Rarity, Miss Pie, and the easily excitable mailmare had worked together to drag Twilight and Trixie into the library while Gilda had retreated to her room with her suitcase.
“I don’t feel comfortable leaving these two alone here,” Rarity muttered after they had positioned them on the couch.
“They are married, Miss Belle,” Miss Pie pointed out and shrugged. “I believe there is no moral objection to leaving them alone to...” She gestured vaguely.
Rarity gave her an exasperated look. “I didn’t mean that! I’m worried because they’re both weakened. What if... I don’t know... one of them suffers from some magic aftershock?”
“...oh,” Miss Pie conceded and coughed. Then she slowly tilted her head. “Magic aftershock? Does such a thing exist?”
“I don’t know, but nobody here is a doctor.” She paused. “Okay, Twilight does have three doctor’s degrees, but none of them in medicine. Anyway. Point being, nopony knows if what she did was healthy. I mean, you’ve seen them. Twilight had some sort of seizure, for crying out loud!”
“Fair,” Miss Pie allowed and crossed her arms. “What do you suggest?”
“You stay here with them. That way-”
“No.” Miss Pie held up her hand when Rarity was about to object to the objection. “My task is to ensure that Miss Dawnstar and you play by the rules. I will not let you two go to the farm unsupervised.”
“Great, then you tell Gilda that we will stay here until we can all go.”
“She will likely just go by herself. In which case, I would accompany her the way I accompanied you.”
“I’m not going to let her go by herself!” Rarity hissed.
“This would be a good time to point out that you went without her before.”
“It’s not my fault she wasn’t here to come along!”
“Strictly speaking-”
“Anyway!” Rarity gestured impatiently. “One of us has to stay here, and it’s not going to be me.”
“I could stay!” the mailmare volunteered.
Rarity opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again. Another failed attempt later, she frowned deeply. “...with all due respect, why are you still here?”
“Got all my deliveries done for the day!” Miss Muffin cheered as if that explained everything.
“That would be a solution to break out of this stalemate,” Miss Pie said.
Rarity raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I want to trust the life of my assistant with a pony I met literally five minutes ago.”
“Literally speaking, it has been longer than five minutes,” Miss Pie corrected her. The most annoying part was that Rarity was not sure if she was being pedantic on purpose or if that was just how she ticked. “And for what it’s worth, I trust her.”
Rarity blinked at that. “Do you, now? May I ask why?”
“Because-...” For a long second, Miss Pie was looking genuinely confused. “She’s-...” It was almost frightening to see the dreaded Adjudicator being at a complete loss and looking like, well, an actual person.
“She trusted me with the delivery!” Miss Mare chimed in.
“Yes!” Miss Pie was looking massively relieved to have been thrown a lifeline. “Thank you! See?”
Rarity narrowed her eyes. Okay, on the one hand, there is no way that delivering a box is on the same level as taking care of two unicorns who might literally catch fire at any moment for all that we know. Also, that is a flimsy basis for trust. She exchanged looks with Miss Pie. On the other hand, the odds of Twilight actually catching fire are probably slim, and if I accept, I could join Gilda without looking like I’m throwing Twilight under the bus. Which I totally am not doing. Also, Miss Pie’s job is to act as a judge, and while she couldn’t seem to find the right words, she did deem this crazy pegasus trustworthy. “Fine, I trust your judgment,” she sighed. “Miss Mare, thank you for your kind offer. If there is any way to repay your kindness, just say the word.”
“Three bits.”
“...pardon me?”
“Three bits. Per hour.” Miss Muffin beamed. “It’s my foalsitter fee!”
Rarity giggled at that. “I believe that can be arranged.” She turned around to the stairs when she heard Gilda coming down. “Hey, you won’t believe what-...” Her smile froze. “Oh, hay no.”
Gilda gave her a winning smile even as she adjusted her brown stetson and tucked the last corner of her purple plaid shirt into her jeans. Then she frowned, seemingly unaware of Rarity’s horrified expression. “Wait, nah, that feels dumb.” She pulled the shirt back out and flexed her arms to check the feel. “Much better!” Finally, she acknowledged her rival. “What do y’all think?”
She had packed a farm outfit into her suitcase, Rarity realized, even as Gilda spread her wings to test the width of the holes at the back of the shirt. It was never about the stupid contract. Or at least not primarily. And even after all these years, I failed to realize that there is always more than one layer to Gilda’s plans! Her eyes flicked over to Twilight. And she MADE IT HAPPEN. She scowled but barely managed to stop herself from making a move. Okay, stop, stop, stop. THINK, Rarity! You allowed this to happen, Twilight nearly killed herself there, and really, what are the odds that an act will make the farmer willing to sell? Plus, Gilda agreed to move out if-... I mean when the farmer says no. She gritted her teeth. “Let’s just go.” Besides, I can still strangle Twilight after I lose my job.
Somehow, being knocked out by her own briefcase must have temporarily erased her memories of The Hike Of Doom. “Why did I agree to come all the way up here again?” Rarity wheezed, gesturing at Gilda, who had the decency to look at least mildly winded. “An’ you... why didn’t you fly? Are your wings still sore?”
Gilda briefly took off her hat and fanned herself with it while she was catching her breath. “Wings are feeling a lot better, actually. But I want to conserve my energy. Besides... this way, I got to see your worried face the entire time!” She flashed her a grin.
“I’m hardly worried, darling,” Rarity muttered. “I just... can’t believe you’d think your ridiculous attempt at mimicry would help you.”
“Eh, maybe it won’t,” Gilda admitted and shrugged. “But this is actually fairly comfortable! And from what you said, I can probably use every advantage I can get, no matter how small it is.” She gave Rarity and then Miss Pie a dark look. “Of course, having you two suits hovering around me kinda ruins the effect.”
“Tch, please. You need us to be here.”
Gilda did a double-take at that. “I what now?”
“You need us to be here,” Rarity repeated patiently. “After all, if we weren’t here, there would be nopony for you to blame once you fail.”
“I would’ve blamed you, anyway,” Gilda muttered and turned around sharply, slapping Rarity with one wing.
Today, the farmers weren’t outside, so Gilda marched straight to the main house’s front door... looked for the doorbell... found none... and finally knocked sharply on the door.
The door opened, but it was impossible to look inside since Big McIntosh somehow completely filled out the frame. “Mh?” he asked and took a step forward, giving Gilda plenty of time to move backward.
There was no practical way to prove it, but Rarity could swear that she felt the tectonic plates shifting under the gravitational pull of his sheer mass in motion. He is probably barred from doing jumping jacks out of fear that he might alter the moon’s orbit.
“Well, gee howdy!” Gilda squawked in her best imitation of a country drawl. “They sure make ’em big out here!”
Big McIntosh gave her a look, then slowly focused on Rarity and Miss Pie. “...you with them?”
“They followed me home; can I keep ‘em?” Gilda flashed him a winning smile.
“This ain’t your home.” Big McIntosh leaned down a little bit, and Gilda took an immediate step backward. “Ain’t never gonna be yer home, either,” he added for emphasis.
Gilda nodded slowly to herself. “Right. Right. Look, can we just-”
“BLOOM!” Big McIntosh shouted over his shoulder.
“...yeah?” the youngest Apple sibling shouted back from somewhere inside.
“YA MIND BRINGIN’ ME THE OL’ ’73?”
Rarity could hear a sigh. “Fiiine!”
Gilda forced a smile. She didn’t like to be interrupted or ignored, but she wouldn’t be allowed to legally murder this family before she got a signature. Afterward... it would probably still be illegal, but Gilda was known to get creative with Easter eggs in her contracts. “Sir, I don’t know what this suit was offering, but I will make you this offer: round up to the nearest million from whatever she had promised, then add another million on top of that.”
WHAT? Rarity opened her mouth to argue but forced herself to remain calm, at least on the outside. Five million bits? There is absolutely no way she can spend that money. That’s what we had for the entire village! What’s she going to do, pay for the rest from her own-... She gasped. By the makers! That’s it! She’s literally going to burn through her private funds! That’s insane! ...and also brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that? Why didn’t Twilight think of that?
“...so ten million bits?” Big McIntosh asked and raised an eyebrow.
Why did this pony fail his math class?
“T-ten?” Gilda did a double-take at that. “TEN? Did she-...” She spun around and dashed over to Rarity. “What were you doing yesterday?” she hissed.
Rarity opened her mouth to answer, but then she noticed the slight smile on Big McIntosh’s lips. That was a bluff. He didn’t botch his math; he made Gilda flinch. She shrugged. “What, you think you’re the only one willing to spend her own money to secure this contract?” she asked, piling her own bluff on top of his. “So go ahead... pay up.”
Gilda only managed to stop her hands when they were an inch away from Rarity’s throat. “We will have words later,” she snarled, then turned around to walk back to the farmer, not even bothering with the wing slap this time. “Sir, we might need to-...” She froze.
Rarity leaned to the side to see past Gilda and immediately regretted her decision. The stallion had somehow managed to get his hands on an old-timey, lever-action rifle that seemed to come straight from a Western movie set. Where did that even come from? Does he keep a rifle next to-... She gasped when her brain reviewed the footage of the last two minutes. The old ’73. He was talking about a Whinnychester ’73, wasn’t he?
“Ma’am,” Big McIntosh said slowly, his polite tone betraying the fact that he was cradling a firearm in his arms, “I’m afraid that I must ask you an’ your friends to leave now.”
Gilda stood still for several seconds, but then she relaxed and casually walked back to him. “Yeah, right.” She stopped right in front of him and crossed her arms. “You’re not going to shoot me. Even if you had the guts to do it, this antique prolly doesn’t even work. Maybe it did a few hundred years ago when your great-great-great-grandfather built this farm, but right now, it’s probably just as run-down as the rest of this worthless farm.” She waited a second for a reaction. “Just a husk, reminiscing about its old glory days.”
Big McIntosh sighed. “You must be mistakin’ me for my sister,” he muttered. “She’s the one who’s easier to bait by talkin’ smack ‘bout the farm. I’m more laid-back and soft-spoken.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d be the nice one. Great physique for a threat, but that’s it.” Gilda smirked and cracked her knuckles. Then she placed one hand on his upper arm, digging her talons into his coat and skin. “Listen, I tried doing this the easy way, okay? But at the end of the day, I’m willing to fight for what I want.” Her grip seemed to tighten because even from the slight distance, Rarity could see that she was drawing a bit of blood. “Are you?”
Big McIntosh slowly looked down at his arm as if he wasn’t even feeling any pain. Then he looked back at Gilda. “This is unnecessary,” he finally muttered. “We ain’t sellin’ the farm, but you’re free to try violence on me if it makes ya feel better.”
“I might, yeah.” Gilda shrugged. “If you don’t sell, I lose my job.”
“If your job is to threaten innocent ponies and bully them into selling their farm, you’ll be better off unemployed.” Big McIntosh was looking rather unimpressed.
She pretended to not have heard him. “And if I go down, I will take it out on you.” She let go of his arm and inspected her bloodied talons. “On all of you.”
“This is between you and me.”
Rarity could feel the hairs at the back of her neck standing up. The conversation had ceased to be productive when Big McIntosh waved the gun around, and it had just gotten worse from there. This last exchange, however, had clearly crossed a line.
“This farm isn’t yours alone,” Gilda countered, seemingly unaware of Big McIntosh’s tone. “It belongs to you, to Granny Smith, to Applejack, and to Apple Bloo-”
Gilda had been hit by a car once. Canterlot traffic was terrible on the best of days, and Gilda’s habit of not looking both ways before crossing any given street certainly hadn’t helped. So one day, a driver had either not seen the clearly insane griffon who had just walked right in front of his car, or he hadn’t cared. Either way, Gilda had been sent flying (before taking out her adrenaline-fueled rage on the car with her talons).
The car, however, had not propelled her as far as Big McIntosh’s shove just had.
“Leave,” the muscular stallion growled. “Now.”
Gilda blinked. She was clearly still trying to process why her chest was hurting and what she was doing on her back on the ground. Then she got back up - Rarity knew her body language well enough to see that she was in a bit of pain, even if she put on a brave face - and smirked at him. “Sure,” she told him. “For now.” Then she turned her back to him and walked towards and then past Rarity and Miss Pie. “Next time, my offer will be significantly lower,” she announced loudly without even looking at him, “and you will wish you had been more thankful for my early generosity.”
Rarity gave Big McIntosh one last look before following Gilda. The stallion was clearly enraged, but while Miss Applejack’s rage had been a hot flame, his rage was a cold inferno. She shuddered when she saw the urge to kill hiding behind his overall calm facade. Right. I’m probably lucky that we don’t have to carry Gilda back down... in multiple pieces... “Wasn’t such a bad shot, actually,” she commented after mentally evaluating how to deal with Gilda in her current state.
“Zip it, dweeb,” Gilda hissed. She was mad but still civil (at least by her standards), which was much better than Rarity had expected. “Stupid farmer hits like a freight train, and I don’t think he was even trying to hurt me.”
“You got luckier than me in the violence department, trust me,” Rarity muttered. “Whole family is crazy.” Even though you were a colossal jerk while I had just been trying to negotiate.
Gilda huffed. “Suppose so.” They were marching away from the farmhouse and towards the long, winding path leading back to the village. Gilda absentmindedly plucked an apple from a nearby tree as she walked past it and rubbed it against her shirt. “Never had a fresh apple before,” she mused. “Not usually into this whole organic food stuff, but might as well try one, right? You’d prolly pay five bits for this back in Canterlot.” She inspected it, smiled, then lazily tossed it up in the air, watching it spin, and held out her hand to catch-
The apple exploded into fine mist in mid-air before Rarity’s ears even registered the sound of the rifle shot.
Before she could fully process what had happened, Gilda had already tackled her to the ground.
And then Gilda exploded.
Not into fine mist, but into rage.
Between the waterfall of swear words, Rarity counted fifteen threats to burn down the farm, eight to bulldoze it with its inhabitants still inside, and around a dozen or so to eviscerate various members of the Apple family (the exact count depended on whether or not their dog counted as a family member). The sole reason why the encounter didn’t end with Gilda spontaneously losing a lot of weight as part of the “bleed to death” fad diet was Rarity physically holding her back. “C’mon, let’s go,” she hissed. “Let’s just go!”
Miss Pie finally assisted her by picking the still screeching Gilda up and carrying her down the path. “That went well,” the Earth pony commented drily, as if not even noticing Gilda’s violent struggles. “I feel the need to point out that so far, every visit to this farm ended with somebody not leaving it on their own two legs.”
“Duly noted. Speaking of which, I believe you can risk letting her down now - her incessant screeching is back down to normal levels-” Rarity rubbed her ears for emphasis - Gilda had often lost her cool, but apparently, a life-or-death situation had unlocked a whole new level of sheer volume in her.
“Very well, I bow to your expertise when it comes to the rage levels of your coworker,” Miss Pie said and carefully placed Gilda on the ground.
“ABOUT TIME, YOU STONE-FACED B-...” Gilda snapped and pointed a talon at Miss Pie but stopped mid-swear when she realized how badly her hand was shaking. Muttering several curses under her breath, she hugged herself tightly before leaning against a nearby tree and sliding down into a sitting position.
A part of Rarity wanted to taunt her, to rub in the events of the past few minutes. A bigger part, however, remembered that Gilda’s first instinct had been to shove her out of the way of any more potential gunfire. Not that she’d ever admit as much. Just how she would never acknowledge that me holding her back probably saved her life. She huffed. “Some family, huh?” she finally asked and smiled.
“Is that why you’re walking around with a bandage?”
“I told you that Miss Applejack-”
“-did this to you, yes, yes.” Gilda interrupted her. “Did a bullet graze you?”
“She did a... slingshot... thing with her lasso and my briefcase.” Rarity frowned. “After pumping it full of lead.”
“You always had to be that tiny bit extra,” Gilda muttered and gave her a weak smirk. Then she sighed. “So. Apple family isn’t selling.”
“Would’ve been too easy,” Rarity agreed.
Gilda got back up and dusted off the back of her pants. “Yeah, looks like we actually gotta work for my promotion.”
Rarity rolled her eyes at the phrasing but didn’t comment on it. “By the way, you’re still moving out of the library.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
Applejack had overslept exactly once in her life, more than a decade ago, and Big McIntosh still lorded it over her. Among all the promises she had made to herself, “never oversleep again” ranked just a tiny bit lower than “save the farm.”
Now, as she was waking up to noise and - more importantly - sunshine, Applejack realized that she had failed. “Ugh,” she groaned and tried to will herself to get up. It was surprisingly hard, mostly because she was not feeling rested. At all. Gee, I wonder why that is, she thought and rolled her eyes. Could it be because you spent all night just tossing and turning? Nahhhhhhh.
Any moment now, her brother would come in and laugh at her for oversleeping. Again. She could practically hear his voice as he called-
“BLOOM!”
Even in her sleep-deprived state, she realized that that was not her name. She also realized that he was sounding... annoyed? Angry? She tilted her head. Something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure how wrong yet.
“...yeah?” Apple Bloom shouted back from the kitchen.
What time is it if she’s already at work for lunch? Ugh, he’s never going to let me live this one down.
“YA MIND BRINGIN’ ME THE OL’ ’73?”
Applejack froze for a second before hurriedly grabbing her clothes from her chair. There were few reasons why Big McIntosh would ever ask to be handed his trusty Whinnychester outside of the occasional pest control season. However, “Miss Belle of McEvilCorp” (or whatever the company was called) probably counted as one of said reasons in the eyes of a stallion who was determined to defend his home.
Getting dressed in a panic was a lot harder than she had expected, but either Apple Bloom was trying to stall, or Big McIntosh had enough brain cells left to not outright murder a defenseless unicorn.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Applejack was hurrying down the stairs. It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine. You can talk. Make sure that Miss Belle is okay, then send her on her merry-
She arrived downstairs just in time to see her brother taking aim. She opened her mouth to scream something, anything, but it was too late. The gunshot made her freeze in place, one hand helplessly outstretched. NO! NO NO NO!
And then the cursing started.
The first thing Applejack noticed was the sheer range of the vocabulary. She hadn’t exactly been raised as a saint (or by saints), but right now, even Granny Smith probably could have learned a new word or two.
The second thing Applejack noticed was that the person doing the cursing was not Miss Belle, unless Miss Belle had participated (and lost her voice) in a late-night Turkey Call contest. So she wasn’t the target... or she’s now bleeding to death, and this is one of her coworkers swearing to burn down the farm.
She took a deep breath, trying to banish the image of Miss Belle lying in a puddle of blood from her mind. Then she took a look through the door.
Miss Belle and the pink-coated Earth pony were indeed at the rough edge of the road leading down to Ponyville. Thankfully, both of them appeared to be fine. The third person, a griffon, on the other hand, appeared to be slightly less fine. Unlike the ponies who were with her, she at least had shown some common sense about how normal folks tended to dress. Applejack especially approved of the hat, even though she was admittedly biased in that department. However, all style points were lost when the Earth pony flung the still cursing griffon over her shoulder and started to carry her away.
“Ah. Hey.” Big McIntosh only now noticed her. He worked the lever to eject the empty cartridge. “Sorry to wake you up like that.” He paused when he saw her still slightly horrified expression. “They were never in danger. You know my aim.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” She ran a hand through her mane and let out a long sigh.
“We’re down one apple, though.”
“Heh.” She smirked at that. We’ll be down a lot more than that by the end of the season, she added silently. “Was that griffon working for Miss Belle?”
He shrugged. “They didn’t go into details, but she looked like a rival. Offered even more money.”
“Wow... why? Is there a gold mine under the farm?”
“Beats me. Didn’t ask.” He held up his arm. There was blood dripping from it. “I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.”
“You’ll be hurting a lot more if Apple Bloom learns she has to mop up your mess,” Applejack commented drily and handed him one of her handkerchiefs. “I’ll get the first-aid kit.”
“Thanks.” He frowned. “Oh, and...”
“Yeah?”
“You overslept.” He grinned. “Again.”
“UGH!”
They walked back in relative silence - Gilda and Rarity had used up their annual supply of pleasantries, and Miss Pie was the silent type, anyway.
“I seriously hope Trixie packed a tent,” Gilda muttered when they finally got close to the library again. “Miss Lestia’s car is amazing to drive but too cramped to sleep in.”
“...you literally made Trixie sleep in it.”
“Yeah, but that’s just... Trixie.” Gilda shrugged, then shrugged again when she noticed Rarity’s exasperated expression. “What?”
“Have you ever tried not being a jerk?”
“You know I have,” Gilda hissed, then sighed and ran a hand over her head to smoothen out her feathers. “Didn’t work out,” she added quietly.
Rarity cast her eyes down. “Maybe if you-”
“What the-...” Gilda interrupted her. “HEY! DWEEBS!”
Rarity blinked and forced herself to return to the here and now. She looked up and saw who Gilda was shouting at: two pegasus ponies were openly admiring the Corvid.
“HANDS OFF MY CAR!” Gilda snapped.
“The car is company property and doesn’t-”
“NOT THE TIME, PONKIDONK!”
One of the two ponies immediately stepped away from the car, looking extremely guilty. Her long, pink mane hid most of her features and her yellow coat, but Rarity was impressed by what little she did see. Move to Canterlot, darling, and become a model. You certainly have the build for it, and I’d imagine the city folks would eat up your shy wallflower act. ...maybe ditch the hippie look, though - it’s so not the season for flowy blouses and wide-legged pants.
The other pony, a blue-coated pegasus with a literal rainbow mane and tail, was much lazier and merely gave Gilda a look over her shoulder... before doing a double-take when she saw her. “Well, hello there,” she practically purred and gave Gilda the cockiest smile ever.
Great. Been nice knowing you. Rarity didn’t bother trying to restrain Gilda this time - she was exhausted and trusted Miss Pie to disqualify her for the inevitable, excessive violence.
“I WILL-...” Gilda paused when the rainbow-y pegasus practically pranced over to her. “LOOK, THIS IS-...” Another pause, this time caused by the pegasus unfolding and pulling at one of Gilda’s wings. Apparently, her concept of personal space was gathering dust in a corner, right next to her survival instinct.
“Daaang, look at her wingspan, Flutters!” She shot her friend a lewd grin. “You know what they say about girls with big wings, eh?”
The other pegasus seemed to shrink under the sudden attention. Rarity couldn’t help but notice that this “Flutters” character seemed to have much larger wings than her obviously suicidal friend. Long and probably fragile versus short and made for sharp turns and high speeds?
“Yes, Dash, you have mentioned it once or twice-...” Her voice went from a whisper to barely audible. “...-per week.”
Gilda looked from one pegasus to the other. She clearly wasn’t used to being ignored, especially not when she was threatening ponies with violence. Finally, she snapped her wing shut, making this “Dash” pony jump a tiny bit. “Listen, dweeb, I-...” She froze when the pegasus ruffled the part of her chest fluff that couldn’t be contained by the topmost shirt buttons. “I WILL MURDER YOU!” she roared and raised her hand, ready to tear straight through the pegasus with her talons.
“...right, right, I’m sorry!” The pegasus didn’t look sorry at all, but she at least had the decency to take a step back and hold up her hands.
“Now make like a jet and scram!” Gilda snapped.
Jets don’t scram, you imbecile. Rarity wisely kept the remark to herself, but she still rolled her eyes. A scramjet is a type of engine.
“I’m going, I’m going...” Rainbow Dash gave her friend a meaningful look.
“Ah,” the wallflower pegasus said and nodded slowly, “all the better, really. Because... we... were going to race now, anyway...”
“...yeah! The... race! Of course! I wanted a... rematch since you... narrowly beat me yesterday!”
Rarity noticed the hesitation in the body language and speech patterns. Gilda likely didn’t.
“Same betting amount, then?”
“Sure, I’m gonna win my ten bits back!”
Gilda gave Rarity a sideways look. “Wow,” she muttered. “Ten bits. That’s going to buy you, what, a coffee?”
“Would you like me to ask Twilight where the nearest Spurbucks is?” Rarity asked back. The question actually made herself twitch a little bit - the library kitchen didn’t even have a Prench Press, and Rarity wasn’t sure how long she’d last without a proper, extravagant coffee.
“Probably right next to that hotel.” Gilda narrowed her eyes and watched the two pegasus ponies as they prepared for whatever race they wanted to do.
“Considering to join?”
“No. Not yet, at least.” Her eyes flicked to Rarity for a split second before focusing back on the race prep. “You’re not a hunter. You wouldn’t understand.” Her voice was low. “Always observe your prey first.”
Rarity frowned at this. Not so much at the predator talk but rather at the amount of energy Gilda was investing into making some random folks’ lives miserable. Is she still all riled up from the farm? I mean, it’d be understandable, but... She shook her head. No. This is more. “...are you hoping to make them bet their homes?”
“Maybe.” Gilda’s eyes were narrow slits at this point. “Doubt it, but a girl can hope. But I’d love to take the rainbow one down a peg.” She licked the corner of her beak. “Make her crawl in front of me. Make her actually feel sorry.”
“Riiight.”
“Okay, Fluttershy, roughly the same course as yesterday!” the rainbow pegasus announced, cutting Gilda’s power fantasy short. “Bakery, train station, town hall, back here. You okay with that?”
“Um.” Fluttershy gave Gilda a nervous look but then nodded. “You got it, Rainbow Dash.”
They both got into position. “Ready,” Rainbow Dash said, “set... GO!”
And with that, they were off.
“Wow,” Gilda said, sounding extremely unimpressed by their take-off. “At the speed they’re going, they might even make it back before sunset.”
“The village isn’t that large,” Rarity commented, though she had to admit that she had expected a bit more speed, at least from this Rainbow Dash. Then again, I don’t have wings, so what do I know?
In the end, it took the duo about two minutes to complete their race. Gilda didn’t comment on the fact that it was a photo finish, just as she didn’t say anything about how out of breath both pegasus ponies appeared.
“Yeeesh, that was a close one!” Rainbow Dash wheezed and gave her friend a thumbs-up sign. “But I think those ten bits are mine again.”
“I guess so,” Fluttershy conceded. “We should do this again at some point. You really got better since last time!”
“Ohhh,” Gilda chimed in, her voice a mocking sing-song, “you really got better!”
The two ponies exchanged quick looks. “Oh,” Rainbow Dash said, “you think you’re faster than me?”
“My mother is faster than you.”
“Yeah, that’s what she-”
“Dash,” Fluttershy somehow managed to interrupt her with a whisper.
“-...I mean, that sounds like a challenge,” Rainbow Dash caught herself. “Wanna lose ten bits?”
“...sure, it’s a start, dweeb.” Gilda smirked and tossed her hat aside. It was a blind throw, but she somehow still managed to hit Rarity with it. Then she spread her wings to their full extent and gave Rainbow Dash a grin. “And we can work our way up from there.”
“Sounds okay to me - that car’s looking mighty fine...”
“The car is not-”
“BLAH BLAH BLAH,” Gilda snapped, cutting off Miss Pie before waving her hand. “Not gonna lose the car, no worries...”
Rainbow Dash was looking rather amused by the exchange. “Alrighty, let’s start with a short one to warm up. How about to that cloud over there, around it, and then back here? We can do the full circuit later.”
“Sure. What’s with Lieutenant Woodstock over there?”
“Who?” Rainbow Dash asked and blinked. “Oh, you mean Flutters!?” She laughed. “I think she usually leaves it at one race per day - she needs to save some energy to care for all her animal friends.” The two pegasus ponies stuck out their tongues at each other.
“Fine, she can wait here to act as a witness once you start whining about losing.”
“She can keep track of everything you’re going to owe me once we’re done!”
“Right,” Rarity said to no one in particular, sensing that a jock-off was imminent. “I’ll go and check on Twilight and Trixie. You two have fun!”
“Once we’re done, I won’t even owe you respect, Rainbow Brite,” Gilda hissed, acknowledging Rarity’s words with nothing but a rude gesture.
Rarity wasn’t sure what she had expected. Maybe cuddling? Maybe two sleeping ponies and their foalsitter reading a book? Whatever her fantasy could have cooked up, it was not this.
The couch had been moved aside, and the center of the large interior had now become Twilight’s office.
More or less literally.
The table was the same one Gilda had sat at while transcribing her (now useless) contract. However, it had been moved to the center of the room. And while the computer could have been generic (if suspiciously modern-looking for the rather retro standards of Ponyville), the potted plant next to it was a dead giveaway.
Because Rarity knew this exact potted plant.
Because Rarity had seen this potted plant when she had walked through Twilight’s office while clocking out two days ago.
Because Rarity had vowed to burn this exact potted plant yesterday.
“...did you teleport your office into here, Twilight?”
Twilight looked up from her screen and took off her reading glasses. “Miss Belle!” She smiled. “How did-”
“Firearms were fired in my vicinity... again.” Rarity hissed, “So don’t feed me any ‘Miss Belle’ now!”
Twilight hesitated as she processed this. Then she gave Trixie, who was reading a book on the couch, a quick look. “...could you repeat the question, please?” she finally asked while Trixie got up and walked over to her wife. Gilda’s assistant was wearing her usual stage magician cape but had at least taken off her hat at some point.
Rarity gave her a grin through gritted teeth. Then she slowly reached out and petted the potted plant with exaggerated care. “Is this here-” She suddenly grabbed the pot and waved the plant around. “-THE PLANT FROM YOUR OFFICE?” She gave it a few more shakes for good measure. “IN CANTERLOT?”
Twilight leaned back but didn’t flinch. “I was moderately aware that you are not a major fan of my plant, but I feel that you are-”
“ANSWER THE QUESTION!”
“...no.”
“DO IT!”
“I just did.”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU JUST-...” Rarity paused as she reviewed the last few seconds. “...is this the plant from your office?” she finally asked again, just to be sure she was interpreting Twilight’s literal streak correctly.
“It is not,” Twilight confirmed her hunch.
“...oh.” Rarity let out a long sigh. “Goodness, I’m sorry, darling. I’m just at the end of my rope here, and it’s been a long day, and for a moment, I thought that you had somehow teleported to Canterlot, which would have negated-”
“This is the plant from my apartment,” Twilight clarified. “It is, however, the same kind of plant, so it is understandable that you-”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!” Rarity gestured wildly, punching the air, before grabbing the plant, stomping over to a window, opening it, and then throwing the plant out, all while still screaming at the top of her lungs.
For long seconds, the only sounds in the room were Rarity’s deep breaths as she forced herself to come down from her sudden adrenaline high. Okay. Wow. That did not just happen. She stared at the open window, not daring to turn around. I did not just completely flip out, grab my assistant’s plant, and chuck it out of the window. She took a moment to review the events of the last minute. Okay. So apparently, I did do just that. Twilight is loyal to a fault, but even she has limits, right? She forced a smile before turning around.
Twilight and Trixie were looking surprised but not quite as horrified as Rarity had expected. The potted plant on the desk was also not looking as horrified as it should have, considering that it had just been tossed out through the window.
Rarity blinked, then gave the plant a dumb look. “...what?”
“Allow me,” Trixie told Twilight and walked around the desk before clearing her throat. “Oh, darling,” she suddenly exclaimed in an exaggerated high voice and gasped, “how thoughtful and efficient of you to set up a fully functioning workstation despite being fatigued! But you should have rested! Surely you are still a bit drained after that stunning magic show you performed with your drop-dead gorgeous wife!”
She’s right, Rarity thought and gritted her teeth, that is what I should’ve said. Well, minus the last part. And it’s what I would’ve said, but this contest and these villagers are driving me CRAZY! I’m not getting paid enough to get assaulted and shot at! She blinked and briefly considered this. Okay, maybe I am. My pay level would put some CEOs to shame.
“That wasn’t so bad!” Twilight praised her wife. “Lemme try to channel yours.” She cleared her throat. “Sparkle!” she rasped, sounding a lot like Gilda... if Gilda had been a chain smoker since birth. “Whoa, been busy, not too shabby! Remind me to hire you once this is over. Where’s your setup, Tricks?”
“Mh, sounds plausible.” Trixie nodded before giving Rarity a wide smile. “But the Great and Powerful Trixie shall now take questions from the audience!”
Rarity blinked, trying to catch up with the events and the dialogue. In the end, she decided to take things slow and start with the obvious issues first, even if they weren’t the most pressing ones. “I just tossed the plant out, so how is it back here?”
“Ah-ha!” Trixie briefly sat down on the edge of the table... just to be able to triumphantly jump to her hooves again. “The answer... is magic!” She said, making rather ominous gestures. “Be prepared to be bedazzled by the Great and Powerful Trixie’s mastery of the arcane!” Ignoring Twilight’s halfhearted protest, she grabbed Twilight’s cordless mouse and tossed it straight toward the window.
It hit the wall an arm’s length away from the window with full force and dropped to the floor with an unenthusiastic “Thud.”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie may have pulled something while funneling a car across millions of miles,” Trixie muttered, sighed, then picked up the mouse with a flick of magic and chucked it through the window.
“...you do realize that, if that is the computer from Twilight’s office, you owe the company a new mouse, right?” Rarity asked after a second of silence.
“You would be correct... IF YOUR EYES HADN’T BETRAYED YOU!” Trixie reached deep into her cape and pulled the mouse out. “For the mouse has never left the library!”
...did she somehow connect the window with her cape via one of her portals? Rarity squinted at the excessive use of magic, especially right after they had both very convincingly sold a magical burnout a bit more than an hour earlier. “Dinner parties at your place must be fun,” she finally commented, giving Twilight a pitying look.
“You have no idea,” Twilight muttered and grabbed the mouse from her wife.
“Right. Right.” Rarity used a bit of her own magic to drag a chair over and sat down on it. “Okay... let’s get to the good bits. This plant... is from your apartment?”
“Correct,” Twilight dutifully replied, as if she had not just witnessed her superior suffering from a mental breakdown.
“Your apartment in Canterlot?”
“It’s the only apartment we own.”
“...what about our getaway place in-”
“That’s a vacation house and not an apartment,” Twilight quickly corrected her wife, barely managing not to blush.
Ahu. “So you... teleported your plant here.” She nodded at the offending party. “...and this computer,” she lamely added after a moment of consideration.
“Of course not. I couldn’t teleport this plant more than...” Twilight appeared to do the math in her head. “...a mile? Mmmaybe two if we order some more of those muffins?”
“...you two already ate all of those sweets?”
“One crisis at a time, please.” Twilight rubbed her temples. “But don’t worry, I sent Miss Muffin to buy more.”
“...oh right, she’s not here.” I’m really not on top of this situation, am I? “Also, it’s the thought of you two consuming another box of infinite calories that is worrying me.”
“Heh.” Twilight smirked. “It’s an acquired taste, and we acquired it.” She frowned as she realized that the conversation was drifting away again. “More importantly, the plant went through a portal, not a teleportation spell.”
“...because that makes so much more sense,” Rarity pretended to agree before giving Twilight an utterly bewildered look. “You two nearly EXPLODED while making a portal crossing HALF that distance!” she snapped. “And now you’re telling me you can make a portal ALL THE WAY TO CANTERLOT just like that?”
Twilight opened her mouth to reply, but Trixie impatiently snapped her fingers in front of Twilight’s face. “Spare us the lecture, love. The Great and Powerful Trixie will sum it up.” Ignoring her wife’s pouting, she steepled her fingers. “We didn’t make a portal. We have a stable portal connecting my cape and a fixed spot in our apartment. Which took quite a lot of prep work and several energy bars but was nowhere near the level of what we did today. The funny thing is that moving a portal like that is trivial.”
“You-”
Now it was Twilight’s turn to snap her fingers. “No, we couldn’t have bypassed the race, Miss Belle.”
“Oh?” Rarity stomped over to Trixie, grabbed her cape, and waved it around, ignoring its owner’s quiet protests. “Because it sure looks like we have a stable connection from here STRAIGHT TO YOUR APARTMENT!”
“We do, yes,” Twilight conceded in her usual, reserved fashion. “However, it’s a fairly small portal. I had to use some unstable shrinking spells just to get the computer through, so squeezing a pony through it is pretty much out of the question.”
“Ah, I-”
“And the exit point of said portal had still been in Canterlot roughly thirty hours ago,” Twilight added calmly.
“What do you-...” Rarity said before smacking her forehead. “Of course, Trixie - or at least her cape - would have had to get here somehow first.” She returned to her seat and rested her face in her hands. “I need a break,” she whispered. “I’m losing it.”
“Speaking of losing,” Twilight finally tried to set one hoof onto the possible minefield, “may I... ask... if...”
“Well, I’m not wearing Gilda’s collar and brandmark yet, which should answer your question,” Rarity sighed. “Long story short, Big McIntosh is not any easier to negotiate with.”
“You mentioned gunshots.”
“Yeah. I pity whoever is dumb enough to try to break into the farm. Miss Applejack has her revolver, he has a rifle. I don’t even want to find out what their younger sister has. Probably a howitzer.”
“Hm. So how do you want to proceed?” Twilight propped her hooves up on the table and gave Rarity a focused look.
“You tell me,” Rarity muttered. “Preferably while your wife isn’t listening in on whatever grand plan you cook up.” She gave Trixie a quick look. “No offense, but you work for the opposition.”
“None taken,” Trixie replied calmly. “Twilight and Trixie always keep business and pleasure separated.”
“And let me guess,” Rarity asked, “the pleasure is great and powerful?” She rolled her eyes when Trixie gave her the widest grin any pony had ever given her. “Anyway. Gilda’s burning through her adrenaline by racing the resident jock, so that should buy us a few minutes. Is there any stew left? Assuming that Gilda doesn’t win Rainbow Dash’s house in the next ten minutes, I’d be technically ahead of her if I start my lunch break-...” She frowned when both assistants appeared to be deep in thought all of a sudden. “...anything wrong?”
“...the name rings a bell,” Twilight whispered, “but I can’t immediately place it...”
“About my height,” Rarity tried to help them out, “light blue coat, rainbow mane and tail, wings on the short side, which I guess means that she’s built for-”
“-SPEED!” Trixie yelped and snapped her fingers at Twilight, who was looking equal parts delighted and horrified.
“The retired Wonderbolt!” Twilight gave herself a dope slap. “Of course, I should’ve guessed as much when you mentioned a jock!”
Rarity gave them a wide-eyed look. “...that cocky jock is a former member of the Wonderbolts?” she asked slowly as if hoping that they would correct her. “As in, the elite flying squad back in Canterlot?” She whistled. “Wow. Then again, her glory days are probably long over - her speed was nothing to write... home... about...” She paled under her already white coat. Of course. There was no way she’d be this slow during her race with the other pegasus with the enormous wingspan. I had been right all along - I just hadn’t expected a trap. ...and neither had Gilda. “...hold that thought, darlings,” she whispered and hurried towards the door, desperately trying to hide her growing smile.