//------------------------------// // The End to a Wombat Blocky Day // Story: A Chicken on a Wild Goose Chase: Scootaloo on the Hunt for Her Diary // by Wise Cracker //------------------------------// Scootaloo bit through the ache in her wings as she raced through Ponyville. Her mind, much like herself, was racing with ideas. Listen, Brass, I know you’ve got my diary, and I want it back, now. She growled. No. He’ll tell Miss Cheerilee, and everypony will hate me for being rude to him. She sped up, leaving a dustcloud in front of Sugarcube Corner. He started it. He took my diary, he took my room, and he’s taking my friends! He’s gonna steal Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle next if I don’t do anything. Again, she sped up. Ponies backed away when they saw her approach, not minding, not caring. She was pushing herself, and nopony stopped her. Every pony who really cares isn’t here. I have to do it myself. She pushed harder, faster. One more turn past Carousel Boutique and then it was a nice curve towards her old house on the edge of town. Brass Tack, we need to talk. Yeah, that’s good. You’ve got something that’s mine. You’ve got a lot of somethings that are mine, and I want them back, now. Finally, the pain caught up to her. She slowed down, even though she didn’t want to. Little black splotches appeared in her vision again, and her helmet felt loose. Her head felt light. Something thudded against metal, and dull pain shot through her hind hooves. The smell of dust hung in the air. No sound. Great. Now I’m falling. Look what you’ve done now. You’re just a big mess-up, Scootaloo. That’s why nopony cares. That’s why mom and dad left. She closed her eyes, anticipating the hard impact of ground meeting filly. Much to her surprise, the impact never came. She just dozed off and floated into a comfy slumber. I’m dreaming. Of course. This is just one big nightmare. Oh, perfect, Princess Luna can figure this out. Wait, where is she? Princess Luna? Hello? Upshot heard the pitter-patter of his nephew’s hooves on the doorstep. “Back already? You’ve been busy, ain’t ya?” Upshot started. “Yup,” Brass replied, trotting past his uncle, still carrying the backpack. “Do you need me for anything?” “Nope. Got everything set up, did my little sweep of the premises, we’re all clear.” Brass let out a sigh of relief. “Anything interesting?” “We’ve got a few secret compartments, like the salespony said. One’s under your bed, even.” The colt squealed with excitement. “Any hidden treasure?” “Nah, all cleared out and empty. Speaking of which.” Upshot went to fetch a contraption of fabric and metal. “You’re sure you want to get rid of this one?” Brass gulped. “I’m sure. It’s old. I’ve made better.” “It’s one of your first, though. You got your cutie mark making this.” “It’s got holes in it. Even if I patch it up, you can tell it used to have holes in it. I got in trouble because it’s got holes in it.” Upshot sighed. “Brass, you know that’s not true. It wasn’t your fault. You did a good thing. But, if you really wanna get rid of it, I won’t stop you. Did Miss Pinkie Pie give you any ideas for this one?” “No, actually. She didn’t know anypony that might want this. But I already know who to give it to.” “Really? Who?” “Scootaloo?” Rarity set down some teacups filled with hot cocoa. She let one of them float over the prone filly’s back, gently pushing the warm porcelain against the base of a wing. “Ugh…” Clearly that felt better, since Scootaloo let out a content sigh. “What happened?” “You were speeding around Ponyville, darling,” Rarity replied. “And you almost fell. In fact, you passed out right as I caught you. You were lucky I was hanging my laundry when I heard you. That could have been a ghastly accident, you really should be more careful. How are you feeling?” “Tired. Really tired.” The girl groaned. “My head’s pounding.” “Here.” Rarity offered her the hot cocoa. “You’ll want to get some strength back, then. Are you hurt at all?” “No.” She sipped from the warm drink, eyes woozy. “Thanks for catching me.” Not just woozy, Rarity realised, but red. Scootaloo had been crying, or was about to cry before the fall. “It’s nothing, darling. But do you mind telling me why you were going so quickly? Or where? Is there an emergency back home?” “No. Sort of.” She sighed. “Rarity, do you remember last time I was here?” “It’s been a few weeks, but yes. Why?” “Do you remember if I left a notebook here?” “A notebook? It’s possible. What does it look like?” “Umm, golden cover, it’s got a little lock on it?” Ah. Rarity didn’t need long to figure it out. “You mean like a diary?” Scootaloo let her head hang. “Yeah.” Rarity nodded in sympathy. “I must admit, you don’t strike me as the type to have one, but I suppose it makes sense. When push comes to shove, you don’t have quite as many ponies to share your thoughts with, do you?” “No.” “And that’s why you were going so quickly? Because you’ve lost it?” “I think I know where it is. The new kid in town? Brass Tack?” “You think he has it?” She nodded. “And I think he’s read it, too.” “But there’s a lock on it, you just said.” “He’s a tinkerer, he can open a lock. Besides, I think the key’s still on it. I messed up.” “Clearly, but it’s not the end of the world. Why would he read your diary to begin with? You think he stole it?” “No, I think it’s under my bed and he found it.” Rarity shook her head and took a sip of her cocoa. “Alright, darling, from the top: what is the matter? You look rattled, and that’s not like you.” “It’s nothing. It’s just… everywhere I’ve been today, he’s there. I went to Rumble’s, he’s fixed it so Rumble can basically talk again. I went to Fluttershy’s, he’s there and he’s got her this anti-venom thingie. And then I went to Rainbow Dash, and he was there again!” Rarity tapped her chin, pensive. “Ah. His uncle did mention something along those lines.” “Don’t tell me he was here, too?” “Not yet, but he will be, fitting him for a formal suit, you see. Only his uncle came around. You’ll never guess what for, it’s quite scandalous, actually.” “What was it?” “That fine stallion Upshot came to me because, out of all the mares in Ponyville, he thinks I’m the best pony to be doing matchmaking. He wants to find a mare to marry, can you believe that? On his first day here, he comes around to ask that. I mean, he’s right, of course, but still, that Ostlerian brazenness, it’s quite the thrill to have around. Point being, darling, Brass Tack and you have something in common.” “We both don’t have our parents around.” Rarity patted the girl on the back. “And you both have a fine network of grownups to rely on in their stead. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was why the boy was flitting about all over Ponyville. Surely you wouldn’t begrudge him that?” “No. But that’s not the point.” “Of course not. I’m only saying that there may be some things you are unaware of.” Scootaloo furrowed her brow. “What sort of mare was he looking for? Upshot, I mean?” “Ooh, and here I thought you weren’t much of a gossip. Well, for starters, he wants a good mother figure for his nephew. Now that’s easy to find anywhere in Equestria, but she has to be willing to put up with a bit of chaos, and that narrows down the field, as it were. I’ve suited plenty of mares who’d make great mothers, but I doubt they could handle the likes of Sweetie Belle, never mind a colt with tinkering magic.” “Rarity?” Scootaloo asked. “But then, of course, there are some specifics. He wants a graceful mare, one who is neat and tidy, preferably one who knows a thing or two about protocol, which I think means he’s looking to talk his way into Canterlot circles. Can you imagine, a rugged Ostlerian like that in Canterlot? Oh, he’d be the talk of the town, for better or worse. Obviously, that means I’ll be looking in Canterlot to begin with. Sassy Saddles might give him a chance, but she’s more of a financial-minded pony. I haven’t quite thought of anyone with proper high society aspirations.” “Rarity,” Scootaloo repeated. “And in terms of skill, he was surprisingly traditional: he can cook for himself, but he’d like someone willing to do that for him. She needs to have a good eye for detail, because their household has some dangerous items lying around. And she needs to have a good sense of humour, which unfortunately rules out a lot of the Canterlot mares. I suppose there are some showponies I could ask…” “Rarity!” “Yes, darling?” “I wasn’t asking for gossip,” Scootaloo said. “I was just curious because it sounded like maybe Upshot wanted a mare around for his nephew more than for himself.” Rarity hummed to herself. “That’s possible, but I doubt it. He seemed like quite the romantic, actually. You’d best be on the lookout for Brass Tack, then, too: if it runs in the family, you know.” Scootaloo fell silent. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” “Alright, then, but consider yourself warned. Can I ask why were you going to all those ponies in the first place? That is a lot of ground to cover in one day, especially with sore wings, even for you.” She grunted. “I had to go to Rumble’s because I promised I’d help him with his homework. I live closest to him. Then I went to Fluttershy’s because my wings hurt and she’s the only one with tiger balm right now.” “And hers was out of stock, too?” “No.” “But you do not have anything on your wings now.” The filly scrunched her nose. “I didn’t ask for any. I didn’t want her to think I was a baby. Then I went to see Rainbow Dash because I thought maybe, just maybe, my diary was still at her place. But it wasn’t. So I got tired of failing and… I went for a ride to clear my head.” “And is your head clearer now?” “No.” Scootaloo tensed up all over, and winced at the obvious pain. “I want my diary back. I don’t want him to have it. I don’t want him to read it.” “Is that really what’s bothering you, darling?” “Of course it is. What else could it be?” Rarity sighed in sympathy. “Perhaps this is my inner gossip talking, but it sounds to me like you’ve been racing across town on borrowed time. It sounds like those daily trips to Rumble’s have been taking their toll, and with all the rushing to and fro you’ve been doing your body has hit its limit. And it sounds like perhaps you’re feeling a little threatened by this boy. Would you say that’s a fair assessment?” “Maybe,” Scootaloo conceded. “But what else am I supposed to feel? He hasn’t been here for a week and he’s already faster than me, he’s made friends with all the grownups, and he’s taken over something I’m supposed to be doing.” “You mean Rumble, yes? Remind me again why you are doing that?” “Because I live closest to him.” “Not anymore you don’t. Right now you live on the other side of Ponyville, with a lot more turns and traffic slowing you down.” “That doesn’t matter. I’m supposed to do it.” Rarity bit her lip and winced. She saw the weak spot in the girl’s logic. This was going to hurt. “In the same fashion you were supposed to fly for the Equestria Games, perhaps? Or like you were supposed to fly for the Wonderbolts, or the Washouts?” Scootaloo looked up, betrayal on her face. “You read my diary, too?” Rarity recoiled. “Heavens, no. I do not need to read your diary to know what goes on in your life, Scootaloo: I have a little sister and plenty of friends who speak to me about these things. I don’t need any diary to know what sort of filly I’m dealing with.” “And what sort is that? The sort that’s too weak?” “Yes, actually. The sort that’s far too weak to carry all that weight she puts on her own back.” She rubbed between Scootaloo’s wings. “The sort who doesn’t realise she’s overloading herself. You cannot keep doing this.” Rarity let out a most unladylike snort. “Take it from a pony who knows, darling: you can be your own worst enemy sometimes. It’s important to forgive yourself for failing, otherwise you can’t possibly get better.” Scootaloo looked away and sniffled. “But what if I’m not ever gonna get better?” “You’ve been getting better, haven’t you? I know for a fact you are much faster than when you first met Sweetie Belle, and I distinctly recall you getting up to cloud height on our first camping trip. But then for some reason, you stopped gaining altitude. Why do you think that is?” “I don’t really know. I haven’t really gotten that high since. What do you think?” “Perhaps you’ve been kept so busy with other things, you never got around to trying. Magic is odd like that sometimes.” “Maybe. Thanks, Rarity.” Scootaloo wiped her eyes. “I guess maybe I have been overdoing a little with, everything going on.” “Quite understandable, darling. So, what do you intend to do next?” “I think maybe I should talk to Brass Tack first. If I just ask him nicely if I can check where my diary is, he’ll probably give it to me. He’s been giving away stuff all day, he probably won’t think twice about it.” “And after that?” “I’ll apologise for thinking bad stuff about him?” “No. Word of advice when dealing with Unicorns, darling: never apologise for what you’re thinking, only your actions. What else?” “I-I don’t know?” Rarity pointed to the girl’s wings. “Rest. Give those wings a break, and keep them warm, you’re going to have terrible cramps for a week from the sound of it. Do you think you can get home on your own, or should I fetch your aunts?” “I can get home alone.” “You are certain?” “I promise. I’ll go slow and easy.” Scootaloo pushed her scooter forward, walking slowly. “Oi, hang on, Skippy!” Right on cue, she heard Brass Tack’s voice. Because of course he was there. “My name is Scootaloo.” “I know. I just figured, you’re Ostlerian, you’d like-never mind.” He walked alongside her. He still had his backpack on, she noticed. “Have you got a minute?” “I’m just walking home, so yeah. I was going to come over to ask you something, actually.” “Oh.” He winced. “Can I say my piece first, please? Just in case it changes what you’re gonna say?” She shrugged. “Sure. What is it?” “Well, I guess first I wanted to apologise if I butted in any place I shouldn’t have. I know I’m new here, but I really wanted to get off on the right hoof in Ponyville. I didn’t know you were going the same way as me… three times. Otherwise I would have said something sooner.” She shrugged again. “Not like that would have changed anything.” He stopped and rummaged through his backpack. “That’s just it: it might have.” He took out a fabric and metal contraption, and gave it to her. On closer inspection, it was a suit for a pony, a pony with wings, judging from the holes. The metal bits looked like things that could unfurl, and it didn’t take Scootaloo long to see what they would unfurl into. Propellers. This was a suit with the same sort of propellers she’d seen on drones her dad used for taking pictures from a high vantage point. “This is a flight suit? You were gonna give me a flight suit?” He blushed and rubbed the back of his head. “Not exactly. Pinkie Pie told me where I could donate the rest of my things. I got a good place for everything, except this. She didn’t know anypony who could use this, especially since it’s foal-sized. But then I noticed you were going to and fro in Ponyville, and I was zipping around in my suit, but I never saw you in the air.” Realisation finally hit Scootaloo, and a wave of relief came with it. He has a flight suit. He flies with a machine. That’s how he got everywhere so quickly. That’s why he beat me everywhere. He’s not faster than me, he’s just got better gear. “And you want me to have this?” He pushed it towards her and locked eyes with her. “It’s one of the first things I made, and the first thing I was ever really proud of. I got my cutie mark making this. Try it on, see if it fits.” She dropped her scooter and helmet and did just that. Slipping her limbs through the holes, it was a snug fit, designed much like a lifejacket. Threading her wings through hurt a bit, with the stiffness, but she managed it. Once she fastened the final clip over her chest, he gave her a bracelet. “This is the controller. You tap it once to turn it on.” She did as he told her, and the suit hummed to life. The propellers unfurled and took position. There were crystals that started buzzing in a compartment on her back, and the two propellers started turning. She felt the pressure on her belly, but stayed on the ground. “I don’t think this is working.” “Try flapping your wings, slowly.” Again, she did as he told her. Her breath caught. Even a weak, pathetic flap of her wings was enough to get her hooves off the ground. The pressure against her belly abated in that quick little jump. She tried again, and managed to hover for a good five seconds. “This is amazing. I can fly with this thing?” “It can fly on its own, too. I had to guesstimate the setting, but that’s a moderate power you’re on right now. Try sliding a hoof along the controller, clock-wise.” That immediately lifted her up, even with zero wing action. “Whoa.” She stayed put, floating perfectly still. On a hunch, she tried pushing herself forward. That worked, too. A sense of disappointment washed over her. He was taking pity on her. “These are just prosthetics for my wings, aren’t they? I can’t compete in anything with this?” Brass scratched behind his ears, thinking. “No, but this isn’t a competition-level suit in the first place. And it’s not really prosthetic, technically? I just figured: if you can’t fly yet, you can use that for practice. You can flap your wings as hard as you like, and set the power to what you need for a full takeoff. You can work on moving forward in the air if all you’re lacking is lift, and I’m guessing you haven’t gotten practice in that, either. But then you can tune it down and rely on your wings more, maybe.” “Until I don’t need them anymore. Like training wheels.” “Or you can wear it if you’re too worn out, and let the machine give you some rest.” Her heart skipped a beat when she realised. I can get around with this. I can rest with this and not have to worry. I could actually learn how to fly with this. She wiped her eyes and shook her head, setting back down. “I can’t accept this. This is too much.” He took a step back. “Please accept it? I don’t want it in my house anymore. It’s got all the safeties: feather fall failsafe, standard damage self-mending functionality, broken blade compensation, you name it. And I’ve got a better one now. That one’s designed for a Pegasus: I was following the schematics to the letter when I made that. I’ve got one for Unicorns now as it is.” “Then why not just get rid of it? Why give this to me?” “Because I got in a lot of trouble for making that. I want something good to come out of it, and I reckon you’ll get something really good. You might say I’ve got a talent for that kind of thing.” He got in a lot of trouble right after he got his cutie mark. Weird that how that worked. Still, as a Cutie Mark Crusader, Scootaloo knew her duty. “Right. Okay, I accept, then. Thank you. You have no idea how big this is.” “No worries. Now, what did you wanna ask me?” He winced. “Umm, you know how your room used to be my room?” “Yeah?” “Did you find any secret compartments under the bed?” He perked up. “Oh, you knew about those? Yeah, my uncle did a full ping of the house while I was out. There was one under the bed, he said.” “Did he find anything?” “He found all the compartments. A couple of’em were cloaked, but it was old magic, a bit weak.” “But nothing in the compartments?” Brass Tack shook his head. “No, nothing. All empty. Why?” So I did lose it. It’s gone. “I’m guessing you lost something in the big move out?” “Yeah, I think so.” “Well, me and my uncle both know how to locate missing objects, if you can tell me what it is, I can help you find it.” She smiled. “That’d be great, but not right now. I think I need to get home and lie down. Been overdoing it, you know?” “I’ll bet. I heard about your parents, and how everypony pitched in to let you stay. Do you know where they are?” “Shire Lanka. Your uncle didn’t tell you?” The boy gulped. “Oh. N-nah, he didn’t. It’s, umm, that’s where my parents are, actually, that’s probably why. Bit of a dangerous place for ponies, doesn’t want me worrying.” “Oh, cool! Maybe they’ll run into each other over there. Wouldn’t that be something?” “Yeah.” He looked away. “Wouldn’t that be something. Anyway, you go and get some rest, try aiming the propellors on your scooter, that should get you home quicker. And let me know if you need anything tweaked on that flight suit. I promise, it’s got all the standard safeties on it, so you won’t have any accidents with it. Just, you know, keep your helmet on, be smart, don’t go diving into croc ponds or nothing.” “I’ll be careful. Thanks, Brass Tack.” “No worries. I’ll leave you to it, then.” “No, wait.” Scootaloo reached out to stop him. “You don’t have to leave. And you didn’t really have to leave those other times because I was there, either.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I know it’s awkward, but… could you do me two favours?” “Reckon I can. Name’em.” “Could you walk me home, please? We’re probably gonna run into each other a lot, and you might wanna know where I live, just in case.” “Sure. What’s the second thing?” “I, umm… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but… I don’t really have an accent. My aunt does, and my mom and dad do, but I don’t really know that much about Ostleria. Do you think you can give me the cliff notes on some of it?” “Oh, defo, mate. But Cliff Notes isn’t an Ozzy; he’s a Kiwi, lots of ponies make that mistake. Anyway, I reckon the first thing you’ll wanna know about is something we call 'fair dinkum'...” Scootaloo switched on the suit, positioned herself on her scooter, and with her helmet on, rode through Ponyville with her wings tucked warmly by her sides, listening to the boy as they went to her place at a leisurely pace. Lost my diary, busted up my wings, but got a new… friend? Buddy? Eh, something. And a new flight suit. Guess that’s not a total disaster of a day.