I'll admit, there must have been something in my visage which caused just the teensiest bit of concern amongst my fellow travelers, be it the halfway-manic grin I suddenly possessed or the fact that I'd once again gone from depressed to... well, if not bouncy, then at least far more active than I had just been a minute ago. This whole back-and-forth nonsense had to have driven my three minders nuts, even without my monologues or half-twisted diatribes from the past hour or two... and the very instant I realized that, I flinched.
Well, I wasn't the only one to flinch, at least. All three of them took a step back as I shut my mouth with an audible 'smack', closing my eyes and lowering my horn. "H... hang on," I muttered, just loud enough for them to hear, then brought my right hoof to the side of my head.
Cobalt reacted instantly, rushing over towards my side -- or at least a few steps towards me, before Shamrock held him back with an outstretched hoof. I think that Crimson was actually looking at me with more than mere interest, but she's better at holding her feelings back... and with my eyes closed, it was difficult for me to read her as more than an emotional blob. This was compounded by the fact that, with the knock I'd just given myself on the forehead - a small welt just to the right of my horn - the pain was palpable.
In a way, that pain helped me focus once again, and I shook my head to try and clear up the buzzing of hornets which had just erupted in my ears. "I'm fine, just gimme a sec," I started, taking a series of deep breaths as I willed down the panic attack I'd just pushed myself into. "I'm not going to flip out or break down... I think..." Bad thought process at first. I might not have been able to do so with certainty, but as I repeated that mantra a few times, interspersed with a breath or three -- "I think," that is -- I started to come down, slowly.
When I opened my eyes again, it was to the sight of green grass, swaying slightly in the wind, and I took another long, deep breath, trying to ignore the hammering of my much-abused heart. I nodded to each of the three in turn, in between long draws of air, between the moments when I closed my eyes and reopened them. "I think," I repeated to myself, finally settling down and doing so.
Once I finally finished, and my heartrate settled down to a nice mere 90, I looked around at the other three. "Okay. Better... probably."
Shamrock took a step forward, tilting her head about 60 degrees. "Probably?"
"So, you might have noticed I'm just a little bit bipolar."
"Noooooo."
I was flopped out on the grass, certainly able to move, but finding little reason why I should do so at the moment. The Wild Guard were sprawled out around me in their own positions, with Cobalt hugging his cloud and Crimson standing more or less at position, keeping any eavesdroppers at bay with her metaphorical eye-lasers. Shamrock was on her belly, looking at me with head resting on her hooves, as though I was simply the most interesting person in the world right now.
"You don't say," continued the peanut gallery, compatriots that they were. Well, I'd more than earned a bit of sarcasm, sardonicism and general irony from the lot of them. I certainly couldn't give them just a hoofwave and a dry 'eh' after that little histrionic display, that's for sure.
"So, the big thing about that is, I haven't had to do that in years. And I do mean years. It's a kind of breathing exercise and mantra from back when I was in middle school..." Here I paused. "All the folks back home get twelve years of basic schooling, it's a thing, not important right now. Anyway, back when I was twelveish, I was a semi-hyperactive neurotic ball of twine."
Again, my acquaintances provided assorted statements of dismay, express disbelief and outright shock.
Ignoring the irony dripping all over the ground, I carried on. "It's weird. Some folks grow out of it, some don't. Sometimes it's a disorder, sometimes it's just how we're wired, sometime it's even learned behaviour. For a while my parents were considering medication, but that idea never really took off. One thing that really helped, back then, was breathing exercises. When I got a little too far out of whack, I'd take a few breaths and think instead of just acting. Helped kill the highs and the crashes."
"I've heard of something similar regarding the Zebras," volunteered Crimson, who'd been doodling a few patterns in the grass with her field. The patches were starting to look rather like a Zen garden, waves and shifts and neat little lines. "And the Minotaurs do something like that too, breathing exercises to handle their rages and lows..." She trailed off, letting me continue to explain.
"I'd thought I'd gotten through that rough patch, but I guess sometimes, in stress, these things kinda catch up with you... and punch you in the gut, or smack you in the head." Here I gave a genuine - if closed-lip - smile to the three in turn. "I really need to thank you somehow for all this nonsense you've been putting up with... you know, with me. You've really been helping me with all that and more. Kinda part of what I mean by paying off a debt."
The reactions ranged, from a hug from Cobalt, to a punch on the shoulder (ow!) from Shamrock, to a 'meh' from Crimson, who simply swept her tail across the grass to clear away those patterns. "Some of us were a bit more worried about what else you might mean by a debt," stated the lattermost.
It took me a moment to parse that, and then I sprayed a brief, fine mist into the air via raspberry. "What! You think I'm going to seek revenge against someone just for spitting into my coffee?" I did my very best to look shocked, offended and on the verge of apoplexy... well, scratch that. The shit-eating grin on my face pretty much countered anything to that effect.
"The thought had crossed our minds," returned Crimson with a carefully upraised eyebrow. 'Well, Vulcan confirmed, then.' But I shook my head firmly, rolling back onto my hooves and shaking a bit of stray grass out of my hair. "Absolutely not. That would be totally pointless. No, I am already exacting my most hideous revenge upon her."
Confusion reigned for a moment between the three, though after that moment, I caught a spark of recognition in Crimson's eyes... and maybe a little bit of glee. I knew I liked that mare the moment I saw her, and that just confirmed it. "Red here already has the right of it," I grinned, waving a hoof towards her. "Would you other two like to guess?"
Poor, poor Cobalt was just lost. Shamrock started providing me with a list of pranks she'd like to enact in response, to each of which I immediately shook my head, but Cobalt was just too nice of a guy to even come up with anything: when it comes to pranks and the like, he was definitely straight-laced, at least as far as the juvenile stuff goes. Crimson just followed along with a half-smile on her face, the smirk of the just (and the justified, at that).
Shamrock was going a little crazy here, but I decided to let her steep in her machinations, especially as she seemed to have an encyclopedic knowledge of such juvenalia. Some of what she proposed was nasty: even I wouldn't apply epoxy resin to the ovens of a baker who'd wronged me. I did, however, have fun winding the Earth pony up... and the fact that she was running through her list of ideas meant that I could keep a running tally of things she might, eventually, use against me. Eventually, the others following my lead, we arrived at the entrance to the bank, whereupon Shamrock snapped like an old twig.
"You sound like you're not planning to do anything to her!"
"And finally, the light dawns!" I gave Shamrock a happy grin, this time with teeth, as she just stopped cold. "I don't need to do anything to her. It'd be a pointless waste of time and energy, this is a small town, and I'd look like a heel."
"A heel?" Cobalt asked.
"Old term for the villain of the piece. Contrast the 'face'."
"Ohh," the pegasus responded. "We call that the 'fet' here." The news that professional wrestling was here in Equestria was a bit of a shock, all things considered... but not too far off from all the other similarities between Equus and Earth, and so I could safely put that aside for now.
"Ah well. There is one thing I'll be doing, but it's so small that it's not even a real consideration." I made my way past the bank's entrance, looking back at the others as they followed me in.
"And that is?" Shamrock was nearly vibrating at the thought, the dust near her hooves rising of its own accord as she waited for my response.
"Whenever I see her, I'm going to smile."
"You know, I'm fairly certain that intentional psychological warfare is against at least a few laws." That came as a drawl from Crimson, who was sitting next to me about two body-lengths down the queue, while the other bank customers tried their very best to pretend to ignore us both. Cobalt and Shamrock had just decided to remain outside, the former because the skies were a much more comfortable site for a pegasus, and the latter because there are few things as boring as your average bank queue. We'd somehow managed to hit at just the right time for several deposits to be placed... meaning that there was time to chat before a window opened up.
"I fail to see how this is psychological warfare. I'll smile at her as genuinely as I can, just to show that there are no hard feelings. In fact, I intend to make sure that I avoid the business in entirety until I receive an apology from her. That's it, that's all."
Crimson shrugged, and asked, "I wonder if that'll hold up in court?" A difficult question, to say the least. It would be very, very hard for me to establish legal merit and avoid harassment charges if we kept hitting the same shoppes, let alone running into each other, as the laws of Narrative Causality almost dictate we would. Actually, scrap the laws of Narrative Causality. Even if those weren't in play here, there'd still be a dozen microaggressions a week, just on the grounds that Ponyville is a small town.
With a sigh, I let my head hang, moving forward in the queue, and groaned, "I'm sure we'll find out sooner or later when she starts reporting changeling infiltrators peeking into her bedroom, her boudoir, and her basement. On the other hand, now that I have my very own arch-nemesis, I don't have to wait for that shoe to drop." Another step commenced in the bureaucratic slog. "Anyway. Those other two still outside?"
Crimson took a dutiful look outside, then reported, "Still waiting on us. They're probably running through a thousand ways your little scheme will go horribly, horribly wrong." Her voice implied that they wouldn't think of them all, and that this was what she was there for. Whether this was an accurate assessment, I still have yet to determine.
"Meh," I verbally shrugged. "I literally don't have to raise a hoof, and in fact, things would go worse if I did. Would that all things were so easy." As the line moved forward another ponylength, I took another long, deep breath, carefully ignoring the musk of the stallion ahead of me. Some people should not wear suits, especially in the hot months, and especially with fur beneath that. Oh well, life is suffering and all that. "Your uncle is in today, right?"
"Oh yes. He should be around and about -- but you might need to make an appointment this time," replied Crimson in her usual deadpan, looking at a point beyond my horn.
"Money talks," I started, drawing a small glare from her. "No, I'm not going to bribe him. It's just that this might be a time-sensitive investment. Even without that, though, I do have a point in being here, as I'd like to find out what paperwork I need to fill out for a safe-deposit box."
Her expression lightened a fraction at that, and she gave me a nod, ceding the point. Another ponylength forward commenced, as I drew in another breath via lightly-parted lips. The aroma ahead of me seemed to be increasingly stifling, and I had to admit that the other folks who worked here had to be ... well, their fortitude was astonishing if they had to deal with this sort of thing every summer day. Speaking of which... a thought came to mind.
"Say, out of curiosity, what spells do you know which can muffle senses? You know, your standard ear protection, eye protection, and so on?" 'Scent protection,' I very carefully didn't say, even if I was thinking it so loudly that it should have been picked up a few furlongs away. Crimson was a member of the Guard, so she surely had to know at least a couple, and I figured that every scrap of knowledge might count.
I wasn't expecting any reticence, so I was actually surprised when she raised an eyebrow, with an accompanying pinch of distrust in her emotions. "What do you want to know about them?" was her response, her trademark tone a bit more clipped than usual.
I honestly had no idea why she was suddenly on edge, so I just tried to clarify, hardly realizing that I was digging myself into a bit of a hole. "Just basic things. Mostly how they act, really; I mean, there's a big difference between blocking out all the light that's approaching your eyes for a bit, or shielding against sudden glare, or having what amounts to welding goggles... that sort of thing. And there've got to be variants, right? Nose, ear, mouth."
"There are, yes," she said, her voice a little more strained. A few ponies around were seemingly paying a little more attention, but I just couldn't quite figure out why. "Why do you ask, exactly?"
"I..." Three things happened at once. First, the rather rotund and... musky gentleman ahead of us finally moved to a teller, freeing the queue to move forward, with us at the head. Second, the penny dropped as to just why Crimson was concerned. And thirdly, another teller called for the next in line, as a customer walked away from her with an air of extreme dissatisfaction.
What, you were expecting a bank robbery?
"Look, I'll explain, but I don't exactly want details about how they work and whatnot. Even just a book on the basics would be fine, the sort of spell that's the equivalent of a blindfold or a nose filter." I tried to mollify Crimson as we both walked to the teller, right up until I nearly threw up at the sudden wave of grey before me.
People have their own views on customer service. Some people think that anyone who doesn't cater to them and them alone, with the servitude due a god, is unworthy of a tip or, for that matter, common respect. Others couldn't care less, and just treat the service people as a tool. And still others are the gems in the rough, and treat customer service agents with understanding. Looking at this mare, though... I could start to understand the first two. At that time, I couldn't even tell you what colour her mane was (puce) or her coat (about #CCCCCC), because she was a mare who stood out only in how complete her apathy was. Her whole being was practically anathema to me, but I managed to swallow the gorge rising in my stomach for a few moments.
"How can I help you today?" was the entirety of her spiel, and... ergh. She probably had something going on in her head, but as far as I could tell, it was simply self-reflection and daydreaming - or even just a wave of grey fuzz - as she dealt with customer #918 of the day.
Crimson must have caught something of my revulsion, or perhaps she knew that this was going to happen ahead of time, because her hoof on my withers stopped me from losing myself to something I really shouldn't. That, or maybe she's just that quick. Either way, I took a deep breath. This would normally not have been a good idea, but the acrid aroma of the gentleman who was still too close for comfort worked like a phial of smelling salts. For the moment, I could think.
Give the devil its due, because that at least spurred me to action. "Two papers, please," I stated with all the gravitas my shaken voice would allow: "One for the opening of a new account, and one for the opening of a safe-deposit box." A few more words might have forced their way out of my gullet, but I had to take a pause after that to re-jigger the assorted miasmas into something I could deal with.
A nearly robotic nod -- in every sense -- met my demand as she dug out a pair of triplicate documents from behind her, and while she did I turned to Crimson with widened eyes and a frog in my throat. "What."
"We'll trade explanations." For what it's worth, she didn't look much happier than I was, and I swear I saw a spark flash near the tip of her horn. Might've just been a floater in my eye, though. I caught the gist, though: now was neither the time nor the place. It was hard to disagree.
That psychic anathema, or whatever it was, was nowhere near the level I was getting from the library. This was more like a bucket instead of a tidal wave. On the other hand, this was worse in some ways, because instead of getting near something that should be cordoned off with yellow-and-black tape, I got that bucket splashed in my face, and some leaked into my ears, and my mouth...
And on the gripping hoof, throwing a fit or passing out in the middle of the bank was a decidedly bad idea, especially after we'd waited too long already.
Somehow, my mental pieces managed to work themselves into agreeing with one another - however briefly - in time for the drone to return with my paperwork. I very carefully checked over both pieces, to ensure that they were the correct ones, as the unicorn noted, "We also require the assistance of Rouge Noir."
For a moment, I was distracted from the paperwork by something. I could have sworn that... no, there couldn't have been fear there. Nothing on her face said anything like that, not a muscle moved out of place. It didn't fit, no matter how creepy Crimson's uncle might have been in a few ways. But then, maybe any bureaucrat has some things with which they're concerned. Losing one's job, one's livelihood, is probably enough to penetrate even the densest of fogs.
"I'll see when there's a time for an appointment," the pony replied, heading to the back on stiff legs. As she went, I finally took a less shaky breath, peering at the sheets. Yup... three forms apiece, none of them carbon copies. 'The ink business must simply thrive around here.'
As I regained my mental footing once more -- the rather malodorous gentleman had taken his leave already -- I turned to Crimson, spearing her with a glare... which wilted at her returning look. "What, even," I started.
"Like I said, I'll explain, but later. There are reasons." She looked even more perturbed than before, meaning that a few hairs were out of place; I suppose I should say that she felt perturbed. That was more than enough to stymie any objections I might have had, and I nodded before filling out the paperwork bit by bit.
'Date of birth... well, that's a fun one,' I mused to myself, thinking back before scribbling out, '23/5/969' on each of the sheets. I didn't want to have to think that one over too often, so if nothing else, this would be good practice. I followed suit with the basics: name, gender, race, hometown... though I had to chuckle over the part which read 'Cutie Mark'. "None whatsoever. Perhaps I should make one for myself."
"Hmm?" replied Crimson, peering over my shoulder at the paperwork. "Oh, that," she realized, shrugging. "Non-ponies write N/A, zebras sometimes draw their glyphs because they defy ready translation. I'd been meaning to ask you about that, actually: are you going to come up with a unique mark for yourself?"
I returned the shrug, my mind going a bit blank as I considered for a moment. "If one comes to me that suits my talents and lifestyle, sure. Flash of inspiration and all that." Then I paused, and carefully brought my hoof to my forehead, groaning as Crimson looked at me. "Please don't say it."
"Do I need to?"
"No, no, I think I get the picture."
"You probably will, at least." She looked, and felt, almost as exasperated as I did, and not for no reason.
With a grump, I turned my attention back to the paperwork. "I swear, I don't usually break out the puns without at least two drinks in me." No address of note, that's okay, current address is the hostel, thaumic signature lock... okay, that one stopped me for a moment, before I managed to parse it out. "Glad to see something like that here," I commented, gesturing to the appropriate line.
"That's SOP for any bonded banks. Even the small, dusty places like Applelooza get those installed, otherwise it drives the insurance premiums sky high." Crimson was lounging on a nearby chair now, and the teller was back at her post... having evidently already told the unicorn the appropriate time. Wait, what?
"How long was I filling these out?" I asked dubiously, looking at the spread of papers in front of me. Rather than bother with a quill, I'd been using a more discreet plastic pen, held in hoof - again, something I'd have to look into later - in order to fill out the apposite information. As such, the ink was already dry, and 90% of the forms were done, just needing the final signatures.
Crimson tilted an ear to point at the clock - 15 minutes, nothing spectacular. "Appointment's coming up in a few. It seems he had a slot open for us. That, or some unlucky pony got bumped."
"Hopefully not the latter. Weirdness carries its own privilege, but I'd rather not rely on that." I shook my head -- the thought of displacing someone who might have been waiting for a few days rang poorly on me. I'd certainly had that happen to me often enough.
"Ah well," I continued, gesturing to the papers. "You able to serve as a witness?"
My companion demurred, waving a hoof at it. "You'll probably want to have that signed by my uncle anyway. It's all internal stuff." I frowned in return, thinking of how that might be able to be used for malicious purposes... but shook the thoughts from my head a moment later. 'I really need to start being more trustful. Or at least mistrustful in the right ways.'
Stretching her limbs, Crimson made for the door as I idly watched the time tick down, lost in my own thoughts for a brief period. "Just going out to let the others know," she explained, as I waved a hoof. Sure enough, she popped back in right as a familiar face came out from the back office, looking a bit more neutral than before. At the sight of the papers in my hooves, though, he relaxed and gestured us to follow him into the proverbial dragon's lair.
"So, the rather interesting changeling returns to my domain," Rouge began with just a touch too much gravitas to be taken seriously. We'd quickly been seated, and I found myself holding a cup of coffee between my hooves -- real coffee, the sort that isn't brewed in six-scoop pots. The aroma alone was enough to invigorate me and make up, at least in small part, for the rather harrowing experiences of the past hour. A sip was enough to make me feel halfway like myself.
"Well, it's such an interesting place," I responded with deadpan aplomb, waving one hoof to encompass the decidedly professional office. "I could see myself returning quite often."
"Hopefully not too often," the banker responded with a small smirk. Yes, it was clear where Crimson had gotten at least some of her traits. "My business is, after all, in solving problems."
The subtext was pretty clear, not at all threatening, and very much a pointed reminder that I was problem and opportunity all rolled up in a ball of neuroses. I was just glad for the coffee; it was enough to keep me on that edge of stability. "Don't worry, this should be comparatively simple. The paperwork is just for related matters." With that, I leaned forward on the chair, setting the coffee down and picking up my bag, then pulling out a set of what would look, from afar, to be six linked rings.
In truth, this was something I'd brought with me whenever I'd decided to go around exploring in urban wreckage. I'd never really had need for the things, but they were better to have, as well as the high-test cord I also carried around. That, though, I was saving for myself. These were easily replaceable with much less expensive materials, and so I figured that I could burn one of my assets: hence, I dropped the six carabiners on the table with aplomb.
"Take a look."
The room was quiet before, but I swear the sound of a buzzing fly filled it now. Rouge's eyes were locked on the climbing equipment, and Crimson's breath was very slow indeed. "Those are...?" began the gentleman, though he clearly already knew the answer.
Crimson was, for once, a bit breathless, as she swore an oath that I couldn't quite make out. "I thought the cans were weird, but I thought that was just normal climbing gear. Light iron..."
With a flourish, I gestured at the half-chain. "Aluminium, pure as can be had." Okay, I had to admit, I was enjoying myself. One doesn't get an opportunity like this, but how often do you get the chance to wave literally 350 grams of exorbitantly precious metal in someone's face?
Rouge looked up at me with a glare. Okay, so it was rather rude of me, admittedly, but one has to savor these moments, or lose them forever. Belatedly, I realized that he probably dealt with many, many more bits every day... but even so, there's a difference between seeing a ton of bits on a ledger, and seeing them in person. His voice tight, he managed nonetheless to keep his tone even as he asked, "And how much more of this do you have?"
Here, he had me. I had to return a sheepish grin, one which I was sure I'd be paying for later. "That's the trick. That's... pretty much all I have on me in, ah..." I took a second to think of the right word. "Fungal?"
"Fungible," he corrected archly. "But I see what you mean. The rest of what you have is tied up, then?" He was clearly a little off his groove, but getting that back rapidly.
"More or less," I agreed, looking pointedly at my bag. "So you can see why I also wanted a safe deposit box..." I trailed off as something twigged, and it took all my will (and the reminder of the still-steaming cup of coffee) to prevent myself from slamming my head into the table. Instead, I just groaned. "...instead of, you know, carrying it around in a bag with an aluminium zipper. I'm so glad that's painted."
Crimson got straight to the point, as usual. "I don't care what the chief says, I'm demanding more hazard pay."
"First off, I'm glad you came to me, instead of having these sudden realizations in, say, the middle of the street. In broad daylight. With ponies already clearly watching you." Noir was in fine form, his fur bristling as I took a rapid inventory of what I had on me. The total was both astounding and depressing.
"Please don't remind me. We've had more than enough of that today." Crimson cosigned with a nod as I let out a low groan to punctuate that. "I swear, I'm going to wind up going into the woods and having a screaming fit loud enough to scare off a nesting manticore."
"The hospital has a few padded rooms which some might say are provided expressly for that purpose," he riposted. The gentleman had already weighed the carabiners, and came up with a suitable number - and, I could tell, enjoying the fact that no matter what happened, he was going to be handsomely rewarded for his time. Monetary greed, at least, felt somewhat clean to me, if off-putting. (And, for some reason, tasted green. Don't ask.)
"I should ask about that. I know that I do have to head back there soon to have an opening interview with a counselor." 'I think I've heard of those before... tantrum rooms or something. Safer than many other options.' "Or shrink, or whatever you prefer to call them around here. One way or another..."
"Whatever happens, we're going back on patrol tomorrow." Crimson brought up a point which I realized I should have asked about. "The Everfree won't police itself, and so long as you don't get in trouble..."
"Last thing on my mind," I snapped back, glaring at a USB cable. Copper inside, but the connectors were indeed aluminium too. A tiny amount, but if anyone did a quick scan of me for metallic objects, I would read as saturated with the stuff. "Crap," I sighed, adding that to my checklist. Thankfully, my cosmetics gear was largely free of the materials, being largely comprised of stainless steel; still, with zippers, earrings, cables, and more, things were already a headache.
And then came the laptop.
Ask anyone who goes outside and brings their equipment with them: you want something durable for your kit. Steel is heavy, titanium is a bit much, but brushed aluminium works well for an electronics casing, with rubber on the edges and a coating on the inside to preclude conductivity. And that meant that when I received my laptop as a twenty-fifth birthday present, I was given something truly expensive... at least by this world's standards.
Rouge Noir was looking at it with something between envy and disgust. Frankly, I felt the same way. It was very fortunate that the device was tinted black, because had it looked like aluminium, it would have already been halfway to a dragon's lair. As it was, though, it was still an exorbitant display of wealth, the sort of thing that the nobility would show off to the hoi palloi just to demonstrate how much better they were.
Crimson, meanwhile, felt like she wanted to fade into the wall. She was absolutely done with this, and I could absolutely sympathize.
"Okay, I'm calling it quits," I announced, not even having opened the device which was causing so much consternation. "Do you have anything I can pack this in? Shielded, or whatever? I do have need of it in the near future, but I don't want to get tackled by someone with delusions of a tropical island of their very own."
"I'm not even going to ask what you need it for. Yes, I can come up with something, though it'll be a few days. I do have the measurements now, at least." Rouge shook his head, looking over his page of meticulous notes, quite a difference from my less methodical scribbles. "Let's get to what we were doing here in the first place. These carabiners of yours weigh three hundred and fifty grams. At the going price, I can get you..."
I did a quick bit of mental arithmetic, then smiled mirthlessly at him. "We're dealing in bulk here, now." Well, twelve grams of the equivalent of pure gold - on Earth - is pretty much bulk, at least for these purposes. "I appreciate that you are in this for yourself first and foremost, but moving this, I won't settle on less than 90% of market price."
"Preposterous!" he spat, though I could tell from his emotions that he was actually glad to be back on solid footing. Or hoofing. "Whatever the papers might tell you, it takes a great deal of time to bring this to a suitable buyer, and fluctuations on a volatile material like this could be disastrous." Well, it was hard to disagree with that. I knew from even my meager scraps of research that gold could jump hundreds of dollars in a week, or fall calamitously. Still, I waited for his counter-offer.
"I'll accept no less than twenty percent of the sum, which involves handling the transactions on my part and all of the hoofwork. That, I think, should be fair recompense," he sniffed, his nose in the air as he spun a line of purest bullshit.
Ah, the joys of haggling. I had to admit, I was rather pleased by the fact that he was willing to, instead of going straight out for a flat rate -- one which would undoubtedly be fair, but disadvantageous to me. The benefit of trading in rare goods, I supposed. Either way, I wasn't about to walk away with that little -- and I admit, I was already somewhat annoyed that he'd previously bilked me out of 25% of the previous sum. While I wouldn't hold that against him... well, I would still use it.
"After yesterday? I don't think so." At my repartee, he gave a disappointed look towards Crimson, who simply returned it with a flat expression. She'd have no part in this, gotcha. I continued, "Not only are we dealing with a very rare material, we're also dealing with a matched set of pieces, which I can all but guarantee won't be found elsewhere in Equestria. While an oddity, I suspect you may find someone willing to pay a premium, above and beyond the norm."
His playful sneer redoubled. "And who do you think would pay for a set of aluminium climbing gear?"
I very carefully quashed an impulse to name a certain name, and replied, "Surely there are members of the nobility who take the time to pursue those 'noble ventures', assaying into the wilderness? Even with their retinue, they might seek to look the part, festooned in materiel suited to their station?"
A flicker of doubt crossed his mind, and I knew I had him. "That's as may be, but that still doesn't make it any easier to sell to them. And there's certainly no guarantee on that point."
'Ah ha.' I smiled winningly, "Then let us see, perhaps. If we're going to split hairs... you receive 13% of market value for half the aluminium now, and when these sell, you receive 20% on the remainder. So, that would be..."
"Five thousand, eight hundred and seventy five bits to Gem, eight hundred and seventy five to Uncle Noir, and six thousand, seven hundred and fifty in escrow," came Crimson's calm - well, deadpan - voice. She seemed a bit more like herself now that things were finally wrapping up.
Noir nodded with certainty, doing a bit of mathematics in his head. "And when the items in question do sell..."
"Well, that's all up to you. I'm certain that you can get more than market price." I grinned winningly. "Pretty sure you'll be able to make a killing there."
Perhaps it was the way I phrased it, but both Noir and Crimson blanched slightly. It couldn't have been the teeth, right?
"Hey! You were in there for quite a while!" Shamrock was as exuberant as ever, chirpy and glad to finally get back up and moving after... cripes, it was an hour and a half that we took in the bank. "You fall into the vault?" Above her, a napping pegasus stretched out, giving a rather catlike yawn as he hopped off the cloud.
"Something like that," deadpanned Crimson, giving me a pointed look. "We can discuss it back at the precinct, but it turns out there's even more to our mysterious friend here than we thought." Great. Just what I wanted to hear. Well, I wasn't going to put up with that, not when I was finally back in clear air.
"Possessions," I pronounced archly, "do not make a person. But no, you're not wrong there." I let out a sigh, feeling the curiosity from the other two -- and, indeed, feeling strengthened by that. The second cup of coffee that I'd enjoyed inside also helped to no small degree. "I've got a question, though, while it's fresh on my mind."
"What's up?" asked Shamrock, while Cobalt tilted an ear towards me, still obviously wiping away the metaphorical cobwebs. I tilted my horn towards the bank which we were rapidly departing, while I repressed a shiver.
"THAT teller. Crimson already knows the one I mean, but you two should be able to puzzle it out. I meant to ask Mister Noir about her, but in the confusion, it totally slipped my mind." That wasn't helped by the fact that I wanted to forget her. Most of the ponies probably already had; the miasma didn't let her linger on the mind very long. Still, all three of the Wild Guard gave an 'ohhh,' of sudden understanding.
"Her. Yeah. She's, ah." Shamrock started to explain, then suddenly looked withdrawn, and Crimson wasn't expounding on things... but, surprisingly, Cobalt stepped up to the plate.
"Some ponies, well... we don't know exactly what happened to her, but there was some trauma in her past, we think. She's not dangerous or anything, but she just goes through the motions. Even with her family, they do their best to take care of her. Make sure she eats, make sure she gets out there and does something. Anything, really."
I frowned, as it sounded like he was being a little evasive... but at the same time, I'd met people like that before. "And so a job where the taskwork is simple, repetitive, and can be easily corrected if an error's made..."
"Exactly. Though I don't think she can make a mistake. Her mind's focused on the job, one hundred percent, when she's doing it. She doesn't have the ingenuity or the drive to make mistakes. Most of the bank's customers... well, they don't mind her so much, or they feel sorry for her. She gets the job done, that's all." And now he sounded like he was making excuses. But that wasn't all. "Did you see her mark?" he added, gesturing with a wing towards his own flank.
"I..." I stopped, verbally and physically, right there in the middle of the street. "I don't think I did...?" An image of the puce-maned mare appeared in my head, but all I could really remember were her eyes and the feeling of wrongness that surrounded her. "I know I wasn't looking, but surely I'd have noticed, right?"
"That's just it." Cobalt waved a wing, and I started moving forward again, on automatic. "We don't know what happened in the past, and she's never volunteered it, but either Quicksilver never got her cutie mark, or..." Here he trailed off, but I didn't have any trouble filling in his next words.
'Or something took it from her.'
The conversation rapidly diverged from there, going backwards in time a little to the previous one we'd had within the bank. We carefully skirted around Sugarcube Corner, making sure to give it plenty of breadth so as to avoid any unpleasant experiences -- though the scents reminded me that I'd not had more than a few bites of bagel and a few cups of coffee that day. Still, there were more than a few restaurants along the way, so we stopped in at Hayburger's once more just to get our energy up.
"So you were talking about filters for senses before," started Crimson as we approached.
"Oh! Yeah, I was thinking that since there are spells to deafen, blind, et cetera, there must be one to filter different types of energy. I was a bit distracted in there..." The suited pony's aroma was certainly enough of a disturbance, but I shook my head to file that unpleasant memory in the proverbial bit bucket. "I'm a telempath, so just like getting a faceful of skunk, the wrong emotions can be painful. So I'd like to research ways to block those out. Could be meditation, could be thaumic, could be physical."
"Thaumic," mused Crimson. "You keep using that word. I don't think anypony uses that at the Academy anymore, except the stodgiest professors."
"Guess they'll love what I have to say, then," I snipped. "But surely there's something that could help. Maybe even with these things." I held up my left foreleg, showing off the band of stones. "Not that I'm interested in experimenting with them just yet. Focus on the tried-and-true here, that's my goal."
"Well, we could try a few magical seals, though those have their own disadvantages. Plus, didn't you say you need magic to survive?" Shamrock was walking backwards, somehow managing to evade some obstacles in her path as though she had eyes in the back of her head. There's a stray rock, there's a small jump rope. "I think I remember that, anyway."
"S'trewth, at least as far as I know." I looked up at the sky, taking a taste of the emotions around... hunger, mostly, as befits the area around a restaurant. "I've got a few working hypotheses, but no way to really test them as of yet. Something for later. But either way, let's hold off on large-scale seals. Maybe something smaller, like a horn restraint?"
Here, Shamrock stumbled over a loose stone, and Cobalt broke into a coughing fit. Crimson just stopped cold. "Are you volunteering to test one of those out?" she asked, shock finally hitting her voice. Huh, guess that's what it takes.
"Uh... okay, what did I do now?" I asked in genuine confusion, looking between the three. Of all of them, Crimson seemed to be the most shaken, so I had to guess that she'd had previous experience with the proposition. "I don't know all the details here, is there something wrong with them in particular?"
"You could say that." Now Crimson's voice was cold as ice. "We're going to table this one until we get back to HQ. Let's focus on something simpler, like the fact that little miss Walking Vault here is going to be paying for our meal."
Here I laughed, pushing open the door to Hayburger. "Now that's an interesting name. Sounds more like a minotaur one than a pony one. But yes, lunch is on me." I had, after all, just bargained for a few months' worth of pay in an hour and a half. A windfall like that could scarcely go ignored, especially as they'd been waiting on us for that long.
"Okay, now I have to know. What did you do in there?" Shamrock began to bounce a bit, half from anticipation of a full meal, and half from sheer, unbridled curiosity. I, meanwhile, felt a sudden and desperate need to keep her hanging.
"Oh, this and that, that and this," I hedged, leading the others up the line to the cashier. Unlike Quicksilver, he simply seemed bored, a teenager who was the very stereotype of 'fast food employee'. And while boredom might have been unpleasant, it was nowhere near as bad as that grey nothingness. "There were a few surprises. But yes, I have enough for a few months' worth of rent now."
"More of... that?" Shamrock asked, careful not to mention the metal of choice in front of disaffected youth. I nodded happily in turn, then turned my attention to the menu. An old trope stuck in my head, and I chuckled at the thought.
"I'll have... hmm... tell you what, four double sandwiches with the works, two large fries, and a diet soda."
There are very few things better than feeling replete after a long day, and although mine wasn't completely over yet, I was still much more relaxed, content, and pleasant after having scarfed down an absurd number of calories. I wasn't alone, either: Shamrock had gone with the Earth Pony 'walking stomach' stereotype, Cobalt had ordered three milkshakes on top of more modest fare, and Crimson had decided on a single, oversized burger. On any other day, I might have been a little annoyed at them feasting on my dime, but that wasn't a concern at the moment.
"So, now that you have a small nest egg, what do you intend to do with yourself?" That came from Cobalt, who was half asleep as we all lounged in the sun for a few minutes. Evidently, exhaustion made him a fair bit less shy.
"Good question. I do need to do some research. More than that, is there a lapidary in Ponyville?" I knew full well that the nearby fields were full of gems -- something which would likely become rather more relevant in the near future -- and I wanted to make sure that I got in on the ground floor, so to speak. Not that I intended to go out and spend 5,000 bits on shiny rocks, but it might be helpful nonetheless.
"Not as such, but Barnyard Bargains sometimes stocks decorations like that. Cheap stuff, rubies and sapphires, you know what I mean." Shamrock waved a lazy hoof, her eyes closed as she reclined on her back. "Diamonds too. Some ponies have a thing for them, and they're useful for tools."
"Heh, rubies and sapphires." I started chuckling. "Corundum is a very interesting thing."
All three ponies' ears perked at that, Crimson especially sending a lance of curiosity my way. In return, I let out a small burp, covering my mouth carefully. "Sorry bout that. Okay, this one's not a big secret. Or maybe it is... do you know what those gems are made of?"
The three returned a general 'no', and I felt my tail swish across the ground. "Hmm, hm. Well... that one I'll keep a secret for now, then. Ask a chemist sometime, you might be surprised."
"You mean an alchemist?" asked Shamrock. "Because we've got an alchemist living down the way. Bit of a crackpot, though. Tin roofs and scorched eyebrows all the way." That sounded like she'd had previous experience with him. Then again, considering it was the Wild Guard...
"I'll have to visit him sometime, pick his brain for details. There's mad, there's crazy, and there's insane, but he sounds useful." I filed that bit of information away for later. "If nothing else, fireworks are usually fun."
I suddenly felt a sense of depressing resignation from those three. Oh well, c'est la vie.
It took an hour or so for us to finally finish digesting our repast, and to get back on our hooves and headed to the station. "So, I didn't get you guys on your day off or something?" I asked, hoping it wasn't the case. Putting up with me might have been a full-time job, but it was still a job, and the thought that they'd be doing it for free was disconcerting.
"Not at all!" replied Cobalt, who was buzzing away on a stray cloud. That pegasus metabolism was something to be feared. "The chief said, and I quote, 'The Everfree can look after itself for a day. You've got something better to do.' So here you are, and here we are. Easy day, for the most part."
"Yeah, but in the stories, that one day off is the day that something really bad happens," I wryly said. This was met with general amusement. "Good thing we're not in a story, then."
Shamrock laughed, "It's not like it's one of Yearling's, that's for sure. I don't think she'd be able to get away with half the weirdness you've brought here." Then, she shot a grin towards Cobalt. "And it's definitely not like Velvet's."
The pegasus nearly fell out of his cloud, face turning red. "Hey! Just because I like a good bit of romance now and then..." He quickly shut his mouth, burying his face in the fluff as I let out a bark of laughter. 'Twilight Velvet, romance novelist. There's one more bit of information confirmed.'
"Velvet? I might have to look her up, just to compare how bad those bodice-rippers are to the ones back home. They the sort you get in used bookstores, looking... lovingly read?" Fluff, mass-market, really... some things are truly multiversal.
Another gale of laughter erupted from Shamrock, as Cobalt groaned. "I knew I should never have told you about those," he muttered into his impromptu cushion, the red spreading to his ears.
"Okay, okay, I won't tease you about that any more, at least not right now," said Shamrock. The grin on her face let everyone know that detente wouldn't last very long, though. "What sort of books do you like to read, though, Divide?"
I gave a musing frown as I looked up, considering. "Oh, well... a fair bit of science fiction, some fantasy, bunch of horror. Not much romance, but there's a time and a place for that in every book. I'm more into the former, my sister's big into fantasy..." I paused, thoughts of Amber coming to my mind. Damn.
Cobalt must have sensed the mood shifting - something in the wind? - and took a moment to steer the conversation onto a different tack. "Hey, I noticed something a bit odd earlier. When you were talking with the doc, and the nurse, and with us... you've got a different mannerism. Like you're kind of matching us..." He paused, looking a bit less forward. "At least, that's how it felt to me."
I blinked. That observation... well, I shouldn't have been surprised. Cobalt was definitely a bit deeper than Shamrock, to be sure, but I'd expected Crimson to pick up on it too. Then again, she wasn't the most social of ponies. "Ah. That's... I don't suppose I could get away with calling it a changeling thing, could I?"
The trio shook their heads as we ambled along.
"Damn," I cursed half-jokingly. "Okay, it's a habit I picked up back home. I wasn't the most social of individuals, like, ever. I'm still not, at least I don't think I am." Now that was a worrisome thought. I felt like myself, but the fundamental issue is that the pithos can't hold itself. Something to think about with the psychologist, when I spoke to them...
"I dunno exactly what to call it, because everyone seems to have a different name for it, but one I've heard is 'mirror matching'. Like, getting a read on someone's body language, and matching it," something I still couldn't quite explain, "makes it easier to hold a conversation with them. S'why I don't do so well in crowds, I think: I keep pulling from multiple people at once, and that's exhausting."
Crimson frowned slightly. "That sounds like a very useful ability for an infiltrator." Oh, gods alive.
"Yes," I simply agreed. "You'd definitely think so. It has its downsides, though." All three nodded, and I blinked as I realized that we were at the guard house already. Time flies, but that was ridiculous.
"C'mon, then. We need to catch these two up on what's happened." Crimson marched into the building, and we followed along, my thoughts suddenly churning once again as the faint tide of suspicion washed over me.
The room we visited this time could potentially have been called an interrogation room, but if so, it was a much more welcoming, homey interrogation room than most. 'Debriefing, that was the word I was looking for.' There were plenty of cushions, with a chair or two in the corner; a jug of water sat to the side with some wooden mugs. The lights, instead of being glaring, were turned down, with a window to let in natural light alongside that, and if they'd been opened, a light breeze would have allowed the stale air to circulate better. As it was, Cobalt gave a few flaps of his wings, to air the place out a bit more, before the door closed.
Instead of sitting at the table with those three clustered around, with me on the opposite side, the others elected for a square sitting position, and we quietly look those mugs before a word was spoken. A few sips of water assuaged my suddenly somewhat dry throat, as I looked back and forth between the three. "So. Anyone bring a deck of cards?" I joked weakly, feeling like I was in a rather precarious position.
"Not exactly," replied Shamrock, suddenly all business. It was almost scary seeing her like that, as though she'd suddenly come into sharp relief. "But it is cards-on-the-table time. From what I can tell, you've not told us a single outright lie. That, or you've said nothing but outright lies. Either way, that's a mark in your favor."
"'There are only two ways to lie artfully,'" I quoted absently, "'by either telling only part of the truth, or by telling the truth in such a way that nobody will believe it.' Robert Heinlein. Though I probably mangled that." I frowned at the second part. "Wait, how is telling nothing but outright lies a good thing?"
"Because it means that you're not being cagey, you're literally insane, and that means that none of this on your head. For what it's worth, I'm more likely to believe that you've been truthful." Shamrock stared at me, and I found myself averting my gaze in return. Whatever she was on, it was intense.
"There are several corroborating factors to what little you've actually told us. The fact that you had fifteen thousand bits worth of fungible aluminium," Crimson emphasized, getting a wry chuckle from me, "on your body means that you're definitely not from around here. Especially in that form. Then there are those devices. They're not magical, not for the most part. The only part that is are those tiny things on the side, and they don't seem to be doing much." Ah, those.
"That much I think I can explain. When my stuff's turned on... active, I'm pretty sure they power them. I've been keeping them mostly turned off." In case my hypothesis was wrong, I didn't want them to suddenly drain themselves, not without the potential to transcribe much of what I had on them.
Now it was Cobalt's turn to speak, and if Shamrock seemed intent, Cobalt seemed razor-focused. The shy pegasus from not long ago had a stare which made me wonder if he was related to a certain yellow and pink mare, and his voice was tinged with... something. I wasn't sure if it was just stress.
"Your behaviour can be excused by the shock of finding yourself in the Everfree, thrust into an unfamiliar situation. But there are a few things I can't explain from that alone." The pegasus tapped a hoof on the table. "First: you have wings, but I have yet to see you fly. Your pack doesn't seem designed to allow that in any event, but in that case, it's odd that you have it and that it still fits you. When you need to grab something," here he gestured to my mug with a wing, "you don't rely on magic, like a unicorn would, but instead on your hooves.
"When you're fidgeting, your posture's off - not by much, but enough to be noticeable to an observer. This is especially the case when you're thinking about something, probably yourself. You've occasionally tripped over things which are easy to spot and avoid, but everypony does that from time to time. Some other aspects of your body language are different, too. I don't know enough about changelings to say for sure, though.
"You're good at spotting when someone's feeling off, that... telempathy? Whatever you mentioned earlier, that makes sense. But then you miss obvious physical cues and tells." He flicked an ear in annoyance to demonstrate, and though I caught it now, I wouldn't have noticed it a bit ago. "Microexpressions, the way your eyes move, the way the rest of you reacts. It's just 'off' enough that you seem a bit weird to an outside observer, even discounting your form."
The fact that Cobalt was spot on about all this, the fact that he was calmly detailing everything here... well. I knew that pegasi had good eyesight, but this was something completely out of the blue. He didn't seem like the shy pony with whom I'd made friends... and his position in the Wild Guard suddenly made a lot more sense than it did before.
"That mirror-matching thing is a good explanation for some of this, but even that's flawed." As I started to make a protest, he held up a hoof to forestall it. "I'm not saying you're lying. I've seen ponies do that before... though it's mostly limited to con artists and salesponies." A slightly less grim chuckle sounded across the room. "And you're not selling us anything, or trying to swindle us. At least, I'm pretty sure you're not."
Shamrock chimed in, "Some of your expressions - vocally, I mean - are a bit odd, but that can be explained from just coming from far away. It all makes sense, if you think of it in that light. So. To sum it all up..."
Crimson took the point. "Who, and what, are you?"