Episode 3-1 :: Rancheros
There was a field of white, set apart from the rest – a perfect square in both length, width and depth. The huge cube of mist sat, bordered by wood and reinforced cloud, along a path that winded around its glass walls.
The purpose of the mist was so that, while it could manoeuvre within the boundaries of the cube quite freely, it would never gain enough momentum to jump out of the top. Though most of these reasons were not of interest to the average earth pony or unicorn, the differences between cloud and mist were the very key in keeping it in. The wood and reinforced cloud were there to make sure it could never punch through the sides or floor. The glass was so that its viewers could have a great under-cloud perspective as it went around its natural habitat.
The whole thing had been a task to build, indeed, and ran the place quite a lot of money to plan and construct. But they paid up every bit and didn't cut corners, all for one very specific purpose.
It must never escape.
Even with all the warnings placed along the walls of the enclosure, there would always be one or two rather silly pegasi who wouldn't stick to the path and fly up to the edge, only to find that its reach was far longer than they previously assumed. The management had the forethought of not filling the cube up all the way, of course, and there were a few meters of space between you and a poke in the eye.
This was also for the benefit of the keepers, whose daily feeding shows were of much delight. They bought the discarded meat products from the very few gryphon kitchens in town; it was cheap and would have otherwise gone to waste. The creature wasn't picky at all. It ate anything: bones; fur; innards and feathers.
So on that morning, when Keeper Paddock made his way to the enclosure before opening time to throw in the bucket of tasty treats – its delicious pre-breakfast snack – he couldn't help but notice that the treats all settled to the bottom of the tank with no more activity than them settling to the bottom of the tank.
He turned his head to look. And it didn't matter how it happened, or why it happened, but he dropped his bucket and scrabbled for his blowgun – the one loaded with tranquilizer darts that would not be of any use whatsoever in this situation.
He peered down at the walkway, lowering the bamboo shoot, and swung around behind the tank to look at the most horrible sight he had seen in his life.
Leading away from the cube was a tear – as if someone had ripped through the pavement with a ridiculously oversized knife – that lead out of the park, through the back fence, and into the wilderness of Cloudsdale.
Now, the keeper reckoned, would be a good time to retire.
As it was, at 10:39 in the morning, the Banana Blintz Café buzzed with the excitement and anticipation of a great breakfast. Service was casual but very friendly, and despite there being only one member of staff who did everything from cooking to serving to ringing up the bill, everyone's food got there on time and it was always piping hot and freshly cooked.
Coffee poured like rain there, with a free-flow morning special, and the pancakes were absolutely to die for. Since the diner itself was so small, Mocha Leche, owner and proprietor, never had any problems keeping up with the demand, and her clients never minded having to wait that extra few minutes for the best breakfast around.
It was always a mystery where Mocha got her energy and vigour from, and rumours had it that she dipped into the sugar donuts behind the counter, but nothing was ever proven.
She'd been approached, as well, by a number of ponies who all appreciated her odd mane style and her spunky yet ironic attitude, but they were all turned down very politely. This gave way to even more talk, and she'd heard it all. But none of it bothered her, because she knew exactly where she stood.
But of all the hearsay and whispers, there was none more prominent than the mystery of the third booth from the left, which was always empty, and which Mocha would never give to a customer. It was always reserved, and Mocha had always given a very strict face when explaining this, almost as if to say if you ask me again I shall burn you with a hot spoon.
The rumour went on to say that there was one rather catty pegasus who had asked, and she was never heard from again.
But it was one of those things that ponies liked to talk about and never really paid attention to, because clearly, on this morning, the third booth from the left was filled, and two stallions were sitting in it like good little boys, drinking their coffee and eating their pie.
One was banoffee.
The other was rhubarb.
The chatter of the crowds made it easier for the two to speak, ironically, since voices tended to drown out other voices, and all that was left was a universal conglomeration of indistinguishable hubbub.
"It's a sin," the one sitting on the left of the table said, "that these pies have no gravy."
"Gravy? In a rhubarb pie?" the other responded. "I know your tastes are particular, but-"
"Oh, don't start with that. None of your 'Trottinghammers eat weird food' rubbish. We'll not be having that today! You know exactly what I mean."
"Well, perhaps you should speak with management to see if they can't do you a proper savoury vegetable pie, then."
"Won't do it!" Mocha said, swinging past, holding four plates of breakfast special on her outstretched wings. "That is decidedly un-cloudsdale-ian."
"Why is everypony against me?" Survey yelled, throwing his legs up in the air.
"Nopony is against you," Egg explained, taking a sip of coffee. "We're just against your pie."
Mocha swung back, wings empty and clear of burden. "Could do you a fried green tomato, if you'd like."
"I suppose," Survey grumbled. "Ooh, and hash brown and a bit of Canterlot toast, please. That smells right fantastic. And some beans. And some soy strips."
"Cookie gave me her recipe for the toast just three days ago." Mocha smiled at Egg. "She's such a dear. Taught me the secret of how to lock in the dryness of the bread so it doesn't just turn into one large soggy mess. She's very talented."
"Indeed so," Egg said. "Ever since she moved in, she's cooked for us every day, as means of payment. Thanks for lending her your spare equipment, by the way. I'll pay you back for the supplies."
"Don't be silly, Egg. Anything for a fellow chef. And for you, of course."
"Uh… am I missing something?" Survey cut in. "Whereabouts is she cooking for you?"
"You remember that laboratory we found in the warehouse?" Egg turned back to Survey.
"Yeah?"
"It's a kitchen." Egg sipped his coffee.
"A what?"
"It turns out this is something that some restaurants do," Egg elaborated, putting the mug down. "They actually get ingredients mass produced in warehouses like that, in bulk, where it gets packed up and shipped out. Saves preparation time for the kitchen. Cookie never agreed with the idea, she bakes everything fresh. At least, that's what she used to do."
"I still do it," Mocha boasted, nodding enthusiastically. "Everything fresh off the grill!"
"So she's just hanging around in the warehouse, cooking for you?"
"Mostly sweet things and sandwiches and bread, yes. It's all rather good. You should come and try some one day."
"Oh no. No way. No, Egg. You aren't getting me to step one hoof in that building again. If I do you'll never let me off. It'll be 'Survey, why don't you stay? Survey, why don't you quit your job? Survey, why don't you join us?' I'm not even going to start! You know what that is, Egg?"
"Do tell."
"Kidnapping, Egg. You'd be kidnapping me. And that's a crime."
"I'll… just go put in your order, dear," Mocha said, giving a strange piteous look to Survey, before she drew back to her side of the diner.
"So what have you been up to these past few days?" Survey continued, changing the subject himself. "Ever since that whole business with the burning bakery, it's all anypony's been talking about. Of course, I can't say anything about it, because then they'll ask me questions, and then I'll have to talk about you. You're denying me the right to gossip, Egg. This isn't right."
"We've been up to nothing much, honestly. We think these guys we're chasing have gone into hiding. We're not sure what they're planning, but… never did get the chance to tell you what we found, did I?"
"I've been busy, Egg, if you don't remember, thanks to your little stunt with that punk you sent my way."
"Oh, the punk! How is he?"
"He's... not bad, actually." Survey shrugged. "Hard worker. Came to me crying and blubbering, you know that? What did you do to him?"
"Gave him a second chance." Egg busied himself with the pie.
"Well. Anyway. He's only been with the team for a week and already he's showing signs of great initiative. It's almost as if he were meant to be in marketing. He might have a future, you know, if he doesn't set us all on fire."
"Oh, let it go, Survey."
"Let it go? He's still... he still did what he did, you know!"
Egg was silent. From behind him, Mocha watched, carrying her pot of coffee on her wing. He didn't have to turn around. He knew she was there.
"You agree with Survey, don't you?" Egg asked, towards the table.
"I do," Mocha whispered softly, stepping up from behind. "I'm sorry, Egg."
"Nothing to be sorry about. What of it?"
"Second chances are good," Mocha continued, "but what has he done to pay for what he did? He nearly killed an innocent gryphon. He destroyed a shop and a livelihood. And you give him a job as way of thanks?"
"Not thanks," Egg stated.
"Then what?"
Egg thought about it, staring deep into his cup of coffee, as if the answer were swimming amongst the steam and inky darkness.
"Atonement," he said, finally.
Mocha stepped forward, coming into view. Egg still gave his coffee more regard than his companions.
"He could pay for it in many number of ways. But what better way than by giving back to the public? By working for a life, and by doing what all ponies should?" Egg explained. "He's productive now. He'll... help. He'll not forget, and he'll make Cloudsdale better."
"You sound sure of that," Mocha said, sadly. "What gives you the right to judge him better than other offenders?"
Egg blew a wisp of steam off the top of his mug. "What gives me the right to condemn someone's future?"
Throughout the exchange, Survey had been trying very hard to squeeze himself into the corner of the booth, out of the slowly expanding bubble of awkward tension that had grown between Egg and Mocha. The pie, delicious as it was, didn't help. He grunted uncomfortably.
"What is this all about?" Egg asked, rushing the conversation, as his eyes flicked to his cowering friend.
"I'm just scared, Egg," Mocha snapped, shaking her head. "Can't you understand that? What if this punk decides to do it again? You'd have condemned a whole lot more than just one single punk kid."
"He won't. I'm sure of it."
"And if you're wrong?"
"I haven't made a mistake."
Mocha sighed. Was it stubbornness or just... the fact that Egg was never wrong? Either way, it troubled her in a place deep down in her thoughts, a place she couldn't reach by herself. But she needed to trust him. She had to. There was no one else she could rely on to quell her hate for Egg but Egg.
"Alright, Eggy," Mocha said, smiling again, her eyelids opening a little wider. The dark reds under her eyes looked a little more weary than usual, regardless.
"Mmm," Survey cried out suddenly, "This pie is excellent! More, please!"
"Right," Egg said, turning back.
"I'll have your full Trottingham over in a moment," Mocha told him, swinging away.
"What, it worked, didn't it?" Survey exclaimed, shrugging at Egg's look of derision. "Anyway, I don't have that much time left and I needed to talk to you about the note you gave me the other day."
Egg perked up, leaning forward, even going so far as to push the coffee to the side. "Yes, what do you have for me?"
"I... couldn't find out anything."
Egg slid the coffee back.
"No! Wait! I mean, listen. 'essor' is definitely a title, right? But it could be anything. Processor. Oppressor. Supressor. Successor. Aggressor. I was thinking of all the words that could have gone with some sort of gang activity, but I couldn't come up with anything. And then this 'polyc' thing? What is a polyc? Aren't those the things that live in the ocean and sti-"
"Polyps."
"Right, so not those then. I have no idea what a polyc is. Don't you have anything else for me?"
"Unfortunately I don't, Survey."
"Hah."
"What?"
"Hah."
"What's... 'hah'?"
"I got you. I finally got you. Egg, the great and mighty." Survey pointed a hoof at his friend, a wide cocky grin on his face. "You're always one step ahead, aren't you? Well, this time, I'm one step ahead! Of you!"
Egg quirked an eyebrow.
"I couldn't find out anything about the name, and of course I asked the punk about it. But Punky didn't remember anything either. Said he couldn't be bothered with the front because all that mattered was what was on the back. And of course, at that point, I was all 'well, what's on the back, then?' and he was like, 'oh, it's an address, Mister Survey, but I forgot it' and so I went back and looked at the paper again."
"I don't remember seeing anything written on the back myself," Egg said, thinking about it.
"Well, that's right. It was rubbed off too. But from the legband, not the punk's sweaty leg. So I managed to restore it with a little something I like to call lemon juice."
"Something you call lemon juice? What is it actually?"
"Just... just lemon juice."
"So why is it that you call it 'lemon juice'? Isn't lemon juice always called 'lemon juice' by everypony?"
"Shut up, Egg. Lemon juice sometimes reacts with faded ink, right? Sometimes. On the off chance it worked, I just tried it anyway, and it did. I got an address for you."
Survey slid a piece of paper across the table, the way spies do in movies.
"Before you ask, yes, I tried it on the name. It was too smudged. Sort of made things worse, really. Now there's a big lemon-scented blob on the paper. But it's alright. I still remember 'essor polyc'."
"Good work, Survey." Egg picked up the address, looked at it, and tucked it away.
"Yes, it was! And for once, I gave you a lead!" Survey flung both his hooves at Egg. "So, hah!"
"That's why I need you, Survey. Are you sure you won't reconsider joining?"
"Stop it!"
"So, this would be the address where the punk picked up the bombs, right? Could you ask him for more information?"
"I'd love to Egg, but..."
"But?"
"Well, honestly. When I was asking him about the note just yesterday he was... rather troubled by it. You could tell he was affected by the whole experience. He's trying to leave it behind. Couldn't we... just let him be?"
"Aw, Survey, you have a heart," Egg intoned.
"No! Shut your dirty face! He's my employee now, eh? That's your doing. And I have to take care of my employees. D'ya understand? I'm not letting you or anypony else bully my team!"
"Perish the thought," Egg said, sliding twenty-one bits across the table toward Survey.
"What... what's this for?" Survey asked.
"Breakfast. It's on me. Tell Mocha I had to go, alright? I'll be back later. Enjoy your meal, Survey, and rest assured, I'll get back to you when I have more information."
If there was something any group, corporation or society needed, no matter what you called it, it was finance. Money moved in, money moved out – sometimes, in the form of goods and equity – and the ones in charge needed to know how much of what they had at any time.
There always comes a point when the heads of these groups get so much money that they can't be bothered to keep track of it all, and that's when they hired other ponies to track it for them.
Ponies like Egg.
On the way over to the small apartment in the squalid side of town, where all the old, crusty, abandoned flats were, it had crossed Egg's mind that he had no idea what would be in store once he had actually got there. But it was fine. He had the entire flight there to come up with something.
And there was always that one phrase of advice that always cropped up in situations like these.
'Go with what you know'.
And what Egg knew was finance.
He briefly considered taking off his glasses and mussing up his hair, but in the end, he had to go all the way or not at all. And that was the safest way to play the game.
He arrived at the block of flats that lay in an area that had been decommissioned by the Cloudsdale government; all the tenants were moved to much better housing further up-town. The area was slated to be decomposed for recycling of clouds, but no one had really gotten around to it yet – the mark of every good governmental body.
It was now the home of squatters, vagrants, and shady deals.
The flat was unobtrusive. There was a simple door set into a plain landing on the second floor, and just like all Cloudsdale flats, Egg had to fly to get up there. The clouds that made up the graffiti-lined walls of the building were wispy and coming apart at the tuft, and the place had certainly seen better days.
The door was open.
Egg stopped just outside, taking a breath. Any other pony would have steeled themselves and put on a stern, confident face before entering. But this was Egg, so he made do with the face he already had on.
He stepped in.
The gloom wrapped around his head and blinded him for a moment as his eyes got used to the murk. The conditions within were typical of buildings that had fallen to a state of disrepair – the materials that constituted its construction pulled apart into fog which filled the room as a form of haze, dampening the light and making it hard to breathe.
All he could hear was the sound of running water, somewhere in the back, across the floor from where he stood.
But as his eyes adjusted, he was finally able to take stock of the room around him.
Curtains were drawn across the windows, making it even more unnecessarily nebulous. Save for stains on the floor, there was nothing in the room but an incredibly dirty couch tipped over against the wall and a small breadbox-sized wooden crate laying innocently on top of the 4-bit carpet, which was in dire need of a wash.
The water was coming through a doorway that kept its contents a secret, locked behind a lid of shadows.
But it was probably the bathroom.
The water stopped.
Egg froze.
And from within the other room, somepony emerged.
"Hey," the pony in the jacket said as he exited the bathroom, right wing clenched around something obscured by the feathers. With dark eyes hiding under a bandanna, and carefully styled facial hair, the young pegasus looked comically suited to his environment. His cutie mark was slightly obscured by his apparel, but Egg could make out what looked like wagon wheels on fire.
"I think you got the wrong apartment," the pegasus continued, in his raspy voice that had that sort of edge to it that made everything he said sound like a threat. "This one's taken."
"No, I'm sure I have the right one," Egg responded casually, standing his ground.
"Wh... you from Unity?" the gangster shot, unfurling a bit of his wing to reveal the small knife that he had clutched within his primaries.
"Are you?" Egg retorted, turning the harshness of his voice up. "Is it a habit of yours to tell everyone who walks through the door which organization you're affiliated with?
And once again, it was back to business. This stallion in front of him was merely an employee, assigned to do a task that he probably had no investment or interest in. And be it a gang or a large investment firm, it was all the same thing with a different hat on.
And the newbies would always make the same mistakes, no matter who they were. Laying all your cards on the table was one fine example of such, whether in a meeting room or... whatever this was, and Egg pegged the character instantly as a fresh recruit.
That would be the angle of attack.
"Who the hail are you, man?" The gangster flicked his head up at Egg.
Egg made a 'tsk' noise, shaking his head slightly in derision. It was something that was not encouraged in the office space, but he felt that that level of contempt was necessary to communicate toward a rougher cut of pony.
"Listen, I'm very busy. What's the progress report?"
"I asked you a question, man, who a-"
"Put that knife away before you hurt yourself," Egg cut in. There was a kind of voice that was somewhere between a growl and a stern admonishment, where each word was said with a fierce clarity that made it sound like you were being yelled at by a whisper. "I have no time to play games with you right now, and the only reason why you're not already digging your own grave is that I happen to be a little bit more patient with the new recruits than some of my colleagues. But I will tell you this. Keep saying things that make me upset and I'll be glad to hand you a shovel."
There was a moment of stunned silence that radiated off the gangster in waves as he churned the storm of his mind for an appropriate next move. He looked away – a clear sign of being beat – and stashed his knife away in a belt wrapped around his leg.
"Lissen man," he drawled, voice wavering into high caution. "I'm just makin' sure, okay? I only been here a couple months. I don't recognize, you, man."
"For future reference, I am the accountant."
"What?"
"I take care of the money." Egg sniffed, purposefully looking around the room in a mock inspection. "As well as... other assets."
"Well, whatcha doin' here, man?"
Egg took a deep, deliberate breath, as if his time was being wasted. He scratched his brow, walking over to the crate to peer in.
Crystals. Gems. There were about a dozen of them. But these lacked the glow of the one picked up from the bakery. It was, however, a clear indication of something.
"You remember what happened last week, don't you? With the gem shop?"
"Yeah, 'course. Some bunch of clowns thinkin' they're all heroes or somethin' stops the shipment. Guys said they had a gryphon with them, can you believe that manure?"
"Yes. And understandably, the boss isn't too happy about it. I'm here to make sure that... we don't lose more than we should."
"Hey, I ain't stealin' from the boss, alright? I ain't stupid."
"Nice to know you aren't," Egg muttered, moving his head away from the crate.
Clearly, the place had been abandoned recently. It was probably a temporary base of operations for that polyc character – this idiot in front of Egg definitely wasn't him. He was simply assigned to clean up, and he was gathering the remainders of the gems, most likely, from whatever it was they had going on in here.
There was no reason to pursue the small fry. It was better to let them go in order to go after the big catch. The best thing that Egg could do with this stallion was to get as much information as possible and leave with his silence.
"Now, let's make this really simple, alright? I don't want trouble, you don't want trouble. Do you want trouble?"
The gangster shook his head, weary from the presence of his 'superior'.
"Good. So I'm just going to ask a few questions, nothing big, and once we're all done I'm going to leave you alone to finish up. You go back to base, and tell them you did everything just fine, and there were no complications. Sound good?"
"Sounds great, man," the gangster said, unenthusiastically. If anything, he just wanted this to be over, which was good news for Egg – it meant he was less likely to remember the details of the incident. If he ever talked about this later with the other members of Unity, he probably wouldn't be able to give a clear description of what Egg looked like. He was still trying to avoid looking directly at Egg, which was just an added benefit.
"Just to make sure that we're on the same page, tell me." Egg gave the crate a little pat. "Where is this heading off to?"
"Well, the prof's back at the base. So, back to base, right?"
"Right," Egg said. It would be just a little too obvious if he asked where the base was, really, and far too suspicious to hang around and follow the guy back. Walking into a drop point was one thing; waltzing into enemy territory was far from smart. "And the rest of the equipment?"
"Already did that, man. It went out with the professor last night."
"And what about the other gems? You know the ones I'm talking about."
"Nope, there weren't no extra. I searched the equipment and everything, alright? I was careful. She only made what was given out."
Egg raised his head and gave himself a little thought. Curious.
"Is that it, man? Can I get back to work now?" the gangster pleaded.
"Of course you may," Egg told him.
"Cloud-7?" Champagne said, nervously.
"Miss. Freakin' miss!" Ember chortled gleefully, pumping his hoof into the air.
"This isn't fair!" Champagne whined.
"Yeah well, guess what, I'm finally winning. This is what it's like to play an honest game, you little snit."
"Now, now," Cookie said, watching from the side. "Let us not resort to name-calling."
The little row of tokens placed to the side of Champagne's end of the board showed how many pieces she'd lost, compared to the single bird off Ember's.
"Yeah, well, I'm still winning. Who's the king of Battleclouds? I am!" Ember boasted.
"Yes, very much so," Cookie responded, amusedly. "Having to handicap a young girl in order to achieve victory. Surely, this is the pinnacle of your gaming career."
"Hey, it isn't handicapping, alright? It's evening out the playing field."
"This isn't fair!" Champagne yelled again, swinging wildly at the board.
"Mm," Cookie muttered, sniffing the air. "Must not burn the toast. I shall be back."
The gryphon ducked back into the kitchen, busying herself with whatever she had to do in there in preparation for the day's activities.
"By the time you get back, I'll have won this!" Ember shouted.
"No! No you won't!" Champagne retaliated, beating her hooves on the ground.
The front door creaked, opening halfway as Egg pushed himself through the crack. It was the one thing that they still hadn't bothered to fix, despite the warehouse looking more and more like a home than ever before.
It was thanks to Cookie's incredibly headstrong focus in doing anything, and Champagne's burning hatred for anything 'unsightly' that caused the base to finally get clean and organized. They treated it as a project, and over the course of a few hours during which Egg and Ember had gone out on patrol, they were able to shift the base's official status from 'hole' to 'decorated hole'.
The pallet racks had been pushed up against a wall and were given a nice buff and shine. Although they still were the pale green skeletons that they had always been, they were, at least, lacking the dust and cobwebs of before. All of them now were repurposed, and were the primary source of furniture in the base.
The rack near the kitchen was now a storage shelf, holding rows of cooking supplies all stacked up in a row.
There was now a 'locker' next to the entrance, a place where the team could place their personal effects – the middle shelf held a variety of board games that Champagne had brought in, and the darkest corner of the lowest shelf was where Ember's bag made its home.
Standing prominently in the very middle of the main room was their trophy case. All good justice teams had one, Ember insisted. The comics said so. In fact, the Wonderbolts had an entire museum dedicated to it up on the Agora Cluster, next to their headquarters. So why not them?
Of course, the only thing that was on it at the time was an exploded bitbag: it was the very same one they had used to catch the shyster at the boardwalk, and it represented the memory of their first joint victory. It was an amusement at best, but Ember felt oddly proud of it, and Egg decided to humour him. Egg never asked why Ember had it, but he felt some questions were best left unanswered.
There was one final shelf that was left empty and had been placed in a way that blocked the hole in the corner. No one had gone down there because it was dark, and Champagne was scared of the dark, and Cookie had a faint aversion to pigeons.
They were certain there was a nest of pigeons somewhere in there. They could hear them scratching away, evil teeth tearing into the cloudwork and wings beating against their foul nests.
The only place a pigeon belonged, Cookie had said, was on a plate at a gryphon diner, and so they minded their own business and kept the cover to the trapdoor firmly shut.
Even Egg's office had been given a thorough clean, and as he stepped past the two ponies on the floor, he gave Ember a slightly funny look before asking the burning question while on the way back to his desk.
"Why is she blindfolded?" Egg sighed, stopping momentarily to try to understand the deal.
"To give me a chance, old stallion." Ember smirked, wobbling a piece on his side of the board. "Champy keeps cheatin', you know?"
"I do not cheat!" Champagne declared, tearing off her blindfold in a huff and throwing it into Ember's face.
He dodged, deftly.
"Oh yeah? Go on then, show him!" Ember yelled back, sticking out a hoof. "Show him what you do!"
Egg turned his body, shifting from the office to the pair. This was curious enough to get his attention.
Champagne was looking up at him from below, an almost-guilty look on her face, before it scrunched up in mild annoyance and she flipped her hair back at her opponent. "Fine, then!"
She shut her eyes and drew in a breath.
Egg watched. Ember himself was in rapt attention, holding his face extremely still, trying very hard not to show any emotion whatsoever. He was statue-like in his attempt to keep motionless.
But this was Ember.
'Motionless' was not part of his repertoire.
Champagne stared. Curiously, quizzically. Studying. Observing. She opened her mouth to ask a simple question.
"Is there a piece on row one?"
"No," Ember said, almost immediately.
"Is there a piece on row two?"
"Yes," Ember replied.
"Is there a piece on row three?"
Champagne's eyes were burning holes into Ember now. It wasn't a stare, per se, but she kept a lock onto his face and his every twitching nuance, from wings to tail.
"I don't know," Ember replied, shaking his head.
Champagne tilted hers.
"Is the piece on row three on the shore column?"
Ember tightened his face.
"Is the piece on row three on the cloud column?"
"No," Ember replied.
"Are you lying?" Champagne asked.
It was that question. It was always that question. Ember dreaded it. It always came before a fall. It wasn't enough that she was somehow able to tell exactly where things were simply by asking about them, but it was that one final nail in the coffin that rang the loudest and echoed throughout the crypt. She always was polite enough to ask if he was lying.
"N-"
"Cloud-three," Champagne declared, sticking her hoof out.
For a moment there was nothing but the grating sounds of teeth against teeth, as Ember shot out, snatched up the piece and tossed it into Champagne's waiting grasp.
She turned, and smiled, proudly, like a little puppy who did a good trick, toward Egg.
"Huh," Egg said.
"Cheat," Ember reiterated, folding his front legs across his chest.
"Must take long," Egg commented. "You'd have to go through the entire process for each piece."
"Actually, it is faster," came a voice from behind. Cookie had re-emerged from the kitchen noiselessly, and had spoken up with her observation. Despite a few initial shocks, the gang was quite used to her silent running by now, and it now didn't bother them as much that she would suddenly appear in a room without any indication.
"Oh?" asked Egg, still keeping watch on Champagne, who was now parading the piece in front of Ember's face, making it fly around in the air like a little tiny bird.
"If you play in the normal way, you would guess, yes? It is very little time spent on very many moves. In little Champagne's case, it is a lot of time spent on very few moves, yes? In fact – usually only the same number of moves as there are pieces on the board, allowing extra turns for the very few times she is wrong, of course."
"Hm," Egg mused.
"But of course, it all comes down to if you want to spend a lot of time getting something right, or do something many times with the small chance that you will be successful," Cookie continued to patter on. "But I suppose in the end, both ways get you what you want in a world ungoverned by urgency, yes?"
Egg turned slightly. Shifted. He looked back out of the corner of his eye at Cookie, who shrugged, feathers rustling.
"But what do I know?" she brushed herself off, retreating to the kitchen. "I am just a baker, and I must attend to the bread."
The response to that was two taps on the ground as Egg once again gathered up his thoughts and summarized the entire situation. But whatever determinations he came to, he kept to himself, as he finally retreated back to his office for reasons not divulged.
Ember looked at Champagne, a sly, cheeky grin spreading across. By now he'd forgotten about the game; already he was pushing it aside and upsetting the pieces, much to Champagne's chagrin.
"So," he said, cautiously, corners of his mouth turned up.
"What?" Champagne narrowed her eyes, busying herself with chucking all the game pieces into the box.
"You know what I'm about to ask, don't you?"
"Maybe. But I'd prefer to hear it anyway. Mister Egg's been teaching me not to jump to conclusions too much. That's how I accidentally accused the shopkeeper two days ago in that theft case." Champagne sniffed. "I have to use what I can do as a guide and not a law."
"What, that old stallion?" Ember threw a piece into the box. "What does he know?"
"A lot more than you!" Champagne replied, indignant.
"Well, yeah. Maybe." Ember's eyes trailed, ever the cool kid.
Champagne puffed out her cheeks, frowning as she stuffed the board over the pieces and shoved the cover on.
"Anyway, look. I just wanted to know. You come here all the time. You're always doing stuff with us. You're 'training' under the old stallion, or whatever you wanna call it. Why don't you just stay here?"
Champagne turned her back, walking to the shelves that held the games. Her games. She tossed it up, where it landed slightly askew, next to the Cloudopoly set.
"I just... daddy would have problems," she replied, facing the shelves.
"No, he won't. Come on. Lie to me a bit better, won't you? It's always daddy this and daddy that with ya, ain't it?"
"It... it's valid..." Champagne muttered.
"You already said you struck a deal with him, right? In your own crazy little world of yours. So, no. It's not 'daddy would have problems'. It's you. You have problems. What do you have problems with?"
Champagne fidgeted. She turned, swallowing heavily, her eye darting to the grinning Emberkite for just a fraction of a second. She sniffed.
"Oh," Emberkite intoned, flicking his head backwards. As much as Champagne had an incredible ability to read others, she had the incredible weakness of being able to be read just as easily. She wore her emotions on her spats, something which Egg had noticed and pointed out to her many days ago. Even Ember, with his lack of emotional quotient, could tell who Champagne's discomfort was directed towards.
"Look, maybe we got off on the wron-"
The door shut. Maybe it was a good thing, maybe it was a bad thing, but all that was definite was that Ember was cut short thanks to Egg re-emerging into the main floor.
"Champagne?"
"Sir!" She snapped to attention.
"Emberkite?"
"Yeah?"
"Miss Eternia?"
"Yes," Cookie said, from behind them, having positioned herself silently at the entrance to the kitchen an indeterminate time ago.
"We have work to do. Something a little different this time. Something a bit more... general."
"Alright, it's about time," Ember cheered. "Been a bit quiet lately."
"The radio just gave a report of an escaped animal from the zoo."
"Aw, what?"
Champagne glared. Ember quietened.
Egg sighed, and continued. "According to the report, which didn't divulge the nature of the animal, all ponies are asked to stay at home and off the clouds, and not panic. The zoo is 'on it', to coin a phrase, and they hope for the cooperation of the citizens to make sure there are no issues. Thoughts?"
"Do we have to do this every time, old stallion?" Ember complained. He hated this 'analysis' thing Egg kept making them do. It required thinking, and thinking hurt.
"Yes."
"It's just an escaped animal, old stallion, why are you interested in this?" came the first objection.
A small, soft sigh escaped the lips of the little girl behind Ember.
"Champagne?" Egg turned to her.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, clearing her throat. "Um... that is, if it wasn't important, they wouldn't have broadcast it. They don't want to... um... make everyone scared so... they don't want to tell everyone what it is?"
"What else? Ember?"
"I guess it's gotta be dangerous, or something. Did you say they said to stay off the clouds?"
"Yes, I had."
"That means it's got something to do with clouds, right? Some kinda... some kinda animal that uses clouds or something? I ain't too good with animals. I couldn't tell you what it was."
"Well spotted, Ember. Champagne, been to the zoo recently?"
"I haven't been there for a while," she admitted. "I don't think I could guess..."
"Alright. Is that it? Then-" Egg started, but was cut off by a rather odd low rumbling coming from his left.
It came from the baker.
It was a cat-like noise, a soft combination of a low purr and a growl. It wasn't one of frustration; there was no evil intent behind it, but it clearly indicated that there was something on the gryphon's mind.
Cookie stopped as all three heads turned to her direction.
She looked as she always did – a slight air of confidence layered over a quiet disposition. She normally kept to herself, and always had during discussions about 'group matters', but today she seemed rather vocal about things.
"If you don't mind, that is," the gryphon whispered with a turn of a claw in the air.
"What are you thinking of?"
"Why did you leave out information in your briefing?"
"Who said I left anything out?"
Ember raised an eyebrow. Champagne ducked her head. The atmosphere was getting a bit terse again.
"Oh, I did not mean to suggest so, Mister Egg. I apologize for the affront, yes? But... I noticed that you neglected to divulge a particular piece of information."
"And what piece of information would that be?"
"Where the animal went, Mister Egg."
"Oh, what? You were hiding information from us, old st-" Ember yelled, only to be stopped short by a hoof held up.
"Wait," said Egg. "Cookie. Continue?"
"Continue with what?" She shrugged.
The room went into silence for a few seconds as Egg and Cookie watched each other, eyes never moving apart. They seemed to be studying each other, but even Champagne couldn't tell; Egg was hard to read and she didn't really know gryphon body language.
Ultimately, Egg was the one who broke the tension with a nod.
"Very well then," he said, turning back to Champagne and Ember. "The two of you. Head down to the zoo and find out what we're dealing with, and find out all the information you can about it. If it's dangerous, as I suspect, we might need to intervene. I don't think it will be anything too problematic, but they don't make radio bulletins like that unless there was something to be worried about."
"Is this really part of the job description?" Ember asked.
"Oh, come on, Ember," Champagne said, under her voice.
"Yes, it is," Egg said out loud. "After you're done, come meet me at Stormhaven Park. That's where they asked everyone to keep away from. I will be there, checking things out and making preparations as necessary."
Champagne huffed.
"Problem?" Egg asked.
"No sir," Champagne replied, squeezing out the door.
Egg turned to look at Emberkite.
"No problem, man," the kid said, drolly, following suit.
"Now, Miss Eternia," Egg asked, once the other two had left. "I understand you had a sort of picnic lunch going on today."
"Yes, I had."
"No. Still on. We need to speak. And what better place for a picnic than a park?"
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I remain a devoted follower of this fic. Seriously, I even knew that it was going to come out today.
Dude.
Champagne
is best
Pony.
I love the interaction with her and Ember. I just love this whole thing
You know that feel when you have been waiting for so long for something that you have almost forgotten just what it was... Then suddenly it's there and all those original emotions boil back up to the surface, just as hot as they were the first time you experienced them?
Yes... This was one such time. So much dialogue goodness, so perfectly presented.
And I am with Cyne: more Champagne!
Interesting. This chapter makes me curious about Cookie, which is a good thing.
Also nice to get a little mention that Champagne's talent isn't infallible. I'm looking forward to a lovely payoff somewhere later on for that line about how Egg is training her to back that ability up with good police work.
2677425
LOL that's pretty creepy.
But thanks for the support! it's very appreciated. =)
Do tell me what you think as the chapters are released. More coming tomorrow!
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Thank you guys! And yes. Champagne. No worries. She'll have a centric ep quite soon.
Woot! Update! Today is a good day. Now to actually go read it.
2679213
OMG you totally sniped me.
Right, yes. As mentioned to the others, payoff shall come soon. =)
Currently planned for episode 5.
And yes, none of them are perfect! Funny you should pick that out. But you'll see why I say that.
You've been quite frightening with your pinpoint accuracy at spotting things -I do- in these stories, Esle. You're TOO alert, haha.
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OMG I got doublesniped >_>;
Anyway, yeah, same old. =D Hope you enjoy it! More to come tomorrow.
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2679257 Maybe I should wear a blindfold.
That's why you ask: "Which base?"
And then treat him like an idiot if he says there is only one.
Calling it now, there is something really cool down there. They already got a free and fully functional kitchen, They probably have forensics lab or something waiting for them down there.
Good chapter. I am terrified by the cloud-swimming pony-eating monster.
If I thought I liked Mocha before... Well, I did, but I now like her more! (And you need a comma.)
"halfway" And I'm calling that this somehow works out to their detriment or benefit somewhere down the line.
Oh Celestia... Purring gryphons... My... heart...
Also, lions can't purr, but this is Equestria, and the rule of cute is in full effect. I'll just imagine it as more towards the growl end of the spectrum, but it's somehow cuter.
Egg confirmed for Troll alignment. *badpokerface*
It's a corollary of Chekhov's Gun: if the gun (reinforced cage) is introduced very suddenly and very conspicuously, it must be fired (become inconveniently empty) by the end of the scene.
I assume it shan't be too long before our heroes hear about this escapee? At which point we will probably be informed of its identity?
Fairness is only a virtue when you always can do what you ought to do.
You're not. Please tell me you're not going to go undercover as an accountant for Cloudsdale Unity. You don't even wear a mask while you're fighting crime; what'll you do if somepony recognizes you?
Odds that we're talking about the mare with the goggles growing . . . the question is, what can Egg offer her that Cloudsdale Unity can't, and that she wants? Surely not legitimacy; she seems to be on the cutting edge of gem enchantment, so I'm sure she could find a more legal occupation at, for example, a university if she wanted one. Presumably not money or the various resources it can buy; organized crime tends to be a much more reliable source of income than heroing.
And you're just allowing those filthy creatures to live in your headquarters? You can't really call it yours, then, don't you think? As long as you don't assert yourself, it's the pigeons' warehouse, and they're just magnanimously allowing you to use it. Also they have no concept of property, so they don't get that they could object. But if they knew they could, then they could.
Does Egg even know what fear feels like? He's obviously familiar with the concept, since he uses it so effectively at times, but has he ever actually experienced it?
I know someone almost exactly like Champagne.
Although I dearly hope she can't read faces, because that's... yeah. Anyways. As usual, the characters are captivating.