Chapter One: One Pink Two Pink Smart Pink New Pink
Pink Press trudged down the street with all the enthusiasm of the accused on his way to the verdict reading. Hiding as much behind her wide-brimmed hat as she could, she walked purposefully and quietly, doing he best not to draw attention to herself in the crowded street, which under normal circumstances wouldn’t be much of a challenge at all. Most ponies in Manehatten were to absorbed with themselves that it would take an act of Celestia to get them to pay attention. She even knew of a few instances where a Princess didn’t even get regarded with anything less than the typical indifference.
Of course, the only thing higher on the list of attention-grabbing phenomena than Celestia was, of course, Pinkamena Diane Pie. She loud, bright, pink pony bounced over the typical hoof traffic with all the aplomb and acrobatic finesse of a leaf in the breeze. With verbal diarrhea.
“Oh my gosh are there a bunch of you why didn’t you go back in the pool are you guys ok I mean you aren’t going to try and steal my friends are you or are you just like a changeling or something or am I hallucinating I haven’t done that since I ate Rainbow Dash’s brownies I mean she’s a good cook but they tasted funny and I felt really weird afterwards like I was flying but I’ve flown before and that wasn’t it so maybe not flying but like floating in place or something kinda like at the pool but with no water man I’m thirsty-”
“SHUT. UP!” Press barked, wheeling on her progenitor with a harsh expression. “My STARS is it any wonder we LEFT Ponyville?!”
Pinkie Pie stopped mid-bounce in that physics-defying manner that all of the clones had come to accept as part of their lives. They’d all made use of it in different ways, but seeing somepony so blatantly-and almost ignorantly-abuse it like Pinkie did was unnerving. The bouncy mare settled back down to her hooves. “I’m sorry. I just… I get realy carried away with super-big-important news like this! How did you even… I mean all the other Pinkie clones were all bouncy and yelling “Fun” all the time! What happened?”
Pink Press rubbed her snout with her hoof. “Honestly, I’m not sure. You’d have to ask Pie Chart about that. But look, where I’m taking you… it’s a secret, okay?”
“Okie-dokie-”
“NO. NO LOKI. We don’t say that. And I don’t mean just ‘surprise party’ secret. I need your penultimate promise that you will never, EVER tell another pony about anything I’m going to share with you from now on, ok? EVER,” Press said sternly, punctuating her statements by jabbing Pinkie in the chest with a stubborn hoof.
“I Pinkie Promise! Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!” Pinkie exclaimed, gesturing with each piece of the well-rehearsed rhyme.
Press looked at her curiously. “That’ll have to do. Now come on,” she grumbled. They strode down the street, garnering more attention than Press was comfortable with, before coming to a simple-looking office building, several stories shorter than it’s neighbors. On the front were the letters P.A. in plain font. Really, besides the two identical mares standing in front of it, there wasn’t anything that made it stand out in the crowd, and once they went in, it was purely an unimpressive piece of architecture surrounded by more of the same.
The inside of the building looked like what anypony would assume a receptionist’s desk and sitting room of a small office would: a small row of chairs, a few cork boards with various fliers tacked to them, and a toupe desk with matching walls. Supposedly it was a very soothing color. What stood out to the newcomer, Pinkie Pie, was yet another clone of herself sitting behind said desk. The mare, who lacked the trademark curls in favor of a short, friendly bob, looked up from taking a file to her hoof to greet the newcomers. “Oh? Oh hey, Press! I thought you had a… thing… today?”
“Interview,” Press answered dryly. “And I have bigger problems. Let’s just say my boss let me go home early given… extraneous circumstances.” She stood to the side, gesturing to Pinkie Pie.
“Oh, hello!” the pink mare behind the desk chirped. “A new one, huh? It’s been a while!” She leaned forward and offered a hoof, which Pinkie shook gleefully. “I’m Pinkwell! It’s been weeks since we saw a ‘new’ face!”
“Not quite,” Press growled, as Pinkie Pie opened her mouth to speak.
A mouth that soon closed, most likely remembering Press’s outburst in the street. “Hmm?” Pinkwell asked.
“I mean she’s not… new. She’s an old face. The oldest,” Press enunciated the last word intently, trying to drive the point home.
There was a second’s pause in which Pink was convinced she’d have to explain things further, befoe Pinkwell’s face shifted gears from excited confusion to near-panic. She took a deep breath, then- “PIE CHART!” she bellowed, a sound that reverberated throughout the building.
In a few seconds, yet another pink mare trotted into the room, this one with slightly longer hair than the receptionist’s, tied back in a bun. The more identifying feature, of course, was the triple-thick glasses on her face. “What now, Pinkwell?” she looked around the room, and caught sight of the other two. “Oh, hello, Press. Who’s the new girl?”
“Hi!” Pinkie said, having grown tired of being the only one of herself not talking. “I’m Pinkie Pie!”
“Yes, yes, so am I. Welcome to-”
“NO. She means she ACTUALLY IS Pinkie Pie,” Press barked.
Chart’s eyes grew so wide they surpassed the enormous frames on her face. In an instant, she rushed to the wall, opened a hidden panel to reveal a big red button, and punched it with great force. “CODE ALPHA!”