?” She spoke Equish well, but had a foreign accent, from Prance, if I was correct.
Scarlet Sunrise Prench
I glanced around with a cautious expression and took a step closer to her. “I’m looking for...protection.”
“Well like, we got all kind,” said a rather large stallion across the table. I didn’t know who he was, but the way he shut up when Scarlet glanced at him, I guessed he wasn’t important.
“Quiet, Pin,” she said. I assumed his name referred to his bowling cutie mark.
Scarlet turned to me. “Personal services, or do-it-yourself?”
“Maybe a little bit of both.”
She looked me up and down again. “You said that you were an Apple? Do you not have another source?”
What did she mean? Did she know about Mac’s stash? I had walked in here expecting to do a business deal, but maybe this conversation was about to go in another direction.
“If I still did, I wouldn’t be here.”
Scarlet considered it. “I will tell you what. If you can get me into Granny’s pantry, I will consider it.”
The trouble with cover identities and lying is sometimes you have to go along with things you don’t understand. I kept the confusion off my face. “Alright.”
“Just like that?” Scarlet said.
“Sorry?”
“You walk in here and you just give it up like that? It makes me wonder if this is a setup, if they’re moving on us.”
The Apples? Against PY-12? Into what had I just stumbled?
“I was the one who asked you for help,” I reminded Scarlet. “And...well, I wouldn’t need to do that if I was on good terms with the rest.”
“So you can get us in?”
“I…” theatrical hesitation “...yes, yes I can.” And then, just to ensure Scarlet didn’t think this was too easy, “But don’t forget, you have to hold up your end, too.”
“Why don’t we talk somewhere else?” Scarlet suggested. She pulled a card out of her pocket and slipped it to me. “This time tomorrow.”
Her name wasn’t on the card. Instead, it was for a business called Dirtcheap Discounts. The address was listed. It was in Ponyville, but it must have been new because I’d never heard of it.
“You want to wait that long?” I said. That would give me time to do some research. Then again, that was probably why they wanted to wait - to research me.
Jazz Apple was a cover I’d used before. If they actually had the resources to do some digging, then they would find a few records - instead of nothing. A persona that is seasoned regularly with activity and paperwork makes it seem more real.
But externally, I was supposed to have dinner with my mother tomorrow. What was I supposed to say to Scarlet - no, sorry, that time doesn’t work for me?
“Come alone,” said Scarlet, closing the conversation. “See you tomorrow.”
I walked away, spotting out of the corner of my eye Rainbow shadowing me. I assumed I would be watched all the way out of the club, so I made no move to speak to her.
Diamond was still flirting with the guy at whom I had pointed her. I passed by close enough that she noticed me on my way to the door.
Outside, I was alone for a moment. Rainbow apparently had enough tradecraft to avoid following me out directly, or maybe she just wanted another drink. Soarin spotted me and began to approach, but suddenly paused, turning away. From behind me, I heard Diamond ask, “Hey, how was that?”
I scanned the area before addressing her. “Great, thank you.” I hesitated, and then asked, “I have a question. Have you ever heard of Dirtcheap Discounts?”
“They’re across town. Daddy says they aren’t a competitor we should be worried about. Despite their name, they can’t beat our prices.” She cocked her head. “Why? Do you think it’s related to what happened?”
Diamond was once again proving to be too sharp for her own good. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked her.
“We’re looking into all possibilities. I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least glance at all business competitors.” I shifted, and pointedly glanced up at the starry sky. “Have a good night, Diamond.”
I glanced at Soarin and walked away. Within a few moments I was out of view of the club and Diamond, and Soarin and Rainbow had formed up on me. We did a quick data-dump between us. The two pegasi then flew off to recon. Not only the Dirtcheap Discounts building, but also to follow anypony connected to PY-12 that emerged from the club.
“Remember to feed Garcon,” Soarin said as he took off. For my part, I went back to Soarin’s place and did just that.
Detainees do indeed require special care. Prisoners and hostages have to be treated differently. In either case, it requires practice to tie knots that are impossible to loosen, but not tight enough that it causes permanent injury.
He was still where we had left him. I exercised his joints a little and slightly adjusted the ropes to ensure he still had circulation and then went to get the food.
“I don’t really like yogurt,” he said.
“That’s too bad,” I replied.
Soarin and Rainbow were back later and we once again compared notes out of earshot of Garcon.
“I’d heard of Dirtcheap Discounts before, but never went there,” said Rainbow. “Seems like a small store.”
“I figure it’s where they launder their money,” Soarin said. “PY-12 didn’t get as big as they are without having big-boy infrastructure like that.”
“Did we figure out the connection to Granny - presumably Granny Smith?” I asked.
“So...my best guess is that Mac’s stash has become legendary, like some kind of gangster Holy Grail,” said Rainbow. “Granny’s pantry might just be a street name. She did get him into the hobby, after all.”
I felt like I had learned more about Ponyville in the last few days than I had during the years I lived here. At the same time, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to accept that answer.
My look must have conveyed that. Rainbow shrugged. “I mean, I could be wrong. Maybe they were being literal and they want into Granny’s kitchen pantry. Barnyard Bargains is the company that has exclusive rights to Zap Apple Jam, so maybe PY-12 is looking to get into the condiment business.”
I wasn’t sure if I was ready to buy that one, either. Well, I suppose we would just have to ask when the opportunity presented itself.
Before the meeting the next evening, there was much to do. Particularly, I was supposed to visit my mother again. While I would much rather not, I cajoled myself that perhaps it would put me in the right frame of mind to fight some gangsters.
Soarin, Rainbow, and I made a few plans. We were going to have to do some prep.
With enough time to prepare, there is no excuse for failure. While it’s true that no plan survives contact with the enemy, that’s why you have multiple backup plans. That’s why you rehearse. That’s why you go prepared for contingencies. We knew the members of PY-12 and where they would be, giving us ample time for recon. They might have suspected that I would not actually come alone, but didn’t know anything about my backup. Also, we had C4 charges.
There are many things you can do with plastic explosive. It ranks right up there with duct tape as an all-around useful tool.
After our planning session that night, the next day I ran a few errands. I had to go out to the farm and pick up a few other things. Mac seemed even less talkative since Rainbow wasn’t with me, and even turned down when I tried to pay him.
“Well, I suppose I’ll owe you a favor, then,” I said. “Can I do anything for you? Maybe something for Granny’s pantry?”
No reaction. This guy was either very good, or had no idea what I was talking about. Either way, it didn’t get me closer to knowing what the so-called pantry actually was.
PY-12, whether they believed it or not, had at least suggested the idea that the Apple Family might be their competition. I had no information to confirm that, beyond Mac being an arms dealer/hobbyist.
Playing organized crime groups against each other can be a useful gambit. However, try not to involve more than absolutely necessary. It gets complicated, and the more that are involved, the greater potential they will end up angry at you. Also, Rainbow might have something to say about using Mac and his family as pawns. Not to mention, I had nothing against them to get them drawn into this.
I felt as if I should apologize to Mac in advance for even thinking it, if I thought he cared about things such as that. Maybe that was why Rainbow was into him, because she could project her vivid emotions onto him as if he were a blank canvas. Maybe. I’m not a romantic.
At any rate, I needed to get going. I had quite a few things left to do today.
I stopped by Barnyard Bargains to get a few of the essentials: duct tape, pliers, wire, yogurt. I also picked up some cello strings. The store hadn’t changed much since I’d left town. It was large, filled with everything, and cheap. It almost made me suspicious, now that I had grown cynical of the world after experiencing too much of the worst parts of it, but after I’d seen how Rich treated his daughter, I was actually willing to believe that he wasn’t that bad of a guy. Surprising. In my line of work, I rarely dealt with good people.
Back to the turnip barn, I sat down on the old mattress I’d scavenged and restrung my cello. I spent a few moments tuning it, but forced myself to put it aside to finish off a few projects I’d been working on for this evening’s meeting. I’m quite deft with my hooves, if I do say so myself.
However, all the finesse in the world hadn’t been able to keep me out of my mother’s grasp. I was going to have to go to her house before meeting PY-12. I wasn’t sure which I’d rather do.
My mother was waiting at the front door again when I arrived, not quite late again.
“Tonight we need to look through the old photo albums,” she said. “They need a good sorting.”
In addition to playing the cello for her, which she’d ordered me to bring that evening? “I don’t think I have time,” I replied. “I have another appointment after this.”
“What could you possibly be doing that is more important than this?”
Breaking up criminal groups, saving lives, getting my old job back so I could continue working for the betterment of Equestria. But I couldn’t say that. I also didn’t have an excuse, or at least one that she would accept, to answer her question. The only option, much as I hated to do it, was offer something more attractive, so I grimaced internally and suggested, “How about we do that on a weekend, when there will be more time?”
“Very well.” She stepped back to let me into the house. “Dinner is almost ready.”
I was already regretting not bringing booze this time.
My mother had insisted that I bring my cello tonight. I wasn’t sure why, but had been diligent in maintaining and tuning it, or as much as I could in the one day I’d had it back. I knew my skills were rusty, but confidence in the instrument goes a long way.
Though, I still didn’t feel ready when she sat on the couch in the living room and asked me to play. She, all on her own, was perhaps the most intimidating audience I could imagine. It was with slight trepidation that I embarked on a piece by Beet Hooven that I remembered, but had only recently practiced once, earlier in the day.
I made a few mistakes, ones that even somepony who didn’t know music would notice. I still carried on playing, shifting without any formal pause to other pieces. I loosened up a little. After fifteen minutes or so, I wasn’t doing too badly.
I wasn’t sure how long mother wanted me to play. I could hardly remember a time when I’d played for her. She’d gone to my childhood recitals and smugly celebrated my special talent when it suited her, but I didn’t ever remember just playing for her, just the two of us.
She cleared her throat. “Have you practiced since you’ve been gone?”
I didn’t immediately stop playing, holding out to the end of the current note trill before lowering the bow. That gave me an extra second to formulate my reply. “No. I didn’t have a cello.”
Maybe now she would feel good about herself that she’d given it to me. Mostly, I wanted to avoid further questions about my activities.
“I’m glad you came back to me,” she said as she got up, apparently getting ready to serve dinner. “It seems that a few inquiries I made paid off.”
Wait, what!?
She wouldn’t-
Well, no, she would. She absolutely would get me kicked out to pasture if it suited her. But did she?
I stared after her as she went into the kitchen, trying to sort my shattered thoughts. Did I hear that correctly? And did it actually mean...?
I followed her into the kitchen. “Inquiries with who, mum?”
“Princess Twilight’s administration, of course. If anypony could find my wayward daughter, it was her.”
I actually relaxed - slightly. I wasn’t sure the Princess knew my name, and was fairly confident she didn’t know my business. I was still hesitant to breathe, waiting for the next question to come.
A few seconds passed. My mother picked up the plates. She turned. “Are you going to help me set the table?”
She let it go. Scarcely daring to believe it, so did I.
I managed to get through dinner without any more heart-stopping incidents, though that might have been easier if I had remembered to bring booze this time.
As soon as I thought I could, I said goodbye and headed out the door. After a quick stop back at the turnip loft to dress up as Jazz Apple, cigarette and all, I then met up with Soarin and Rainbow.
The two of them had gotten ready. As I would be “coming alone,” to the meeting with PY-12, I was the only one who had dressed the part, using the same dress I’d worn to the club. Rainbow and Soarin were decidedly more tactical. We weren’t yet sure how this meeting would go, so it was nice to have backup.
“Are you bringing your cello?” Rainbow asked, nodding to the case I carried. “Or is that a machine gun in there?”
“It’s not a machine gun.”
She chuckled. “Come on, I thought you were a spy.”
“You know you can fit a machine gun in just a violin case, right?” I hefted the cello case. “This is a rocket launcher.”
After picking it up earlier today from the farm, I could now understand a glimpse of what Rainbow saw in Mac. Hopefully their relationship was built on more than that, but it was not my place to judge.
I took a last look over our plans and what we knew about Dirtcheap Discounts. Soarin asked, “Is your head in the game?”
“Yes,” I replied. I didn’t ask why he was asking. It was a fair question, given my earlier meeting with my mother. Maybe a trace of it still showed on my face. What she might or might not have known about my work was a topic I would have to have a long think about, but not right now.
We got going. I lugged my cello case along. It still represented me in my teenage years, so some of the decoration was a bit...juvenile. In the spirit of that, I had recently added an I’m with stupid sticker to cover my real name painted on the case. I'd gotten the sticker from the novelty rack at Barnyard Bargains.
Soarin and Rainbow broke away as I walked up to Dirtcheap Discounts. The lights were off, even the exterior ones on the sign. I knocked on the door.
I was a few minutes early, but I heard hooves from the darkness within the building as somepony came to let me in. It was the talkative stallion from the night before. He had been called Pin.
“Oh, I thought you were Scarlet,” he said, but stepped back to let me pass.
“She isn't here yet?” I asked.
He didn’t answer the question, but said, “Well, come on. You can wait with us.” He locked the door and then gestured for me to follow him through the darkened sales floor to a lighted room at the back.
I’d already sized him up to be not much of an intellectual threat, and wondered why he’d been invited to such a meeting. I was cautiously optimistic that PY-12 might not be as scary as the rest of Equestria thought, or at least their Ponyville branch wasn’t.
Stepping into the room, I glanced around. The same ponies who had been at the nightclub were present, plus two more. They didn’t particularly stand out to me. One with a stapler for her cutie mark was closest to me.
Unbidden, I sat down in a free chair.
“So what’s with that?” Pin asked. He gestured to my cello case, propped beside me.
“It’s a cello case.”
“What’s with all the stickers?” he said. “That’s kinda...kiddie.”
“I stole it. Like taking candy from a baby. Well, a cello case.”
A couple of the ponies in the room reacted. There were a few half-chuckles at the mild humor.
Stapler, who apparently had better critical-thinking skills than Pin, said, “How do we know you didn’t bring something like a machine gun?”
“Stapler” The smart one
“A machine gun? You know you can fit a machine gun in just a violin case, right?” I replied. “I thought you ponies were supposed to be professionals.”
That silenced the conversation for a few seconds, until I heard keys in the front door lock and then hooves approaching. Scarlet Sunrise walked into the room.
I got up and extended a hoof to her. “Thank you for meeting with me tonight.”
“Save it,” she said, staring me down. “I know why you are really here.”
That could have meant anything. But in the surprised fraction of a second I had to think, a few things fell into place.
The red stain on the floor of the Rich house...Scarlet Sunrise’s cutie mark of a Bloody Mary...rumors I’d heard of a particular overseas agent with a particular calling card…
Had I really just stumbled on La Panthère Fuschia in Ponyville of all places? Either way, I took the thought and ran with it.
“Why yes,” I said. “I’m here for you. How could you co-opt this innocent Equestrian gang with your dirty foreign intelligence hooves?”
It was a shot in the dark, but even if I was wrong, it injected just the right kind of uncertainty into the situation. If they were all as dumb as Pin, they might even go along with it.
Whether I was right or wrong, Scarlet reached. I’m no gunfighting quickdraw, but I could get my cello case open faster than greased lightning. I pulled out the rocket launcher just as Scarlet's gun was clearing her holster and the two of us faced off.
I knew I had the upper hoof. Sure, a rocket launcher at point-blank distance would probably kill me too, so there was the implication that I was crazy enough to do it.
I heard the rest of the gang members belatedly pulling out their own guns. A quick glance showed confusion on their faces and some of them had even started to point their weapons at Scarlet, either because they agreed that she might be a foreign agent or because they didn’t want to do anything to upset the pony holding the rocket launcher.
“Well well well, looks like we got ourselves a Mexicolt Standoff,” said Pin.
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do idiots like you always have to say that out loud it when it happens? We know what this is.”
Calling out Scarlet Sunrise as a Prench intelligence agent, possibly even La Panthère Fuschia herself, was risky, to say the least. Even if my claims turned out to be baseless, there was no telling if she would fire an accusation right back at me, and who the rest of the gang would choose to believe.
So with the conversational momentum on my side, I said, “Think about it, why would a foreign intelligence agent infiltrate PY-12? She wants to use us to do her dirty work across Equestria. That will only bring the guards down on us, and she’ll skip back home.”
“Wait, ‘us?’” said Stapler, who seemed to be a little smarter than Pin. She was still pointing her gun at me, though.
I nodded to her. “Yeah. The bosses in Manehattan asked me to handle this. Sorry I couldn’t tell you until now, but I didn’t know who I could trust.”
While I was busy spitting lies as fast as I could, I still had no idea what Scarlet’s real angle was, if I had even guessed right about her.
If she was really Prench intelligence, it was hard to say if she knew about and actually believed the underground rumors of Rich’s weapons stock and then had PY-12 order their gofers the Third Street Thugs to kidnap Rich. I had thought Prance was better than that, particularly since Scarlet Sunrise was a fairly legendary agent of theirs. That wasn’t her real name of course, but enough that I’d observed so far lined up that there were likely at least even odds that I was correct and I really had stumbled onto a foreign agent.
It all added a new, uncertain wrinkle to the situation. I had only been trying to contact the gang on the assumption that they - witting or not - might have the underworld contacts to help me find my way back to the company. Perhaps I could instead use a captured Scarlet as a peace offering.
I had somehow managed to process all of the above before Scarlet managed to fight through her surprise and reply. I’ve often wondered if my brain is wired in an unusual way. In addition to the captions I sometimes see in front of my eyes, I’m occasionally also able to go on extended internal monologues even while in the middle of verbal conversations. These days, it might be what they call “on the spectrum,” but I wouldn’t know about test results, because my mother wouldn’t allow anything that even resembled a stigma for her daughter.
I was apparently still able to have mommy issues in the middle of a Mexicolt Standoff.
“Mais enfin! I’m talking to you!” Scarlet interjected in the middle of my internal monologue.
“Amazing that you think you can still talk your way out of this,” I replied, coming back to the conversation.
“How dare you accuse me,” she snapped, “while you yourself are not who you claim.”
Her expression changed. Like me, she was trained for these kinds of situations, and letting your anger take over was a great way to get yourself killed. She mastered her emotions, and gave me a contemptuous smile. “Oh yes, I have done my research. Your real name is Octavia Melody. You used to be a spy until you were kicked out because nopony liked you and you were so bad at making friends. So they sent you back here to your backwater hometown to rot. You’ve got nothing but your mother, Harshwhinny, here and no money.”
A couple of the ponies in the room visibly shuddered, as if my mother’s name was one they would prefer to avoid. Even years of practice, and having identities blown on the spot, there was nothing more gut wrenching than to have not your own name announced, but that of family. Because if they could get that kind of information, who knew what else they were capable of, or willing to do. The only way Scarlet would have access to my real name and situation was if she really was something more than a gangster.
But I never go anywhere without a plan in case my cover is blown. I didn’t expect it to be quite this way, but one must always be prepared. Spying is ike jazz: improvisation is key.
However, what I certainly did not expect was for Pin to laugh just then. He had been uncertain before, but now shifted to point his gun solely at Scarlet. “A spy who’s bad at her job? Can’t make friends? From a hometown like Ponyville? Harshwhinny’s daughter? Nopony’s that pathetic. Did you really think we’d believe something so ridiculous?”
“But-!” Scarlet stuttered. She was distracted, so I took the opportunity to hit her over the head with the tube of the rocket launcher.
She dropped like a sack of baguettes. I kicked her gun away.
“Well, that’s that,” I said, turning to put the rocket launcher back in the cello case.
Some of the PY-12 members began to relax, however Stapler was still suspicious. She menaced me with her gun. “Hey, I’ve still got questions!”
“Okay.” I paused and stared at her.
“Well…” She glanced at the others, who had already put away their guns. Peer pressure won out and she lowered hers. “Give me some time to get my thoughts together.”
That only motivated me to keep her shaken up so she didn’t manage to do so. Keep your enemies close, the better to keep them confused.
Now that we had Scarlet in hoof, my first priority was to dig into what she might know. That would be much easier to do without the rest of PY-12 around; they might start to buy into what she was saying about me if she was allowed to say it in front of them.
While I didn’t hold out much hope that Scarlet would have incriminating documents around her residence, that might be one place to start. To the others, I said, “Where is Scarlet living? Maybe we can find out if she has conspirators.”
The way a couple of the ponies suddenly looked away, they either didn’t know what that word meant or perhaps thought themselves to be in trouble. If they believed I was a troubleshooter sent from PY-12 headquarters to ferret out foreign spies, maybe I was also a threat to whatever individual situations they were in, such as side gigs. Imagine that, gangsters being untrustworthy.
“Maybe she was keeping files on all of you,” I said, adding an edge to my tone. “She could also have files on your activities here, and I'd rather not have to go back to Manhatten and explain to the bosses why the authorities now have a ton of information on us, unless…” I made a show out of counting the heads in the room, as though trying to figure out how many body bags I might need. Then I shook my head. “But spies are untrustworthy and you’ve all been very helpful tonight. I’m going to go clean her house out. I’ll need one of you to come with me.”
Controlling a situation is all about phrasing. I didn’t want them to come with me. If I insisted that I go alone, they might be suspicious. But by asking for one, I could then apply a little extra pressure.
“You, Pin?” I said, a scant second after asking for volunteers.
“Oh, um, sure.”
“Hang on,” said Stapler. “If she has a file on me, I want to see it.” A couple of the others muttered in agreement.
Damn it. I nodded. “Alright. Pin, you’re carrying Scarlet.”
This changed the situation. There were five of them, plus a limp Scarlet. Once we got outside, Rainbow and Soarin would increase the numbers on my side, plus the two of them had the advantage of surprise. I also would have been ill-prepared if I didn’t have other, additional surprises ready.
The group of us headed towards the front of the building. There was some rope on the shelf of the store, so they tied up Scarlet and Pin slung her onto his back. Walking out the front door with the group, I paused, deliberately taking the cigarette from behind my ear and lighting it.
From the darkness on the other side of the street, there was a corresponding flick of a lighter. I only caught the sound because I was expecting it.
However, nopony missed the flame-up of a liquor-soaked rag in a bottle as an improvised firebomb was hurled across the street.
“They’re after us! Scatter!” I shouted.
The bottle shattered on the storefront, starting to burn. I was already shoving the PY-12 members into action. Grabbing Pin by the shoulder, I hauled him and his limp cargo of Scarlet in a direction away from the others. It was towards Scarlet’s place.
After a couple of turns through back alleys and a few blocks of running, I slowed down. Ponyville had made some great strides at paving since I’d left, but most thoroughfares were still dirt. No need to risk twisting an ankle in a pothole if I’d already pulled the con.
“Do you think we lost them?” Pin wheezed.
“Quite sure,” I said.
At that moment, Dirtcheap Discounts exploded.
I didn’t flinch, because I’d been waiting on Rainbow and Soarin to trip the C4. Still, it played into my conversation. “But just in case, is there a safe place we can go around here?”
Pin was still blinking at the fireball. “Oh, um, Scarlet’s place is just around the corner.”
As if called, just then Scarlet kicked Pin in the head, apparently playing on the distraction of the exploding building. As he fell, she used his back as a springboard to leap at me. I had thought she was tied up, but apparently I was still overestimating PY-12.
I’d been keeping an eye on her for that very reason, though, so it was easy to block her attack with my cello case. Her horn lit up as she attempted to tug it away from me, presumably for the weapon inside. Unfortunately for Scarlet, I was playing with home field advantage. Literally, but more importantly, figuratively. Don’t fight an earth pony on dirt.
Most ponies don’t believe in earth pony magic. To be fair, it’s subtle. But all my training had been good for something. It wasn’t exactly a martial art - I had actual martial arts training for that - but it added a little extra something, a special cadenza to the orchestra.
Dear me, back to using musical metaphor. This trip to Ponyville had brought out all sorts of bad habits.
But there was no time to dwell on that as I set my hooves in the dirt street and punched out Scarlet’s lights for the second time that evening.
I admit, I was getting annoyed. The operation tonight still hadn’t quite gone off the rails, but there had been a few too many surprises for my liking. Not to mention, I was fairly certain Scarlet deserved it anyway. I may have also applied a smidge of my personal frustrations. It’s good to work it out when you can.
At any rate, I ended up throwing Scarlet through her own front door, which alleviated the need to find a key and pick the lock. I glanced at Pin, who was still down for the count, and headed inside.
Scarlet was apparently a better spy than I gave her credit for, and had duct tape. I got her restrained with it and then started picking through her personal effects. I knew I was limited on time, so I didn’t pause to see if she had any yogurt.
I knew my search wasn’t going to be easy. The good news was that Scarlet was not apparently well established in Ponyville and didn’t have a lot of stuff. The bad news was, it was still much greater than what filled my rented turnip loft. Plus, there was the possibility of hiding spots.
Spies are great at hiding information. We are trained to hide it in places that people don’t normally think about, or to modify the places we are staying to help easily hide information. Though, when making a knothole, there are two factors one has to consider: how safe you want to make it and how easily accessible. The more secure the hiding place, the harder it is to access, such as hiding it in a wall covered in plaster. Making it more accessible probably means it is going to be easier to find.
Still, after about twenty minutes, I found a slim notebook hidden inside a picture frame. Easy enough to get to if you were in a hurry by simply ripping out the back of the picture. It was unmarked. I flipped open the front cover, and my eyes went wide at the contents.
That was when company arrived. Several sets of hooves clopped up to the front door and walked in. Maybe breaking the door down when fighting Scarlet had been a bad idea. I was disappointed the visitors had arrived so soon.
And even more disappointed who it was. Stapler led the way, struggling to restrain Diamond Tiara.
Letting her personally firebomb the company that was wrapped up in her father’s kidnapping had been a weak moment of concession for me. I really, really should have laid down the law with her early in our relationship.
Giving in to personal grudges, even if they aren’t your own, is a bad idea. Not only will it be obvious who did it, but you make mistakes when you add too much emotion.
At the same time, Diamond had begged to help, had access to her mother’s alcohol stash, and an extra set of hooves helped out my short list of ponies.
Shame she’d gotten caught, though.
“Who’s this?” I said. I asked the group in general. All of them had apparently regrouped once they’d captured Diamond, and had then proceeded to Scarlet’s place, rousing Pin in the process.
“This is the daughter of the guy who owns Barnyard Bargains,” said Stapler. “Which is weird, because back when you said ‘they’re after us…’ well, I was kind of expecting a squad of Prench commandos or something, not one filly. So why did you say it like that?”
“Well, given the circumstances, who were you expecting?” I said. “I’m not saying it’s a coincidence that your place happened to catch a cocktail tonight, but your gofers, the Third Street Thugs did just kidnap her father.”
I nodded to the bound and gagged Scarlet. “And this one’s calling card is a spilled Bloody Mary, which Diamond Tiara presumably found at her house and tracked to your door.”
I held up Scarlet’s notebook, flashing the pages and moving it between their faces intentionally too fast for anypony to read. “There’s a lot of interesting things in Scarlet’s files. Seems like a lot of you don’t remember what keeping a secret means.”
“Is it coded or anything?” Pin asked.
“Almost. It’s in Prench.”
Stapler looked annoyed at the sidebar. She gestured to Diamond. “But how do you know her name? How do you know what she found? How did she connect those dots and lead back to us?”
Maybe Stapler wasn’t the smart one, maybe she was just the kid that always asked ‘why’ even when given an answer. Even still, I thought I still had control of the situation and was about to answer all those questions, but Stapler further proved that she wasn’t actually smart, just annoying, and pointed her gun at me. I nearly sighed and rolled my eyes as I pulled out my rocket launcher again. The others followed Stapler’s example with their own guns.
It really was disappointing that this had happened twice in one night. Pin said, “Looks like we got ourselves-”
I shot him a glare so sharp that he shut up mid sentence. To be fair, these were small-time crooks, and being able to say something like that might be the highlight of their career, so maybe I could give them a break. Still, I was not really in the mood right now.
And if that wasn’t enough, Rainbow suddenly burst into the room through the window, apparently after seeing my predicament. She was wearing a tactical vest and had camouflage paint on her face, though neglecting the rest of her colorful body. She had a gun in either forehoof and one in each wing.
“Nopony move!” she shouted, pointing her guns at everypony in the room in turn, even me a time or two.
To be fair, nopony moved, except to occasionally point their guns at somepony else.
There came the sound of hooves near the open front door. Somepony was coming. That was good as a distraction, at least partially because I think Rainbow was also just about ready to comment on the standoff.
A white unicorn walked into the room. Her name was Vinyl Scratch. “Okay guys, everypony just calm down, chill out, be cool.”
I was actually not pleased to see Vinyl. I didn’t personally dislike her, and yes, this was a direct connection to the company that I sought, but Scarlet’s records had also given me that. I felt a little standoffish, having gotten to this point on my own only for a handout to come my way, as if my effort had been wasted.
But maybe she was only here because of what I had done, and I wasn’t going to look a gift pony in the mouth. I raised my eyebrows to her, giving her the go-ahead to speak. Wouldn’t want to get our stories mixed up.
“You guys ever heard of a black site?” Vinyl asked the room. “It’s fine if you haven’t. You’re about to find out. Come on in, boys!”
The room was swarmed by troopers with armor and weapons. Everypony in the middle of the standoff was thoroughly disarmed.
“Wait, is that one with you?” I made sure to say, pointing out Rainbow. Vinyl glanced at her and made a subtle gesture to one of her soldiers. I’d been following Vinyl's gaze, and she’d already focused on Diamond, who had been held in a headlock by Stapler before being pulled apart.
“As for you,” Vinyl said, walking over to me as my weapon was taken and I was cuffed, “we have so much to discuss.”
I wasn’t sure if this was an act for the benefit of PY-12 or if, knowing her, I would eventually have to play as if we were in a relationship. Vinyl was not my top choice for romantic cover, but we’d done it before.
Hoods started going on, including on me.
Being hooded and dragged around is never fun. The whole ordeal is made to disorient you, to confuse you, to keep you guessing and unable to put a story together to try to fool anypony. It’s psychological warfare that is designed to make you feel alone, make you think that nopony knows where you are, and that no help is coming. Though if you have been on both sides of this particular situation before, you know the reason why they are hooding you is because they don’t want you to remember things like where you are going and who took you there, meaning they care if you remember and are probably going to keep you alive and let you go later. Probably.
There were the sounds of clicking cuffs and gangsters protesting. I was jostled around a little. After a moment, though, my hood came off again. It was just me, Vinyl, and one of the balaclava-wearing roughnecks. It seemed that we were behind Scarlet’s place.
“What’s up?” she said, slipping off my cuffs.
I stood up and shook myself out. “The filly and the multicolored tactical one are both with me.”
Vinyl started to nod to her assistant, but I held up a hoof. “Could you...wait a minute. I’m not yet sure how I want to handle this.”
“Okay.” She tilted her head. “For being unsure, though, you sure went home and got busy.”
“You didn’t plan this, did you? Putting me out to pasture and everything?” That would have been just like the company.
“Nope, not me. We have a decent source back in Prance. When a report came across that somepony had submitted a request for information related to Jazz Apple, we knew you were up to something.”
So they had come here in response to me stirring up the hornets. “The one who was already tied up when you arrived, I think it’s La Panthère Fuschia.”
“No kidding?” Vinyl laughed. “Only you, Tavi, could get kicked from the company and then take down a foreign agent that’s been a thorn in our side for years.”
Scarlet, or Panthère, or whatever her name was, had been looking for something called Granny’s pantry. I wasn’t yet sure if I should mention it, particularly if that turned out to be related to the Apple family.
Vinyl dismissed her assistant and he went around to the front of the building. Soarin was still unaccounted for, but knowing him I guessed he was probably waiting and watching. Vinyl seemed to be letting me go, but I still wasn’t quite sure if I could trust her. I let that show in my body language, assuming Soarin was watching from a distance.
To attempt to gain advantage, I suggested, “Why don’t we go back to my place and have a talk?”
She agreed and we started walking.
On the way, I asked, “So what does this mean for me and the company?”
“Good question.” She shrugged. “I have no idea.”
I was still rather cross about the whole affair. In fact, after the backstabbing, I could say that I was double-cross. I considered Vinyl a friend, or I had, but there were still too many unknowns here.
“You know, Scarlet Sunrise - or rather, La Panthère Fuschia - told me a few interesting things you might like to know,” I offered.
I tried to spin it as positively as possible, while not actually revealing anything. I also didn’t want to imply that I had learned dirt about the company that might make me a liability.
We were still dancing around the subject when I let her into the loft above the turnip barn. Her nose wrinkled at the smell. Good, now she knew how far I had fallen.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked. “I’ll warn you, all I have is turnips.” And some yogurt, but that was for me.
Vinyl declined. We sat down on the meager furniture I had managed to scavenge and I told her my story up to this point. Well, not all of it. I might not have even told her all of it even if I hadn’t been kicked out. Nopony knew better than I how information could be dangerous.
So I didn’t mention Soarin or the Apples, minimized the role of Rainbow and Diamond, and skimmed over the other odd jobs I had done. I also made sure to emphasize that I had uncovered a Prench agent in my attempt to rejoin the company, whether I had meant to or not.
She likely knew, or guessed, that I wasn’t giving her the whole story, but didn’t call me on it. Never give the full story, unless in exchange you’re getting full immunity.
“That’s a heck of a tale,” she said when I was finished. “I’m glad that you didn’t just go die in a ditch somewhere. You’ve really become one of the best. Honestly, you definitely surpassed me on the professionalism aspect.”
“Don’t...use that word.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot who your mom is. But it’s true. I remember that one time you beat the hell out of some guy because he called you a music donkey. You’ve definitely learned to control yourself, Tavi. Like I said, better agent than me.”
“So it makes even less sense that somepony put me out to pasture.” I shifted my posture from compliant to expectant. “Do you have any information about that? Did somepony...perhaps order me banned?”
“No, I don’t have anything concrete. I did ask around. It didn't make any sense to me, either. But listen, Tavi, I’ll take what you have back to the office and maybe it’ll tip things back in your favor with the bosses or whoever did this. For what it’s worth, I want you back.”
She hugged me, and I let her.
Being a badass international mare of mystery was lonely. Ponies are social creatures. Sometimes, touch was just what the doctor ordered after a hard mission in a place you’d rather not be.
A laser dot appeared on Vinyl's back.
I looked out through the window, to the rooftop next door. Nopony would actually use a laser on a sniper rifle, so that told me it was just Soarin letting me know he was ready. I gave him a barely-perceptible shake of my head and the laser shut off.
“Just like old times, huh?” said Vinyl. She'd either not realized I had backup, or was nice enough not to bring it up. “Speaking of that, I bet it’s been hard dealing with your mom after coming back here. If you want, I could go introduce myself as your fiancé so her head would explode.”
“I…” A long moment of hesitation, punctuated by an exhale of amusement. “...appreciate the offer, Vinyl, but I've been managing the situation on my own.”
She chuckled. “Well, hang in there, Tavi. I’ll see what I can do for you back in Canterlot.”
I showed her to the door and she stepped out into the night. I had no idea if I would actually see her again. There was no telling how this unsanctioned yet highly effective mission would be viewed back at headquarters. One thing at a time.
I left the door open and walked back to get some yogurt. Always good to have a snack to recharge after a strenuous day. Soarin had stepped inside before I was finished eating. He’d brought a cold six-pack, somehow. I personally wouldn’t have taken such a thing along with the weight of a rifle on a mission, but priorities. I had a sip of water to settle my stomach, and then accepted a beer from him.
“That didn’t go so bad,” he said. He gestured with his can towards the door. “You going to tell me who that was?”
I filled in my backstory with Vinyl and we discussed a little. I was still talking when Rainbow stumbled in. She seemed a little ruffled, but in one piece. Soarin gave her a beer.
The three of us held a quick debrief. It’s always good to learn from a mission, even when it went well. I was getting just about finished with my side of it, and thinking about having a nice evening of rest, when Soarin said, “So what are you going to do about Diamond?”
“Damn.” I sighed. It wasn’t that I had forgotten, I was just reluctant to address the topic. “I don’t know. I had thought about just letting the sight of me being taken away in a hood be her last memory of me. Nothing like making a dramatic exit. But, she deserves better. I need to go see her. I can still spin this as a cautionary tale, though.”
“You aren’t thinking of teaching her to be a spy, are you?” Rainbow said, grinning.
“Absolutely not. At any rate, she wouldn’t be any good at it; she has at least one parent she likes.” I sighed and finished my drink. “And speaking of parents, I will regret it if I leave that thread hanging, too.”
Well, maybe I could hang around Ponyville just a little longer.
I glanced at Soarin and Rainbow. “Well, that's one job done. What's next?”
