Deleted Scenes from "Deep Blue": Who Hired Grace and Glory? · 2:14am Aug 18th, 2015
So, now that the arc "Deep Blue" is over, I ought to say something important: this arc was a huge pain in the tuckus to write. 
Good news, if you like this sort of thing, is that since there were so many cuts, I have some deleted scenes to share! I also have an entire deleted version of "Deep Blue, Part 2" to share if anyone is interested in reading it. For now, let's address one mystery that never got solved.
Who the heck hired Grace and Glory to steal Turing Test? In fact, Turing was correct in thinking that it was not her creators. This was going to be the original opening scene of "Deep Blue, Part 1." I hope you enjoy it. I'm rather proud of the scene and I hated to cut it, but ultimately it didn't contribute that much to the chapter and it bogged down the pacing more than I would have liked. So, sadly, it got the boot.
Of course, if you haven't read this far in the story, you might want to check this out some other time. If you have, then enjoy!
Standing out on the veranda of the South Fork Club overlooking Lake Conemare, Henry Whick took a long puff on his cigar. He gazed out at the still, placid waters of the lake and at the tall, thick trees on the opposite shore. All around him on the white, painted veranda were tables and chairs where he and his associates could gather, get away from their work, their worries, often their wives, and enjoy a nice few days to themselves or with their friends, have a few cigars, and fish.
Currently, however, there were no other members present. There was just Whick. He was the boss of the place, at least while Mr. Carneighgie was still in the Shetland Highlands, and if he wanted to close the place for a day for his own purposes, that was his business.
He was an earth pony stallion, a bit on the short side, with hard, beady eyes and a bluish gray coat. He had a reddish-brown beard and mustache to match his mane and he wore his favorite brown suit, custom made, and tilted his brown bowler hat over to one side.
He always smoked a cigar when he could, but especially when he was tense. And that day, his cigar was vanishing rapidly. He took one last puff and removed it, extinguishing the smoldering stub of it into a nearby ashtray. He tapped his hoof quickly, looking at his golden pocket watch for the twentieth time in as many minutes and then reached into his front pocket for his cigar case.
“Mr. Whick?”
Whick gave a start and dropped his cigar case, which clattered loudly on the boards. “What? What is it? Well?!” he growled, whirling on the butler who’d just spoken.
The butler bowed slightly. “Sorry sir. I’m here to inform you that your guests have arrived.”
Whick grunted, stooping to pick up his cigar case, and trotted right by the butler. “About time! They think I’ve got all day?”
“They’re in your office on the top floor, sir.”
“Lousy, rotten… I’ll be speaking to them privately. Wait in the servants’ quarters and don’t come unless I call for you.”
“Understood, sir.”
Whick entered the club’s main lounge, with its large chairs and sofas and massive fireplace and the towering trophy case, and walked right through it to the wide staircase. He ascended it and went to the mahogany double doors that led to his office. He shoved them open roughly, snorting loudly and gritting his teeth.
“What’s the idea of--!”
He stopped in mid-sentence, forgetting his anger in an instant when he saw the pair of them. He felt the words catch in his throat and forced himself to smile. “G-glad you’re both here.” He swallowed. “Have any trouble finding the place?”
Whick’s office was huge and lined with bookshelves, all filled with books (what they said was anyone’s guess; it wasn’t like he had much time or penchant for reading, but nopony else needed to know that). By a massive window was his desk, decorated with golden baubles and trophies and a marble bust of himself.
Standing side-by-side on the large, intricately-designed carpet at the center of the room were two earth ponies, a mare and a stallion.
The two could have been relatives as they shared the same white coats and dirty blonde manes. But they weren’t related, he knew that much. He knew a little more than that, and it was enough for him.
The stallion was a towering Adonis, a muscled statuesque pony with a chiseled jaw and legs like stone pillars. His barrel didn’t have an inch of fat on it and over his chest and front legs he wore a coat of armor which was shining like steel but had a black tint to it. Darksteel, Whick guessed. On his flank was his cutie mark, a golden sword laid across a golden shield. Standing nearly twice the size of a normal stallion, he looked down at Whick with a calm grin and brown eyes. “Sorry to keep you,” he said, his deep voice reverberating through the room.
The mare shared her partner’s coat and mane colors, though Whick could only see a small amount of her mane peeking out from under the black habit she wore which draped over her ears and down the back of her neck. The black habit had a steel plate across the front, displaying an emblem with the image of a unicorn with a flowing mane and curving horn and pointed fangs. On her flank was the image of a few chess pieces (specifically a pawn, a knight, and a queen). She was sitting up straight and had a similar calm smile on her lips. Curiously, she had her eyes closed, though this did not prevent her from turning her head his way. “Agreed,” she said, her voice lilting and melodious. “It was unbecoming of us to make you wait.”
“Right, well… let’s get down to business.” Whick walked over to his desk, keeping his eyes on the two of them and giving them plenty of space as he trotted around them. He opened the front drawer of his desk and took out a newspaper, holding it up for the two of them. “Seen this?” he asked.
“Ah,” said the mare, raising a hoof to her lips demurely, still keeping her eyes closed. She turned to her partner. “Would you, please?”
“Of course,” he said gently. He walked over, his heavy footsteps only slightly muted by the thick carpet. He leaned down to look at the paper. “Hm. ‘The Iron Horse: Princess Twilight Sparkle vows to teach machine friendship.’ There’s a picture here… is this for real?”
“Guess that means you don’t know about it,” Whick said, setting the paper on his desk. “Look, here’s the quick and dirty: Princess Twilight lives in Ponyville, somepony sent a walking, talking automaton to see her, but it lost its memory. Now she’s teaching it friendship,” he rolled his eyes at that, “and keeping it in Ponyville with her like some kind of pet. Nopony knows where the darn thing came from or who built it or even how it works. I sent her a letter asking to buy it, but she never wrote back. Near as I can tell, she’s not interested.” He reached into his coat to take out his cigar case.
“We would prefer you not smoke, please,” the mare said.
“Ah, sure, I--” He froze. She hadn’t opened her eyes. “Wait, what… what the hay? How did she--”
The mare and stallion turned to face each other and shared a chuckle.
“N-never mind.” Whick put the case back into his pocket and cleared his throat. “Look, Carneighgie Steel is doing well, but we gotta think about the future. If Mr. Carneighgie wants me to mind his business while he’s away, then I better have something to show him when he gets back. Gotta keep moving, innovate, and expand! And that’s why I want this thing!” He tapped the paper, specifically the picture of Turing Test. “The most advanced piece of technology the darn nation’s ever seen, and I want it! Whoever built it hasn’t taken it back, so I say it’s up for grabs. It’s worth a small fortune alone. Which is why,” he said, a grin spreading across his face, “I will pay you two a small fortune to get it for me.”
The stallion pursed his lips. “Small fortune for us, a larger one for you and your business, I take it.”
Whick nodded. “Exactly.” He wasn’t about to tell them his own plans, but they involved reverse-engineering, hiring some new eggheads, and finally solving his problems with workers who complained about their wages and hours and the fact that occasionally one of them got incinerated in the steel mill. Concessions with these “unions” was a pain and the last thing he needed was for Canterlot to start breathing down his neck. Granted, Celestia’s Minister of Industry was on his side, but if things changed and the Princess took notice…
All the more reason why automation was the way of the future. Automata for the masses, mechanized workers for his mills: save one fortune on salaries, make another one selling them to other businesses!
“We’re not surprised that you asked us here, then,” the stallion said. “Princess Twilight Sparkle and her friends are quite formidable, it seems.”
“Darn straight!” Whick barked. “Taking down the likes of Discord, that monster Tirek, destroying King Sombra--”
The mare suddenly rose to her hooves, a scowl appearing on her face despite her closed eyes. “You would dare--”
The stallion laid his hoof on her shoulder.
“Ah. Yes, forgive me,” she said, sitting back down. “Please go on.”
Whick whimpered. He had a pretty good idea whose face it was supposed to be on her habit. “R-right. No offense meant. The offer is 12 million bits. So, will you take the job?”
“We eschew the material concerns of this world,” the mare said.
“Which means we don’t care much for being rich and living in palatial mansions like yourself,” the stallion added.
“Still, if gold advances our cause - and surely it does - we will gladly accept your tithe.” The mare bowed slightly, her smile never leaving her face.
“And of course, we’ve been looking for an opportunity to punish the sinners who opposed the umbrums’ chosen heir.” The stallion grinned, his eyes narrowing and his voice taking on the slightest edge. “We accept your offer, Mr. Whick. To tell the truth, under these circumstances, we would have done this task for a tenth the price.”
“Ohohoho!” the mare chortled, covering her mouth as she did so. “Glory, you cheeky thing! You didn’t need to tell him that!”
“My apologies, Grace,” he replied. He turned back to Whick, who was fuming now that he knew he was overpaying for the job. “Mr. Whick, we’d like to keep this meeting between us.”
“Of course.”
“We mean that.” He shifted his shoulders and flexed his forelegs, cracking his joints noisily. “Could you call your butler, please?”
“Um...sure.” He went to the wall where there was a rope embedded in a small alcove. He grasped it in his teeth and pulled, ringing a bell down in the servants’ quarters. A moment later, the butler entered the room.
“Sir? Can I help you or your guests?”
The stallion, Glory, approached the butler, causing him to look up with widening eyes which occasionally darted over to Mr. Whick. “Do you have a family? Somepony at home?”
“I… yes, a wife and mother, sir,” the butler said, shrinking from the giant.
Glory sighed. “Guess you’d be missed. Seems I won’t be handling this. My apologies, Grace.”
“Not to worry,” the mare, Grace, said to him, waving a hoof dismissively. She turned to the butler, her back to Whick.
The butler looked at her and then Whick saw as a deep blue light slowly appeared, going from a narrow band to a wide beam. It spread out in an arc, bathing the butler in blue, and Whick realized that it was emanating from Glory’s face. Her eyes.
The butler stared at her, his own eyes going wide and his pupils dilating. He gasped and reared back, as if about to scream. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and a gurgle came from his throat as he fell to the floor, his mouth foaming and his body convulsing. The light vanished, narrowing before it disappeared.
“Sweet Celestia, what’d you do to him?!” Whick exclaimed, rushing over.
“He won’t remember anything that happened today,” Glory said as he made his way to the door, opening it for Grace.
“Or possibly longer,” Grace added. “Still, you might wish to bring him to a hospital when he comes around. And inform the doctors of his history of seizures and night terrors.”
“But he doesn’t have a history of seizures or night terrors!”
Grace turned to him, her eyes closed, but her grin tight and rictus-like. “He will.”
Whick (his name being a play on "whicker," because horse sounds!) is based on the Industrial Revolution age robber baron Henry Clay Frick. The guy was the model corrupt corporate executive and since I'm a sucker for late 1800s history: you know me, top hats, the Gilded Age, and the Industrial Revolution, all that stuff, I wanted to include a scene with him as a villain. Plus, it means I get to add him to the list of industrialists I get to make puns about, along with Cornelius Vanderbull, Rockefoaler, and Carneighgie. Oh well, perhaps Whick will still have a chance to appear in canon. We shall see. 
Nice scene! Though, yes, I can see why you cut it.
The only problem with a Whick... it can be cut and burn out! I hope this evil pony industrialist gets the punishment he deserves!!!!
Interesting scene. I take that we will see more of this Whick character later on the story (who actually shows that Celestia is right in being worried about the social consequences of advanced technology like Turing... even if we know that didn't worry about Turing herself)
Afterthought: maybe after you concluded "The Iron Horse", you could do a "Director's Cut" (Writer's Cut?) version with all the deleted scenes....
3328702 I agree
EDIT Or maybe a side story with only the parts not included in the final version