The streets of Partyville were busy, still a bit early into the day, somewhere between breakfast and lunch. Dozens of ponies -alive and dead- all waved at each other as they passed in the street. Simple greetings were exchanged by almost all of them as they aimlessly wandered.
Two Earth ponies kept to themselves as they walked down the left-hand sidewalk. The first was a pink mare with a truly unkempt mane of curls and frayed ends; She had a hybrid expression that adorned her features. The first was a general displeasure for the ponies around her, one look at her eyes could tell she was bitter from years of being judged. The second was a tinge of worry for her friend.
Walking slightly ahead of Pinkie Pie was an orange mare with a deathly serious look in her eyes. She marched forward with purpose, staring directly forward without a hint of hesitation in her lime green spheres. She was a touch shorter than most, but built stocky and strong. She passed by the herds of people on the sidewalk in front of her that decided to ignore the aura of single-mindedness around her and say hi anyway.
Pinkie idly wondered if Applejack even had a plan for dealing with the Executioner. It was clear there was some kind of history there, possibly something that all ghosts experienced in Partyville, hard to say though. What she knew, though, was that Applejack stormed out of Twilight’s bookstore without a second thought. Did she even have a goal?
How does one ask that of somebody so angry though? Somehow ‘I know you’re ready to rip a phone book in half, but mind telling me what you’re doing?’ didn’t sound like the smartest question. So what to do then? Pinkie hadn’t known Applejack for more than a month, not in a way that counted anyway; the five years of farming proper where Pinkie knew she existed but never spoke to her didn’t count. So how could she go about stepping on Applejacks hooves?
Luckily though, Pinkie didn’t have to consider for long; As the two mares passed by the post office, Pinkie spotted a certain purple dragon engaging in a transaction with a pastel blue earth pony. The pony in question has handing the dragon the entire contents of her bag. Pinkie rolled her eyes at the scam.
How did somebody who couldn’t speak scam anyone, let alone to the point of taking most of their belongings from them. It was one of the many skills Spike the dragon obtained as a resident of the infamously crime-riddled Panhandlershot. Pinkie may have hated Partyville, it was filled with judgemental asshole ghosts, but it was relatively safe to live in.
She waved over at Spike as Applejack kept marching forward. Spike noticed them and gave a slight smirk, engulfing his ill-gotten gains in purple flames, making them vanish. Pinkie understood the action as storing it all in his horde – not that she knew where it was, but apparently it was pretty big.
Pinkie nudged Applejack, pointed at Spike. “Fine,” the orange mare relented, “As long as we get back to killing that bitch soon.” She stopped and watched Spike walk over to the two of them, leaving some rather confused ponies behind him.
“Hey Spike, you busy?” Pinkie asked.
Spike lifted up his shoulders, shrugging.
“We’re headed to my bakery to get supplies and work out a plan,” Pinkie explained, her eyes narrowing slightly at Applejack.
Spike raised an eyebrow, inviting her to elaborate.
“The Whisperer told us a few minutes ago that the Executioner is probably going to kill us all soon.”
“And we aren’t gonna let her!” Applejack fumed.
His pupils looking up and losing focus, Spike took a moment to consider the proposition. He bobbed his head back and forth a few times, as if tasting the idea. Applejack grew more and more impatient as time went on, but he wouldn’t be rushed. She tapped her hoof on the ground, and he ran a claw down his spines.
“Well?!” Applejack yelled after two minutes.
Spike smirked and pulled out his switchblade, Pinkie couldn’t tell where he pulled it from, but she assumed his horde. He turned to the side, giving a powerful swipe. He followed up by tossing his knife into the air and maneuvering his body around, giving a high kick and a sideways chop before catching the knife in his off hand and stabbing at the empty air in front of him.
Pinkie smiled at the display, and he finally gave his reply in the form of a thumbs up, putting his blade away.
“Finally.”
Applejack lead them down the street, passing condos, stores, bars, a small gym, and what looked like a playwright theatre. Pinkie noted the Greenly micropark that sat directly across the street from her own bakery. She liked the place, and enjoyed sitting under a tree in the early hours of the morning when no one was awake. At that moment she simply narrowed her eyes at the crowds of ponies filling up the park.
Walking up to the bakery’s front door, Applejack stepped inside, not giving a second thought to Pinkie or Spike. Pinkie rolled her eyes and motioned for Spike to go before her, he nodded and walked in. Once Pinkie stepped in, she flicked the ‘back in five minutes’ sign with her hoof. It may have been her day off, but never once had that stopped any of the locals from deciding to walk into her locked door. It wasn’t until she started putting up signs that change happened.
It was especially interesting when she put it up as a pony was walking in, only for them to stop trying to enter. They just… stayed in the doorway, almost as if the sign itself had some kind of weird seal on it. A few tests in years past proved that rules signs or different stipulations tended to affect the locals of Partyville. Pinkie recalled going to a public place, stealthily hanging a ‘no talking’ sign, and the instant she let go all conversation stopped.
It was interesting to say the least, and definitely more effective than actually locking her door. Pinkie idly wondered if her sign magic worked on Twilight, and determined to try it out after they sorted out the Executioner business.
…and to also write up a reference guide to sign magic to send to the editor of the modern spell makers source book.
Pinkie noticed Applejack already headed into the back of the store, and Spike had apparently followed her, so she walked past the counter -rang her bell- and stepped into the kitchen. It was thankfully clean, which was Applejack’s doing.
Being freed from the half a decade of farm work had left Applejack with nothing to preoccupy her time with. When you go from nothing but work to suddenly no work at all, it leaves you wanting something to take up your time. Cleaning the bakery seemed to do that, which Pinkie was decidedly grateful for. Making the food was hard enough, but cleaning up after herself was a pain in the ass and always had been.
Pinkie took a final moment to appreciate just how much better things looked spotless before she nodded and turned to the staircase leading upstairs. It turned to the left about six steps up and lead to the hallway. A few simple pictures adorned the wall, but nothing she really cared about, just her stupid family living it up across the city. She’d been meaning to take those down for months.
Reaching the top of the staircase, Pinkie spotted Spike down the hall to the right, outside of Applejack’s door. Originally the room was storage for her pitifully small collection of books, an assortment that could easily fit in her closet. But it made a great second bedroom. Walking up to Spike, Pinkie motioned to the door. “She say what she’s going to do?”
Spike just turned to her and raised an eyebrow.
“Right, I guess that was a pretty dumb question.” Pinkie took a few steps further down the hall, to the other bedroom door. “Well my station is in my room, c’mon.”
Taking the invitation, Spike followed Pinkie into her room. He reacted to the selection of furniture about the same way she expected him to, which is to say mild-but-fleeting interest. He glanced passed her old lived in couch and shelf of books to the more interesting collection of sensoring equipment. His eyebrows raised at seeing her set-up and she couldn’t help feeling a little giddy at the attention; the desk was what she spent most of her money on.
It had several monitors she’d… acquired over the years, hooked up to a Crystalex 1200 series computer. It didn’t have enough power or parts to run any advanced programs, so no games, but it was set to scry on several persons of interest. Pinkie pointed out a particular video feed to Spike as she sat down in her beat up office chair.
“So that right there is the Executioner.” Pinkie explained as she balanced herself, attempting to keep the chair together so it could support her weight. “I know it isn’t safe to watch the Executioner, or the Peixie battalion, or anything I watch really, but I want to know if it’s dangerous to go outside before I decide to leave my building.”
She noticed Spike watching the swamp monster on Feed 4, “I know it’s dangerous where you’re from, over there ponies are loud, have guns, and care very little about being subtle.” Spike nodded in agreement, “But out here in Partyville, being an outer district, there’s less problems and so subsequently less eyes on us. Bigger threats take the opportunity to remain out of sight by setting up shop here.”
Spike nodded again and started using sign language for Pinkie. ‘Where is the Executioner now?’
Pinkie motioned back to Feed 7, “It doesn’t show us what she looks like, but this is live, it’s showing us where she is right now.”
“She’s walking past the laundromat?”
Pinkie and Spike both turned to see Applejack having walked into the room. She was wearing a stun baton holster and looked more or less ready to inflict heavy damage on the next pony she came across. Pinkie nodded at Applejack’s question before she turned back to the screen and looked at the surrounding area.
The area where the Executioner was supposed to be was always slightly blurred out on the video, but the other ponies around her were reacting as if she were there. Pinkie reflected that she’d never actually seen the Executioner, but shook her head, shaking off her lack of focus. The surrounding area was a busy street, indeed in front of the nearest laundromat. Pinkie recognized it as the one five or so blocks away.
Then the unexpected happened, and a glowing ornate white door appeared on the wall between the laundromat and the bar beside it. It didn’t appear to be something the ponies on the feed noticed, but just to be sure, Pinkie turned to Applejack. “Do you see that?”
“See what?” the orange mare asked, Spike also shook his head.
Pinkie sighed, knowing exactly what it meant that only she could see it. She brought a hoof to her face and rubbed her temple briefly before dragging it down her face. “Don’t worry about it, just my immunity causing problems again. There’s a door on that wall that presumably the Executioner just walked into.”
‘Wouldn’t the camera follow the thing in?’ Spike signed. At Applejack’s confused expression, Pinkie relayed the question.
“No,” Applejack answered, “the bitch has a space only she can go into.”
“What, like a Folded Plane?” Pinkie asked, turning around in her chair, almost falling over, catching herself, and balancing again.
“I don’t know what that is, it’s a hidden room that only she can access.”
Pinkie nodded, that sounded like a Folded Plane to her. The only real question was what to do about it. There were only three of them: a baker with supernatural immunity, a freed ghost with a vendetta, and a mute dragon; they weren’t exactly Squad Force Mega. “We need a plan for dealing with the Executioner. We need Twilight, she’s a Hunter, she’ll know what to do.”
Spike nodded in confirmation, and was about to sign something before Applejack cut in, “And what’s she going to do? Last I checked the pain in the ass whore has known exactly what Twilight’s been up to since the first day she showed up in Partyville.”
Pinkie narrowed her eyes, “Believe it or not, Twilight has more experience than any of us in this sort of thing. She’s smart, determined, and better equipped to take out anything we come across, so show a little more faith.”
Applejack grumbled but said nothing more. “Fine, good, then let’s get prepared and go ask Twilight what to do.”