In the end, the Secret Service decided to send teams to meet all three trains. Head office in Washington met the express at Union Station, where a thorough search revealed no Princess, but did find two people wanted on bench warrants in Maryland. Some people had none of the luck.
Another team was moving on the local train in Baltimore - it was still a few minutes out, but contact had already been made with the train crew, who reported no equine passengers of any sort.
That left the northbound train. Johnson didn’t necessarily trust the Newark field office, but considering that the Princess was not a danger to herself or others, it was unlikely that they could screw up such a simple task. (And if they did… well, Johnson had already spoken to Director Knight. Heads would roll.)
Then one of Tempered’s guards - the pink unicorn, Johnson couldn’t remember his name, Knife maybe? - had announced that he had been on the advance team, and had been to Newark Station.
This meant much more to the ponies than it did to Johnson.
So what if they’d been there before? Unless they could find their Princess using ESP (which wasn’t impossible, considering they could use magic), knowing what the station building looked like wasn’t going to-
Oh.
So nobody was gonna tell him that these magic horses could teleport like they’re on Star Trek?
Would he like to go to Newark with them?
What kind of a question is that? This is his operation! Of course he’d like to go to Newark with them! What else is going to do? Flap his arms and fly?
Pennsylvania Station - Newark, New Jersey
And then Johnson was standing in Newark.
“You really need to open with that next time.” He said to Tempered, who apparently wasn’t phased by the fact that she had traveled eighty seven miles in five seconds.
“It hadn’t been relevant.” She said, adjusting her helmet. “We’re just lucky that Dagger was on the advance team. Otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to.”
“Pure luck, nothing more. You need to have visited someplace before you can teleport to it.” Dagger chimed in.
Johnson blinked. Somehow the ponies had managed to make teleportation inconvenient. He was going to tell Tempered this, but was cut off as the head of the Newark field office came huffing and puffing into view.
“Hoooo-ha-A-a-Agent Johnson!” He was a deeply overweight man, who wasn’t helped by his incredibly short stature. How he passed his agency physical was a mystery, especially considering that he was clutching a can of Pepsi in his fat fingers, and had an Oh Henry! bar poking out of the breast pocket of his stained dress shirt. His suit jacket was nowhere in sight, and his agency badge dangled upside down from a chain around his neck like he was an undercover cop. “I -huff- wasn’t expecting you to be here! How-haa-How did you get here, so-whoah-so quickly?”
“I’m just that good. Where are your people?” Johnson already didn’t like this man.
“Platform 3. Amtrak is gonna hold the train for us.” The agent gasped, as he finally caught his breath. “I’m Special Agent Louis DeCiccio, by the way.” He held out a sweaty hand to Johnson, who ignored it just as DeCiccio had ignored Tempered and Dagger.
“Let’s move.” Johnson said as he made for the stairwells to track level, intentionally moving quickly to make the hefty agent work a bit more. This guy is not the best of the best, he thought to himself, annoyed that the rumors about the Newark office were not exaggerated.
Behind him, he could hear Tempered order Dagger to stay with DeCiccio, before falling into a quick trot as she moved to keep up, her steel shoes tapping loudly off the marble floor. He was honestly impressed with the little unicorn. Despite being in an exceptionally difficult situation and working with exceptionally difficult bureaucrats, she’d performed admirably in a situation that every protective service officer worked hard to prevent.
Also, considering that she was running around while wearing what looked to be about forty pounds of plate armor without being winded, she was clearly better trained than Agent DeCiccio, who hadn’t even attempted to keep up with the pair as they jogged down the stairs to platform 3. If he had been in a position to do so, he’d probably have tried to offer her a position in the Secret Service.
Reaching the platform, Johnson was almost professionally disgusted at DeCiccio’s agents, most of whom were just as overweight and underdressed as their boss. Almost subconsciously, he straightened his back and smoothed the wrinkles out of his suit coat, not wanting to even be visually associated with the half-dozen of Newark’s “finest” Secret Service agents, of whom only one was even remotely professional looking by the virtue of bothering to put on a tie.
Asking Tempered to join the agency was looking like a more and more realistic option if this is what he had to work with.
“Is this who’s going to help us find the Princess?” It seemed that Tempered was thinking on the same lines as Johnson.
“Hey,” gasped DeCiccio, finally making his way down the stairway. “This is who you get at two in the morning. Maybe next time we could have an emergency between nine and five?” He said in deliberate ignorance of the two very tired Amtrak Police officers in spotless dress uniforms glaring at him from across the platform. They had been forced into these monkey suits to meet a dignitary at Two In The Fucking Morning only to watch as the actual suits showed up in wrinkled jeans and bowling shirts, and would probably get all the credit too.
“Next time we have an emergency, we’ll be sure to call someone else,” snapped Tempered, who trotted past the Secret Service agents and up to the Amtrak Police. “First Commander Tempered Steel, Equestrian EUP Guards,” She motioned to Johnson behind her. “Senior Field Agent Aaron Johnson, United States Secret Service. What are we working with here?”
“Uh, Sergeant Glenn Robins, Amtrak Police,” blinked one of the Amtrak Officers, clearly not expecting to be addressed. “This is Police Officer Clyde Perkins.” He motioned to the other officer.
The sergeant continued: “The train’s coming in about 15 or so, got delayed a bit coming out of Princeton. We got the train crew on the horn - they’re doing a search, but nothing yet. The crew got swapped at Trenton, so they might have missed her if she got on before then.”
Tempered paused a moment to absorb the information. “How many Carriages?”
“Nine. First class is in the rear two.”
Tempered smiled as the Sergeant anticipated her next question. “Excellent. You and I will start there, Agent Johnson and Officer Perkins will start at the front. Keep all doors closed until we meet in the middle.”
“Hey wait a minute!” DeCiccio interrupted, motioning towards himself and his agents. “What about us! What are we supposed to do?”
Tempered’s eyes turned frosty. “You will wait on the platform and keep the crowds under control.”
Johnson looked around. The platform was empty.
“No! No! No!” DeCiccio insisted petulantly. “This is an Agency operation! I didn’t wake up at fuck o’clock in the middle of the night just to be crowd control while someone else rescues the broad! Have them do it!” He motioned dismissively at the Amtrak officers, ignoring how quickly Tempered and Dagger both went from “dismissive” to “violently upset” the instant he referred to Princess Celestia as ‘the broad’.
“These officers have some amount of decorum, something you clearly know nothing about. Only the best of the best get to be within sight of The Princess.” Tempered enunciated slowly and menacingly. “You are slovenly and disgusting and will go nowhere near her. Am. I. Understood?”
“Hey now…” DeCiccio said, still upset, but also aware that he’d just stuck his foot in something he shouldn’t have. “Let’s be reasonable! We can share this opera-URK!
He was cut off as Dagger, who had been standing behind him almost totally unnoticed, reached up with his magic and grabbed the Agent by his stained shirt collar, yanking him down to the unicorn’s eye level.
“The commander,” he ground out, his voice sounding like he was about ready to rip DeCiccio’s throat out with his teeth, “asked if you Understood.”
Johnson and the Amtrak officers watched with amused concern as the two pastel unicorns verbally intimidated DeCiccio. Johnson quietly wondered if DeCiccio’s agents were going to intervene, but from the whispering going on behind him, they were too busy betting on the severity of their boss’s impending ass-kicking to bother.
As such, everyone on the platform was looking in the entirely wrong direction as a black Amtrak GG1 rolled through the station a few tracks behind them…