Turn That Frown Upside Down

by Brony Tom

4: The Dives

The Canterlot Police Department’s Whinny feed was unable to convey a lot of information with its 160-character messages, but Cheerilee was able to find reference to her activities of the previous night. She clicked the computer mouse over to a news site, searching for a more intensive article.

Cheerilee looked up from her school computer as a student entered the classroom. It was the first day of summer school, and-delinquents or not-she was always happy to see new students.
She rose from her seat. “Hello, I’m Ms. Cheerilee. I’ll be your teacher for the next few weeks.”
The young stallion stared at her sullenly, nodding briefly before sitting down. While he was not just a little colt, Cheerilee’s standards had changed somewhat over the years. She sometimes thought of legal adults as colts and fillies. Living so long had taught her that some of them certainly acted like it.
A few other students began to arrive. None appeared pleased to be there. Many did not fit the physical description of an average student. Some of them wore clothing that pushed the boundaries of the dress code or were decorated with gang symbols. Many were rather unkempt with manes in need of cutting or washing. One young mare was obviously pregnant.
Cheerilee stepped to the front of the room. She’d been pulled to instruct the high school division of summer school. It was a task she could handle, but it wouldn’t be nearly as easy as teaching younger students. “Good morning class. I’m sorry that Mrs. Answer could not be here. As you may have heard, she passed away in the attack. We can’t replace her, but I will be trying my best and I hope you all will as well. Over the next few weeks, we’ll get you caught up on the subjects you need help with.”
One of the students shifted slightly and his eyes gleamed with mischief. Just as his mouth opened Cheerilee said, “Yes Sand? Did you have something to say?”
His timing broken, the colt fumbled his words and muttered, “Maybe there’s something I can help you with.” It didn’t carry the lewd connotations that he’d originally intended.
Going on as if she hadn’t planned it that way, Cheerilee said, “Absolutely! If you’d like to stay late this afternoon and clean the erasers, that would be lovely.”
A subtle mood shift passed through the atmosphere of the room. It was cautious and somewhat wary. This teacher was not going to be an easy target. Cheerilee continued smiling. She enjoyed teaching, even when the lesson involved respect and proper behavior. The colt named Sand would probably not try anything for a while. Who’s next?
Cheerilee got her answer when heading back to her desk to retrieve the stack of papers for the first assignment. A colt named River left one leg slightly sticking out in the aisle between desks. It was not an obvious ploy, but he clearly hoped she would trip. Cheerilee adjusted her step subtly, knocking hooves with him but not losing her balance. “Oh, I’m sorry River. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to kick you like that.”
It was not enough to actually hurt him, and the student quickly nodded that he was unhurt. A slight tint of pink came to his cheeks at being talked to like a foal.
Cheerilee passed out the assignment and stood back to watch the students work. A mare named Diskette barely fit in her desk. She was still basically a filly, pregnant with one of her own. A lot had changed since Cheerilee had been around. While it was still frowned upon for a student to get pregnant, it was not as unheard of as when she first began teaching. It was a shame, too. Diskette showed real promise with computers and could probably get some sort of high-tech job if she wasn’t busy figuring out her life with a too-soon foal.
It was not Cheerilee’s place to lecture on that sort of thing, however. And anyway, she avoided discussions about things she couldn’t experience, like real food, a good suntan, and motherhood.
She maintained her facade through long practice and carried on with the rest of the school day. Cheerilee was vaguely aware that it was somewhat like cruise control that the newer cars had. She sat back and let her exterior teach the class while her mind was withdrawn. Princess Luna’s comment about becoming attached to things came back to her.
Cheerilee did not want to be an empty shell. Luna had foreseen that happening if she kept distancing herself from other ponies. She could interact with them. She could smile and be social, but she never really connected. The schoolteacher went home that afternoon feeling rather depressed.
There was a scent in the air when Cheerilee opened her apartment door. She traced it to a long coat that had been folded neatly and left for her to find. It was made of thick black leather.
She tried it on. The feel of tanned hide against her coat would have given her goosebumps if vampires could involuntarily get those. There was a note from Golden along with the coat. Cheerilee picked it up and scanned it. It was all she needed to go after the next target.
Cheerilee reared up and turned to face the mirror. She blinked a few times and her green eyes slowly lost their cheerful liveliness. They looked like those of a cold, dead thing. Her posture was almost vertical, a normally painful and strenuous thing for a pony to accomplish. She looked to the closet where Crucible's sword had been hidden and walked over to get it.
Her hips and back legs moved in an unavoidable sway, accommodating for her unnatural body position. She appeared like a shambling, uncoordinated creature; something unwell and diseased.
Cheerilee strapped the sword to her back and turned to look in the mirror again. For a moment the image reflecting back terrified even her. At least she finally felt something.

It took me a bit longer than I’d expected to find the Sixth Street Market; in all fairness, though, it’s because the blasted thing is underground. In this case, underground in both senses of the word. The market was a haven for illegal contraband and criminals, hidden in an abandoned subway tunnel beneath Fifth Street. I asked a few ponies why it was called the Sixth Street Market if it was technically on Fifth Street, but all I got were funny looks. Oh well.
For this phase of the operation, I decided to shed my innocent tourist disguise in favor of a more native look, since I’d be hard pressed to look convincingly innocent in such a hive of villainy and scum. I restyled my mane to be wilder and let it fall down one side of my face, a style that had become popular recently, particularly for mares that wanted to look like punks.
Another downside to going down there was that I’d lose my aerial advantage; being underground restricted my capability to outmaneuver targets from above. Just another reason that I wanted to attract as little attention as possible.
I sighed at the prospect of actually going into the thieves’ den. Still, work was work, and if I wanted to stop HOOF I needed to figure out where they were hiding. Quelling my hesitation, I slipped out of the dark alleys I’d used for cover and swaggered my way down the double-wide stairs leading into the subways.
Goodness gracious, the place smelled awful! It was like walking into a sewer, and believe me, I’ve walked into sewers before. The initial room was fortunately empty save for the ugly, permeating stench of unwashed pony, trampled trash littering the ground like a second floor. Towards the back was the doorway leading further into the complex, and through it I could see only a short distance into the gloom, even with my superior senses. What a disgusting dive. Worse, it was spread out in a continuous parade of filth. I didn’t want to think that anypony might live here.
I continued deeper into the subway station until I came to the tracks themselves. I let my nose guide me from there, going wherever the odor of dirty ponies was strongest. Not long after that I found my goal; several sparks of light in the darkness, and the sound of voices echoing through the tunnels. I made certain that my coat and mane were sufficiently ruffled as to be inconspicuous and turned on my swag.
When I want to, I can be very overbearing. Most every time you meet me, I will be calm and reserved, because I don’t want to lose control. Not again. Not like the forest. There are times, though, when the situation calls for me to let out my more aggressive side, and this was most definitely one of those times. I just needed to keep myself mostly in check.
As I finally closed the last bit of distance to the Market, I was honestly surprised at what I saw. The place looked like a small town, with shanties and booths set up all through the tunnels. The subway line itself was in the shape of a crossroads, with several tracks crisscrossing in close proximity. The similarity to the city above it was uncanny.
I was snapped from my moment of surprise by a loud catcall from one of the stallions who had noticed me. Now that I was not surprised by in the slightest; I like to think I have that effect on stallions. Unfortunately, though, it only served to alert all the other unwashed criminals- 99% of which were male- that there was an attractive female in their midst.
In hindsight, I should have beefed up my disguise- in the sense that a stallion might have thought me a cow. That would have been a nice turn-off for them so that I wouldn’t get swamped with questions of how much my rate was. They couldn’t afford me, anyway.
I had to reign myself in when those jerks started calling out prices. Part of me wanted to defend my honor and beat them until they saw reason. The other part of me was terrified of what the first part wanted to do. I had to focus in order to maintain a healthy balance between the two, and thus preserve my air of swag. Showing the wrong emotion here was likely a bad idea.
I pretended not to be interested in them, which only served to get a few of the more energetic stallions even more excited. One greasy sod went so far as to shove a bag of bits in my face with a lecherous grin. I reached up to bitch slap him across the room, only barely holding back enough to simply push him away.
Yeah, this wasn’t working. My internal clock told me that I only had about fifteen minutes left before my mystery stallion was supposed to show up in the cramped little shanty town. I couldn’t wait.
I continued my steady pace through the market, taking in as much of the repulsive scenery as I could. Having plenty of knowledge about your area of operation was important.
Interestingly enough, I spotted a pony in the back who was selling leather. Disturbing, but interesting. And convenient, considering Cheerilee was looking for a coat made of the stuff. I trotted towards the vendor, the whistles and catcalls fading away as the stallions saw where I was headed.
I soon realized why- the stall where the leather was located sat on the far edge of the Market, and sitting behind the cobbled-together counter sat a gray-coated pony; she immediately struck me as the type that would brook no insult. The mare sat leaning back against a faded cushion, a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over her face. She didn’t even look up as I stopped in front of her wares.
“I’m looking to buy,” I said. No point in beating around the bush.
“What’s a nice mare like you doing down here?” she said, ignoring my brusqueness.
“Whatever the hell I want.”
“I once thought like you do. I regret every minute of it. But now, now it’s too late for a mare like me to get out of what I got into. Don’t make the mistakes I did.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Could she see past my disguise? She certainly seemed like she was capable of it, her tired voice like that of a sequestered sage.
“Er, thanks, I guess?”
“Thanks for what? Now, what were you looking to buy?”
She was starting to get under my skin with how she kept playing the snippy wise-mare. Then again, I probably deserved it, considering my own attitude.
“I need some of your finest leather, enough to make a coat a little larger than my size. How much?”
“Two hundred bits.”
I balked at the cost. That was some serious money for a do-it-yourself coat. Fortunately, all that money I saved from not having to eat came in handy, and I reluctantly forked over the bits. The gray mare smirked and I saw a glow from beneath her hat as several pieces of leather floated out of various places and into a neat pile before me.
“Take care, sugar,” she said. I just nodded, wanting to slip away from her and find my lead.
As I turned to leave, I nearly bumped into a stallion that was approaching the leather stand. I paused for a split second, genuinely surprised; I hadn’t heard him coming at all! In the moment I hesitated, the first thing I noticed about him was his comparatively clean, nice green coat, which stuck out like a sore hoof against the grimy backdrop of the Sixth Street Market. I surmised that this must be the stallion I was looking for.
“Watch where you’re going next time,” I said, sticking to the character I’d created. Without waiting for a reply, I continued on past him, back towards the entrance. I heard him mutter something about lowlifes and then he stopped in front of the gray mare’s shack.
I slowed my pace to a crawl, pretending to be looking around for more items to buy. The stallions acted much more tame around me now, probably because they’d seen how much money I just hoofed out for some leather. The ones that were selling something actually treated me with a modicum of respect, although I still attracted a fair number of amorous looks.
Of course, my window shopping was all just pretend so that I could focus on listening to what my target was saying behind me.
“You have the gear?” I heard my mystery stallion say. There was a faint shuffling, like that of a package being exchanged. No doubt it was another of the crates; the leather-selling mare was probably a front for their smuggling operation.
My eyes widened as I remembered what she’d said to me about getting away from her mistakes. If she was part of HOOF and regretted it, that was a potential gold mine of information. I would have to speak with her again after I followed the stallion to their base.
I was starting to get out of earshot by the time I heard him start heading towards the exit. Truth be told, I actually couldn’t hear his hoofsteps, or his heartbeat or anything at all- he was totally silent. That was why I’d almost bumped into him earlier; the only way I could keep track of his location was by paying attention to the changes in conversation and sound that went on around him.
I detoured into one of the lowlifes’ shanties as though I were interested in buying, but only long enough to let the mystery stallion pass by me with a new-looking wooden crate in his telekinetic grasp. I slipped after him, being careful to keep plenty of distance between us since I was a little wary of his powers of silence. There was a distinct possibility that he could be a vampire as well, and I didn’t want to risk the mission unnecessarily.
The idea that he might be a vampire unsettled me a bit. I hadn’t dealt with hostile vampires for a while, about a decade if my memory served me correctly. It made him more of a wildcard, something I couldn’t necessarily predict. Still, I had learned a lot vampires (I have absolutely no idea how that could have happened), and I thought I would have noticed some other signs of vampirism. There weren’t any, to my knowledge.
I had to go with the assumption that he was capable of more than he let on, just to be safe. As we wound our way back through the twisting network of subway tunnels, I hovered above the ground to avoid the sound of my hooves against the floor. It was fortunate that I did; several times he stopped and looked around suspiciously, checking for followers. If nothing else, I had to credit him for his vigilance.
As we finally got back to the subway station and then the world above, I let out a relieved sigh at the freshness of the surface air compared to the rancid odor of the Market. From there it was a simple matter to lift off into the sky and keep an eagle’s eye view on the stallion. I licked my lips as I intently watched him, feeling the tips of my fangs. Perhaps a bat's eye view was more appropriate.
He kept going as though he were paranoid of being followed, taking circuitous detours and slipping down alleys, fortunately oblivious to my watchful gaze from on high. It wasn’t too much longer until he stopped in one of the alleys and knocked on a door to one of the buildings. A quick scan revealed it to be an old bakery, still in business but by the looks of it only by a slim margin.
That was all I needed, and I turned to head home. The leather coat would be a simple matter to stitch together, what with all the sewing practice I’d had in my various accessory-related jobs. I’m a craftspony at heart, so a coat made of leather would be simple, if a bit macabre.
How Cheerilee used it was up to her.