//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: The Mask Makes the Pony // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// When Doctor Sterling Shoe raised an eyebrow, Flicker did his best to do the same, trying to emulate the good doctor’s mannerisms. Everything that the doctor did fascinated him to no end, every twitched ear, every smirk, every wry, dry witticism. Flicker had no hope of ever copying the witticisms though, as he knew that he lacked the creativity, charm, and wit required. The doctor was everything that Flicker believed that a gentlepony should be. He was the very image of a Canterlot unicorn. In a duel, the good doctor was a dangerous, wily opponent that used dry wit and sarcasm that was just as deadly as his sword. He had the ear of Princess Luna and acted as one of her advisors. But perhaps most of all, the good doctor was kind, generous, and loyal. He was celebrated for treating orphans, widows, and the poor. Below him and all around him, Flicker could sense rats. It unnerved him, but there was very little that he could do at the moment. Soon, there would be another purge and he would be free to let himself go. The sewers were dangerous, full of gasses, volatile gasses, and all of the hazards of living in a magical city where ponies flushed alchemical waste down their toilets and drains. It was a direct violation of the law, but since when did most ponies obey the law? The careless disposal had quite an affect on the denizens of the sewer. “Eh, more talk of democracy,” Doctor Sterling grumbled as he read his newspaper. For a moment, Flicker wondered what he was supposed to feel about democracy, as he didn’t quite know how the doctor felt about democracy. He felt a moment of panic as he wasn’t quite sure if this topic was something good or bad. Rather than fret, he tried the direct approach, and just asked. “Doctor Sterling, is democracy good or bad?” “When done well, democracy is the greatest thing our society has to offer,” the doctor replied, “but when done wrong, it becomes the tyranny of morons, imbeciles, and idiots. For a democracy to thrive, it depends upon a well educated populace. Too much talk of democracy, not enough talk of improving education standards. How worrisome.” Confused, Flicker still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it. Then, much to his horror, some unbidden words crawled out of Flicker’s mouth. “Am I stupid, Doctor Sterling?” Eyebrow arching, Sterling Shoe lowered his newspaper and focused his full attention upon the colt beside him. The older stallion’s mustache quivered as he chewed upon his lip, and it was a few seconds before he replied, “Son, you’re not stupid, not by a long shot, but you are very, very focused. We just need a little more time to educate you, to awaken your interests, perhaps cultivate an appreciation for art, music, or the equinities.” Ears drooping, Flicker thought about these words. Music baffled him and did nothing for him. He didn’t see the point of art. As for the equinities, he thought most of them were a waste of time. He couldn’t stand his classes on culture, he found them boring, and sometimes they were frustrating as he just didn’t get them. Feeling somewhat angry, Flicker didn’t understand why a guild member had to be cultured. Try as he might, he couldn’t see the point in it and he didn’t make the connection that it was the doctor’s well cultured demeanour that allowed him to bend the ear of Princess Luna and have influence in high society. These connections escaped the young colt, who believed that being good at your job should be enough. “Good heavens, the train is late today. If this keeps up, society will collapse. Ponies have to be to work on time and get home at a reasonable hour.” The doctor, annoyed, folded up his newspaper, slipped it into his bag, and then adjusted his sword belt as he said to Flicker, “You there, colt, recite to me the articles of militia.” Commanded to perform, Flicker sat up straight, his head high, and his ears stood erect. He blinked a few times, cleared his throat, and placed his right hoof over his barrel. “For the guilds sporting an offensive nature involving combat, said members shall maintain training in all matters martial, shall keep all skills honed, and shall at any time be ready to be called into service by the Royal Pony Sisters, should a militia be needed.” Sterling nodded and let out a pleased sounding sigh. “Close enough.” Just as he was about to celebrate the doctor’s praise, Flicker felt something unpleasant. Something foul was close, just nearby. Something he didn’t like. Something was bold, appearing in the daylight. Saying nothing, he drew Doctor Sterling’s sword from its sheath and with the rapier drawn, he bounded away. With an amazing dexterity, Flicker lept over a six foot privacy hedge, landed, and with the doctor’s sword held ready, he concentrated upon his rat-sense. No excessive thoughts cluttered his mind, no worries about democracy or his own stupidity. Even maskless, he was a clever, cunning, and capable killer. With a catlike fluidity, he took off at a run, his hooves tearing divots in the lush green lawn of the park, and he took off towards the fountain. A black shape scurried away from the water, dragging with it a yellow duckling. Seeing his hated enemy, Flicker’s speed doubled as a burst of adrenaline took over and he bore down upon the bold rat that dared to show itself in daylight. As he tore through the park, ducks quacked and scattered. Almost a year of training had turned Flicker into a hardened lump of muscle, gristle, and mean. The rat never stood a chance. Flicker skewered it on the doctor’s rapier, held it aloft, and then set it on fire as the duckling bounced down to the grass below. The colt, the corner of his eye twitching with a dreadful facial tic, watched as the rat burned to death, and the flames reflected like phantoms trapped in his blue eyes. The duckling scurried away as the stench of burning hair and flesh filled the air. Several park visitors scattered, some screaming, and Flicker let out a low chuckle of triumph. It wasn’t often that the colt laughed and his eyes had a maniacal glee that gleamed within. There was a quack from nearby, and for anypony that spoke duck, it was clearly a quack of gratitude. Flicker didn’t speak duck and he didn’t need gratitude. He was content to watch the rat stuck on the end of the blade burn. Blackened charred bits fell away and the sound of a steam whistle could be heard through the park. The train, off schedule, was arriving. “Hennessy Walker?” Doctor Sterling asked. The colt in question was a rich, reddish brown, tall, and thin. Flicker couldn’t stop himself from looking, as the colt was striking. The breeze tugged on a mane the colour of golden baked bread. All thoughts of the rat fled from Flicker’s mind as he stared at his new roommate. “Ayup, I am Hennessy Walker,” the colt replied in a slow molasses drawl. “I am Doctor Sterling Shoe. This is Flicker Nicker.” The good doctor lifted his head as it tilted off to one side. “Am I to understand that you can smell disease?” “Ayup.” The colt looked up at the doctor with curious amber eyes. “I got a sister that can sniff out truffles.” Turning sideways, Hennessy showed off his cutie mark, which was a skull and crossbones with green stink lines rising up off of it. “I was trying to sniff out truffles like she do when I got a whiff of something else. I didn’t know what it was, but it was a right powerful stank, so I followed it. Led me to our mail carrier, a pegasus. My cutie mark showed up and caused a commotion. Our mailpony had a case of the feather flu and ‘cause of me, it was caught early.” “Astounding.” Doctor Sterling chewed upon his upper lip, causing his mustache to dance. “Do not be offended, but I shall be thoroughly testing this phenomenon under rigorous lab conditions to verify the validity of these claims.” “Oh, there ain’t much that offends me.” Hennessy flashed the doctor an easy going smile. “Very well then, let us collect your luggage and be going.” The doctor returned the smile and asked, “Do you have a claim ticket?” “Oh, I ain’t gots nothing. All I gots is me. I’m as poor as the day is long.” Hennessy’s smile never faltered. “I’m poor, but I’m as honest as the night is dark, and my word is good.” “A pony’s word is his most valuable asset,” Doctor Sterling replied. “Don’t feel bad, young Mister Walker, many of our esteemed members arrive here with nothing. With hard work, a great deal of effort, and dare I say, a stiff upper lip, one day, you will have everything your heart desires.” “My heart desires a long stroll. I sat on the train for too long. After that, I think I’m set on things desired by needy organs.” Doctor Sterling let out a dry chuckle as Flicker just stood there with wide eyes. When Henessy turned to face him, Flicker took a step backwards, blinked, and looked quite alarmed. Hennessy took a step forwards and Flicker took a step backwards. This ended up repeating itself a number of times, Flicker retreating as Hennessy advanced. “You shy or something?” Hennessy asked. “No.” There was a drawn out pause as Flicker thought about Hennessy’s slow, almost sticky southern drawl. “I’m just quiet. Where are you from?” “A poor, poor patch of dirt spread out between Baltimare and the Druid’s Grove, just north of the Hayseed Swamps,” Hennessy replied in a long, drawn out drawl. “It ain’t special, but we grow the fixins for corn squeezings and the like. My mother, Southern Comfort, she’s got herself a good thing going, or she thinks she does. We all go hungry while the still gets fed. Daddy goes to gamble and keeps telling us that we’ll be rollin’ in bits if he can just hit a lucky streak. I’m sure it’ll happen soon.” Doctor Sterling scowled. Flummoxed, Flicker didn’t know what to say, what to think, or how to respond. He too, came from poor parents, they had a farm, and while they were bits poor, there was almost always food. Frozen in place, blinking, he stood staring at the cognac coloured colt standing before him at a total loss for words. “Here, we eat well, but you have to work for it.” Flicker fell back on the only thing he knew, rules and regulations. Order and organisation, the things that made the world go round. “For us apprentices, the meals we get are determined by our grades, our effort, and the number of chores we do in a day. If you want to eat more, do better on your lessons and do more chores.” “No offense, but you is so skinny that you look like you don’t do much of anything at all. You is what we call a pole bean back home.” Chortling, Doctor Sterling covered his mouth with his hoof. His face darkening, Flicker didn’t know how to respond. Flustered, his ears, cheeks, and the back of his neck burning, he had no witty remark to put Hennessy in his place. He stood there, stewing, hot and flustered, wishing that he had something to say. Trapped in silence, Flicker glowered at the colt standing before him. Head turning, Hennessy looked up at Doctor Sterling, cocked an eyebrow, and with a drawl thicker than a boiling pot of grits he asked, “He’s kinda cute when he’s all tongue tied, ain’t he?” Confused, Flicker felt his guts clench in weird ways as Hennessy’s words lingered in his ears. The muscles in his dock tightened and he backed away, alarmed, confounded, and uncomfortable. Eyes narrowing, he continued his retreat as Doctor Sterling chuckled. Something was happening, but Flicker had no clue what was going on. “Why, young Mister Walker, you are the proverbial southern dandy.” “Ayup.” Hennessy stood there with a coy expression, and he batted his eyelashes. Now some distance away from the doctor and the new colt, Flicker tried to figure out what was going on. It wasn’t just the situation, but the reaction of his own body that confused him. Something about how Hennessy had batted his eyelashes. The strange feeling of jealousy that he now had, because Doctor Sterling and Hennessy were getting along. It took several long seconds for Flicker to realise that he was angry. A born stoic, he showed no outward signs, but struggled to understand why he was feeling this way. He just about worshipped the doctor and now there was this strange colt and he and Doctor Sterling seemed to have this rapport that Flicker didn’t understand. It enraged him and he seethed inside. “Come, Flicker, Hennessy, it is time to go home. There is much left to do this day. Do hurry…”