Pinkie and the Spy

by Guesswork

Chapter 2: Bad Mojo

Chapter 2

Pinkie lay on her back on a hotel bed, pressing a pillow over her face to stifle a groan.

"I," she said, "am so bored!!"

Nearby, the Agent swept a crystal sensor around the room, scanning each of the corners and vents, then underneath all of the furniture. They had checked into the hotel under the cover of being tourists, and the Agent still wore a floppy, straw hat over his shock of white mane. Behind him, the Manehattan skyline glittered in the afternoon sun. The hotel room had a great view.

"Just another minute, Pinkie," said the Agent in his cultured Trottingham accent. He adjusted a pair of owlish spectacles. "We have to make sure nopony is listening in." He went into the bathroom and waved the device around some more.

"Listening in?" said Pinkie. She grinned to herself. "Maybe you and I should just leave the bugs where they are."

"I've been on the other end of that scenario," he said with an arched eyebrow, as he scanned around the mirror and under the tub. "It was awkward. Interesting, but awkward."

"Awkward, but interesting! Just like you."

A laugh-snort echoed from the bathroom. After another minute, the Agent returned to the main room and tossed the crystal sensor into his saddlebag. He frisbeed the straw hat over to Pinkie, and she caught it in midair.

"Room's clean," said the Agent. "No listening devices, magical or otherwise." He brought out a folder of papers, walking over to spread its contents on the tiny hotel-table.

Pinkie hopped off the bed and came to take a look. Inside the folder was a stack of crime-scene reports with accompanying photographs.

"Ew," said Pinkie Pie, peering over the Agent's shoulder. "Dead bodies."

"Murder," said the Agent. "They were eating lunch at a local bistro and ka-boom. Three of Canterlot Intel's best ponies, and they died a peasant's death."

"What did the sciency ponies say?"

"That's just it," said the Agent, tapping his quill on the desk. "Forensics found traces of trinitrotoluene embedded in the walls. TNT. Strange, right? Changelings, griffons, they don't use that stuff, just us."

Pinkie could read the names of the dead: The Matchstick, The Boxer, The Prism. All code-names, like the Agent. Dead spies.

"It could just as easily have been me in that pile," said the Agent. He brought out a magnifying glass, cross-checking photos with written records. "Other than the TNT, the only thing suspicious about the evidence is the lack of it. Whoever did this was a real pro."

He leafed through photo after photo, full-page, full-color, each one worse than the last. After a few more moments, Pinkie got tired of looking at them. This is the opposite of romantic, she thought. She walked back to her travel bags, unpacking her evening clothes into the closet.

"Makes you wonder..." said the Agent under his breath.

"What?"

"What we're doing. CI. If we're really helping anypony, or if we're just throwing ourselves headfirst into the corn thresher for no reason."

"Whoah," said Pinkie, "next stop Dreary Lane! I know a pony who lives there, but he only bakes muffins."

The Agent didn't respond. He was staring at the photos. "Headfirst into the thresher," he said. The next picture was of a severed hoof on a sidewalk.

Pinkie lifted an evening dress out of her suitcase and wondered if she'd even need it while they were here. "You knew them, didn't you?" she said, turning to look over her shoulder. "The ponies who died."

"Well, they were my colleagues. I worked with them sometimes."

"It's more than that," said Pinkie. "They meant something to you. I can see it in your shoulders."

The Agent didn't answer for a moment. At last he said, "The details are all classified. I can't rightly talk about it. You weren't even supposed to see these photos."

"Lucky me," she said, rolling her eyes. "I don't actually care about the case, anyway. I'm asking about you."

"I'm fine, Pinkie. I'm fine. But very busy right now, so no more questions. Find something else to do for a while."

"Jeez-louise, Agent, I'm just trying to help. Tell me how you knew these ponies--"

"No!" he said, slapping the folder closed. "Don't ask again!"

An expression of pain flashed across Pinkie's face, but then she arched a defiant eyebrow. "Fine," she said. "I'm going to get some ice."

"Uh-huh," he said. He drew the curtains back for light and straightened his spectacles, shuffling through more papers. He didn't even look up as Pinkie left.

* * *

The hotel-hallway scent mingled with the exaggerated freshness of air-conditioning. Pinkie padded down the red and gold carpet to the ice machine. A hum of frost magic from the device echoed through the alcove as she stood there with her forehead resting against the wall. Eventually, the machine made a loud cha-kunk-whoosh, and the latest batch of ice-cubes dropped down into the bin. She gave a great sigh.

Maybe this was a mistake, she thought, scooping ice into the bucket. Maybe I should have just stayed home.

She'd seen it growing in his eyes as the train neared Manehattan this morning. Darkness. The shadows of war. Now that they'd arrived, that shadow had fallen over him completely. Only several hours into their day and she could barely reach him.

His work was bound to come between them occasionally. He was a spy. But the fact that he was so adamant about shutting her out now, all of a sudden, made her suspect the worst. Something very personal about the case was dragging him down, and his instincts were to fight her rather than let her in.

Is it always going to be like this? Can I put up with this sort of thing in the long term? After three months together, they were staring a "real relationship" in the face. Was this the kind of pony she really wanted to be with? Somepony secretive, reticent? Sometimes un-cheer-uppable?

Mares always think we can change our stallions, don't we!? But all we can really change are our expectations. They were too different; she needed more than he was willing to give. He was probably the least appropriate candidate in the whole world for "Pinkie's first serious relationship" anyway. Even the girls secretly scoffed at the idea. Dash scoffed openly.

And yet, there was something good about him. Something kind, buried under the layers of ash and rock. He was so dedicated to his mission. She had to admire that kind of single-mindedness, since she possessed nothing of the sort. He made her laugh, too, with a black sense of humor tuned to a perfect counterpoint with her cotton-candy schtick.

And he really cared about her. He worried about her, and took care of her. She suspected that he loved her. Why was it so hard to get him to show it? He could be as blank as his flank, sometimes.

She returned to the room, feeling confused. When she opened the door, the Agent was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her. The file folder was gone.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"Look, uh," he said, scratching behind his ear, "sorry about that. I shouldn't have pulled those crime-scene pictures out like they were nothing. I'm so jaded by now that I forget how stuff like that looks to civilians."

"I'm not a civilian," Pinkie said carefully. "I'm an Element of Harmony. I've seen dead bodies before."

"It's different seeing them every day," said the Agent. His eyes moved out the window to the city skyline. "Every damn day."

"You're doing it again!" she stormed.

"What?" he said, looking back at her in surprise.

"You're bringing yourself down! Knock it off!!"

He tilted his head and his face relaxed a little. "I'm just being realistic about the case. You don't understand what's at stake here."

"Because you won't tell me!" she said, bonking him on the forehead. "You've got to tell me what's bothering you or I can't help! And don't pull the whole 'confidentialityness' business on me, either. Celestia said we Elements can know things about secret government stuff, and if something is bothering you, I want you to share it with me. If you don't share it, it's because you don't want to!"

"Sharing can get the attention of the wrong sort," said the Agent. "Loose lips sink ships and all that."

"This ship isn't sinking, and neither are these lips," said Pinkie.

"Not now, I suppose," said the Agent, looking at her sideways.

"You know what I mean! Bad guys always have a tough time with me."

He snorted. "How very true."

"So?"

"So," he replied with a sigh.

"Is it the ponies who got killed?" she asked. "Is that what's bothering you so much?"

"Yes," he answered.

"They were your friends?"

Hesitation. "Yes."

She grabbed him by the shoulders and started shaking vigorously. "Well!?"

"Look," he said, grasping at her forehooves. He couldn't help but crack a smile at her antics. "Look, look, I'll tell you the rest later. I promise. Just... let me think on it for a while. You may be an Element of Harmony, but that doesn't mean we can bust the whole secrets-pinata right open just because we're dating."

Pinkie pursed her lips and cast him a suspicious look. "Secrets pinata, huh? Well, I don't like you saying 'no' to me, but I do like the way you're saying 'no.' It just seems like you're getting really emotional about it. Princess Luna says that makes ponies predictable. She says predictable ponies walk into traps. And I'm supposed to be your bodyguard, after all."

The Agent regarded her. He stroked his chin then glanced at the ground in embarrassment. "You're right."

"I know!"

"I've been disrespectful. I can see you're only trying to help."

"Yeah, duh!"

He gave her a bemused look.

"I can still leave, if that's what you want," she said.

"No, don't do that," he said, putting his hooves up. "I want you to stay, please. I'm sorry if it seemed like I didn't. I do need you here, and I promise that once we're done with this mess, we can make some time just for each other. We can take a real vacation-- the Sun Keys, or the Crystal Kingdom. Or we can just bust jaywalkers in Ponyville for a while."

This almost got a smile out of her. "Well, I hear spies are good liars."

"Not me. I always look up and to the left."

Pinkie sat down on the bed and leaned against him. He tucked his chin over the top of her head. For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Then she sighed against his chest. "Say nice things to me?"

"Of course," he said, throwing his foreleg around her shoulders. "Okay, okay, first of all, you're beautiful. Right proper peng, in fact. But that's obvious."

Pinkie giggled. "Peng. Traveling's got me all bloated, though."

"Then it's a good thing I'm just as attracted to your heart as I am to your heart-shaped ass."

"Nice," she said, bemused.

"You're gorgeous, Pinkie, really. Those eyes, that coat. Right perfect, hotter than hay-on-fire."

She arched an eyebrow with guarded affection and pursed her lips. "Do my personality now?"

"Oh alright, if I must," he said with mock exasperation. "Look, it's easy to assume that you've lived a charmed life, Pinkie, because of your cheerful nature. It's what most ponies think about you. But having to make it on your own at such a young age; what you've endured as an Element... All that, and you've managed somehow to retain your innocence. You're a role model to the rest of us, and that's helped me get some of my faith back. More than some. A lot, really. And I can use all I can get."

"Okay," she said, and she kissed him on the cheek.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said with a huff. She wasn't angry anymore.

"Good, 'cause I was running out of sappy things to say."

She gave him another bemused look. "I only make this face around you," she said.

"That's because you actually care what I think," said the Agent. "But I care what you think about me, too." He looked around with nonchalance. "Hint, hint, as you might say."

"Okay," she said. "You're the best listener I've ever met, but I wish you'd talk more!"

He arched an eyebrow. "That's all!? I wrote you a bloody sonnet just now!"

"That's 'cause it was an apology-sonnet."

"Mare logic at it's finest." He tickled her so that she squealed, then he kissed her for real. They lingered there for more than a moment.

At last, she pulled back and ruffled his mane with her hoof. "Are you really going to be okay, Agent?"

"Yeah, I think so. Thanks for reminding me to take a step back. I am getting emotional about the details of this case, and I knew I would. I guess I'm not really used to depending on other ponies. I asked you to come along because I hoped that you'd keep me grounded. "

"If any of the girls heard you say that, they'd laugh their cutie marks right off."

He cocked a half-smile. "Look, do you want to go dancing tonight?"

Pinkie's eyebrows went up. "Yes?"

"How about dinner? On the Princess's private credit account?"

"Uh, yes!?"

"We might as well enjoy ourselves, then," he said with a shrug. "The lab geeks won't be in town until tomorrow, anyway. I was just going to do some prelim tonight, take a few statements, but I guess it can wait until we've got more hooves on the ground." He glanced over at the bedside clock. "We'll have to make a pit-stop on the way back from the club, though. It won't take more than a few minutes."

"A pit-stop? Where?"

The Agent cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles. "Uh, the city morgue."

Pinkie stared at him for a long moment. Then she started laughing and couldn't stop. He looked at her with surprise before erupting into his own laughter. They fell onto their backs on the bed and guffawed until they were both out of breath.

"You are so yourself," said Pinkie.

"You are so yourself," said the Agent. He put his forelegs out for a hug.

Pinkie rolled over into his embrace, breathing in the scent of his cologne as he enveloped her.

I really do like this guy, she thought, feeling the threads of uncertainty tug at her heart. Whatever dark side there is to him... I've always had flings, but this is different. This is real. It scared her a little.

So she giggled.

* * *

Pinkie and the Agent asked the desk clerk at the hotel to recommend the most expensive restaurants in the city, and finally decided on an upscale pasta place. After a short carriage ride, they arrived at their destination, and Pinkie squee'd with delight to see the indoor fountain and chamber quartet.

"Fancy!" she exclaimed as they walked in, then giggled as the other guests eyed her with irritation. "Cranky," she whispered to the Agent, and they both laughed behind their hooves as they waited for their table.

Dinner was incredible, especially with Canterlot Intelligence picking up the tab. After a pair of delectable entree salads, Pinkie got to try all the various desserts on the cart.

"So?" asked the Agent, once Pinkie had eaten a bite of everything and gone back for seconds on her favorites.

"Meh," said Pinkie, chewing and shrugging. "Under-impressive!"

The Agent arched an eyebrow. "You're the best cook I've ever met, but are you telling me you're better than this?"

"Better baker for sure," she said, mouth half-full of tiramisu. She washed it down with the rest of her champagne. "I couldn't do the entrees like they do 'em, though. My squash-lasagna has never been a fan-favorite."

The Agent squinted at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Just trying to resist making a dirty joke. Whew, almost slipped out."

"You should have just said it."

"Nah, it would have been too obvious."

"It's not in the substance, silly pony," said Pinkie, bonking him gently on the forehead. "It's in the delivery. For example, 'That's funny, Pinkie, I heard the Canterlot hoofball team greatly enjoyed your squash-lasagna, although they did say it was a little too loose and sloppy for their tastes."

"I heard the party was over when you told them the green stuff wasn't pesto," said the Agent.

"Now you're getting it!" she said. "Gross!"

"I love you."

Pinkie dropped her fork on her plate with a tremendous clatter. Everypony in the restaurant turned to look at her. She smiled and waved at them, until one-by-one they'd all turned back around.

The Agent was fumbling with his napkin. "Horseradish," he said, not looking at her. "That was a mistake."

"You didn't mean it?" asked Pinkie with a pained look.

"No, no, I did! I do. I mean, I just... I thought it was a good time to tell you, but... it wasn't, was it?"

"It's okay," said Pinkie, putting her hoof out to stop his nervous napkin-wringing. "It's okay. You know what's crazy? I love you too!" She was already laughing, and then she had another thought which got her laughing even harder.

"Is something funny?" asked the Agent with a wary smile.

"Three months!" she said, "Self-disclosure! Dashie was right! She was right!"

The Agent loosened his tie and dabbed at his forehead with the napkin. "Sweet Celestia, I thought I'd blown it."

"No, you said the right thing. I'll admit, I was kind of having some doubts back at the hotel. I... I thought maybe I was barking up the wrong tree."

"You've got the right tree," said the Agent with a crooked grin. "And you can play in my branches anytime." They looked at each other. "Yeah," said the Agent, "That analogy doesn't--"

"--yeah, it doesn't really work," finished Pinkie. "Oh, well. But I still love you, even though you're ridiculous." Then she erupted into giggles again and stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth. "What the hay are we doing together? We're such opposites, Agent."

"Opposites attract."

"Sometimes," said Pinkie. "But sometimes they're like, you know, bleach and ammonia. Then you pass out on the kitchen floor for an hour until Twilight opens a window."

"That...," said the Agent. "You mixed...!? Pinkie, that creates chlorine gas! You were lucky to survive! When did this happen?"

"Oh, a while ago. I'm fine now! And it taught me a very valuable lesson."

The Agent waited, staring at her.

"But I forget what it was. Oh, well! More dessert?"

"Uh--" said the Agent.

"Bring the tray around again," said Pinkie to the waiter.

* * *

An hour later, they found themselves engulfed in a strobe-light gloom, immersed in a sea of ponykind. They thrashed their bodies to the pounding bass, the music vibrating down to their bones.

Pinkie danced her heart out, and the Agent had quite a repertoire of moves himself. He had once explained that dance-instruction had been part of his cover-identity training. Pinkie found it hilarious to watch her normally-staid stallion cut loose, even knowing that he'd only learned to dance so that he could be a better killer.

After a while, the fast trance mix gave way to a slower, more methodical dubstep, and Pinkie and the Agent made their way over to the bar. The only place to stand was right next to a speaker.

"I gotta pee!" said Pinkie.

"What!?" he asked, putting a hoof to his ear.

"I have to pee!!"

"Wha-at?"

"I said--"

Just then, the techno beat in the song behind them dropped, leaving the entire club in one second of silence.

"I have to pee!!!" screamed Pinkie Pie into room. Then the beat started up and, and the steady pulse of the club music thundered back.

The Agent was howling with laughter. She rolled her eyes and turned his chin towards her, pulling him into a deep kiss. She shot him a double-dose of her crystal-blues as she backed away. "Get us drinks," Pinkie said with a wink, then turned away and began to push around the edge of the club towards the restroom. She knew he watched her until she was out of sight.

For once, she found an empty stall right away. Pinkie went in and did her business, listening to mares entering and leaving the bathroom. The heavy bass from the dance floor thumped through the walls, echoing in warbling tones off the glass and tile.

At last, she slung her purse around her neck, and exited the stall into the main bathroom area. It was empty. Good, she thought. Pinkie wasn't a shy girl, but she still felt a little weird about walking out into a crowd of mares right after they'd heard her watering the flowers.

She approached the sink. I look cute tonight, she thought with some satisfaction. She made moon eyes at herself in the mirror. Her tail began to twitch.

A blur of motion burst from the stall directly behind her, and two forehooves slipped a rope garrote down over her face, yanking Pinkie off her forelegs as the weapon constricted around her neck. Pinkie's vision exploded into spots of light as her airway squeezed shut, and she felt herself and her attacker slam backwards into one of the metal partitions.

Omigosh, omigosh, omigosh! she thought in a blind panic. The rope pressed even further, and a hoof crushed into the small of her back for leverage, allowing the attacker to close off her windpipe entirely. Pinkie clawed at the rope with her hooves, but to no avail. Her vision narrowed to a point and her lungs burned for air. With her last thoughts, she pulled herself back together. Wait a second. What the hay am I doing? Silly Pinkie!

The assailant pulled on the garrote with all of her might, aiming for a point between unconsciousness and death, feeling cartilage creaking like old wood. But then a hoof tapped her on the shoulder, startling her out of her wits.

The assailant whipped around to look into the stall that had been empty seconds before. Pinkie Pie was sitting there, looking cheerful as ever.

"Whatcha' doin?" asked the pink pony.

With surreal shock, the assailant, who was a blue earth-pony mare, turned back to the body she had supposedly garroted. There was nothing there but thin air.

The assailant spun and leaped for Pinkie, teeth bared, iron-shod hooves flashing with deadly intent. Pinkie kicked the stall-door shut right in her face. There was a significant impact on the other side, causing the metal to dent in exactly the shape of the assailant's mug. Pinkie heard a body hit the floor on the other side. She turned the stall-door's latch closed.

The assailant scrambled back on her hooves, dazed and bloodied. She reached into her saddlebag and drew a dagger, turning sideways to buck the stall-door off its hinges. Bam! The door flew to the back of the stall, crashing against the toilet and shattering the porcelain. Clean water from the reservoir tank poured out onto the floor.

The stall was empty.

The assailant moved over to the next stall, found it locked, and kicked that door off its hinges as well. Bam!

Also empty.

Only one stall left. The assailant gritted her teeth as she prepared for the final attack.

Bam! The door folded in half, as its moorings splintered. It crashed all the way to the back of an empty stall.

"Where the... hay?" said the blue mare. That was when she noticed the big, yellow sign stuck to the wall of the last stall.

RAILROAD XING.

A clanging bell sounded, and then, out of nowhere, a full-sized freight train came roaring across the space of the bathroom, defying every law of physics by what some might call "a healthy margin." The locomotive slammed into the knife-wielding assailant at a hundred kilometers-per-hour, and should very rightly have liquified her. But instead, the assassin bounced around the room like a pinball, eventually crashing head-down into the sink as the caboose passed out-of-frame.

Pinkie stepped out from behind the back-partition next to the wall, rubbing her throat painfully as she approached the unconscious mare. She grabbed her would-be captor by the scruff of her neck and dragged her out of the sink onto the floor, then reached down and turned her over. Nopony she knew.

For a moment, Pinkie was furious. Visions of butcher's-knives danced in her mind's eye. "I ought to make cupcakes out of you," she said in a black tone, and a few locks of her curly hair fell straight. She only said things like this when she was sure nopony would hear her. After another few, deep breaths, however, she started calming down and thinking a little more clearly.

What would Agent do?? she wondered. Dig around in her pockets! Look for ID.

She started searching the unconscious mare, but was interrupted by a sudden pounding on the door. Pinkie propped the mare against the wall, then ran over to the bathroom's entrance. Her assailant had apparently locked the door on her way in, and Pinkie undid the bolt.

She opened the door to greet a pair of huge bouncers.

"Hi there!" said Pinkie with an excess of cheerful charm. "Sorry, my dumb, drunk friend locked the door, then passed out while I was trying to help her pee. If you just let us through to the exit, I'll take her out of here and you'll never have to see us silly mares again."

"Your friend looks unconscious," said one of the bouncers, whose cutie-mark was a broken pool-cue. "She might have alcohol poisoning."

"Nah," said Pinkie, waving a hoof. "She does this all the time. Narco... narco..."

"Narcoleptic?" said the other bouncer in a voice so deep it was practically seismic. "You'd better not be trying to saying 'narcotics.'"

"Narcoleptic, yeah," said Pinkie.

"I think we'd better call an ambulance anyway," said the first bouncer. "Insurance purposes and all."

"Excuse me," said a voice off to the side. The Agent stepped out of the crowd and walked up next to them. He held up a police badge. "Hi, the name is Gold Shield, Manehattan PD, off-duty. If you want, I'll drive this young lady to County General myself."

The bouncer took the Agent's ID and examined it. He looked like the kind of pony who knew how to spot a fake. After a moment, the bouncer looked to the other and nodded.

"Okay," said the second bouncer. "Thanks, guy."

"No problem at all," said the Agent. "You fellows have a good night."

Once he and Pinkie had carried the blue mare out onto the street and down a little ways, the Agent turned to Pinkie and finally let his sense of alarm reach his face. "Who is this??" he whispered to her.

"Good question!" said Pinkie. "She tried to strangle me with a rope, but it's okay. A train hit her."

"What the hay?? A train?? Look, never mind. We have to get--"

The blue mare started struggling, waking up, mumbling and rolling her head. With a single, smooth motion, the Agent pulled a syrette of morphine from his vest pocket and hit her in the leg with it. Pinkie and the Agent both watched in nervous anticipation, but it only took a few seconds for the sedative to make the mare's head loll and then she was out like a lantern again.

The Agent looked up. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Really?"

"I'm fine," said Pinkie, waving him off. "Probably won't be doing any singing for a little while, but I've gotten hurt worse than this wearing a scarf in a wind-tunnel. Don't do that by the way. Ba-a-a-ad mojo."

The Agent didn't look like he was satisfied with her answer, but they couldn't exactly stand around on the street with an unconscious enemy assassin between them. He hailed a carriage and together, Pinkie and the Agent wrestled the blue earth-pony mare through the door and laid her across one bench.

"Party hard?" asked the driver with a wink.

"You have no idea," said Pinkie.

The moment they were in motion, the Agent inspected her bruised neck with a pen-light. A fire ignited in his dark-blue eyes. His mouth became a hard line. "Where's the weapon?"

"Here," said Pinkie, retrieving it from her purse and handing it to him.

He held it up. "This is a capture-garrote, not a kill-wire. They were trying to take you prisoner. Good thing they didn't know who they were dealing with. It looks like you fairly cleaned this mare's clock."

"I almost didn't," said Pinkie. Now that her adrenalin high was coming down, she was starting to feel a little dizzy and emotional. The shakes rolled over her and her teeth chattered.

The Agent placed his foreleg around her shoulders. "I know how you feel," he said, meeting her eyes. "But you survived. You're okay. And we've both got to maintain our focus now. There will be plenty of time to dwell on all of this later."

"Why would they want to capture me, anyway? Because of my Harmony Gem?"

For a moment, the Agent's spectacles caught the glare from the carriage lantern, totally obscuring his eyes. "No," he said. "They wanted you for bait. "

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Picture Credit:

http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/212/c/2/sweetie_pinkie_pie_remix_by_guesswork00-d598v6l.png
http://hqwallpapers.eu/wallpaper/portal_my_little_pony_pinkie_pie_desktop_1920x1200_wallpaper-1084639.png
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SOzvtAQdQWk/UDN1IoaST7I/AAAAAAAAAM4/ZBbzY2HSSHM/s1600/Train.jpg

Comments

[Guesswork]

I wouldn't exactly say I'm back, but here's a story I've been sitting on for a few months and decided to finally post. The finale chapter is in final edits right now, and the rest are all done, so I'll be parceling them out over the next few days. There are six chapters total, so what's presented at the moment is the first half of the story. Hope you enjoy!

[djthomp]

The spy game was not prepared for Pinkie Pie.

[notMurphy]

This is interesting. I'm not sure if I like it, but I can't stop reading so there's no real difference.
It's good either way, real good. You have all of my interest.
Edit: read chapter three yeah, I don't like this story-I Love it

[LittleSallyDigby]

1326870

Truer words have rarely been spoken.

Seriously, guys, she hit that pony with a train. What.

[brone]

I'm a fan of breaking the rules of reality and all, but she just broke my record of the biggest thing i hit somepony with. I probably should have used a bigger sledge hammer...

[Sparx EmberFlame]

Oh you silly filly spy. Why in the world would you pick a fight with somepony who can shatter whatever you thought was real or true in the world or existance, not to mention being best pony.

It'll be...Interesting to see how Pinkie will, how should I say...Get that information out of her