//------------------------------// // The Disguise // Story: Cutie Mark Crusaders - Bounty Hunters // by thetrapezoid //------------------------------// The Disguise The sun was reaching high noon and shining hard on the five farmers. Applejack, Braeburn, Applebloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle began to walk back toward Uncle Strudel’s house after a long morning of hard work at the orchard. Their muscles felt sore from pulling heavy buckets of apples. “I don’t know if I have the energy left to go bounty hunting,” said Sweetie Belle. “Neither do I.” said Applebloom. “But this may be our only chance to get our cutie marks,” Scootaloo asserted. “By the way, Uncle Strudel still has my scooter. He’s been riding around in it all morning. Do you know where he could be?” “Knowin’ ma dad, you’re probably not going to get your scooter back until the Wild West Dance tonight,” Braeburn said. “You three aren’t gunna miss it to go bounty hunting, are you?” “No we won’t, but I still want my scooter back. It will make getting around town SO much easier for the three of us. Can I please, please, go look for him?” “Fine,” Braeburn said. “Yay!” shouted Scootaloo as she ran off into the town. “Wait, you need to eat your lunch first,” called out Braeburn. But the quick filly was already out of sight. “Don’t worry Braeburn. I’m sure that she’ll be back soon with both Uncle Strudel and her scooter,” Applebloom said. ------------------------------------------------------------------- After a large lunch in the house of Uncle Strudel, Scootaloo still had not returned. “Ah’m starting to get worried about Scootaloo,” Applejack said. “We should start looking for her.” “Yeah, but how are we going to find her?” “She already knows that Uncle Strudel will be joining us at the dance.” Braeburn said. “So if she is looking for Uncle Strudel, she will eventually head to the town square.” “Then we should split up and look around town individually. We can cover more ground that way,” Applejack said. “Meet at the town square in 2 hours, regardless of whether or not you found Scootaloo or Uncle Strudel.” “Alright then,” Braeburn said. The four ponies left the house and headed off in different directions. ------------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile, Scootaloo’s search for the crazy uncle wasn’t going too well until a pony mentioned seeing him riding the scooter toward the train station. When Scootaloo got back to the train station, Uncle Strudel was nowhere to be found. She decided to ask one of the security guards if he had seen Uncle Strudel. “Excuse me sir,” she said while tapping the guard’s back leg. “I’m looking for my friend.” As the stallion turned around, Applebloom saw that it was Stand the saloon guard from yesterday. “Oh, it’s YOU,” he said. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you work at the saloon?” “I did, but I was fired for letting “certain” underage ponies into the bar; ones that were not allowed in. So this is my new job now.” “Oh. Sorry about that… Anyway, have you seen Uncle Apple Strudel? He’s the stallion that was with us the other day.” “Maybe I do, but I don’t see any reason to help you or your friends out.” “Well, it didn’t take you very long to find a second job, did it?” “No, you don’t understand. I am under some kind of curse. Every time I get fired from a job, something in my home catches fire.” He took out a small bottle containing black liquid. “Look, you burnt all of my milk.” “But that’s crazy! Milk can’t be burnt. And there is no such thing as curses.” “Fine then, don’t believe me. But I’m not helping you.” Now what do I do? thought Scootaloo as the angry stallion walked away. As she looked over at Stand, she saw him talking with another stallion. The other stallion had a purple mane and an orange coat. He was also wearing a conductor’s uniform. Scootaloo continued to watch the conversation until Stand gave a salute and walked back toward his post. I’ve got it. ---------------------------------------------------------------- As Stand, the former saloon guard, stood at his post, he heard another pony yelling his name. “Hey, Stand,” he said. As Stand turned to look respond, he saw what appeared to be his coworker, but he looked a bit strange. For one, he was much shorter than when he last saw him, which was a few minutes ago. He had gotten so short that his uniform was too big for him. Another thing was that he seemed to have a different voice than before; one that was more high-pitched. Well, he still has the same color mane and skin, and only employees are allowed to have that uniform, so it must still be Dusty. “Dusty, what happened to you?” he asked. “It was horrible,” said the suspiciously short “Dusty”. “I was attacked by an Infantinite.” “But I thought those creatures didn’t exist.” “Of course they do. How many ponies have told you they DO exist?” “Uh, you would be the second.” “And how many ponies told you they DON’T exist?” “Just my previous boss.” “So, what do you think is the truth?” Well, two say yes, and one says no. Two is more than one, it MUST be true. “That’s terrible. What can I do to help you recover from this attack?” Stand asked. “You know that brown stallion with the scooter you saw earlier?” “Yeah…” “I need you to tell me where he went.” Huh, why would the location of that crazy old coot be important? Better not question it though; he seems to know more about Infantinites than I do. And I probably wouldn’t understand the reason anyway. “Yeah, he came to the train station a little while ago and took down one of the wanted posters. Said something about his niece wanting them or something. He tried to take more, but I chased him off toward the town square. He was too quick to catch, so I went back and took town the rest of the wanted posters and hid them in my locker, so no one else would take them.” “Thanks for the info. But before we go, we are going to need the rest of those wanted posters from your locker. No time to explain.” “Sure. Here are my keys. Be sure to give them back to me once you are done. My locker is labeled with my name.” “Thanks.” Stand handed “Dusty” the keys before he ran off. I hope he’s going to be okay. --------------------------------------------------------------------- As Applebloom continued her search for her missing friend, she came upon the office of Sheriff Silverstar. He was lying on his porch with his fore hooves behind his head, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. She decided to ask him if he had seen anything. “Hey Sheriff, you seen my friend? She’s the orange and purple filly you met last night,” Applebloom said. “Yeah I did, she was headed toward the train station. Said she was looking for your uncle.” “Hey, thanks.” “But she said she was going to go to the Wild West Dance afterwards, so ya might wanna meet up with her there.” “Oh, okay. Are you going as well?” “Can’t do that. I’ve got too much work on my hooves.” “You don’t… look very busy at all. You’re just lying on the steps of your office getting a suntan like you always do.” “Run along now kid. Trust me when I say I’m quite busy.” Applebloom rolled her eyes as she walked toward the town square. -------------------------------------------------------------------- “APPLEBLOOM!” shouted Sweetie Belle. She ran over to the strange pony, only to find that she wasn’t Applebloom. “Sorry, I thought you were some pony else,” “That’s okay, but why did you mistake me for her anyway?” she asked. “She has the exact same color fur and mane as you. You look like her from a distance.” “Is this friend of yours lost?” “Not really, it’s my other friend, Scootaloo, who is lost. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her, would you? She’s got an orange body and a purple mane and, unfortunately, no cutie mark.” “Sorry, haven’t seen her. I would help you look for her, but I’m going to the town square to help provide the music for the dance.” “Hey, I was just about to head there myself. We can walk there together.” “Okay then. I’m Fid… I mean Muse Struckheart, and tonight I’m playing the fiddle.” “I’m Sweetie Belle.” --------------------------------------------------------------- Sweetie Belle was the first of the Crusaders to arrive at the dance. The markets that usually populated the town square were removed to make way for the dance. On one edge of the square was a small wooden stage about 2 feet high for the musicians to play on. It was next to a small hardware store which had a garden hose on its side. “You go in ahead; I gotta wait for my friends. Good luck on your first performance in Appaloosa.” Sweetie Belle said to Muse. “Alright. Bye then,” said Muse as she and her friends headed toward the stage with their equipment. As Sweetie Belle began to wait for her friends, several ponies were entering the town square, eager to be part of the party. One pony with a red coat caught Sweetie Belle’s eye. It was PC, on the other side of the entrance. What is SHE doing here? she thought. Meanwhile Applebloom had arrived at the town square. She saw Sweetie Belle and ran up to talk to her. “Sweetie Belle, you find Scootaloo yet?” she asked. “Nope.” “I guess we should just wait for the others then. Hopefully, one of them found her.” As the dance was starting, the two fillies started jigging to the tune, until there was a rude interruption. “HEY! WAIT A SECOND!” cried a mysterious voice. “YOU AREN’T WHO YOU SAY YOU ARE AT ALL!” The crowd grew silent as all eyes and ears shifted toward the direction of the voice. “Looks like we got a heckler here,” chuckled Muse. “I’m no heckler.” The angry pony stepped on stage to reveal himself. It was Stand, the former station security guard. “I know that you are wearing a disguise. You can’t fool me again.” “‘Again?’ I don’t think we have met.” “Don’t play games with me, miss ‘Muse Struckheart’. You clearly look older than an hour ago.” “What are you talking about? I’ve never seen you before in my life.” “Yes you are. You’re one of the little fillies that keeps making me lose my job. You disguised yourself as my coworker and convinced me to give up the keys to my locker. And then I got fired once my boss found out I gave my keys to some random stranger. Once that happened, my pet rock caught fire. I know what you are up to. You are trying to get me fired again in your new disguise. I just got my job as a cashier for this hardware store, and I am not going to lose another job that quickly.” “There are several things wrong with your accusation,” began Muse, “First off, I am clearly not a filly.” “That only proves that you were not attacked by an Infantinite like you claim.” “Infantinites? What is… I don’t even… Look, you’re absolutely stupid if you think that I could be a filly conspiring to ruin your job.” “Enough talk, I know you are a filly in disguise and I shall prove it!” Stand ran off the stage and turned on the hardware store’s garden hose. As he ran back toward the stage with the spraying hose in his mouth, Muse began to panic. The water would wash off the full body makeup she was wearing to disguise herself. She screamed as she ran off the front of the stage in terror. “Ha, who’s the idiot now?” said Stand as he managed to hit her with a stream of water from the hose. The body paint on Muse was beginning to drip off, turning her previously yellow body and red mane back into her natural green coat and blue mane. “I knew it, a disguise!” “Hey, I know her,” cried a random pony. “She is Fiddlesticks. She is the one who stole my piano.” “And she also stole my flute,” shouted another pony. “And my banjo,” said a third. A bunch of more ponies started calling out the instruments that Fiddlesticks had stolen from them. “So what?” objected Fiddlesticks. “None of you were even using any of your instruments anyway. But as soon as they are gone, here you go playing the world’s smallest violin to your stolen dust collectors.” “But I don’t even have the world’s smallest violin anymore, because YOU stole it.” “Fine. Here is your stupid microscopic violin.” Fiddlesticks reached into her bag and threw a speck of dust at the upset mare. “How do they know it was you anyway?” asked Stand. “I always leave behind a drawing of a pair of fiddlesticks as my signature. That’s how they know it was me. Now I’ve got a bounty on my head for all those thefts. That’s why I had to wear a disguise.” “Really!? So you aren’t the filly that came to Appaloosa specifically to set my belongings on fire?” “NO,” shouted the crowd. “She’s a wanted fugitive.” “Wow, I guess that makes me a bounty hunter then,” Stand said. “So, what am I supposed to do with bounties once I capture them?” “You’re supposed to turn them in to Sheriff Silverstar,” replied one of the strangers. “And tell him to make her give all the stolen instruments back to us.” “I have an idea,” whispered Applebloom to Sweetie Belle. Stand began to tie up Fiddlesticks with the garden hose. She had already given up on escaping as there was no way she could outrun the entire crowd. Despite this, Stand couldn’t tie her up, since he wasn’t very good at knots. Meanwhile, a small pony with a black hat and a mustache walked up to him. “Congratulations Stand, you have successfully captured Fiddlesticks. Allow me to give you a reward for your efforts.” “Wait, THERE ARE TWO OF YOU?!” Stand took notice of the pony that had walked up to him, who had the same color scheme as Fiddlesticks’s disguise. “What? No! I’m Sheriff Silverstar,” replied the short pony. “And I am here to give you your reward of fifty bits for that bounty you’ve captured.” “Fifty bits! That’s so much money! Thank you so much sir. I might actually be able to make a career out of this bounty hunting.” “Don’t give the bounty to that filly!” boomed a voice. As the crowd turned to face him, they all recognized him as brown coated Sheriff Silverstar. He was wearing his brown uniform. “Stand, that pony there is just a small filly in disguise. I am the real Sheriff Silverstar. Give the bounty to me. I will reward you with the true amount of two hundred bits. The imposter over there was intentionally going to give you only fifty bits so that she can make a profit when she turns in the bounty to me.” “No, I’m the real Sheriff Silverstar.” The crowd shifted its attention back to the front stage, where they saw a small orange and purple pony that also had a black hat and mustache. “The pony over there is merely trying to use the same plan he just explained. The true reward is three hundred bits, which I, the real Sheriff Silverstar, will give you for the bounty.” “No, I’M the real Sheriff Silverstar,” replied a squawky voice near the entrance. The crowd shifted their attention once again to Uncle Strudel who arrived at the dance with Applejack and Braeburn. “I’ll give you a thousand bits for the bounty.” “Uncle Apple Strudel, do you even know WHY there are ponies trying to be Sheriff Silverstar?” asked Applejack. “Uh, it’s a game right?” Applejack rolled her eyes. “This is just gettin’ out of hand,” said Sheriff Silverstar. “There is no one else here who even remotely looks like Sheriff Silverstar except me. Those mustaches are fake!” He ran up to the yellow Sheriff Silverstar and ripped off his mustache, revealing the pony as Applebloom. Then he walked up to the orange Sheriff and ripped off his mustache, revealing the pony as Scootaloo. “I knew it! These fillies were conspiring against me the whole time,” Stand said. “SCOOTALOO,” shouted Applebloom. “We finally found you.” Applebloom and Sweetie Belle both ran up to Scootaloo to give her a hug. “No, I’M the real Scootaloo,” said Uncle Strudel. “And I’ll give you ten thousand bits for that bounty.” “Uncle Strudel, give me back my scooter, you’ve had it long enough.” Scootaloo ran up to Uncle Strudel and snatched back her scooter. “Calm down, ya little noogie. It’s just a game after all.” Applejack face hoofed. “Well I guess that clears things up,” replied Stand. “Here you go, Sheriff Silverstar.” Sheriff Silverstar bound up Fiddlesticks in cuffs, then handed Stand a bag of two hundred bits as compensation. “Thank you Sheriff, I’ve never had this much money before. Thank you. Thank you.” Stand bent down and started kissing Sheriff Silverstar’s left fore hoof. Sheriff Silverstar reached to his left with his right hoof as if he was trying to grab something, but felt nothing there. “Uh, you’re welcome, now please leave me. I must get back to the office.” Sheriff Silverstar lifted the bounty up on his back and left the dance. The crowd was silent from the events which had just occurred. Uncle Strudel was the first to break the silence. “Well that was an awesome game. Who’s up for another round?” The ponies that were eating went back to their dinner. Meanwhile the previous musicians were attempting to set up another song, trying to keep the party atmosphere alive. “Wow, I can’t believe I have two hundred bits, what should I do with them?” Stand asked himself. “Wait, I just realized something,” Applebloom said, “Sheriff Silverstar was never supposed to show up at the dance.” “What do you mean?” asked Scootaloo. “I talked to him earlier. He said that he couldn’t make it because of too much work,” said Applebloom. “He always says he has work to do, but Ah never believe it,” said Braeburn. “He seemed pretty sincere about it.” “That’s not the only problem. Look.” Scootaloo reached to her stack of wanted posters and pulled out Fiddlesticks’s wanted poster. On it said ‘Wanted Alive for six hundred bits’, “The Sheriff still ripped you off. We should go there and make sure you get your full payment.” “Hey thanks kid. Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” “I don’t know. I’m guess I’m just starting to feel a little guilty that we’ve constantly been tricking you.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------- As the seven ponies arrived at the office of Sheriff Silverstar, they found him lying on the front porch, in the exact same position as when Applebloom talked to him earlier that day. “You didn’t give me the posted reward for the bounty,” said Stand as he stamped his heavy hoof on the porch. “What are you talking about?” asked the Sheriff. “At the dance, I turned in a bounty, and you gave me less than the posted amount.” “What do you mean? I was never at the dance. I have had too much work on my hooves.” “But you are in the exact same position as when I saw you earlier this afternoon,” said Applebloom. “What kind of work did you get done?” “And that is because I’m on my fiftieth break. I had to take it after lugging that heavy bounty into jail.” “Yeah, the bounty that I turned in,” Stand said. “You? PC was the one who turned her in a few minutes ago.” “PC turned her in?” asked Applebloom. “Then that means that the ‘Sheriff’ at the dance was actually…” “PC!” finished Stand. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” cried the three fillies. “Wow Stand, I’m surprised you were able to figure that out,” Braeburn said. “I guess you HAVE been getting a little smarter.” “Thanks. I AM smart. C-M-R-T. Smart.” “I can’t believe PC completely outsmarted us again,” whined Applebloom with her face planted on the ground. “Aw, don’t you be so hard on yerself,” said Uncle Strudel as he butted his head in the middle of the conversation. (Literally of course) “You fillies were smart enough to come up with the same idea as PC. Disguising yerself as the Sheriff and giving a small fraction of the bounty so that ya make a profit when ya give the bounty to the real Sheriff. You kids might actually be the first to actually compete with her.” “Why don’t you kids just take a break from all this bounty huntin’ and just have some fun at the dance,” suggested Braeburn. “I guess. But I have an important question. Uncle Strudel, how much do you know about PC?” asked Sweetie Belle. “Aw, it is a looooooooong story,” began Uncle Strudel. He began clutching Sweetie Belle close to his chest as he prepared to tell his story. “Ah known her since she was a little filly.” “On second thought, never mind,” said Sweetie Belle as she pushed the touchy uncle away. “We weren’t that interested anyway.” --------------------------------------------------------------- “We should hear more about her from Uncle Strudel at some point,” whispered Scootaloo to Sweetie Belle. The ponies were making their way back to the dance. “It could be useful in finding out how to beat her.” “But I don’t want to be smothered,” said Sweetie Belle. “Come on, I gave up my scooter to that crazy uncle to help us get our cutie marks. What’s a little uncomfortable hugging if it means getting our cutie marks?” “Well, we have to set a few standards for what we will and will not do for our cutie marks. Besides, there is probably some pony else in this town who knows PC as well as Uncle Strudel.” -------------------------------------------------------------- “I don’t think anyone in this town knows PC as well as Uncle Strudel does,” said Braeburn as he was for the next song to begin, “She’s the mysterious type. Forget about her, just have some fun. It’s a party.” “I guess we will have to listen to Uncle Strudel’s story later after all,” said Applebloom.