For the second time that day I found myself falling down a hole which had appeared beneath me. I wonder who thought of the trapdoor thing first? Did the foal mafia influence the sorceress's designs or vice versa? The world may never know.
About a minute into my free-fall the rough-hewn stone walls I'd been falling past turned into glass, providing a window for me to see outside.
And what a view it was.
The foal mafia had made their base in a massive, and I mean massive cavern. Seriously; you could fit the entirety of Manehattan, skyscrapers and all, in here with plenty of room to spare! Far below I could make out a complex which wouldn't be out of place in a sci-fi movie.
And the walls, ah the walls! They were amazing! The foal mafia had decided to paint the walls with grand murals depicting epic battles between dinosaurs with cowboy hats and laser sword-toting space aliens. They were very intricate, to say I was impressed would be like saying ponies are reasonably common.
Eventually my fall turned into a sort of slide as the tunnel started to tilt. Over the course of a few minutes the tunnel leveled out, slowing me down and depositing me right at the entrance to the mafia's base. Somehow the friction didn't make any heat or else I'd have some terrible burns on my butt from the slide. I'll have to remember to ask them how they did that.
The grand entrance -read; wooden door- to the foal mafia's lair swung open with an ominous creak to reveal... 'Stache, Dynamite, and 17 waiting for me.
"How'd you get down here so fast?" I asked. Hadn't they just pushed me down that hole? Shouldn't I have beaten them down or something?
'Stache's smug grin was evident even behind his bushy namesake. "We took the stairs."
Cue facehoof. Of course they did! It's a perfectly logical explanation. "Why didn't I think of that?" I asked, more to myself than my escorts. Seriously! How could I have missed that?
"Perhaps," Dynamite snarked, "it's because you're a moron."
I totally missed the snark. Either that or I chose to ignore it. I'm still not entirely sure which, though I'm leaning towards the first one; I can be pretty oblivious sometimes.
"Indeed," 'Stache agreed, "now good sir, if you would kindly come with us we will explain to you why we have brought you here."
Ooh, where'd he get the posh accent from? Can I get one too?
"Sure thing partner, I'm mighty curious as to why you've brought me here."
Guess not. Ah well, country's cool too.
The trio led me into the base. The interior, I noted, was surprisingly different to the exterior. If I hadn't known better, I would've thought we were in some high-rise office building in Trottingham. Quite different from the underground bunker look I was expecting.
About three minutes later we got to our destination. "Step through these doors please," 'Stache said, indicating a single plain red door to our left. "The boss will be delighted to handle any questions you have."
"A'ight" I said, walking up to the door. "Let's do this." I hesitated, one hoof on the handle, then turned to my escorts. "Y'all've done a mighty fine job escorting me here, here's a little somethin'-somethin' for your trouble."
I opened the little red door and entered the foal mafia's boss's room one apple poorer.
My first impression of the room was something along the lines of "AUGH MY EYES!!"
My second impression of the room was something along the lines of "OMG that's a lot of bright colors!"
Seriously, who the hay has a room with predominantly neon orange wallpaper, lime green furniture, fuschia accents, and various other brightly-colored decorations? To top it off, half the things were emitting some form of light or another and there were several powerful floodlights hanging from the ceiling. That can't be good for your vision.
"Greetings operative," someone said from the general direction of the desk. "Please, have a seat." I drunkenly stumbled through the hazy environment, nearly tripping several times on a fuzzy pink rug, to one of the bright green sofas I'd spotted earlier. The indistinct blob behind the desk may be crazy when it comes to decoration but I'll give them one thing; their sofas are extremely comfy.
"Now I suppose you're wondering why I've brought you here today," the figure stated, they were steadily coming into focus - I could now see a general shape of a pony instead of just a blob of relative darkness - and I half expected them to be stroking a fluffy white cat while twirling a mustache evilly. That's what mafia bosses do, right?
Or am I getting them confused with Saturday morning cartoon villains again?
"Not really," I replied honestly, I could almost, almost, make out the confused expression on my host's face. "Weird things tend to happen to me, I sorta just try to go with the flow."
"An admirable trait," dang, they recovered from their confusion fast, "one that will be put to good use on your assignment."
My eyes had adjusted to the obnoxious levels of the room enough to see the pony behind the desk unroll a large map of the world. "Tell me," they asked while smoothing the map out, "what do you know of the world?"
*insert long winded speech about the complete history of everything, ever, here*
"I see." The boss pony rolled the map back up and stowed it behind the desk. "That's very informative. Thank you operative."
My eyes had completely adjusted during my long-winded presentation. I bet you're wondering what the boss-pony looked like, huh? Well too bad! I'm not gonna tell you! Muahahaha-*cough cough*-heeh!
"Now that I've told you everything I know, could you tell me what you want me to do?"
The boss pony gave me a long, hard look. I could see a depth in those eyes... a depth so deep and a force of will so strong it seemed they could swallow me up whole and spit me into Tartarus. Either that or sell me a used car, one of the two.
"I like you," the boss pony stated at long last, "so I'll let you off easy this time." With a sharp jerk of their head, the boss-pony filled the room with a sharp series of cracks. I wish I could do that. "Report to the armory for further briefing. Dissmissed!"
Without thinking beyond the boss's tone of voice I snapped a quick salute and turned for the door. The door opened before I reached it to reveal a wall of inky blackness.
"Uh," I balked before the darkness. Seriously, why does the boss keep their room so dang bright? "Which way's the armory?" I managed to get out.
I heard the boss pony wave a hoof but didn't catch which direction. "It's thataway."