//------------------------------//
// Lunch for Two 
// Story: Hard Deadline 
// by libertydude 
//------------------------------//

After another hour of panels duller than dishwater, Price wandered back onto the muggy street. The cabbies rushed by in their carts and the numerous ponies gathering street-side shouted for their attention. A distinct aroma of trash and dirt flew up in the air with each rushing pony. Price wiped his brow; the heat hadn’t stopped rising in Baltimare.
Better get something to eat, he thought. I don’t think I can stand the rest of this con without something in my belly.
He walked across the street back to the hotel and over to the restaurant sitting nearby. The front sign read “Rosie’s Sandwich Shop”, a neon rose with a smiley face flashing in the afternoon. Price walked inside and was soon greeted by the sight of various flowers hanging around the lily-colored walls. Mirrors filled the whole restaurant, as if to make the light shining through the windows even more brilliant.
A waitress walked up to Price, a smile on her face. “Welcome to Rosie’s Sandwich Shop. Only one?” she said.
“Yeah,” Price said.
“Follow me,” she said, heading off toward the back of the restaurant. Price dutifully followed, trying to ignore the growling from his stomach. They eventually came to a two pony table, and he sat down while the waitress headed off to the kitchen. He opened the menu and glanced at the entrée list surrounded by painted flowers.
Daisy sandwiches, tulip sandwiches, he recited in his mind. There’s more sandwiches here than Daring Do readers over there.
Just then, a vague sensation that he wasn’t alone came across him. He looked up and saw somepony sitting across from him. It was a tan mare with heavy eyes and a disheveled purple mane, two large bags clenched between her legs. 
The mare from Barns and Nuzzle, Price thought. 
“What’re you-?” He felt a swift kick to his leg and grit his teeth.
“Be quiet!” she hissed. She glanced around the restaurant, looking every way her head could turn. “You’re that reporter, right? The one from the Grazzette?”
“Yes,” he said, rubbing his leg. “What do you want?”
“Something big is happening tonight, at this address.” She took an envelope from out of her purse and slid it over to Price. “You need to be there.”
“Why? What’s going on?” Price’s voice seemed more curious than angry now.
“The criminal Johnny Trottelli is going to be doing a deal there. Something illicit, I don’t know what.”
Price’s face fell, and he pushed the envelope to her. “Sounds like something for the police. Go bug them.”
“No, no, no,” she sputtered, pushing the envelope back. “You don’t understand. Trottelli owns everypony in Baltimare, cops included. They’d just ignore it or throw me in jail instead. Or worse…” She shivered a little and stared at Price with pleading eyes.
“Look…” Price said, shoulders sagging. “I’m a reporter, not a police officer. I’m not qualified to handle this kind of thing.”
She dug around her bag again, pulling out a newspaper she then shoved into Price’s face.
“You were the one that broke that Detrot story, right? The one about the Concilmare poisoning the water?”
Price didn’t have to be told. The picture of Councilmare Hemlock being walked out of court reminded him quite fast. The headline itself was a dead giveaway: CROOKED COUNCILMARE ARRESTED IN LEAD WATER CONTROVERSY. And underneath it, a barely visible byline: STORY BY PRICE BACK.
Price sighed and nodded. “Yes, that was me. But that was political corruption, not something with the mob like this Trottelli fellow.”
“Look…” she glanced around nervously once more. “I can’t trust anypony here. I don’t know who’s working for Johnny or not. I need somepony from the outside to help me.”
“That why you ran over me at Barnes and Nuzzle? To rope me into all of this?” 
“No. I was trying to look for some information about Trottelli’s money laundering racket, but had to duck out fast. The fact we ran into each other was pure luck.” She leaned forward with serious eyes. “And I do think it was luck that dropped you here, Mr. Back. Somepony with your experience being right here, right now is just what the city needs to stop Trottelli.” 
Price folded up the menu and stood up. “Look, lady, I’m busy already, and this sounds like something way over both our heads. Just go to some P.I. or contact a government-”
She slammed one of the bags on the table. Price didn’t have to hear the rattle to know it was stuffed with bits.
“I’ll pay you 5,000 bits right now, and 15,000 after you do find out what he’s doing. I can pay more if you want.”
Price paused. Money had never been an especially alluring object to him, given how he grew up with plenty back in Canterlot. But the fact this frightened mare was desperate enough to throw so much at him screamed something big was going on. 
Besides, he thought, the convention’s a drag. A filler assignment some rookie in the Travel section should be doing. If I can do some real reporting and get more dough than Manewell ever coughs up, I’m willing to drop Yearling’s ilk and score something big. 
He sat back down. “Alright, I’ll do it.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she said. “Now I’ve got to go. I can’t let them see me with you.” She tapped the envelope. “Be at that address with a camera by ten o’clock tonight.” 
“Okay. How do I find you again?”
The mare bit her lip, then said: “Go to the Grand Acres Building downtown. Ask them for Sugar and they’ll let you in.”  With that, she quickly hurried out of the restaurant and disappeared into the street.
She could be lying, Price thought. Could be a wild goose chase that she’s just doing for kicks. Or worse, she could be working for some schmuck I busted way back when, luring me into a trap. 
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Possible, but unlikely. 
Price looked down at the bag of bits, then at his menu. A particular sandwich caught his eye: The Veggie Delight. “Stuffed with every kind of lean green you can think of!” the menu announced. His stomach gave an approving growl. 
Price sighed. It was going to be a long night.