My mother had insisted that I bring my cello tonight. I wasn’t sure why, but had been diligent in maintaining and tuning it, or as much as I could in the one day I’d had it back. I knew my skills were rusty, but confidence in the instrument goes a long way.
Though, I still didn’t feel ready when she sat on the couch in the living room and asked me to play. She, all on her own, was perhaps the most intimidating audience I could imagine. It was with slight trepidation that I embarked on a piece by Beet Hooven that I remembered, but had only recently practiced once, earlier in the day.
I made a few mistakes, ones that even somepony who didn’t know music would notice. I still carried on playing, shifting without any formal pause to other pieces. I loosened up a little. After fifteen minutes or so, I wasn’t doing too badly.
I wasn’t sure how long mother wanted me to play. I could hardly remember a time when I’d played for her. She’d gone to my childhood recitals and smugly celebrated my special talent when it suited her, but I didn’t ever remember just playing for her, just the two of us.
She cleared her throat. “Have you practiced since you’ve been gone?”
I didn’t immediately stop playing, holding out to the end of the current note trill before lowering the bow. That gave me an extra second to formulate my reply. “No. I didn’t have a cello.”
Maybe now she would feel good about herself that she’d given it to me. Mostly, I wanted to avoid further questions about my activities.
“I’m glad you came back to me,” she said as she got up, apparently getting ready to serve dinner. “It seems that a few inquiries I made paid off.”
Wait, what!?
She wouldn’t-
Well, no, she would. She absolutely would get me kicked out to pasture if it suited her. But did she?
I stared after her as she went into the kitchen, trying to sort my shattered thoughts. Did I hear that correctly? And did it actually mean...?
I followed her into the kitchen. “Inquiries with who, mum?”
“Princess Twilight’s administration, of course. If anypony could find my wayward daughter, it was her.”
I actually relaxed - slightly. I wasn’t sure the Princess knew my name, and was fairly confident she didn’t know my business. I was still hesitant to breathe, waiting for the next question to come.
A few seconds passed. My mother picked up the plates. She turned. “Are you going to help me set the table?”
She let it go. Scarcely daring to believe it, so did I.
I managed to get through dinner without any more heart-stopping incidents, though that might have been easier if I had remembered to bring booze this time.
As soon as I thought I could, I said goodbye and headed out the door. After a quick stop back at the turnip loft to dress up as Jazz Apple, cigarette and all, I then met up with Soarin and Rainbow.
The two of them had gotten ready. As I would be “coming alone,” to the meeting with PY-12, I was the only one who had dressed the part, using the same dress I’d worn to the club. Rainbow and Soarin were decidedly more tactical. We weren’t yet sure how this meeting would go, so it was nice to have backup.
“Are you bringing your cello?” Rainbow asked, nodding to the case I carried. “Or is that a machine gun in there?”
“It’s not a machine gun.”
She chuckled. “Come on, I thought you were a spy.”
“You know you can fit a machine gun in just a violin case, right?” I hefted the cello case. “This is a rocket launcher.”
After picking it up earlier today from the farm, I could now understand a glimpse of what Rainbow saw in Mac. Hopefully their relationship was built on more than that, but it was not my place to judge.
I took a last look over our plans and what we knew about Dirtcheap Discounts. Soarin asked, “Is your head in the game?”
“Yes,” I replied. I didn’t ask why he was asking. It was a fair question, given my earlier meeting with my mother. Maybe a trace of it still showed on my face. What she might or might not have known about my work was a topic I would have to have a long think about, but not right now.
We got going. I lugged my cello case along. It still represented me in my teenage years, so some of the decoration was a bit...juvenile. In the spirit of that, I had recently added an I’m with stupid sticker to cover my real name painted on the case. I'd gotten the sticker from the novelty rack at Barnyard Bargains.
Soarin and Rainbow broke away as I walked up to Dirtcheap Discounts. The lights were off, even the exterior ones on the sign. I knocked on the door.
I was a few minutes early, but I heard hooves from the darkness within the building as somepony came to let me in. It was the talkative stallion from the night before. He had been called Pin.
“Oh, I thought you were Scarlet,” he said, but stepped back to let me pass.
“She isn't here yet?” I asked.
He didn’t answer the question, but said, “Well, come on. You can wait with us.” He locked the door and then gestured for me to follow him through the darkened sales floor to a lighted room at the back.
I’d already sized him up to be not much of an intellectual threat, and wondered why he’d been invited to such a meeting. I was cautiously optimistic that PY-12 might not be as scary as the rest of Equestria thought, or at least their Ponyville branch wasn’t.
Stepping into the room, I glanced around. The same ponies who had been at the nightclub were present, plus two more. They didn’t particularly stand out to me. One with a stapler for her cutie mark was closest to me.
Unbidden, I sat down in a free chair.
“So what’s with that?” Pin asked. He gestured to my cello case, propped beside me.
“It’s a cello case.”
“What’s with all the stickers?” he said. “That’s kinda...kiddie.”
“I stole it. Like taking candy from a baby. Well, a cello case.”
A couple of the ponies in the room reacted. There were a few half-chuckles at the mild humor.
Stapler, who apparently had better critical-thinking skills than Pin, said, “How do we know you didn’t bring something like a machine gun?”
“Stapler”
The smart one
“A machine gun? You know you can fit a machine gun in just a violin case, right?” I replied. “I thought you ponies were supposed to be professionals.”
That silenced the conversation for a few seconds, until I heard keys in the front door lock and then hooves approaching. Scarlet Sunrise walked into the room.
I got up and extended a hoof to her. “Thank you for meeting with me tonight.”
“Save it,” she said, staring me down. “I know why you are really here.”
That could have meant anything. But in the surprised fraction of a second I had to think, a few things fell into place.
The red stain on the floor of the Rich house...Scarlet Sunrise’s cutie mark of a Bloody Mary...rumors I’d heard of a particular overseas agent with a particular calling card…
Had I really just stumbled on La Panthère Fuschia in Ponyville of all places? Either way, I took the thought and ran with it.
“Why yes,” I said. “I’m here for you. How could you co-opt this innocent Equestrian gang with your dirty foreign intelligence hooves?”
It was a shot in the dark, but even if I was wrong, it injected just the right kind of uncertainty into the situation. If they were all as dumb as Pin, they might even go along with it.
Whether I was right or wrong, Scarlet reached. I’m no gunfighting quickdraw, but I could get my cello case open faster than greased lightning. I pulled out the rocket launcher just as Scarlet's gun was clearing her holster and the two of us faced off.
I knew I had the upper hoof. Sure, a rocket launcher at point-blank distance would probably kill me too, so there was the implication that I was crazy enough to do it.
I heard the rest of the gang members belatedly pulling out their own guns. A quick glance showed confusion on their faces and some of them had even started to point their weapons at Scarlet, either because they agreed that she might be a foreign agent or because they didn’t want to do anything to upset the pony holding the rocket launcher.
“Well well well, looks like we got ourselves a Mexicolt Standoff,” said Pin.
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do idiots like you always have to say that out loud it when it happens? We know what this is.”