Police Chief Smokestack grumbled as another pile of papers plopped down onto the podium in front of him. He stared at it as if it were an unwholesome pest, his expression not unlike a disgruntled bulldog. With a sharp grunt, he shooed away the clerk that had delivered the annoyance.
After a moment of deep consideration and puff of his cigar, Smokestack resigned himself to his loathsome task. He removed his cap with his magic and ran a kerchief across his brow. This case load was heavier than usual, and considering the leaflets hanging out the sides, it was a great deal messier too.
Smokestack lazily ran a comb through his mane and replaced his cap as he took a brief look throughout the empty courtroom, which lacked many of the proper necessities of a courtroom: there were no chamber seats for the public or interested parties; there wasn't a jury box; instead of two tables meant for the attorneys and parties of the defense and prosecution, there was just one long table meant to hold all of the accused in the case.
He still had a bailiff—a strapping, cherry red earth pony stallion with a short, golden blond mane—that stood just below the podium that he himself sat behind. The well-built bailiff looked very imposing compared to Smokestack, who was rather chubby and out of shape. His cutie mark, a pair of hoofcuffs, only added to the image of a stern, hard-working pony; Smokestack's mark, a lit cigar, did not inspire the same.
At least this won't take too long, even if it is a rather large casefile, he thought to himself.
In New Pandemonium City, the police upheld the law, carried out the law, served as both judge and jury, and even provided attorneys—on request—that worked for the police department and had an obvious bias. It made things quicker and easier for all parties involved. The accused would come in, he'd charge them, question them, deliver them a verdict, and finally sentence them.
They'd be done in time for lunch.
He took another puff from his cigar and gestured to the bailiff. The bailiff nodded, adjusted his own cap, straightened his uniform, then signaled to the other officer standing near the door. This one opened the door and signaled to another pony outside, then held the door open as three other police ponies led in a group of six mares they'd arrested only an hour before.
All six mares were wearing gaudy bright orange jumpsuits, typical for all ponies arrested while they awaited their speedy trials. Smokestack noticed that the white unicorn in particular did not look pleased with the outfit, but honestly, none of them looked all that content to be in this situation.
The other officers all left the room so that the only ponies left were the six jumpsuit-clad mares, Smokestack, and his bailiff, the latter of which remained at firm attention just below the chief's podium.
"Right then. Let's get started, shall we?" Smokestack lifted the stack of papers and began to read:
"Case File dated the twenty-eighth of the winter quarter, year three thousand and fifty-nine. Case File labeled: The Ponies of New Pandemonium City versus…" He squinted at the paper in front of him. "Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow Danger Dash, Fluttershy, and Pinkamena Diane Pie. The Honorable Judge, New Pandemonium City Police Chief Smokestack—which would be me—now presiding. How do you plead?"
"We don't even know what the charges are!" the one called Twilight said. "We were just walking about minding our own business, and nopony explained anything… Your Honor. We don't even know what we did wrong."
Smokestack raised an eyebrow and hummed thoughtfully to himself. He wasn't used to accused parties actually taking the time to ask any questions. He was supposed to be asking questions. They did usually plead "not guilty" right away, though, so this was new.
He shrugged and shuffled through the papers again to get to another page. "Hmph, I suppose we'll go through these one at a time. I can't wait to hear these excuses." He breathed a weary sigh. "I hear that some of the patrol officers are making a game of the most creative ones. Isn't that right, Flathoof?"
The bailiff—Flathoof—continued to stand at attention and simply shook his head. "Wouldn't know, Chief. Haven't been on the beat since you made me Captain."
"Yes, yes, that's right," Smokestack mumbled. He put his hoof under his chin and rested his elbow on the podium. "I suppose that even if you were, you wouldn't have been invited to participate, you ol' stick in the mud. Well anyway, let's hear these excuses.
"Okay ladies, we'll start at the beginning." He read from the papers again. "First charge: Public Indecency. That is, wandering around city limits without proper attire as stipulated within New Pandemonium City bylaws. The orange one, Applejack?"
He glanced over at the so-called Applejack, causing her to gulp.
"Her charge on that count is reduced by half because she was at least wearing a hat."
The white unicorn, Rarity, groaned.
"Second charge," Smokestack continued. "Disturbing the Peace, as a byproduct of your public indecency. The station got enough phone calls in the fifteen minutes leading to your arrest that I swore we were running some kind of telemarketing service in here."
He glanced over at one called Pinkamena. "One call in particular was from a mare that said she had been psychologically harassed by a pink earth pony mare." Then, he glanced at Rarity. "And another from a stallion claiming to have been propositioned by a particularly bold prostitute, a white unicorn mare."
Rarity slapped the pastern of her hoof to her forehead and fainted; the one called Fluttershy barely caught her before she hit the floor.
"Third charge: Failure to Provide Identification. You were not carrying any form of identification on yourselves at the time of arrest, nor could you attest to the whereabouts of your identification." He then shuffled the papers all back together in order. "Those are the charges against you six. So, how do you plead?"
Twilight looked around to her friends and shrugged. "Uh… guilty? We didn't know we needed any of those things, Your Honor. So… I guess we don't really have a good argument in our defense. But we certainly didn't mean to disturb anypony."
The one called Rainbow rolled her eyes and groaned. "Geez Twilight, just confess to everything why don't ya?"
"Well, what would you like me to do, Rainbow?" Twilight asked. "He presented the charges, and we did do all those things, intentionally or not, and we have to abide by their laws."
Smokestack smiled and shuffled his papers back into order. He took another long draw from his cigar, and blew a ring of smoke off into the air. "Excellent. At least we have an understanding. My officers don't just arrest random folks off the street, you see. Now, if you'd be so kind as to explain why you say you didn't know you needed identification?"
Rainbow sauntered over to Twilight and said, "Let me do the talking, Twi. You gotta keep all your answers short and sweet."
"Rainbow, I know how to handle this. I did study law."
"Well?" Smokestack asked.
"We're not from around here," Rainbow said.
"Actually—" Twilight started, lifting her hoof.
Rainbow slapped Twilight's hoof away. "Next question, please."
"Now now, let's hear what your friend has to say," Smokestack said. He took another puff of his cigar and leaned back in his seat, putting his rear hooves up on the podium.
Twilight briefly shot an indignant look at Rainbow, then turned back to Smokestack and explained. "Actually, we're from a town called Ponyville."
Smokestack and Flathoof both gave each other confused looks.
"'Ponyville'?" Smokestack asked, sitting back upright. "You're pulling my leg, right? What an utterly ridiculous name for a town. Let me guess, ponies live there?" He turned to his bailiff. "Flathoof, have you ever heard of a place called Ponyville before?"
Flathoof shook his head. "Nnnope. That's a first, Chief. It might be someplace in Utopia though, sir. I'm not too knowledgeable about their town names down there."
"And what leads you to think that?" Smokestack asked, resting his chin on his hoof and elbow again.
"They were arrested only two blocks from the NPRD building, sir," Flathoof explained, giving the six ponies a quick glance. "Seems to me they made the mistake of forgetting to register before they came into the city."
"Yeah, that's it," Rainbow said. "We're from Ponyville, Utopia. Wanted to register, but we got lost. Big city, y'know?"
Smokestack furrowed his brow. "Convenient excuse, almost believable. Flathoof, you think their story has merit?"
"I see no reason to doubt them, sir," Flathoof replied. "They didn't cause any property damage or harm anypony, so I don't think they're dangerous."
"A fair point…"
"Plus, this is the first time I've ever heard 'we're not from around here' as an excuse for missing identification. It's usually 'it's at my friend's apartment' or 'it's in my other jacket' or some other old excuse. So I figure either these mares are either very, very clever, or they're telling the truth."
"And considering they got caught wandering naked through the streets I highly doubt the former." Smokestack stroked his mustache and rapidly puffed his cigar. "Very well. I'll trust your judgment on this, Flathoof."
Smokestack returned his gaze to the mares. "That explains why you weren't carrying identification." He shuffled his papers around and stamped a part of one of them. "I'll modify the charges to reflect your status as undocumented residents. Now, care to explain why you were wandering around naked though?"
Rainbow shrugged. "Same thing. We're not from around here."
"Actually—" Twilight said. Rainbow hung her head, exasperated. "Where we're from, we don't usually wear clothes outside of special occasions, so truth be told it came as a rather uncomfortable surprise to learn that we were supposed to be."
Smokestack raised an eyebrow, then leaned over and whispered to Flathoof, "Is Utopia going hedonist nowadays? If it is, the beaches might have just gotten more fun."
Flathoof coughed uncomfortably and shook his head. "Wouldn't know sir. Never been myself, obviously. I'll admit I'm not accustomed with Utopia's standards or taboos."
Smokestack took another long draw from his cigar, then grunted and put it out in the ashtray on his podium. "Hmph. That certainly would explain things." He turned to the mares again. "So, you're southern natives, which means that we have to acknowledge our cultural differences regarding clothing at first, but you're still expected to procure some after the trial.
"However! There is still the fact that your antics, however justifiable they may be under the law, did indeed disturb the peace around you and caused widespread havoc. Don't have a fancy excuse to get yourselves out of that one, do you?"
Rainbow stared forward and crossed her hooves over her chest, wide-eyed with confidence. "Yeah we done it! What of it?!"
"Rainbow!" Twilight exclaimed.
Smokestack casually pulled another cigar out of his uniform pocket, lit it, and took a long draw. He blew out another smoke ring and chuckled. "Well, I'm glad we've gotten that all cleared up. So, you're all guilty of one count each for Disturbing the Peace, with minimum charges for Public Indecency and Failure to Provide Identification. Verdict has been delivered. Let it be noted, Flathoof."
Flathoof stared at Smokestack and shrugged; he wasn't carrying any sort of notepad. "Okay, sir. Noted."
"Under the circumstances, you six have two options," Smokestack explained. He lifted up his left hoof. "Either we toss you in jail and let the system weed you out, or—" He lifted his right hoof. "You can get yourselves documented and be released on parole. You should all be so lucky that Flathoof is taking your side. He's not an easy one to convince."
"You'd release us? Just like that?" Twilight asked.
Rainbow nudged Twilight hard in the ribs.
"Ow! Rainbow—"
"Geez, Twi, shut up, before he changes his mind!"
Smokestack grinned and waved his cigar around in the air. "Why, our little city is always looking to get a few more taxpayers into the system. Your crimes weren't violent or damaging—well put, Flathoof," he added, nodding down at the bailiff. "And, you all cooperated with the arrest and legal proceedings."
The six mares from Ponyville instantly gathered in a huddle. Twilight spoke first, loud enough that everypony in the room could hear. "I think it's pretty obvious what we need to do here. No sense in not cooperating, right?"
"Duh, and get ourselves thrown in jail?" Rainbow shook her head. "Fluttershy wouldn't last two seconds in the clink!"
"I don't like dungeons…" Fluttershy muttered.
"That Flathoof fella seems on the level," Applejack said, glancing out of the huddle towards the mentioned stallion. "Maybe he can help us figure things out?"
Rarity's nose scrunched up—she was awake again—as she ran a hoof along the collar of her jumpsuit. "And I simply must get myself out of this awful thing, and into something a little more me."
A few moments passed in silence. They all turned to Pinkamena.
Pinkamena blinked and looked around the huddle. "What are you all looking at me for?"
"Aren't you going to suggest anything?" Twilight asked. "I did ask for everypony's opinions, though I guess at this point majority rules, doesn't it?"
Applejack chuckled. "Yeah, ain'tcha gonna suggest a party or somethin'?"
Rainbow quickly covered Applejack's mouth. "Don't give her any ideas!"
Pinkamena rolled her eyes. "A party? Pfft, c'mon Applejack I can't always have parties on my mind. But now that you mention it, what about a prison party? Ooh, I just got the best idea! We could have nail files in the cake, and—"
Rainbow groaned loudly enough to interrupt the discussion.
Twilight broke the huddle and turned back to Smokestack. She cleared her throat and nodded. "Well, I guess we're taking the second option then."
"Excellent! Most excellent." Smokestack rubbed his hooves together, then snapped a hoof towards Flathoof. "Flathoof! Please see to it they all get properly documented and added onto the parole list as quickly as you can. I'd like to see that bonus on my next paycheck, if possible."
"Right away, sir," Flathoof said, saluting. He turned towards the six mares and stepped forward. "Alright, ladies. Time to join the herd, as they say." Taking Smokestack's stack of files, he grunted and plopped them onto the table before them. "After we take care of a little paperwork."
*****
Flathoof gave a noticeable sigh as Twilight came up beside him in the precinct hallway, matching his stride with the others not too far behind her. Many other officers in the white halls were beginning to stare at Flathoof and his new entourage. He felt quite odd leading six mares dressed up in orange jumpsuits along like a clutch of ducklings, and knew he looked it too.
The group arrived at the elevator leading back to the ground floor. He pressed one of the silver buttons; it turned gold. Now they just had to wait for the elevator to come to them.
Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Did it always take this long, or just when he was in a hurry?
Flathoof turned towards Twilight when she gave a tiny cough to draw his attention. "Yes, Miss Sparkle?"
"I wanted to thank you for helping us. I'll admit, our story might seem a little... odd," she said. She smiled and nodded appreciatively. "So, thank you."
"You can spare the pleasantries with me, Miss Sparkle," Flathoof said. "Our prisons are filled up enough as it is with all sorts of real criminals. I don't feel like seeing precious space wasted on a troupe of nudists. Not the most dangerous of crimes, y'know?"
"Wait, so you don't believe us?" Rainbow asked.
"Nnnope. Now, I don't know where exactly Ponyville is, but it sure as hay sounds like a made-up town, if you ask me. Most likely scenario is you're all refugees from out in the Wastelands just looking for food and shelter. That isn't a crime in and of itself. So think of this as killing two birds with one stone."
He saw Fluttershy grimace at his choice of idiom.
"I'm helping you get on your hooves, while keeping our prisons open to criminals who actually deserve to be there." Flathoof shrugged. "You're all lucky Chief Smokestack is willing to look the other way when he sees an opportunity to get a few bits out of it."
The elevator arrived with a soft ding and all the ponies shuffled inside at Flathoof's lead. The inside of the elevator car was stuffy, since they had to get uncomfortably close together in order for them all to fit. Three of the mares each were squished in on either side of him.
"Well, regardless of why you did it, we appreciate you doing it." Twilight cordially offered her hoof towards him. "I'm Twilight Sparkle. It's a pleasure to meet you, Officer—"
"Captain," he corrected.
"Captain Flathoof. I know you already know our names, but I feel a proper introduction is in order, seeing as we kind of owe you our freedom and all. I mean, if you don't mind?"
"Hmph." Flathoof took her hoof and gave it a very light shake. "If you insist, Miss Sparkle. Go ahead then, get on with it."
"Splendid!" Twilight clapped her hooves together and listed off her friends, starting from her left. "These are my friends, Rarity—"
Rarity nodded pleasantly. "How do you do?"
"Fluttershy—"
"Um, hi…" Fluttershy muttered.
"Rainbow Dash—"
Rainbow tilted her head. "Hey."
"Pinkie Pie—"
Pinkamena—shortened as Pinkie, it seemed—tried to bounce in place, but she was hindered by the lack of space. "Hiya! It's so cool that you're our new friend. I should throw you a party to celebrate! Oh, I just need supplies, and a place to hold the party… which we don't have. Hmm. This plan isn't working out so well yet, is it?"
"And Applejack—"
Silence.
"Applejack? Hello?"
"Wha? Oh!" Applejack blushed and rubbed the back of her head. "S-sorry, Twilight. Kinda got, uh, distracted by somethin'. Howdy!"
"Right. You're certainly a colorful group." Flathoof shook his head and muttered, "Sometimes I wonder why I get myself into these things. Why don't I just look the other way like everypony else?"
The elevator dinged again, and the elevator doors opened to reveal the bustling lobby.
It was a madhouse on the ground level compared to the relative calm of the upper floors. Ponies of all kinds were everywhere in the building, interacting with the police officers that were on duty. Some ponies were at the front desk reporting crimes or asking questions. There were other ponies being led through the station, their hooves in hoofcuffs; most of these ponies gave the six mares coy smirks as they passed by. Other officers were working at desks all across the floor, answering phones or filing papers.
Flathoof led his entourage through the first hall past the main lobby, past several offices labeled Internal Affairs, and towards the second hallway on the opposite side.
"So we're not headed for that NPRD place you mentioned?" Twilight asked, glancing back towards the lobby they'd just passed. "I thought we were getting registrations taken care of?"
"The NPRD building isn't necessary. The precinct has all the same forms and equipment here, if you know where to look and who to ask," Flathoof explained. "Besides, I can't exactly imagine any of you want to go walking out around town wearing those jumpsuits, looking like a group of convicts."
Rarity grimaced at her jumpsuit again and stroked her mane worriedly; she seemed to be the only one that cared that much about how she looked. "Please tell me we're going to be getting something to replace these soon, and a place to get some proper grooming done? I don't know about you girls, but I could really use a bath."
"Well, something like that," Flathoof said. He pointed off towards a hall to their right as they passed it, but kept going. "There's a storage room down that way were we keep all sorts of confiscated items, including clothing. We normally just donate it all to our annual auction, but I'm sure we can find something in there for you to use after we get you all sorted out. After that, you'll have to buy your own."
Flathoof turned right down a narrow hallway lit by several flickering fluorescent lamps. Near the halfway mark, he stopped and gestured to a set of double doors marked Clerk Office. The mares filed past into the room and looked around.
Unlike the rest of the police building, this room was near empty, save for two clerks seated behind a pair of dull metal desks. The nearest one, a unicorn mare with a jet black coat and bright red mane, stealthily attempted to fix her mane and adjust her thick, round glasses as Flathoof strode up to her. She wore a wide grin on her face, which she tried to hide behind a hoof, poorly.
"Oh, hey Fla— Captain Flathoof. Always a pleasure to see you. How can I be of assistance for you this fine afternoon?" She glanced over at the mares that had been following him, but did not drop her smile.
"And a fine afternoon to you too, Snapshot," Flathoof said, tipping his hat. "I need to get some identification and citizenship forms, and if you could make it snappy, I'd appreciate it."
Flathoof cringed a little at his own horrible, unintentional pun and tried to ignore it, but Pinkie had begun giggling into her hoof, breaking his concentration. He quickly added, "Oh, and some domicile registration forms as well. We'll need to find these six a place to live."
Snapshot nodded and got out of her seat. "I'll have those rounded up for you in just a minute."
"A place to live? Finding that is that part of your job too?" Rainbow asked after Snapshot had turned to a large bank of filing cabinets placed behind her desk. "Man, they make you guys do everything around here. Not like cops back home."
Flathoof sighed. "Well, it is my job as your parole officer," he said.
The six mares all blinked at once. Twilight voiced her curiosity. "Did I miss something? When did that happen? I thought you were just taking care of our documentation?"
"Yes, well, when the Chief assigned me to take care of your documentation, that was his code for 'Flathoof, you're their parole officer now'. He's subtle like that."
"Huh. Well, that’s convenient."
"Maybe for you.” He removed his hat and stroked a hoof along the captain insignia. "This isn't exactly what I imagined I'd be doing as a captain. I'd really rather be back out on the streets trying to catch real crooks."
"But, does that mean you don't like us?" Pinkie frowned and started sniffing back tears.
"I never said that," Flathoof added, hoping to avoid any waterworks. "I'd just prefer if I was actually out there on the streets instead of being a glorified foalsitter. No offense, but this sort of duty isn't exactly what I signed on for. Too much desk work, not enough hoof work."
Applejack grunted and adjusted her hat. "Ya make it sound like we're imposin' on ya. If ya don't like it, why not just find somepony else to take over and let us do our own thing? We can take care of ourselves."
Flathoof hesitated, then sighed. "Your little troupe here looked like a bunch of fish out of water. Like I said, I don't know where exactly you're from, but you sure aren't from around here, and I'm not about to send a bunch of know-nothing mares out there without a clue. You already tried that and look where it got you."
"Fair point," Twilight said.
"Now, if you don't like my attitude, that's your own problem, because I'm not changing it. Nnnope. Not. At. All."
Applejack stared at him for a brief moment, then shook her head and let the others get back to talking. He wasn't sure if his answer had satisfied her or not, and didn't really care.
Snapshot returned from the filing cabinets behind her and produced all the paperwork everypony would require. Twilight volunteered to have hers filled out first, and sat at the other side of the desk as Snapshot organized all the paperwork together.
Snapshot adjusted her glasses and hovered a pen over the form. "Okay, everypony, let's get started. We've got lots to do. So, you first: name?"
"Twilight Sparkle."
Snapshot nodded and filled out the corresponding space on the form, then skipped ahead to the next one. "Coat color, purple—"
"It's more of a lavender, really," Twilight said, her smile incredulous. She clearly expected a police officer filling out a very official document to care about specific tones of color. Proof enough she didn't know how things worked around here.
"Purple," said Snapshot, giving an irritated sigh. "Particular shades and hues aren't important for the forms. Your photograph will take care of that just fine. I'd like to just get this quickly without having to pick out specifics, okay?"
Twilight wrinkled her nose and nodded. "Alright then."
"Good. Now then, mane and tail, purple with a pink streak. Eyes, purple." Snapshot adjusted her glasses and stared at Twilight. "Should I just fill out everything on here 'purple'? I'm just noticing a pattern is all."
"Hey, it's not my fault you don't use shades and hues," Twilight huffed.
Snapshot shrugged and moved down to the next section of the form. "Next, special talent?"
"Magic."
Snapshot gave Twilight a look of disbelief and confusion. "Okay, sweetheart, I don't know if you've noticed but... you're a unicorn. Magic isn't a special talent, all unicorns can—"
Twilight laughed. "No, I mean, Magic itself is my talent. I can perform almost every kind of magic there is. I just need to see it used or have it described, and I can usually duplicate the spell. Typically not as well as the unicorns who specialize with specific types of magic, but for most generic stuff I'm better at it than the average unicorn."
She caught herself at the end and added, "N-not to brag or anything."
"Well okay, if you say so, O Magic One." Snapshot rolled her eyes as she jotted that down, then flipped the page and headed for the next section. "Former residence? Be specific this time."
"Ponyville. Uh, Utopia." Twilight smiled, and crossed her forelegs, confident in what everypony knew was a lie. "Ponyville, Utopia."
Snapshot raised an eyebrow and stared at Twilight again as if the other unicorn was insane. "Ponyville? There isn't any—"
"We've been over this already, Snapshot," Flathoof interjected. "Just put it in there and save yourself the headache. If anypony asks, say it's a new village or something."
"Right, okay." Snapshot sighed, and pointed her pen lazily at Flathoof. "You're lucky it's you asking me for all this, Flathoof. I'm gonna have to make sure this story stays straight or the NPRD is gonna come after me."
"Much appreciated."
"Moving on." Snapshot turned back to Twilight and set her pen back to the paper. "Former occupation, if applicable? Again, be specific, since this part actually matters and it'll likely affect your tax bracket and job opportunities."
Twilight thought for a moment. "Librarian."
Snapshot smiled and jotted the answer down. "Finally, something simple. Since Flathoof would want me too, I'll add a note of recommendation here for Central Database Holdings. Should help you find work quicker. Okay, that just about settles it, only gotta notarize it. Captain Flathoof is the author—"
"Aha, nnnope, don't put my name there," Flathoof said. He replaced his hat on his head, as it had fumbled in the sudden interruption. "The Chief would kill me if he found out I took one of his commissions."
"Commissions?" Twilight asked. Snapshot was busy scribbling other notes on the form that she didn't seem to need Twilight for anyway, which she seemed to take as a chance to ask Flathoof yet another question or two. She was a curious one, this Twilight.
"The pony who authorizes the form gets a pay bonus, since they're the one responsible for increasing the city's tax flow. That's why the Chief assigned me to take care of this: he trusts me not to try and take a cut." Flathoof sighed. "It stinks, since I could really use that bonus."
"Ain'tcha worried 'bout gettin' in trouble talkin' like that in front of your fellow officers?" Applejack asked. Her eyes flickered to Snapshot, then back to him. "Can't imagine anypony'd take too kindly to bein' accused of bein' crooked."
"Oh don't worry about Snapshot. She's a good egg." Snapshot didn't lift her nose out of the pile of papers she was working on, but Flathoof could see her smile. "Everypony around here knows I always speak my mind. They also know that if they don't like what I've got to say, they can always try and make me stop. See how well that works out for 'em."
He pounded his chest with one of his large forelegs and gave a hearty laugh.
Applejack's mouth curled up in a small smile, apparently impressed.
"Okay, and check, check, double-check, stamp here, done." Snapshot neatly straightened the pile of papers and turned them around to face Twilight, drawing her attention by tapping her pen against the bottom. "I just need you to sign here—" She flipped the page and pointed at the bottom again. "And here—" She flipped to the back page and pointed in three separate locations. "Here, here, and here."
Twilight signed each with the pen provided.
Snapshot smiled and straightened the papers again, then shuffled them neatly into a small folder. "Wonderful, now we just need to take your photograph and you're all done. Over here please." She stood up and trotted off towards a small booth on the side of the room.
Twilight nodded and followed Snapshot over, then promptly hopped into the seat that was provided for her. She then must have realized she was still in the tacky prisoner jumpsuit. "Uh, do I really want to be wearing this when I take my picture? Everypony I show my identification to will think I was a convict."
"Sucks to be you." Snapshot shrugged and adjusted the camera without looking at Twilight directly. "Look, if you've got a problem with it, I'll just draw in your frame, 'cause we need your picture and we need it now. Fair warning: I'm not a very good artist."
"Fine, fine," Twilight sighed. "Is Flathoof the only courteous pony around here? Yeesh."
She sat in front of the large, plain poster frame that would serve as the backdrop, and waited for Snapshot to take the picture. And waited. And waited. Twilight made to speak, when there was a bright, unexpected flash that made her shut her eyes.
Within a few moments, Snapshot produced a tiny card out of the machine attached to the camera, passing it over to Twilight after the latter had finished rubbing her eyes.
Twilight grumbled when she saw her identification. She was half-blinking in the middle of the shot and her mouth was half open in the process of asking a question; it made her look like some sort of drunk they just pulled off the street for a photo shoot.
Flathoof merely shook his head. "Eh, good enough. It'll get you through things until we can get you sorted for a reshoot."
"Why can't I just take another one now?" Twilight asked.
"Rules are rules!" Snapshot said sweetly. "Sorry, but that ID is official now, you've gotta fill out some forms and such to have another picture taken, and I'm afraid there's a charge for it."
Twilight muttered something under her breath that Flathoof didn't quite hear, but he suspected it wasn't pleasant. Snapshot certainly had a way with ponies.
The other five mares sat with Snapshot and filled their forms out and had their pictures taken as well, until everypony had their ID cards and were ready to be properly indoctrinated to life here in New Pandemonium City.
"Well then, you girls are all settled in as far as registration goes," Flathoof said, looking over the ID cards. "See? Snapshot got that taken care of in no time flat. Now, I'm going to get your lodging taken care of, so you all go take a seat over there," he added, gesturing to the seats against the wall.
"Thanks again, Captain Flathoof," Twilight said.
Flathoof nodded and stepped out into the hall, heading for the nearby outgoing phone. He had a very important call to make if this was all going to go smoothly.
*****
Once Flathoof had stepped away, Twilight took the opportunity to discuss the situation with her friends, hoping to come to terms with things and maybe discuss a possible solution. She was still at a loss for what had happened and what was still happening. All of this was just so alien to her that she couldn't really think straight.
"Well girls, we may as well make the most of this, at least for now, right?" she said as she looked to the others, hoping for reassurance. "I'm still bothered by that portal, to be honest. I've got so many questions about how it worked and why it sent us here. It might have clues for how to get back."
"Hmph, if ya ask me, we should just be glad nopony got hurt," Applejack said. She adjusted her hat and leaned back in her seat. "But you're right, Twi, we may as well try and get used to bein' here, at least for now. I just hope everything's okay back at home. Hopefully Big Mac'll be able to handle the crops for a lil' while, and be able to look out for Apple Bloom at the same time."
Twilight nodded. "Yeah, I'm worried about Spike and Owlowiscious. Spike knew we were leaving and was watching the library while we were gone, but I don't think he could have anticipated all of this. I know I sure didn't. I'm sure he's okay, but… well, I worry. How is anypony even going to know what happened to us?"
"Well, I'm not too worried about Gummy," Pinkie said, though her expression told Twilight that wasn't entirely true. "I'm sure the Cakes can take good care of him. I feel bad that they don't have me around to help with the twins though. They're gonna be super tired by the time we get home!"
Fluttershy gave a loud sniff. "Oh, just think of what all the animals are going to do without me there… especially my poor little Angel Bunny…"
"Come on, girls, this is no time to get discouraged," Rarity said, patting Fluttershy on the shoulder. "We might be in a bind, but at least we're in it together. I know I'm worried about Sweetie Belle, but sitting here and worrying about things like this won't get us any closer to solving the problem."
"Yeah, we should have some faith that things back home'll work out while we're gone," added Applejack. "Right?"
"Right!" Pinkie exclaimed, throwing her hooves into the air dramatically. "We need to stay focused on the here and now! Like getting a place to live! When Mister Flathoof finds us a place, I'm gonna throw us a huge house-warming party! I'm gonna need streamers, balloons, cake, ice cream, soda pop, candy, cookies, cupcakes, music, banners—"
Rainbow sighed and leaned back into her chair, though she did have a slight grin on her face. "There she goes. Even when we're stuck in a jam like this, the first thing on her mind is her next party."
"Aww, don't complain, Dashie!" Pinkie giggled and gave Rainbow a big hug. "You love my parties! More than anypony, I bet!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Rainbow replied, patting Pinkie's back.
"And besides, the last big party I threw was two weeks ago, and that's like a new record for me! I gotta have another party soon, or I might just explode, maybe twice! And with this whole new world to explore, I want to get started off on the right hoof. Ooh, I bet Mister Flathoof would love my parties too!"
"Well, ya might as well ask him," Applejack said, nodding towards the approaching stallion.
Flathoof returned from the hall and approached the group with a smile on his face. "Well, that's all taken care of. You ladies have a new place to live. We'll head there immediately and get you all settled in, so hop to it."
Pinkie bounded out of her seat and got face-to-face with Flathoof. "Hey Mister Flathoof—"
"Captain Flathoof, if you're going to insist on adding a title. I think I've earned it."
"Okay, Captain Flathoof!"
Pinkie took a deep breath.
Rainbow chuckled. "Here we go."
"♫Ohhh
You are our newest bestest friend and that is just so great!
You're invited to a party where the fun will be first-rate!
You'll get to spend some time with us and share our company!
And maybe when we're done you'll find we are the best ponies!"
Flathoof stared blankly at Pinkie for several moments, his eyes glazed over between blinks. Then, he turned to the nearest pony he could ask, Applejack. "Does she do that often?"
Applejack smirked and patted him on the shoulder. "Oh, you'll get used to it. Trust me. You'll have to."
He sighed and adjusted his hat. "What have I gotten myself into?"
*****
An icy blue unicorn grumbled to herself as she rounded her way up the flight of stairs leading to her apartment. She hated being on the hundredth floor for two reasons: one, there wasn't an elevator, so she had to climb the full hundred floors stair by stair; two, her window filter was broken and let outside air in, all of it smoggy and dirty.
Unfortunately this was where she had to live to do her job most efficiently; it wasn't worth the risk to let the city go without her being there.
The apartment complex wasn't particularly well-kept, but it was cheap. Really cheap. Which was good, since her job didn't actually have much in the way of monetary compensation. Her superiors ensured she would have a place to live and plenty of food to eat, but she had almost no spending money for use in her free time, not that she ever had much of that anyway.
She often wondered if any of her counterparts had this sort of difficulty working in their worlds.
She grudgingly opened her apartment door with a rusty set of keys, walked in, and took a deep breath to calm herself after the climb, regretting it as she got a mouthful of filthy, smoggy late afternoon air. She shook what felt like dust and cobwebs out of her snow white mane—they had a habit of clinging to her on the climb up—then dropped her keys on the nearby table and placed her scarf and beret on hooks by the door.
With a cough, she went to her kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and prepared a snack for herself. Prepared, of course, meant just taking a packet of Dolor Red out, opening it, then squeezing it out of its little tube directly into her mouth. It wasn't anything special, but it wasn't bad. Straight out of the package it tasted like overly ripe cherries.
She kept the packet aloft with her magic as she moved out into the den to take a load off. It had been a hard day at work, and she delighted in taking this chance to lounge on her sofa and just plain relax. Fifteen cases today, the last of which was nearly interrupted by a pack of nudists of all things. She hated portal storms.
She flicked on the television set in the corner, hoping to lose herself in the latest gossip that she didn't actually care about. It was calming, and living in a city like New Pandemonium meant she needed all the calm she could get.
Then, she noticed a neon green glow coming from her antique grandfather clock in the other corner. She hastily fumbled in the pocket of her turtleneck and pulled out a plain-looking, silver stopwatch. She clicked the top with her hoof, and the grandfather clock stopped glowing, opened wide, and let in a fresh breeze of sterile air with just a hint of minty freshness.
Despite knowing she was alone in the apartment, she followed protocol and double-checked the room for intruders, then entered the grandfather clock's tight entrance shutting the door behind her with a click.
The clock was much bigger on the inside, as big as the den she'd just left. It was filled with all sorts of gadgets, tools, monitors, levers, knobs, and other assorted clockwork wonders that looked nothing like the contemporary technology outside. Its size meant it wasn't directly attached to the world she'd just left, either; if it were, she'd be standing in her neighbor's bathroom right now, probably in the bathtub, or worse, the toilet.
One particular monitor drew her attention. It glowed bright red, as opposed to the soothing greens and blues of the others. She trotted over to it, clicked a few buttons, and adjusted the screen's focus until she could make out the image of a familiar face, a turquoise pegasus mare with a sea green mane: Summer Rains.
"Well now, this is a surprise. G'day, Summer," she said.
"Oh, thank Celestia, I thought you'd never answer!" She wiped her brow and gave the unicorn a look of sympathy. "Stupid portal storms. How's by you, Winter? You look like you went a few rounds in the ring with a boxer, doncha know."
"Yeah, been flat out all bloody day tryin' to calm everythin' down with this bloody portal storm. Finally got a chance to rest up, and now here you are." Winter Glow—for that was her name—shook her head and sighed. "You're on the emergency channel. Somethin' must be wrong."
"Well that's just it. There is, but I'm not sure exactly what, yet." Summer sighed and wiped her brow again. "I mean, there shouldn't be anythin' wrong, but I think my current case had an error somewhere and I can't figure out what it is.
"I had a pretty standard tear here, and accordin' to all my readings it started out rather small, nothin' special. Unfortunately, it appeared a little too close to an actual town. I usually don't have that sort of trouble, not like you do, believe you me. The locals don't usually see the tears before I get to them, but I got delayed by that frackin' mailpony and—"
"Mailpony?" Winter asked, eyebrow cocked.
Summer waved a hoof. "Nevermind. Anyway, somepony did somethin' to the tear, doncha know, and whatever happened, six ponies were taken from my world. Accordin' to the measurements I got from the Void rivulets, they flowed towards yours. That's the long and short of it. Cripes, it sounds real bad, don't it?"
"Now now, no need to get your knickers in a twist. It'll be alright," Winter assured her. "We've got protocols for this sort of thing. I'll just get them to another portal, give my Timekeeper a little click—" She mimed clicking her stopwatch. "Wind it up, send the poor blighters home, no worries."
"Aw geez, I mean, you make it sound easy."
"What's the big problem? You're actin' like this is serious. Look at ya, you're sweatin' and everythin'. It'll be a piece of piss, mate."
"That's just it, I can't explain it!" Summer blurted. She took out her own Timekeeper and frantically pointed at it. "These past few hours, I've been gettin' some bizarre readings from all over my end. Chaos levels are all out the wazoo!"
"Out the wazoo, huh?" Winter rubbed the side of her head in thought. "You're right, that makes no bloody sense at all. Ya think these things are connected?"
"Yup. I need you to find these ponies so that I can try and figure out what caused this; one of them has to be responsible. Luckily the levels are pretty low right now, but it's not still not good news, believe you me. Honestly, I'm hopin' that it's just a glitch from sealin' a portal with that much energy, but I have to prepare for the worst, doncha know."
"Sounds simple enough." Winter frowned. "Shit. I probably won't be able to send them home for a while, though. That portal storm just finished passin' through and I already sealed everythin' up. I'm not expectin' any more natural tears for another month or so. That won't be a problem will it?"
Summer sighed and wiped her brow again. "Aw geez, this isn't a good day is it? Frack. Well, we'll worry about that after we find out who they are. If it's serious, you can always fall back on emergency measures. Hopefully this is just a minor glitch and we can fix it and be back to normal. I'll send you my dimensional data so you can track them."
"Yeah, no worries mate."
"Thanks again, Winter. Always a pleasure."
Winter smiled. "Not at all, Summer. Always good talkin' to ya."
Summer pushed several buttons, and a sound behind Winter signaled that the information she was sending was being transferred over.
Winter waved farewell to Summer, then grabbed her Timekeeper and tapped it to the central core, copying the data into the more portable device. She then opened it and clicked the top several times, until it glowed a dull green with a tracking display on the face, directing her towards her quarries.
Finally, she exited the grandfather clock and ventured back out into her apartment, straightened her turtleneck, put her scarf back on, and began the arduous descent back down the stairs to the city streets.
A Chronomancer's work was never done.
*****
Thousands of miles south of New Pandemonium City, beyond the great expanse of the arid wastes that bordered the city's mile-high walls and across the great, churning sea, there was a place altogether wondrous and terrible. A place filled with magic that lived and breathed of its own accord, spurned on by the relentless power that fueled it. A place where one could watch as lightning endlessly danced across the sky, and where fire raged yet never burned out.
The Belt of Tranquility.
The Belt stretched precisely along the equator, in the center of the massive ocean that separated the northern and southern continents.
To its north, the sky was filled with a veil of churning magic colored a fiery orange, flowing from a massive tower in the center of New Pandemonium City, sitting precisely at the planet's northern pole.
To its south, the air was clear and bright, kept clean by a veil of invisible magic flowing from a similar tower at the southern pole, itself sitting at the center of a much smaller city deep within the snowy tundra.
Where these two fields of magic collided, the Belt of Tranquility formed, a massive wall of chaotic magical energy that caused the seas and skies along the entire equator to thrash violently about.
And today, something was amiss.
A consciousness floated tenuously in the rift between realms material and not, poised just north of where the magical energies were at their fiercest. It could feel that something was out of place. The Belt of Tranquility was very slowly shifting; the southern light was ever so slightly pushing north.
This would not do, the entity mused to itself. This would not do at all. The entity willed itself to fully enter the immaterial so that it could contact the one pony that would see to it that this dilemma was resolved.
*****
Lord Silvertongue looked out the window of his private study, out into the cityscape of New Pandemonium far, far below. Here in the highest reaches of Pandora Tower, Pandemonium's tallest skyscraper, he could see the entire skyline of the city.
His study was elegant and richly decorated with varieties of items that Silvertongue held dear to him: the banner of New Pandemonium City decorated the far wall, a flaming red sword thrust through a shining golden disk against a black void; an old portrait of himself was posted with esteem on the nearest wall just above the mantelpiece; a record player, an antique from times long forgotten, rest upon the table in the corner and played his favorite ballad.
The ballad was from an old opera, sung in a language that relatively few in Pandemonium could speak. The singer, a mare with a high falsetto, filled the lyrics with her soul, bringing the scene to life as her character was confronted by her lover, the opera's villain, who asked her to give up her life as a princess to run away with him. It was meant to be the climax of the opera. Silvertongue played it because it brought him peace of mind, something that he, as the shadow ruler of this great city, felt was crucial to his sanity.
The world's Dark magic was at its strongest here in this city, at this tower, for this was where the great northern Beacon had been built; the structure generated a veil of fiery orange magic that blocked out the sky above, even the light of the sun. The Beacon was fueled by the evil thoughts in the minds of ponies and influenced them along dark paths in life; while not every single citizen in the city succumbed to such things—in fact, astonishingly few of them actually did—enough corruption and easily-overlooked laws were in place to make chaos and wrongdoing a typical day-to-day activity even if ponies were unaware of it.
To the average onlooker, nothing in the city made sense. He'd designed it that way in order to keep the Beacon running. The ponies below were easy to deceive. Easy to exploit.
The record finished, and so Silvertongue tore himself from the window and his inner thoughts. His horn glowed a grim red as he lifted the record from its place, returned it to its sleeve, and replaced it in the nearby cabinet, where it would remain until he wished for it again.
He turned back to the window, his horn aglow, and flicked a number of switches alongside it. The window darkened until it was completely black, then became a perfectly reflective surface, bouncing the image of the room back at him.
He carefully gauged himself in the reflection. His pristine ivory coat was as pure and radiant as ever. Not a single golden hair in his impeccably-styled mane was out of place. A monocle rested upon his left eye, and was spotless enough that it enhanced the luster of the sea-blue color. His fanciest dress uniform was immaculate and covered him from neck to flank, the shiny black chitinous material polished and gleaming in the single light of the room, the red trim glistening like freshly-picked cherries.
His appearance was absolutely perfect. It had to be. Nihila's prized Warden wouldn't allow otherwise in her presence.
"You were expecting me."
Silvertongue did not turn to face the source of the voice, that of Nihila, the Goddess of Disparity. There would be no point; she spoke directly into his mind. There was no physical thing to even look at. In all things Silvertongue knew, he knew this: alicorns were the most exquisite creatures in existence, blessed with such incredible magic that they were above physical forms. Flesh was not worthy enough to contain their elegance and raw power. Physical beauty of even the absolute highest caliber could not compare to how alicorns appeared in one's mind's eye.
"I am always expecting you, my lady." Silvertongue bowed, even though he was the only physical being in the room. "It would be of no benefit to me to be in any less than flawless condition, lest you visit me in dire straits and become dissatisfied with my dedication."
"Well spoken, my Warden," Nihila cooed.
Silvertongue shuddered at the way her voice touched the deepest recesses of his mind. It would be alarming were he not used to it.
"I come to you with urgent news this day. Troubling news."
Silvertongue's curiosity showed on his face for the fleetest minuscule of a second, and he briefly touched upon a thought of concern that his intrigue would be mistaken for worry.
She spoke again. "The balance between Light and Darkness is waning."
He raised an eyebrow. "'Waning'? Harmonia would never indulge herself in such an action. It goes against her very nature."
"I have seen it first-hoof, my Warden," Nihila said. "Do you not trust my claims?"
Silvertongue smirked as a spark of anger flared through his mind. She loved to tease his devotion.
"It would be folly of me to trust you unquestioningly, my lady. Deception comes as naturally to you as fish take to water and birds to the sky. I didn't mean to sound as though I doubted you. I merely state the obvious: Harmonia cannot be to blame here. I know far too well that she would never threaten the balance on her own whims."
Nihila's fiery anger left him, replaced by an icy calm that filled his being in a soft, gentle manner. "That is a valid observation. If not Harmonia, then what could be causing this imbalance? I would have you investigate the issue and discern the cause. You are most efficient in these matters."
"I cannot fathom a guess as to where to begin," he stated, stroking his chin. "If it is the Light that has shifted, then I would need to investigate the southern Beacon, and I do not have the resources to gather information easily; the zebras are notoriously vigilant in their defenses. Such a task would perhaps take months to accomplish, assuming the best conditions."
"Troubling indeed. But, perhaps you don't need to concern yourself with the south," Nihila cooed.
Another spark swam through his head, this of creativity. She had an idea.
"Has anything suspicious occurred in your city lately, my Warden? I could feel many disturbances in the Void this day. They did not linger long. Another accursed Chronomancer has taken to your city. A shame, wasting all of that delicious energy." Her voice became sultry. The feeling was both terrifying and enticing all at once, and made Silvertongue's skin crawl.
"Yes, I'll admit that I do recall murmurs of such anomalies. It's the first time in decades that anypony in the city has witnessed Void phenomena, even if they know not what to call it. A moment, my lady." Silvertongue strode over to his intercom system and tapped one of the buttons. "Shroud."
"Yes, sir?" came a mare's voice over the intercom.
"I need a report of all suspicious activity that may have occurred in the city in the last, say... twelve hours."
"Of course, sir, I'll have a full report on your desk in less than thirty—"
"Now, Shroud, if you would? This is of critical importance."
He could hear her nervous gulp. "Of course sir, one moment. Um, let's see…" A shuffle of papers and clicks of buttons came from the other end. "Here we are. There were numerous sightings of strange energies around the city, but they all disappeared soon after being spotted."
"Yes, yes, I'm already well aware of that, Shroud. Anything else? Perhaps something I wouldn't find on the news?"
"Very well, moving on… oh! Here's one from the NPPD and NPRD Census Bureau. Apparently they registered six new taxpayers from Utopia today, and Police Chief Smokestack put in for his pay bonus application rather suddenly. The Committee thinks—"
Silvertongue slammed a hoof next to the intercom. "I'm not concerned with what the Committee thinks!"
He hated the need for the Committee. Their jobs were so contradictory to everything the city stood for, but he needed them to ensure that all of the day-to-day ruling was taken care of. He'd long since sunk into the shadows of maintaining the city, but could not become too involved himself, not directly. Though when they made mistakes and too much order returned to the city… well, that rarely ever happened anymore, he'd made sure of that.
Silvertongue hummed to himself. "Deliver that report immediately."
"Yes sir, right away. Do you need anything else, sir?"
"That'll be all, Shroud."
The intercom shut off.
Silvertongue waited for only a moment before the folder containing what he was looking for teleported in front of him, falling neatly onto his desk. He opened it and removed the files, then flipped through the pages. As he read, his face contorted in cemented concentration, and he probed the pieces of this particularly peculiar puzzle.
"Something amiss, my Warden?" Nihila asked.
"I never get new citizens from Utopia," Silvertongue said.
"I can think of one exception," she said, sending a teasing spark through his soul.
"Only one exception, my lady." Silvertongue tapped his chin. "It is most suspicious that six new visitors from Utopia would arrive today, all at the same time and even in the same place and all with the same story. The Committee, small-minded fools that they are, believe their tale to be a fabrication and that these six are in actuality refugees from the Wastelands.
"There is a minor detail in this report about them being apprehended on charges of… Public Indecency. Hmm, I'd almost forgotten that was actually a law, not just common courtesy. The Committee is more concerned with the Chief of Police taking a rather large cut of the allotment of funds these new citizens will generate; they think that he is covering for them somehow."
"Is that all, my Warden? It sounds dreadfully dull as-is, well beneath my interest."
Silvertongue thought for a moment before responding. "These Void fluctuations milady, you posit the belief that a Chronomancer was involved in sealing them rather than the rifts sealing themselves naturally?"
"That I did. Do you see some connection here?"
"Perhaps these new citizens are from someplace more… alien. Quite a coincidence, is it not? For there to be multiple distortions on this precise day, and for six new ponies to appear with no knowledge of our customs, all claiming to be from across the sea? We know little of what exactly it is that Chronomancers do, but perhaps this is somehow related?"
Nihila stayed silent for a moment, then responded with the icy calm from earlier. "My Warden, uncover more about these creatures you have found. I await a swift response."
He bowed. "As always, my lady."
Silvertongue felt her leave, and at last felt at ease again. While Nihila's essence was in his mind, he found it difficult to avoid having his entire series of thoughts laid bare for her to pore over like a book. Even after all these years he found it discomforting, and he knew that she was never far away and could do it at any time she wanted; a moment's privacy was rare indeed.
He pushed the button on the intercom again. "Shroud."
"Yes, sir?"
"Summon Shadowstep for me, if you would?"
"Of course sir, I'll notify him right away."
Silvertongue lit his horn and darkened the room, then patiently waited. One minute. Two minutes. He sensed a presence with him, a physical one at that, and lit his horn again to re-illuminate his study.
Sitting in the chair that had been empty before on the other side of his desk was a lithe pegasus stallion. He wore a black, form-fitting uniform with a deep purple gradient as it approached his head. It covered him from head to hoof, hiding any meaningful identity. All that could be used to distinguish him were his bright green eyes, the slightest bits of a pale blue coat, and his short and tidy midnight blue mane and tail that stuck out through slips in the fabric.
Silvertongue did not bother himself with the effort of turning to face the new guest. He could sense his presence just fine, and see him clearly in the reflection on the window screen.
Silvertongue nodded. "Punctual as always, Shadowstep."
"Of course, my lord," the pegasus said, getting out of the seat to bow before sitting back down again. "You called me? That means you have a job for me, yeah? What is it? Ooh, is it poisoning the drink of somepony on the Committee again? I do so love assassinations. Please tell me it's an assassination?"
"Not this time. No, this is one occasion where I can't imagine any violence will be necessary. At least for now." Silvertongue's horn glowed as he tossed the portfolio neatly onto the desk behind him. "There. That portfolio holds your initial targets."
Shadowstep pawed at the folder, opening it warily, then scanned the information within.
Inside the docket were the identification pictures and file information on six newly registered ponies from Ponyville, Utopia. Ponyville. It was the most ridiculously simplistic made-up name for a town that Silvertongue had ever heard, not at all suitable to a world dominated by ponies. Perhaps ponies would soon claim to come from Colt City, or Fillytown. Simply ridiculous—no, whimsical, like something out of a fairy tale intended for small foals.
The mares' names seemed normal enough—minus the orange earth pony, since even with all his knowledge Silvertongue didn't recognize the word "apple" unless in the context of a pineapple—and they certainly looked normal enough, even if some of their ID pictures were somewhat odd: the purple unicorn looked intoxicated, and the orange earth pony appeared somewhat brain-dead.
Shadowstep placed the portfolio back on the desk once he'd reviewed it, then leaned back in the chair and crossed his hooves. "What's so important about them? They don't even look like anypony'd miss 'em if they were to suddenly… disappear."
"That's not really any of your concern yet, Shadowstep," Silvertongue said. "But it is what you're going to find out. Find them. Follow them. See if they do or mention anything peculiar. If you happen to notice anypony else tailing them around, follow them as well, and if at all possible ensure they won't interfere with any potential plans. If you follow my meaning?"
Shadowstep pumped a hoof. "Yes! I knew there was murder involved somewhere here, otherwise why call me? Oh, thank you, sir!"
Silvertongue grunted. "You have your orders, carry them out."
"Yes, sir."
Silvertongue flicked the lights off and on again once more, and in the brief matter of seconds that the lights flickered, Shadowstep had vanished. If there was one pony good, perhaps perfect, at his job—so long as that job was sneaking around through the darkness and being a spy or assassin—then Silvertongue knew nopony more qualified than Shadowstep and nopony more loyal to him.
Alone at last and not expecting any more company anytime soon, Silvertongue placed a new record on the player. Eyeing the contents of the folder once more, he stared thoughtfully at the pictures of six mares that he was absolutely certain were going to be very interesting.