It wasn’t often in his life that Quick Snap had a legitimate reason to find his asthma beneficial. Life as a freelance photographer was easy enough when he had regular studio employment. Managing his condition had been easy those days when he was in a stable environment and wasn’t forced to do much flying around to earn his pay. Things hadn’t been so cushy in a long time though, and his lungs weren’t as tolerant of the constant flying as they used to be.
Quick had never considered himself to be a particularly special pegasus. His tan fur, chestnut mane, and hazel eyes left him in the category of utterly unremarkable ponies in the world. Even with his talent for photography, his work was noted more for its lucky timing than the artistry of the shot. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about him was his asthma. He had been diagnosed during his first year of flight school, after a relay race had left him almost unable to breathe. A trip to the Cloudsdale emergency room and a battery of tests later, he had been diagnosed with the condition. Over the years it had played Discord with his life. Few businesses wanted to hire a photographer who couldn’t fly from hotspot to hotspot at breakneck speeds, and most terrestrial studios tended to favor unicorn or earth ponies as in house photographers.
His asthma had been the reason he had come to the hospital today. Specifically, he needed a refill for his inhaler. The prescription was a blow to his limited savings, but he did like to breathe, so it was a fair trade. What he hadn’t expected was a veritable mob of ponies of all types to be milling about in front of the hospital as though the princess herself were in attendance. Curious to see what all the fuss was about, Quick Shot approached the closest pony. The earth pony whose should he tapped turned to regard him with a cautious smile. Quick Shot smiled as casually as he could while resisting a cough.
“Excuse me, but what’s going on?” he managed before covering his mouth with a hoof to mute a comparatively light coughing fit.
“DJ-P0N3 is in the hospital.” The colt stated sadly. Quick Shot felt his brain come to a temporary halt as it culled through his memories for that name. Coming up blank, his mouth kicked in before he could think of a more intelligent follow-up.
“The who, the where, and the what now?” he asked. The colt stared at him incredulously, as though he had just asked if water was wet.
“Uh, Vinyl Scratch? One of the biggest names in the electronic scene?” The colt offered. Quick stared at him blankly, his brown eyes blinking several times. “You don’t get out much, do you?” The colt asked with a slight leer.
“Kid, I’m a bit too old for clubbing.” Quick answered honestly, his eyes on the entrance pavilion.
“She DJ’d the Royal Wedding.” The colt offered, finally giving Quick Snap an idea of who they were talking about.
“Oh, that mare!” He chuckled sheepishly. He had been scheduled to take photos at the wedding by the Manehatten newspaper he had been working for, and then the Changelings had attacked. In the chaos Quick had an asthma attack severe enough to land him in the hospital for several days to recover. Though his career prospects hadn’t much improved since then. Pushing the memories from his mind he returned his attention to the colt.
“So, what’s she in the hospital for?” he asked, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.
“Don’t know,” The colt answered, returning his attention to the front of the crowd. “Everypony’s got a theory. Some say she was in an accident, others think she was attacked before a show, and some ponies think she messed herself up after a drug binge.”
Quick found his interest perk slightly. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice kept as neutral as he could manage. The colt’s eyebrows knitted together as his hoof rubbed thoughtfully against his chin.
“If I had to pick one, I’d say drugs or she got jumped.” He shrugged.
“Huh,” the pegasus clucked his tongue “Any reason?”
The colt rolled his eyes “She’s in the club music scene, dude. They all like to party it up. And if she didn’t do that, then some crazies attacked her after a show.”
“Huh,” Quick repeated, “Thanks for the info.” He said as he trotted off. Regardless of whoever was in the hospital it didn’t change the facts of his situation. He needed to refill his inhaler, and to do that he had to get inside.
Working his way through the crowd he spotted a few reporter ponies here and there, each talking with everypony they could about, what Quick suspected, was the DJ’s condition. He avoided them as best he could; journalists were not his favorite ponies to work with. He had nearly made it through the crowd when his fears were realized.
“Snap? Quick Snap? Ha! Long time no see!” The boisterous voice of a stallion called. Quick tried his best to suppress a shudder as he turned to face the stallion.
“Hi Red Top,” He acknowledged lackadaisically. The unicorn with a rust red mane and a chestnut coat grinned as he stopped in front of the pegasus. “What brings you here?”
“Regular ponies like to read about the lives of celebrities, and what gossip is more juicy than this?” Red Top grinned broadly. Quick Snap nodded slightly.
“That’s what I hear.” He answered, maintaining a neutral tone in his voice.
“So,” Red Top wrapped a foreleg around Quick’s shoulders “what brings you here today, pal? I didn’t think you were a clubbing kind of pony.”
“Just here for a doctors appointment.” Quick half-lied. Pharmacologists were doctors too … at least he thought so. He noticed a sparkle in Red Top’s eye, the kind that made him somewhat nervous.
“I got an idea Quick,” he said in a hushed tone. Quick didn’t reply, the nervous expression on his face saying all he needed to. “The guards up front there aren’t letting anypony into the building without an emergency or an appointment, so nopony is getting in for an interview or photos. But if you’ve got an appointment, then you can get in and see if you can sneak a picture or get an interview.”
“Most ponies don’t want their photo taken while in hospital.” Quick replied.
“Hay if I know why not. It’s a win/win for them!” Red scoffed, earning a confused look from Quick.
“How in the world do you figure that?” he asked, incredulously. “It doesn’t do anything more then make me look like a stalker and makes you look like an ambulance chaser.” Red Top regarded him with a flat look.
“Hey now,” Red said with a tone that almost implied offense, “I’m not some lowlife scrub out to nab sick pictures of ponies, it’s a symbiotic relationship.”
Quick blinked, his face contorting in confusion. “I don’t follow.”
Red sighed, “Publicity is everything in the celebrity world, a picture of them at their lowest point would make them seem mortal to the common ponies wandering the streets. They get sympathy points and name recognition, I take the fall as the bad pony while making a few bits on the side, and within a month it’s like the picture and the story never existed and all these ponies have gone on with their lives. In the end, everypony wins.”
Quick edged away from Red Top, the whole idea making him uncomfortable. “I doubt things ever go that easy. Besides Red, I don’t have a camera on me.” He said honestly. Red’s horn flared to life, pulling a camera from his saddlebag.
“Tuck it under your wing.” Red stated “You can keep it when you’re done too, I know you’ve had trouble finding work recently.”
Quick leaned away from the camera, “Red, I really don’t know about this … It—it just seems like we’d be crossing a line.”
“Look, Quick, I’ll be the one catching all the fallout from it, you just have to take me a good picture. I’ll make sure it’s worth your while. Besides, I know you need the bits.”
Quick regarded Red for a long moment, weighing the decision in his mind. No part of this plan sat well with him, but without a stable job he needed every bit he could get. Reluctantly, he took the camera from Red, adjusting it carefully until it was comfortably tucked under his left wing.
“I will think about it, okay?” he relented, earning a broad smile from Red.
“You won’t be sorry, my friend.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” He mumbled.
“I assume you still have a darkroom in your apartment?” Red asked, Quick nodded “Great, if you take a picture, develop it and bring it to my office tomorrow morning and I’ll see you get a good payment plus I’ll pull some strings and see if I can get you some studio work again. If not, then just drop the camera off tomorrow morning. No hard feelings.”
Quick nodded again, silently turning towards the hospital and leaving Red behind in the throng of ponies. Once getting to the doors he found himself face to face with the two security ponies, both earth stallions with short-cropped manes and tails.
“Do you have an appointment?” the nearest one asked.
“Y—yes sir. I’m seeing Dr. Gallipot about my asthma.” Quick answered honestly. The stallions exchanged a glance, before nodding to him.
“Have a nice day sir.” The same stallion said. Quick bowed his head in gratitude as he slipped through the doors.
Once inside he passed efficiently through the lobby, taking the most direct path to the pharmacy. He passed by more than a few doctors and nurses who were quietly gossiping about the crowd outside. His wings tensed nervously, pressing the corner of the camera uncomfortably against his ribs.
The pharmacy itself was sectioned off from the main hallway behind a set of thick sliding glass doors. Inside there were three rows, each with generic household medicines and supplies ranging from mild pain relievers and bandages to contraceptives. At the back was a long desk, perpendicular to the shelves that blocked off access to the prescription only medications. Quick’s attempt at a calming breath was broken by a coughing fit. Sufficing for an irritable groan he made his way through the empty center aisle and to the counter. Behind it was a light gray unicorn with amber eyes and a salt and pepper mane. He smiled to Quick as he approached.
“Quick Snap, how are you today?” he asked cheerfully.
“Well enough Gallipot, how are you? The grandfoals doing well?” Quick smiled wearily. Gallipot’s grin widened as he nodded.
“The grandfoals are wonderful, thanks for asking. Makes me feel a good ten years younger.” He puffed his chest out proudly.
“Good to hear, means I have less to worry about when my kids are old enough to get married.” Quick replied, earning a chuckle from the old stallion.
“So, what can I do for you today?” Gallipot asked. Quick slipped off his saddleback and dug in it for his inhaler, which he deposited on the counter.
“Need a refill, I’m out again.” He said. Gallipot’s horn flared up, pulling a pair of spectacles from his white lab coat and placing them on his nose before he scooped up the inhaler in his magic and quickly read the label.
“You went through this one quick, anything going on?” Gallipot asked casually, even as he turned to the back shelves to find the needed refills.
Quick shrugged, wincing as the gesture made the camera give him another unpleasant poke. “Well after the whole mess with the royal wedding last summer, it’s been hard to find studio work. Gotta fly all over the city for any little job now… Field photography isn’t as easy as it used to be.”
“Hmm,” Gallipot retrieved several bottles of Quick’s medicine “Anxiety and lots of exercise. Definitely not good for your condition.”
Quick scoffed, “Tell me about it.”
“Have you seen a pulmonologist recently? Or perhaps spoken to a psychologist about the anxiety?” Gallipot asked as he slipped the medicine into a paper bag.
“Don’t have the time or the bits for either.” Quick admitted with a sigh. The camera under his wing began to feel heavier.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Gallipot said, placing the medicine on the counter “Have you considered working in Cloudsdale? Perhaps there’s more work there, and at the very least the air is more suited to pegasus lungs than Manehatten. That will be 52 bits, by the way.” Gallipot said, his voice somewhat regretful. Quick dug through his bag again, placing the needed money on the counter. It only left him 12 bits for the week, enough for a small bag of apples if he was thrifty.
“Not much work in Cloudsdale, the enchantment expenses for all the equipment made most studios move down here long ago.” Quick answered, taking the bag of medicine in his teeth “Aank ooo” he said. Gallipot chuckled, removing his glasses and placing them back in his pocket. Once his medicine was safely stowed away in his saddlebag, Quick faced the pharmacist again.
“Sorry, thank you.” He said with a smile.
“My pleasure, stay out of trouble, son.” Gallipot smiled back.
Quick Snap paused as he reached the pharmacy doors. If he walked left, he would be back in the pavilion and back to the endless hunt for work. If he walked right, then Red Top might just get his wish.
The pegasus still wasn’t anywhere near comfortable with the idea, he knew the kind of articles Red Top published. On the other hoof, Red Top was well connected in the industry and always paid his contractors well. He had a reputation for being a great friend, if a touch unsavory in his methods. Ponies that helped him out usually ended up in good jobs with good pay, two things Quick was in near desperate need of, lately.
‘Well,’ he thought ‘It doesn’t hurt to just walk around and take a look, right?’
Turning right, Quick made his way towards the in-patient wing. He knew the first floor of the hospital was where the medical suites were located, cardiology, nephrology, orthopedics, spine care, pain management, radiology, OBGYN, and the surgical wards. Additionally was the sealed off Emergency department, and if Vinyl was there, then Quick certainly wasn’t getting anywhere close. Adjusting his wing for a moment to work the camera into a less annoying position, he made for the stairs, nearly being run over by a grey-coated mare on her way up in the process.
“Uh, excuse me?” he grumbled to himself “Some ponies.”
Heading up the stairs he noted a surprisingly small number of nurses on duty, the few he saw behind the central desk looked far too busy in their own work to notice him. He shivered nervously as he began a casual walk around the wing, doing his best to inconspicuously read the nametags as he passed them. Halfway down the wing he spotted the name ‘Vinyl Scratch’. A casual glance in as he passed didn’t allow him to see the titular mare herself, though he did see the grey mare that had almost trampled him.
‘Huh, maybe a sister?’ he thought as he kept walking. Two other mares were in the room, though he hadn’t caught a good look at either of them.
Deciding to bide his time and think for a while, Quick made his way back to the stairs. He knew from past visits that one of the larger waiting rooms upstairs had a good view of the city and, usually, a decent amount of reading material. At the very least, it would give him some time to consider what to do and get the annoying camera out from under his wing.
A short walk later and he found himself happily alone in the waiting room. The room had been laid out to hold several families at once. Several couches were interspersed between end tables and comfortable chairs and a small garden of ferns was on the large windowsill. Paintings lined the walls, each painted in tranquil landscapes to put the mind at ease. On the far end a large bookshelf was full of old donated books. Beside that was a box of toys for fillies and colts.
Quick perused the shelves for a moment before spotting a name he recognized, J. Thoroughbred, the label read ‘My Life and Hard Times’. Grinning like a foal, Quick plucked the book from the shelf and settled on the couch, allowing the camera to get out from its hiding place for a while. Turning to the first of the many vignettes that composed the book he began to read, almost hearing his mother's voice in his ear.
“Chapter one, The Night The Bed Fell…” he grinned happily, nostalgic memories flooding him as the story unfolded.
Quick lost track of time as each short story gave way to another until the final story, Draft Board Nights, ended on the 85th page. With a contented sigh, Quick returned the book to the shelf. Looking out the windows, he noted the several hours that had passed as he relieved the stories his mother read to him at night. Stretching out his stiff back, he scooped the camera back under his wing and made his way downstairs. If the grey mare was still in Vinyl’s room, he’d offer his condolences and at least ask how she was. It wouldn’t be the picture Red Top had asked for, but Quick wasn’t about to ask Vinyl’s sister if he could take a picture.
Trotting casually back to the second floor, the first thing he noticed was the lack of nurses at the desk. He wondered if he was between shifts or if they were all busy. With a shrug, he anxiously made his way back to Ms. Scratch’s room. To his surprise, the door had been left wide open, and nopony seemed to be inside.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he stepped into the room, his ears folding back timidly. The bathroom door was open, with the lights off, and the chairs against the far wall were empty as well. A large cello case was propped up in the corner, and a set of saddlebags were resting on the couch. Quick gasped when he got far enough in to see Vinyl Scratch herself.
The unicorn was smaller than he had expected, with alabaster fur and a vivid electric blue mane. Her neck was secured in a heavy plastic cervical collar with visible bandaging underneath. A large gash on her forehead had been stitched closed, though the sight of it made Quick feel sick to his stomach. Vinyl’s fur was matted, her mane was clumpy and tangled, and including the IV lines and wires that connected her to the various pieces of equipment on the wall she looked like a mare with one hoof in the grave.
A realization made itself known in the back of Quick’s mind. This was the opportunity Red Top had hoped for. Vinyl was either in a deep sleep, or drugged, and there were no ponies around to see anything. Quick’s mouth dried up and his hooves trembled. It was a violation of this mares privacy, everything about what he was thinking of doing was wrong. But he hadn’t had good work in months, his savings were getting dangerously low, and his medicine wasn’t getting more affordable. Food, shelter, and his health, or this mare’s privacy and peace of mind, was one worth the price of the other?
‘Maybe—maybe I’ll just take a picture and see how it develops. I can always burn it and the negatives.’ He thought. Biting his lip anxiously, he settled on his decision and took a position at the foot of the bed. His wing quivered as he retrieved the camera from under it, adjusting it in his hooves until he had it held comfortably. He held the viewfinder up to his eye and lined up the first shot.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the sleeping mare “I’m so sorry.” The bulb flashed while the shutter snapped open and shut. Vinyl’s eyes didn’t open. Quick Snap felt sick as he took a different position and snapped another picture. Finally he lined up a close-up of Vinyl’s face. He felt a knot form in his throat as he took the picture, his mouth pressed into a tight line. Unable to stomach taking another photograph, and feeling his trepidation building to the point he was about to need his inhaler, Quick tucked the camera back under his wing and looked back to the unicorn.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated quietly as he left the room. He made a beeline for the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest. As he reached the top he bumped into the grey mare again. He nearly panicked as the camera shifted almost out of his wing’s grasp.
“S’cuse me,” he muttered as he slipped past her and down the stairs, not daring to look her in the eye or wait for a response.
He tried not to trot too quickly for fear of drawing attention. Even still it felt as though everypony's eyes were following him out the door. He habitually glanced over his shoulder while he trotted away from the building, half-convinced that he was being followed. Once he felt he was a reasonable distance away, he retrieved the camera from its hiding place and took the time to tuck it safely away in his saddlebag. He also took a puff from his newly refilled inhaler before he spread his wings and took to the sky.
The flight back to his studio apartment was thankfully brief, both for his lungs and his nerves. Locking the door behind him he sighed and sat heavily on the floor. He coughed as he tried to get his breath back, leaning his head back against the door so his gaze was cast up to the ceiling. After resting for a while, and another breath from his inhaler, Quick reached for his saddlebag. Pulling out the camera he considered the innocuous object for a while. The few pictures that were held on the film almost made the camera feel heavier in his hooves.
“I should at least develop them and take a look.” He said to himself.
Taking the camera strap in his teeth, he made his way over to his ad-hoc darkroom and set about the process of turning the film into pictures. As the hours passed he lost himself to his work, his mind preoccupied with the specific chemical processes and timings for each frame. Once each picture was hanging and drying, he went to the kitchen to see what he had left to eat. Scraping together enough for a thin sandwich, he relaxed on his couch while he ate. After finishing his dinner, he checked the clock. With quite a while to wait before the pictures would be dry enough to handle, he settled onto the couch for a short nap.
He awoke with a groan and a cramp in his neck. Immediately he noticed that something seemed different. The room was lighter than it was supposed to be at night. Checking the clock he quickly realized the issue, 7:23 am.
“Uhhg,” he bemoaned as he wrangled himself into an upright position, coughing heavily “How in the world did I sleep all night?”
Getting to his feet, he made his way over to the dark room. His heart froze at the sight of the fully developed pictures. To call them unflattering would have been an understatement on par with saying the changeling invasion had been unpleasant. The harsh light of the flashbulb in conjunction with the hospital lights had given Vinyl a deathly look, pale, sick, and weak.
“These are horrible…” He muttered, eyes transfixed on the pictures. He was tempted to burn them and the negatives on the spot.
“No, no I can’t do that.” He admonished himself. “If I just return the camera and tell Red I burned the photos I took.” He took a closer look at the photos, his face contorting uncomfortably.
“No, Red wouldn’t use these. Might as well show him I at least tried … hopefully he’ll still pay me.” Quick sighed and shook his head, his posture slouching. “I’m so screwed.”
Gathering the photos and the negatives into envelopes kept in one of his storage shelves, he placed them in his saddlebag’s left compartment while putting the camera in the right compartment. With a puff from his inhaler he took flight again, riding the morning thermals to keep from working too hard. Above him the local weather team was preparing another April shower. Though by the look of things, they had only just started arranging the clouds. After a fairly easy twenty minutes of mostly gliding, he spotted the street he was looking for.
Red Top’s office was a relatively unassuming building, looking more like a two story shop than anything else, the most notable feature being a small red sign painted on the door that read ‘Proud Publisher of the Manehatten Enquirer’. The front served as a newsstand where the ponies of Manehatten could come in and buy any paper or magazine published in the city. Above that was Red Top’s office where he and several employees planned and wrote the content, and in the basement was the printing press. It wasn’t a large-scale operation, but Red Top was nothing if not a fantastic marketer.
Landing in front of the building, Quick took a moment to catch his breath and calm his nerves before he stepped inside. Inside were a few ponies browsing the newsstands and a decidedly bored looking earth pony mare behind the counter, Quick approached the mare and smiled apprehensively.
“Uh, hi. I’ve, uh, got an a—appointment with Red Top.” he said. The mare quirked an eyebrow slightly, her blue eyes meticulously looking him over.
“Name?” she asked in a clipped tone.
“Quick Snap.”
“Hm, wait here.” She said before turning and making her way upstairs. Quick flexed his wings uncomfortably. The waiting gave him the urge to pick at his feathers, which wasn’t a particularly healthy obsession. Fortunately for his pinfeathers, the mare returned fairly quickly.
“You can go upstairs, he’s at his desk.” She motioned to the stairwell behind her. Quick nodded and muttered his thanks as he passed her.
At the top of the cramped and dimly lit stairwell was the press level, a wide-open space with several desks and ponies in varying discussions of articles for the next issue. In the center of the controlled madness was Red Top, his desk covered with various articles from magazines and newspapers about Vinyl Scratch, even a few photos of her stage shows. Quick found himself marveling at the difference between the mare he saw yesterday, laid out in a hospital bed, and the vibrant, lively mare he saw in those photos. Red top noticed him after a moment and smiled broadly.
“Mornin’ Quick, what’ve you got for me?” He looked up to the pegasus like a foal on Hearthswarming morning. Quick’s ears folded back and he fidgeted somewhat as he removed his saddlebag.
“You know, Red,” Quick started with a smirk, “All these articles and pictures on your desk could make a pony think you had a stalking hobby.”
Red laughed loudly “If only! No, no nothing like that, I met up with some of my staff in the archives section in the library after we talked yesterday and we scraped up all the info we could on Vinyl. I don’t like to do a story without knowing a bit about my subject matter.” He admitted
“Speaking of which, I managed to get a couple pictures,” He admitted quietly “but, I gotta tell you, Red … they’re not pretty.”
Red’s enthusiasm vanished immediately, replaced by the cautious mask of a businesspony.
“Let’s see them.” He said with a simple nod.
Quick removed the envelope from his bag and placed it on the desk. Red’s magic quickly took hold of it and slipped the pictures free. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose at the sight, his face remaining carefully neutral.
“I spotted a mare in there before I took those, her sister I guess. Didn’t speak to her though.” Quick admitted, Red’s brow furrowed as if in confusion for a moment before he returned to his neutral expression. Quick dug at the floor with a hoof absently.
“I uh,” he started “I would recommend you don’t use those pictures, but it’s your choice.” Quick added. Red placed the pictures on his desk before reaching into a drawer with his magic. He levitated a checkbook out and quickly wrote it out.
“I appreciate you getting these for me, Quick. It gives me a lot to think about.” He said as he tore the check free, holding it out to the pegasus. “Here’s your payment, like I promised, and I think I can talk to a friend of mine who runs a studio to get you some easy work.”
Quick could only manage a dumb nod as he read the check. Suddenly a visit home, to Cloudsdale, suddenly seemed much more plausible than it had seemed the prior day.
“T—thank you.” He managed after a moment. Red nodded and smiled to the number-shocked pegasus.
“Go take a few days off, relax, treat yourself to a nice meal. I’ll let you know when I’ve got something for you, okay?” Red said kindly. Quick nodded and carefully secured the check in the bottom of his saddlebag.
Red watched as the pegasus half stumbled out of the office, once he was confident Quick had left the building he hummed softly. The pictures were certainly not what he had expected. Not that he had been exactly sure what to expect, but what he got was what he liked to consider ‘highly-volatile gold’. Perhaps more interesting than the pictures, was the information that Quick had accidentally stumbled into.
“Everypony, take a break!” He called, loud enough for his entire staff to hear. “We need to talk about some developments in the next issue.”