//------------------------------// // Chapter 40 // Story: The Mask Makes the Pony // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Later that evening… Exhausted, his hooves sore from walking all over Canterlot for the entirety of the day, Flicker made his way to Wicked’s office. He was tired, his face was windburned, and his side ached far more than he would ever admit. Still, he was happy in his own way, even if he didn’t show it, and he had a brand new weapon. Reaching Wicked’s door, he was about to knock, but it was pulled open just as his hoof was about to strike wood. Cautious, curious, he entered and found Wicked looked rather excited, which may or may not have been a good sign. It was difficult to say, Wicked, much like Flicker, got excited about terrible things that other ponies found terrifying. The door slammed shut behind Flicker and then there was a fierce glow all around the room. Wicked made a gesture with his wooden leg at a chair, grunted, and then poured himself an enormous glass of brandy that smelled a bit like roses and old leather. Flicker, obedient, sat down. “Lad, there is no nice way of saying this, but I need ye as bait while yer all bashed up and ugly looking.” Wicked leaned back in his chair, took a sip of his brandy, grimaced, then squinted at Flicker. “It’s gonna be a right and proper dangerous job and I’ll do my best to keep ya safe, but it’ll be risky.” “Okay.” Flicker looked Wicked in the eye and saw fear. “Something monstrous is preying on foals in Baltimare. They keep finding dead bodies washing up in the bay. Street urchins mostly, or so we think. Been ‘ard to identify. Some of ‘em have been recognised by orphanarium marms. Princess Luna’s Wardens have a good idea of the general location, or so we think, but for the actual finding… that’s been rough. S.M.I.L.E. is getting involved, Lad.” “I’m in.” Flicker’s words were spoken in the coolest, calmest deadpan to ever come out of the colt’s mouth. “Now, about Hennessy and Piper—” “They’ll be going with Doctor Sterling to his ‘ouse for a few days while we’re gone, for some private instruction and tutoring. So that’s one less thing for you to worry about, Lad. Now, about the job… we can’t have you armed, or wearing yer fancy coat, or even being bandaged. We want ye looking all pitiful like, and 'elpless.” “Right.” Flicker nodded. “Aye, Lad, yer a ‘ard-arse after yer first year. I did something right.” Wicked tipped back his head as he lifted his glass to his lips, and he emptied it all in one big gulp. Grimacing from the burn, he squinted at Flicker, his eyes watering, and a low equine bellow could be heard in the base of this throat. “Chills the blood, it does. I saw photos, Lad, and read the casefile. They were ‘usks, Lad, ‘usks. Shriveled, soggy ‘usks.” “Sounds like something needs to die,” Flicker said in a very matter-of-fact voice. “Aye, and we’re leaving to kill it tonight, Lad.” Wicked poured himself another glass of brandy and then waved the bottle at Flicker. “Airship, Lad. Small, light, and fast. One of those rigid models, long and thin, like a cigar. We should be in Baltimare by three in the afternoon to meet up with local agents. By nightfall, we want you out as bait. We’re gonna make you look a bit roughed up, Lad. Yer gonna walk the streets and look like a starving waif.” Flicker nodded. He wasn’t helpless, even if he was unarmed. There had been a little hoof to hoof combat training, but not much. No, in a pinch, Flicker was good at setting things on fire. Being a fire aligned sort, all Flicker had to do was tap into his own natural rage and anger and everything around him was on fire in no time at all. Of course, he couldn’t control his fire, he couldn’t bend it to his will, and that was risky, but it was what it was. “When do we leave?” Flicker asked. “Sooner the better,” Wicked replied. “Let’s go right now,” Flicker suggested. “I’ll go and say goodbye to Hennessy and Piper.” “Aye, Lad. I’ll meet ye on the roof. The ship’ll swing by and pick us up once I send up a flare.” Wicked drained his glass of brandy again, belched, and shuddered from the afterburn. “Yer a good lad, Lad. I’m right proud of ye, I am.” Flicker, his cheeks warm from praise, nodded, got up, and hurried out of Wicked’s office, so that he could say goodbye to his companions. He was looking forwards to crashing in a bunk, and it didn’t really matter where it was, so long as it was warm and had a few blankets. A hot meal might be nice too. Baltimare, two thirty seven in the afternoon… Flicker found himself in the company of giants. He gazed at the ponies around him with an almost unabashed affection, admiring them, these ponies were doing the work of the alicorns, and so was he. Wicked was talking with them, there were several Wardens here, Flicker just somehow knew that they had to be Wardens, and a few agents of S.M.I.L.E. Flicker did his best to look attentive, but nopony was paying much attention to him. That was okay though, he was here to prove himself, and he hadn’t done so yet. “There is strong magic near the wharf district, in the rundown rowhouses, but we can’t find an exact location,” one of the Wardens said. “That’ll be our best place to leave bait.” “I would like to formally declare that I do not support this plan—” “Warden Dread Drop, your concerns have been noted. As a professional observation, I think you are letting your feelings as a mare get in the way of doing your job.” “Oh, piss off Warden Owleye!” “That’s enough! Both of you! If you don’t shut up right now, this instant, I’ll put both of you in the breeding program together!” the largest of the Wardens bellowed, a big sooty black nocturnal pegasus that was perhaps more draconic in nature than pony. Patches of reflective black scales could be seen dappled along his shaggy, wiry pelt and his voice was a bit hissy. “I think a bit of rutting to establish dominance would do the two of you some good.” “By the alicorns, I hate spring, leaves these big brutes all edgy and out of sorts,” a seedy looking unicorn grumbled as he smoked a fat black-papered cigar. Looking down at Flicker, he gave the colt a wink, puffed on his cigar, and gestured at Wicked. “This is the ugliest bait I’ve ever seen.” “Starry Ire, say one more word about me apprentice—” “Yes, Wicked?” “—and I’ll geld ye with a spoon.” Starry Ire burst out laughing, huffing and puffing cigar smoke out of his nostrils. When Wicked whacked him on his front shins with his wooden leg, Starry let out a wheezing cough of pain, followed by a snarl. Then, Wicked started laughing, and both of them laughed together as the hazy cloud of cigar smoke around Starry grew ever thicker. Flicker didn’t know what to think, as he wasn’t used to professional adults acting this way. The tracking capsule was downright painful to swallow, and far too large. It was a horse pill, an actual horse pill, and Flicker wasn’t sure if he would get it down. He drank some water and he could feel Wicked rubbing his throat with magic. Nearby, Starry Ire was smoking and a pegasus named Dapper Do was watching out a window. The apartment set up for reconnoitering was small, cramped, and had seen better days. It also stunk of tinned beans and burnt toast. The walls were yellowed from nicotine and the ceiling had a greasy looking slick sheen from so much smoking. Nicotine-cicles hung from places where Starry Ire sat to smoke. When the pill was down, Dapper came over and went to work. An artist, Dapper made faces, he did makeup and disguises. He set about the task of making Flicker look worse. All of the bandages were torn away, exposing his still healing wound. A foul smelling grease was rubbed into what remained of Flicker’s mane and over his sole surviving eyebrow. Using applicators and brushes, he made Flicker look quite pitiful, with a blackened eye that seemed quite swollen, and somehow the pegasus made Flicker’s lip look as though he had been punched in the mouth. With a bit of putty, some spirit gum, and some prosthetics, he gave Flicker a cauliflower ear that would make any boxer cringe. With powders and liquids, he made the wounds on Flicker’s side look horrific, diseased looking, as if they hadn’t healed well at all. Along Flicker’s bare patches, which were still quite bruised, Dapper added rashes, splotches, and what appeared to be mange scabs. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” Starry grumbled as he puffed away, “and I was feeling hungry for beans and toast. Dapper, you’re too good at what you do.” “Where are the Wardens?” Flicker asked. “In hiding,” Starry replied as he exhaled a thick cloud of eye-watering smoke. “So what do I do?” Flicker asked. “Lad, you have to improvise.” Wicked, sitting on a wooden kitchen chair, was reading a paper that had the words PRINCE PLEAS FOR UNITY TO FACE ASCENDENCY THREAT! DEMANDS BUREAUCRATS FALL IN LINE, OR ELSE! sprawled across the top of the front page. “Look, I know that creativity isn’t yer strong point, but you need to reach deep, Lad.” “So, I just try to look as pathetic as possible?” As Flicker spoke, Dapper applied more make up. “Like, rummage around in the trash like I’m looking for food and such?” “That’s a good start, Lad.” “We have a bit of intel on an old mare that roams the streets at night looking for hard up foals. Many have claimed to have seen her, but none of us have seen her. It’s obvious that magic is being used to mislead us.” Starry crushed out a cigar in an overflowing ashtray and then lit another before the first stopped smoking. “With you being all hard up, maybe our nice old grandmotherly mare will come out to help you.” “And then what? I kick the shit out of her?” Flicker looked around, hoping for instruction, and his words made Starry choke on his cigar smoke. “I told you!” Wicked shouted. “I told you! The little ‘ot ‘ead ‘as a mean streak a mile wide!” “Damnit, speak Equestrian, I can’t make out a word you’re saying,” Starry wheezed as he recovered from his coughing. Scowling, Wicked flicked his pegleg out, smacked a empty bean tin, and sent it flying. It sailed through the air in a perfect arc and a second later, it bounced off of Starry’s forehead after hitting him right in front of his ear. Letting out a pained cry, Starry then coughed out a cloud of thick smoke, coughed some more, then after gagging, he horked up some stringy yellow lung butter, which he spat out in the overfilled ashtray. Wicked’s bellowing laughter filled the apartment and Dapper Do looked annoyed by the distraction. Starry began laughing, which made his cough worse, and more lung butter was horked up, then spat out. Flicker was appalled that adults would act this way, and he shuddered in revulsion. This was awful. He was ready to hit the streets and face whatever danger was out there rather than endure another minute of this. This was just about the worst thing ever. Fresh air. Flicker could breathe again. If he ever smelled cigar smoke again, it would be too soon. It was cool, and as the sun went down, it would get cold. He had no coat and much of him was still bald. Doing his best to look miserable, he stumbled down the sidewalk, dragging his hooves, and hoping that he was doing the right thing. Nopony had told him what the right thing was, not exactly. Dusk was already here and the sun would be setting soon. He wondered how long he might have to wait. The scent of the air was salty, almost fishy. Baltimare… supposedly haunted and a place of legend. Sea ponies lived in the Horseshoe bay, or so it was said, and there were quite a number of strange cults here. Castle Murder could be found on the peninsula and there were a million stories, all of them printed in pulp novels and sold as truth. Flicker felt that most of the writers belonged in the local asylum, which was known as Arkham. Baltimare, and it’s surrounding towns, Innsmouth, Dunwich, and other little touristy traps, had a long and storied history. Now, as an agent of S.M.I.L.E., Flicker found himself investigating one of the local mysteries. Whatever it was, he was certain he could handle it. Looking up, Flicker watched as the streetlamps began to bathe the street in light and he shivered, feeling a chill that felt as though it originated from the inside. It was going to be a long night, and his stomach was already rumbling.