Under the guidance of Twilight Sparkle, Ponyville had prospered. As Flicker crossed the stone bridge that lead into town, Flicker had a good view of the bustling city of Ponyville. It felt good to walk this road again, to come out of the White Tail Woods and into the city. An old, battered school satchel hung from around his neck and banged against his front legs. Wearing it made him think of Cheerilee, his old schoolteacher.
In the far off distance, he could see Twilight’s castle, and right in front of it, the bustling heart of Ponyville, which was roomy and expansive compared to Canterlot. He stopped in his tracks to have a better look, and to keep the ache in his side from becoming worse. He had to take it slow, because he needed to heal so he could do his job.
As he stood there, resting, a unicorn stallion wearing black eyeglasses emerged from the nearby trees. That was puzzling and Flicker couldn’t help but feel that something was out of place. A tall earth pony stallion seemed to materialise out of nowhere, and then a pegasus mare just dropped out of the sky. All of them were wearing black shades.
More ponies arrived, and two of them Flicker knew. The candy maker, Bon Bon, and her always present companion, Lyra Heartstrings approached, along with an unknown unicorn stallion. Flicker began to feel a growing sense of worry as he realised that something was up. As she drew nearer, Flicker could see that Bon Bon was smiling and she moved with a carefree gait.
“Flicker Nicker, of the Canterlot Rat Catcher’s Guild.” The unicorn that approached with Bon Bon and Lyra bowed his head. “My name is Special Agent Furlong. This is Special Agent Sweetie Drops and Special Agent Lyra. Gathered around you, those three that you first noticed, are Special Agents Foxtrot, Tango, and Bravo.”
“We’re from S.M.I.L.E.” Bon Bon lowered her black shades to reveal her eyes.
“I’m sorry, what?” Confused, Flicker took a step backwards. The world was full of weirdos and one had to be careful.
“S.M.I.L.E.” Special Agent Furlong gave Flicker a grin. “The Secret Monster Intelligence League of Equestria. We’ve developed a keen professional interest in you, Flicker Nicker.”
“I have no desire to leave the guild,” Flicker said, thinking of his loyalty. The guild had been good to him.
“We have no desire for you to leave the guild,” Special Agent Furlong said to Flicker in a soft, reassuring voice. “Special Agent Heartstrings, Mister Nicker’s dossier, if you please.”
Clearing her throat, Lyra conjured up a pale yellow folder, opened it, and then began to read it aloud. “Flicker Nicker. Joined Canterlot Rat Catcher’s Guild at nine. Showed a far above average amount of ambition and desire for the job. Excelled at training and has seen the horrors of the sewers. Two months into his training, encountered a pack of giant tentacle slugs and killed them—”
“I was with Wicked, I had help.” Flicker took another step back.
“—about a month later, encountered an acidic stench wisp in the lower Canterlot sewers and killed that too—”
“No I didn’t, Doctor Sterling used me as bait!”
“—a month and a half after that, while helping a one Limestone Pie and her mining outfit, you encountered a ravenous swarm of splat-bats, which were killed with an improvised solution of sodium hypochlorite and azane, which you released after they followed you into the mine.” Lyra paused, pulled off her black shades, and squinted at Flicker, studying him.
“Those were horrible and they projectile vomit dangerous stomach acid to start digesting you so they can gobble you up better. They were vile and disgusting and I killed them all.” He didn’t know why, but Flicker felt the need to justify his actions.
“While on a job clearing rats from a lumber camp, you encountered a swarm of twittermites. Using the gasbag of a cargo airship, you improvised a cloud bomb and detonated it in the middle of the swarm, electrocuting them in the moist, ultra-compacted clouds that burst forth and killing most of them—”
“I didn’t think that would work, actually. I got lucky.” Flicker took another step backwards.
Flipping through several pages to the back of the file, Lyra continued, “On a recent job, did battle with a rabid bear and killed it with not one, but two sticks of dynamite. This was after mulching a hoard of rats with heavy farm equipment.”
Flicker sighed, feeling bothered that his reputation had caught up to him.
“The heart of the matter is, S.M.I.L.E. could use a pony like you,” Special Agent Furlong said, his voice flat and emotionless. “Nothing would change. You would continue to work with your guild, which already has several of our agents. The only noticeable difference would be that your pay would increase, and you will occasionally be offered special jobs. Killing monsters will net you a bonus.”
“That’s it? Nothing else changes?” Flicker gave Special Agent Furlong an incredulous stare.
“Just a bigger paycheck, the occasional special assignment, and a big fat bonus for killing abominations.” Special Agent Furlong pulled out a few papers from the folder that Lyra was holding. “You have a gift, Mister Nicker, and it must be used for the good of Equestria.”
That did it. Flicker’s ears perked. “Anything for my country. Anything.”
“Very good, Junior Agent Lima—”
“Lima? As in the bean?” Disgusted, Flicker’s lip curled back and he shook his head. “Nopony likes lima beans. Is this some kind of sick joke? I’ll have you know, I don’t have sense a humour.”
“Sorry, it is the only callsign currently available. The previous Special Agent Lima was rendered into a puddle that resembled earwax but smelled like banana taffy.” Special Agent Furlong cleared his throat for a moment and his ears bobbed. “Nasty business, that. One of the ravenous bugblatter beasts of Traal came through an unlicensed portal. Special Agent Lima was either very, very brave, or very, very stupid. Which is fitting somehow, because we see something similar in you.”
Scowling, Flicker said nothing in his own defense, as the evidence was stacked against him, and he didn’t want to upset his new boss. When the pen was offered, he took it, and with a few smooth strokes, he signed his name on the paper, then on the next paper, a few more papers after that, and at least five more times, and the last time he had to press down hard because of triplicate.
“We look forward to working with you, Juniour Agent Lima.” Mister Furlong smiled at Flicker. “You will be contacted by one of our agents soon. We are very excited about this, Juniour Agent Lima. Be well.”
And just like that, the entire group was gone. Flicker blinked once, and when he opened his eyes again, the crowd was just gone. Stunned, not knowing what to say, he began to wonder if perhaps he had taken too much morphine, or if this was a symptom of hitting his head too hard. The world felt very surreal at the moment, and surrealism wasn’t Flicker’s cup of tentacles.
Perhaps it was better to just pretend that it hadn’t happened. Resuming his walk, he left the scene of the bizarre interruption at a brisk trot, off to visit Ponyville with the hopes of finding himself a nice new coat and to get some candy for his sister, Knick-Knack. He also had to find something called a fart whistle, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to ask around too much.
Pushing open the door to Carousel Boutique, Flicker tried very hard not to feel out of place. He was having a weird morning, he was in pain, and he just wanted things to work out without a headache for once. This was a refined place, and at the moment, Flicker did not feel like a refined pony. He was a walking, talking bruise, with bald patches.
“Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique and magnifique—oh my, you poor dear, what happened to you?” Heartfelt concern made Rarity’s eyes glimmer on the verge of tears. “You’re a soldier, aren’t you? I’ve been seeing a lot of your kind in Ponyville… you came here to convalesce, didn’t you? You look young… oh, you poor dear.”
“I was blown up,” Flicker said in a low voice, “and I sort of did it to myself.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” Rarity batted her eyelashes and her lower lip began to quiver.
“I need a coat.” Flicker drew in a deep breath and settled into being practical. “My name is Flicker Nicker and I live in Canterlot, but I’m here in Ponyville while I recover. I’m cold all the time, for obvious reasons, and I think I might have had too much sun walking into town. Being a Canterlot pony, I don’t want to walk around with a blanket draped over my back and look like a hobo.”
“That I completely understand, darling.” Rarity moued and began to study Flicker. “Have you any ideas for materials?”
“Well, I was thinking about something with some leather—”
“Leather! Oh, how positively ghastly!”
Disappointed, Flicker sighed. “I understand if you can’t do it—”
“Darling, I never said that I couldn’t do it, I just said that it was ghastly.” Rarity’s entire demeanour changed. “I cater to clients with certain… how shall we say, fetishes. I get my leather from approved sources and I have a leatherworker’s license. If there is something you want, all you need to do is talk to me, okay, darling?” Again, Rarity batted her eyelashes.
“I need a coat. It needs to breathe and to allow full flexibility of movement. I want something in black… something with a sense of drama to it… something almost like, I don’t know… the reaper’s image. It needs to have some flow to it, but not get snagged on things. It needs pockets. And the high stress areas need to be reinforced with leather.” The wheels inside of Flicker’s head made many slow revolutions as he tried to think if he needed anything else.
“The reaper’s image, eh?” Rarity’s lips pursed into an almost duck-like expression. “Tell me, Mister Nicker, what sort of business are you in?”
“The rat killing business,” Flicker replied in what he felt was a very professional deadpan.
“Oh, you’re in the Rat Catcher’s Guild… I’ve worked with them before.” Rarity began to size Flicker up and she walked around him in a circle, squinting at him with one well practiced eye. “The reaper’s image is an unusual request for a rat catcher. Most of your kind want to look like gentleponies… very fancy mercenaries.”
“I have my own sense of fashion,” Flicker replied.
“That you do, but ‘drama and the reaper’s image’ are very unusual requests. You’re bound to scare away potential clients.” Rarity stopped and looked at the bandages on Flicker’s side, shook her head, and clucked her tongue.
I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴀɴᴅ I sᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴄʟɪᴇɴᴛ. Tʜᴏsᴇ I ᴅᴏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ I ᴀᴍ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ. I ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ғᴇᴀʀ ғʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.
Flicker was startled by the sound of his own voice and he felt his nethers clenching.
“I’m sorry, darling, but I had trouble making out what you were saying, would you mind repeating that?” Rarity, looking puzzled, stared at Flicker.
Wʜᴇɴ I ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss, I ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ.
Again, Flicker was terrified by the sound of his own voice. He coughed, cleared his throat, and began to worry about his own ears melting right off his skull. His voice sounded terrible, almost sepulchral. Much to his chagrin, the flowers in the vase about two yards away had wilted and Flicker had no idea what was going on. He didn’t like it, not at all, this was turning out to be a weird morning.
“I do beg your pardon, darling, but your voice sounded very peculiar there for a second. If you wouldn’t mind, could you please communicate your desires to me once more?” Rarity leaned in a little closer and gave Flicker a timid smile.
“Basic black is always in style and I like my clothing to look a little old fashioned. Canterlot has rubbed off on me.” Relieved, Flicker sucked so much air that his injured side now had a stabbing pain.
“Oh… that… I can understand that. A little old world charm. Well then, Mister Nicker, let’s see what we have to work with. Oh, this is exciting. I get to make something dramatic!”