//------------------------------//
// Episode 1-3 :: Omelette 
// Story: Romancing the Clouds 
// by KitsuneRisu 
//------------------------------//


  


Paint peeled. The roof leaked. Perhaps there had once been pigeons – or what the Pegasi called winged rats – at one time. It was hard to tell because they probably ran away from the smell. The entrance was left wide open; its previous owner didn’t seem to have a reason to keep the place shut.

It occurred to Survey that leaving the door open was a better detriment to thievery than having it shut.

The dilapidated warehouse stood on a small narrow stretch of road that held similar buildings down on either side in a long, blurry line, with puddles filling potholes and broken street lamps lining the golden way.

“Bit of a fixer-upper, eh?” the blue stallion muttered, looking up at the building.

It had taken them a bit of time to get there. Walking was something not commonly done in Cloudsdale across separate clouds, and bridges from cloud to cloud were something like the handicap ramps on buildings down ground-side. Even though it had been two days after Survey was released from hospital, the doctor warned him to stay out of the sky for another week or two.

Naturally, he wouldn’t be able to get up to the 7th floor of the Stackford Building, but Mr. Stackford had kindly arranged for him to be flown up on his own personal valet cloud, just so that he needn’t miss another day of work.

Such a caring individual, that Stackford.

Egg wasn’t so kind. There was no way in Tartarus, he said, he was going to push Survey around on a small rent-a-cloud as if he were a little baby, at which Survey had thrown a tantrum.

They ended up walking the one hour from the hospital to the Cirrus Shores.

It was lucky clouds made for rather soft pavements.

“Right, so the actual building is inside this one, yes?” Survey asked with an incredulous look on his face, gaping up at the square blob that stood at the end of the long line of industrial buildings. The base itself used to be some sort of warehouse or something-or-other, long since abandoned due to ‘safety regulations’ or whatever, but really, in the end, it was cheap, and that seemed to override all the other incredibly obvious reasons not to buy it.

Like all the other buildings in Cloudsdale built in the past thirty or so years, this one was smooth and flat. New advances in cloud-shaping meant that they could finally compact clouds into what was essentially light, polished bricks, and they acted in a way that was somewhat similar to actual bricks, except one-fiftieth the weight.

This was the stuff that they made foundation cloud out of, the sort that was used to prop up earth materials, but in a pinch, the less dense ones were used for building themselves. This is how the great columns of the coliseum were made, and all their other decorations, and if ever any unicorn or earth pony would stare up at Cloudsdale and wonder at its structural marvels, this would be the little nugget of information that would answer the first question that came to their minds.

But even by those standards, this was still a hole. The building was literally a square. Plain, flat walls all-round, and no windows to speak of. Unlike its neighbouring clones, this one didn’t have a large, flat warehouse opening. Due to some... incident that the previous owner wasn’t rather keen on sharing, they had to brick it up, and they weren’t able to find a buyer ever since.

This was probably also why it was missing the windows.

All it had was a small dingy opening in the corner to serve as its entrance and exit, plugged with a rebarred cloud door that didn’t really fit nor open all the way.

“Mmm. Well. Perhaps a touch of paint,” Egg said, prodding the wall, which sank in slightly at his touch. “It didn’t seem this bad in the pictures.”

“That’s because you’re blind, Egg. Blind and stupid and blind,” Survey said, pulling his hoof out of a cold puddle. "Anyway, what pictures? Haven't you been here before?"

"No."

"Wh- but! You bought a building without inspecting it first?" Survey sputtered. "That's just bad business sense!"

“But I did get it for next to nothing.”

“Wait. Wait. Back up there, cowpony.” Survey tilted his head, adjusting his wings inside his casts. His bruised eye narrowed. “You said you sold your house to buy this... this thing.”

“Post hoc ergo propter hoc.”

“I told you I don’t speak Zebra, Eggy.”

Egg sighed.

“I said I sold my house.” Egg pushed against the door. It creaked slightly. “And I bought this place. I never said that the two actions were dependent on each other.”

“What... so why did you sell your house then? That’s as barmy as a bag of ferrets!”

“Not much point in owning two houses, really.”

"What about all your stuff, Egg? Your possessions?"

"Brought it with me," Egg said to the side, looking down and patting the small sling-bag he had around his neck.

"Y- what?"

"Everything else went with the house. I sold them as fittings, just to get a little bit more money."

“And what, pray tell, did you do with all the money if it didn't go towards buying this place?”

“I sent it to my folks.” Egg struggled to get the door fully open. It wouldn't. But there was enough space for him to squeeze through, and the two stallions found themselves deposited on the inside of Egg's acquisition.

The inside of the building was no better than the outside. It felt like they had just plucked it off the cloud, turned the whole thing inside out and put it back. The only light was the small rectangular shaft that poured in from the entryway. Despite this, it had a rather generous floor space, and it took a good twenty or so medium paces to walk from wall to wall.

“You sent it all ground-side?” Survey continued, looking around the darkness. He squinted, trying to spot anything within the gloom that would suggest that this place was in any way remotely habitable.

To the left were other smaller doors that led to what appeared to be small offices. In the far corner were pallet racks, made out of aluminum and wood. There was a dark spot in the floor behind the shelves, but from Survey’s position, he couldn’t be clear if it was a staircase to the basement, or just a regular old deadly hole.

“Yeah...” Egg muttered distractedly, stepping very carefully over the stained, tarnished floor. Red was never a good colour for a stain, but now wasn’t the time to start thinking of possibilities. “They’re retired, after all. Could do with the extra bits. My father sure loves his garden. Needs the money to keep it going, right?”

“Egg, I’ve seen that ‘garden’. It’s just a small patch of dirt and four flowers. Four.”

“Isn’t that what a garden is?” Egg turned around to look at Survey.

“No, it really isn’t.”

“We’re not from earth like you are, Survey. My dad’d never seen a plant up close or held one in his hooves until he moved. Let him be happy, why don’t you?”

“Ah, well, I didn’t mean it like that. But y’know. Garden ain’t a garden unless it’s a garden proper.”

“Lots of gardens in Trottingham, then?” Egg peeked through one of the doorways on the left. It was a tiny little room with a desk on the side and a couple of cabinets behind it. Immediately Egg felt a bit more comfortable.

“Well... not really, to be frank. I mean, we have a couple of parks, but that’s about it, really. Like, green parks. Not the slimy white stuff you get up here.”

“And what do you call them down there?”

“... what do we call them? We call them ‘parks’, Egg. What are you on about?”

“Oh, you know. you Trottinghamers always have some odd words for things. ‘Fleversham’ or something, I’d expect.”

Having given the office a thorough examination, Egg moved along the same wall to the only other door that was set into it.

“Shut up, Egg. Shut your gob.”

“That’s what I mean. Just say ‘mouth’ like a normal pegas-”

The sudden pause wasn't lost on Survey, who rushed over to his friend’s side to peer through the same doorway that Egg was staring into.

“What, what is it then?”

“I don’t know. It looks weird. Tables and things down the center. Workbenches. I can’t really see, though. I’m going to have to get windows put in, or get some sort of lighting.”

The lights went on, above, flickering behind plastic cages. Survey slowly took his hoof off the switch.

“Yeah, alright,” Egg muttered, still looking straight into the room.

The room had been oddly reinforced to a degree. It was the only part of the whole building that had wooden beams set into the walls and corners, and the clouds under-hoof definitely felt thicker and denser than the ones outside.

And there was a reason – there were an awful lot of metal fixtures scattered throughout the space; long, shiny workbenches and odd looking apparatuses taking up residence along the walls. There were heaters and Bunsen burners and bowls of all sorts. A dirty, stained pair of industrial sized sinks and a huge metal cabinet finished the look.

"Is this... is this a lab, Egg?" Survey asked. If he could look any more concerned his eyes would have been shut. "Why was this place going cheap, again?"

"Didn't press."

"Maybe you should've, Egg. Just a thought. Just one of those little nibbly bits that's sort of eatin' away at the back of my head right about now. Maybe you should have asked. Due diligence. It's important for a reason, Egg."

"Oh, like you've never made an impulse buy!"

"This is not an impulse buy! This is… this is property! Hailstones, this is getting worse by the second!"

Ignoring his ranting friend, Egg stepped back out, turning off the lights behind him, and made his way to that dark spot in the corner. Light, or the lack of it thereof, prevented Egg from being able to penetrate the murky depths of what was now confirmed to be some sort of cellar.

Egg gently prodded the accompanying trapdoor with a hoof, a small slat of wood that was left leaning up against the wall. It wasn't even connected to the hole with hinges or anything of the sort. Typical of buildings in Cloudsdale, the entrance to the basement had neither stairs nor a ladder.

"Holy thunderations," Survey cried. "Did somepony just punch a hole in the floor or something?"

Egg's eyes flashed upward to Survey's face for just one small unnoticed second before returning to the hole.

"I'm going down there," Egg told Survey, choosing his words carefully.

"What? Why? What for?"

"Well, to see what's down there, of course."

"But it's all dark and… and everything."

"I thought you liked the dark," Egg rebutted.

"Well, yes, but… but not like this! I like a safe dark. The kind of dark where you can lie back and not have to care about things. This is the kind of dark where you have to care extra about things."

Egg placed a hoof over the edge of the gaping maw.

"I-I can't follow you, you know!" Survey twitched in his encased wings.

"Just be here when I get back." Egg stepped toward the blackness.

"W- wait," Survey muttered. "Might be… might be snakes down there."

"Snakes aren't native to Cloudsdale. I've never seen a snake before. Have you?"

"Y- yeah, sure I have. Thousands of them. Roaming the streets of Trottingham like bunnies in a field. They're scary, they are. One bite and your head explodes."

"I… highly doubt that."

"Pkkkssshh," Survey uttered, moving his front hooves away from his skull. "Like that. In two seconds."

"Survey."

"Egg, don't go down there, alright?" the blue stallion shouted.

"Why?"

"Because I don't like this! I don't like this building, and I don't like what you're doing, and you're just… acting weird! And you're going to get into deep manure and who's gonna be there to get you out? Who?"

"I thought you would, really."

"M- me!" Survey exclaimed, stumbling backward in to a rack, which rattled on loose bolts. "Me!"

"Yeah, you've moving in with me, aren't you?"

"No! No, Egg, no! Absolutely not! N- no! Are you insane? No! In here? With you? I don't want to… I mean, I have a job, Egg. I moved here for that job. I can't just… and for something like this? Are you… have you completely gone off your rocker?"

"Some ponies would say so, yes." Egg gave Survey a look.

"No! I told you I can't help you with this, and I think that definition extends to, you know, moving in with you into a small box of twaddle and fighting crime."

"So, that's a 'no', then?" Egg asked.

"Y- fo- Egg!"

Egg tilted his head, looking thoughtfully at the dark space in the floor. "Probably storage, isn't it?"

"I need to go now, mate."

"Is it time already?"

"I have a half hour to get back to Stackford before he busts my chops, and I can't exactly make it there in ten minutes."

"Are you coming back?" Egg kept watch on his friend as Survey tottered past him toward the door, pressing toward the bright light of day.

"No. I'm… I'm not. Swing by the office if you need me, alright? But I don't think I should come back here."

"I'm still going down there, you know." Egg turned back to the cellar.

"I… I don't care!" Survey yelled, slipping past the broken door and into the broken streets outside.

"Who's going to get me out of the manure then?" Egg called after, his shrill voice echoing off the walls.

The only reply was the echo.

Egg smiled.

Three. Two. Annnnnnd-

"Listen, you!" Survey burst back in, tripping over the door as he limped back into the room on bruised legs. "This… this isn't help, you understand? Just so we're perfectly clear. I'm not helping you."

Egg wiped the smile off his face and straightened his back, pushing his glasses back up his face.

"Perish the thought, Survey," he said, indifferently.

"There's… there's a guy near here. The boardwalk down the shores. I keep hearing of a character there who fancies himself some sort of hero to the downtrodden, alright? Story keeps popping up from the lads who do… ah… market research in the area."

"'Market research'?"

"Yeah, you know! Testing… testing the waters for a new product. Asking opinions."

"With a clipboard and plenty of questions about personal habits and preferences?"

"Y-yes. What of it?"

"Like… a survey."

"Oh shut up, Egg. Like your name is any better."

"So, what about this stallion?" Egg asked.

Survey sighed and recomposed himself. "Right. So. My guy was down on the boardwalk, right? And he sees this young hotshot or sutin', I don't know, one of the street performers. He does this little quick start and quick stop trick, quite impressive, apparently, but then there's a snatching, right? Some old mare's purse."

Egg nodded. Normally he would have sighed at the news, but now he was finally in a position where news such as this brought about a new tingling excitement.

"And without a second's hesitation, he goes after the snatch thief. Barrels into him at a hundred kilometres an hour. Totally decimates the poor fool and returns the purse. Gets his bows and his applause and tips and continues on like nothing's happened."

"And you think-"

"My guy asked around, of course. Curiosity is something I try to instil into my juniors." Survey sniffed, wiping his nose. "Always tell them, ask questions about things that fascinate you, because if it'll fascinate you, it's bound to fascinate others as well. And we can use that, you know? In the applicable science of marketing, all you have to do, really, and this is what I always tell Stackford, bu-"

"Tangent."

"Oh, right. Right. So apparently this kid's a fixture, right? He's always there. They say he lives right under the boardwalk itself. Apparently he's some sort of dosser, but he refuses to scrump, so he catches thieves and busks to get enough dosh to last him a day."

"I only understood half of that, Survey."

"Shut up, Egg."

"Think I should look for him?"

"Reckon… reckon that he sounds like the kind of chap you want on your side, not that I'm encouraging any of this, mind you. But… somepony's gotta pull you out of the manure, right?"

"Thank you, Survey. Best be on your way now. I'll visit soon."

"Just watch yourself, Egg. It's never too late to pull out, alright?" Survey said, as he squeezed past the door to head back to the office. 

"Hey, Survey!" Egg called after him, the final time he'd do so for today.

"Yeah?"

"What's his name?"

"I dunno, Egg, I can't remember!" Survey called from the entrance. "My guy just mentioned it once! The story was more interesting than the details, I can tell you that much!"

"Then how will I know it's him when I see him?"

Survey gave a deliberate, slow nod, thinking back to something his junior had said. "You'll know, Egg! Trust me, you'll know!"


  


Egg trotted up and down the length of the boardwalk at a rather brisk pace in comparison to the ponies who were usually found there imbibing in some sort of baked treat or enjoying the breeze.

It was a beautiful place, really, attracting tourists from all over, from far-away sky cities like Los Pegasus and even drawing up the underclouds from the towns below. Those were, of course, the pegasi who were born and/or lived with the clouds above their heads rather than underhoof like they should.

But Egg wasn't one to judge what a pegasus should or shouldn't do, and never attached any particular meaning to the term other than what it was meant to carry.

The hustle and bustle was plentiful on the boardwalk. And they certainly didn't skimp on the 'hustle' at all.

Places with high traffic of tourists always attracted the bad seeds. Crime naturally went up in places of high density and high trade, and it had started here, innocently enough, with the buskers who looked to fool a poor innocent elderly couple out of the bits that they spent a lifetime saving just to enjoy themselves in their prime.

Recently, as the news would suggest, it expanded into something rather sinister and deep, as it wormed its way into the cracks of society, which is precisely why Egg decided to locate his base right here.

But that wasn't what Egg was here for.

Egg was looking to get conned.





Emberkite stopped.

That was his thing. That was what he did. He stopped to the erupting roars of the crowd and landed deftly on his hooves. It would not have been impressive had he not been travelling at sheering speeds just a fraction of a second before, and the billowing cloud that was kicked up in his wake gave him that rock-star exit that came every time he performed his little trick.

This time, he had finished his performance a little bit early – not that the public knew or cared – due to a certain something he had spotted while darting around high above the boardwalk.

Another one of those innocent ponies getting tricked. Again. Every day. Did they ever learn? Did they ever listen? No. Emberkite scoffed to himself as he nodded thanks to the crowd who threw him a few bits here and there in appreciation.

In the end, they just kept coming, and Ember had to kick them to the curb and show them what for. If he didn't, who would?

This time around there was a sort of pallid, sickly-green stallion with a rather old-pony manestyle being tricked by some right bugger using one of the oldest tricks in the book. It was taking place in the small alley between Captain Filigree's Seaweed Shack and The Beached Narwhal, which was some sort of outfitter's shop or something, Ember didn't know.

Perhaps they sold beached narwhals.

But Ember had no time to consider the possible trades of stores that he would never set hoof in. No. There were damsels to rescue, and… well. Others sometimes needed rescuing too, didn't they? It wasn't all the long-maned maidens with the golden locks all tied in a braid. Sometimes it was the old fogey with the disgusting glasses and the-

"Hey!" Ember yelled, landing on the clouds in front of the other two ponies.

The one with the old mane just sort of stood there, looking blankly at Ember. This guy was as heedless as they came!

The other one was the guy Ember was after. That horrible, scared-looking dirt bag with the three walnut shells. That one wearing the funny cape thing around his neck. The one who, at the sight of Cirrus Shore's grand protector, flipped over the cardboard box and was making a run for it.

Walnut shells were easy to find. Tiny red balls were simple to get. It was the only thing that was of any value – Egg's bitbag – that the hustler was getting away with, and Emberkite wasn't having any of that. Not on his watch.

"Don't worry, mister, I'm gonna get your bits back!" he declared with gusto.

Wings, check.

Awesome take-off stance. Check.

Strange old stallion calling your name. Ch-

What?

"Emberkite?" Egg asked again, stepping up behind him and putting a hoof on his shoulder.

"Hey!" Ember swung around, swatting Egg's hoof off the strap of his bag. "Don't tou- wait. How'd you know my name? Who are you?"

"Hm," Egg intoned, walking past the gaping pegasus and picking up a walnut shell with his teeth, setting it down upon the upturned box. "Curious."

"Are… are you crazy, old stallion? That guy's getting away with-"

"Bag of rocks," Egg said, shifting his gaze to Ember, who was still clutching his bag strap protectively. "You're Emberkite, right?"

"W- what's it to you?"

"Well, ah… one by one, then." Egg found the red ball lying somewhere on the floor and returned it to the 'table' along with the three shells. "Firstly, 'how did you know my name', I believe you asked. I've been… asking around. Guy like you parades himself, I see. All the stand owners here know who you are and what you do. And they're very thankful for it, by the by."

"Well, I… I mean… yeah, they gotta know whose turf this is, right?"

"Yes, very much so." Egg put the red ball underneath one of the shells. "Second question. Who am I? I'm someone coming to you with a proposition, mister Emberkite. Just like you, I've found myself in the position where…"

Egg stopped his own dialogue short as he slid the shell around on the surface of the box.

"So, how do they do this, anyway? It's not magic. We're all pegasi here. How do they get the ball out?"

"Uh…"

Egg rapped his hoof on the pavement.

"When they slide the shell with the ball around, at one point they slide it over the edge of the box," Ember suddenly explained, as if the rap had refocused his thoughts. He was still very wary and even a bit nervous, and it showed in his voice, but he was explaining. And there was something comforting about explaining things. "It's real quick, but… it falls out and they just act like it's still in there. They never show you the other two shells when you choose wrong. Because none of 'em have the ball in it."

"Simple. Effective. I quite like it." Egg shrugged, giving a bemused look. "Your last question was what are you to me, I believe you said. And that's what this is all about, mister Emberkite. My name is Egg."

"Egg."

"Yes. Egg. You may laugh, if you must," Egg offered with a genuine smile.

The mere mentioning of it erased the encroaching smile from Ember's face. Suddenly it felt like it would have been an extremely bad idea to follow through.

"As I was saying, we're both in a mutually beneficial circumstance, one in which our interests cross."

Ember shook his head, craning his neck at Egg. "What does that even mean? C'mon, man, speak right!"

"I am putting together a team to fight crime."

"W-"

Emberkite frowned, turning around in place, looking over his shoulder for any reason his mind would give him, and then everywhere, everywhere except at Egg. He drew in a breath, which, after a second, blew back out of his lungs in a wheezing sort of laugh.

"Y- you're putting together a team to fight crime," Ember scoffed. "Are you for real, old stallion?"

"Absolutely."

"You insane?" Ember tapped his skull with a hoof.

"You do it too, why can't I?"

"Bu… but you're an old stallion! You gotta be like, what, 80? Your mane's all white!"

"That… is not due to age."

"Listen… this has been fun," Ember lilted. "Congrats on tracking me down, not that it was hard, but, yeah. You have a good life, aight?"

"Why not?" Egg asked, stepping up to Ember, tilting his head.

"Because, man, because… Because! Look at you! What could you do?"

"I could… catch that guy who just tried to scam me." Egg shrugged, jerking a hoof over to the side.

"You gotta be kidding me."

"I'll do it before you do, even." Egg sniffed, a sly smile appearing on his mouth.

A small heat started burning down in the pit of Ember's stomach as something… something about how Egg had said that rubbed him the wrong way. It was an indignation, or an insult, or… what was it? Something he hated. Something he absolutely despised.

It was a challenge.

"If I manage to, will you join me?" Egg asked, plainly.

"Whoa, man, whoa. Wait up. Stop right there," Ember spouted out, stepping up to Egg's face, ramming his forehead against the other pony's. "You catch him first, then we'll talk."

"Uncomfortable," Egg observed, but not moving back.

"Whatever, old stallion. You think you got what it takes? Fine, but I ain't givin' ya a head start!" Ember peeled back, turning parallel to the alley.

With an incredible burst that left a dent in the clouds he'd been standing on, Ember took off along the walls and rocketed into the skies opposite the boardwalk.

Ember was by no means the fastest flier, but he did turn back briefly to look at his competition still milling about in the alley, on the ground, not even taking to the skies.

"Stupid," Ember spat, refocusing his attention to the streets. He was going to win for sure.





This wasn't really what it was about. The competition, this whole race, it was the result of a gut reaction, but Ember wasn't about to let this old stallion win regardless. But as Egg stood over the form of the hustler in the middle of the boardwalk, as a thick red liquid flowed off his barely-conscious body in rivulets, Ember's chest tightened as he struggled to find the words to say to the one who had bested him.

"What the hail, man!" Ember whispered angrily, pushing through the buzz of the gathering crowd and stamping up to Egg, who was looking casually aside, as if he were feeling self conscious about it all.

At the sight of Ember, most of the crowd started to disperse. It was alright, they figured. They were just worried some other crazy nutso had started to beat ponies up along the boardwalk.

"Ah, Emberkite!" Egg remarked, happily, at the angry pony storming up to him. "I… ah… there you go. This is the fellow, isn't it?"

The hustler lay there, clearly recognizable by that odd cape thing that he wore around his neck, except that now it was a different colour altogether.

"What did you do? How did you do it?" Ember yelled. "You didn't even take off, man! I was watching you! This some kind of scam of your own, is that it? Is this guy your accomplice? What are you after?"

"Do you think I'm trying to scam you?" Egg asked, turning serious on a dime.

"N- no," Ember stammered, truthfully. It was just a tiny little something that struck him about Egg, but in that he knew the answer was 'no'. "How the hail did you do it then? It's buckin' impossible!"

The waning crowd finally dispersed completely, be it due to self-preservation or some of the stall owners tempting customers away with the sweet smell of roasted corn. Eventually a bubble formed around Ember and Egg which all pedestrians naturally avoided. One tends to do that when there's a couple of ponies standing over a very wet, very bloody corpse-like figure.

"It's not blood, if you were wondering," Egg said, out of nowhere, prodding the limp hustler, who let out a very thick-sounding cough.

"What the heck did you do to him, old stallion?"

Egg leaned down, looking along the side of the hustler's body. There was that bitbag that he had allowed him to take. Right now, though, it seemed to have been torn in half, and it was leaking a great amount of that red liquid.

Ember leaned forward too, to get a good look at the item.

"Something I… borrowed from my old place of work," Egg explained, the sun shining down onto the backs of their heads as they leaned over the hustler. "You know how I said it contained rocks?"

"That's not rocks, is it?"

"Security device. If a robber were to… break into a vault, they'd probably grab one of these by accident. Banks and other places with a lot of bits sort of mix these decoy bags in with the actual bags. They're infused with magic, you see. Once you pass by a magical field set up around a building…"

"Boom?"

"Yeah." Egg nodded, rearing back up. "We get them imported in from Canterlot. They're filled with a mix of red dye and… ah… choking gas, I think. Puts you out a bit."

"What did you say your job was, again?" Ember asked, incredulously, a little bit of excitement creeping into his tone.

"Accountant."

"What?"

"You know Stackford and Sons?"

"What, that building?" Ember pointed toward a pyramid the loomed in the far horizon. Despite it being quite a distance away, it was still prominently in the skyline of the city.

"You know your city. Good."

"Yeah I know my coltdamn city! I grew up in it, didn't I?" Ember declared, proudly.

"Alright, good. So, these bags. There's other ways to trigger them off. We also get these little pebbles, right? They emit the same magical field as the bags." Egg took one out of a green-silk baggie. "Kept in these special purses that block the fields. So while you were flying up there, all I had to do was…"

"Well… how'd you know where he was gonna be?"

"Simple enough. He thought you were going after him. You have a bit of a reputation around here. Wouldn't be surprising if he had prepared for the eventuality."

The hustler stirred. Moaning; wheezing.

"Ah… yes." Egg looked down. "So he'd be keeping off the main streets. You'd be able to spot him easily from up there. No doubt you'd also be able to see a bolting pegasus or somepony flying off. So the skies are out, and the only other place to go is…"

"Back to the alleys!" Ember deduced, throwing his hooves up.

"Back to the alleys. I just spent a couple of minutes throwing pebbles down the alleyways, and at one point, a dumpster exploded. Guess who was inside?"

"That…" Ember muttered, shaking his head.

"I win, I believe."

"That… was… amazing, old stallion!" Ember suddenly shouted, dancing on his hooves in a circle, grabbing at his head in disbelief. He was strangely impressed by the whole show. "Okay, like, I totally don't say this often, but that was genius, you know? I mean like, what the hail did you do before this? You some kind of spy or something?"

"I believe I already told you I was an acco-"

"Naw, man, naw. None a'that! You some kind of like, spymaster or something! Canterlot Royal Guard elite, homie!"

"No, I'm really not. This was the first time I've done this."

"Wait, what now? First time? Quit pullin' my leg, old stallion." Ember smiled, laughing about the great joke.

"No, first time. That's why I need you. Are you on board?"

The smile vanished from Ember's lips. His eyes darted away again, as the rush of the excitement started to drain.

"Look, man," he said. There was a tinge of regret in his voice, something sad behind his words. "I… I know I said I'd listen if you did this, and yeah, way to go, alright? You did it. But I can't. I really can't."

"Why not?"

"Because, man! Because, alright?"

Egg sighed. That was disappointing. It was a wasted afternoon if he couldn't get this young, directionless pegasus to come with him. At another slight stirring of the downed hustler, Egg shifted his hoof slightly.

"Come on, talk to me. At least tell me why."

"It ain't yo' business, aight?" Ember shot back. "Ain't none of yo' business. Why do you care, anyway?"

"Because I see what you're doing and I see that you enjoy it. And I wonder why someone like you would turn down an offer to do things right. To do things better."

"And just how would you do things better, old stallion?"

"All you do right now is target the small street criminals. You make your little tiny world up here on the boardwalks safe. But what about the rest of Cloudsdale? What about where the problems truly lie? We can make a difference, Ember. I'm working towards a goal. And I'm going to make sure we're prepared every step of the way."

"Preparation never did nothin' for nopony!" Ember shouted, a hoof subconsciously darting up to prod his bag. "Alright? Nothin'! Action's what it takes!"

Egg blinked.

It all happened in a rather short time, but to Ember, it stretched out rather long indeed. The pony – that coughing, wheezing vagrant on the floor – jolted up, swinging a leg out in attack. Neither Ember nor Egg knew if he had just been biding his time, or if he had just awoken and furiously decided to take it out on the closest pony within reach. But it didn't matter. In that moment, he beat his wings and leapt up, hoof sent on a course toward Ember's distracted face.

And then down he went, his attack stopping short, and as Ember's eyes grew and his head flew back, the vagrant went sprawling to the floor, chin smashing roughly against the pavement. If it hadn't been a softer cloud, he most certainly would have come out of that with a fractured jaw.

But it was still enough to knock him back out, since he was halfway there already.

Egg removed his hoof from the hustler's cape.

"I… beg to disagree," Egg said.

Shock turned to anger on Ember's face as Egg continued speaking.

"I don't know what's going on with you. My guess is that it's got something to do with whatever's in that bag of yours. Maybe you have some unresolved issues, I don't know. But let me make it perfectly clear – I know that I'm not making it easy for you right now."

That frown came back to Ember, a whole miasma of emotions swirling in the depths of his brain. It sparked in his soul and heart, but the strongest one, anger, burned brightest. But yet, he held his tongue. He would never take it out on somepony who didn't really deserve it.

But it took all of his self-control not to react.

"But the hard decisions never are," Egg continued. "Either way, whether you join me or not, I'm not going to stop what I'm doing. I'll just find others who are interested. But I would much rather you be on my side than otherwise. Even if we've got the same goal, seems wrong to be on different teams.

"So, I don't know what your problem is, as I said, but I don't think it's anything we can't work out. I'll leave it to you, Emberkite," Egg concluded, lingering on Ember's name, drilling it in. He turned, walking off, leaving the unconscious hustler on the floor. Already, sirens in the distance betrayed the medical personnel that somepony else had alerted.

Ember huffed, frustrated, shaking his head to himself as his mind raced through a multitude of memories. Colours and shapes and disappointment floated through as he forced his eyes back open to watch the departing figure of Egg.

"W- wait!" he yelled.

Egg stopped.

"Where are you going?" Ember asked, the first thing to come to his head.

"Well, you know how you found me being scammed by that gentlepony down there?"

"Yeah?"

"Wasn't the first one. I had to do it three times before you noticed me. There's a couple of other ponies running around with an ink bag. Don't suppose you wanna help, do you?"

The oddly-confident stallion didn't even wait before turning around to continue on his way. This left Ember with no choice but to stand and huff, gritting his teeth and fighting the wave of frustration that overtook his senses. There were so many things to consider. So many strange feelings to overcome. But there it was, his chance at being something bigger than himself, something more, walking away…

"Hey! Old stallion!" Ember cried, rushing up behind Egg, who didn't stop for a second. "I… Okay, let's… let's give this a go, right? You said you had a plan, right?"

Egg nodded, peering down the alleyway between Big Wing's SkySurf Rentals and The Happy Clam, which sold floral shirts and accessories. He peeled a small stone from that green bag and chucked it down the length of the way.

"Yeah, I do…" Egg mumbled, peering at the empty passage. Nothing happened, and he continued on. "First we find these two ponies and teach them that scamming is bad. And then…"

"And then?" Emberkite asked, looking around.

"Then we go get some pie."


    







THREE-CARD MONTE OR THREE-CAD HUNT DAY?
THREE NOTORIOUS HUSTLERS SENT TO HOSPITAL!

by Gale A. Mezzo





"Seriously, who writes these things?" Ember asked, tossing the evening edition across the table to Egg.

It was 7:14, according to the clock behind the counter, and Mocha was busy serving up dinner to a plethora of hungry patrons. The line outside the diner was growing by the minute, and Mocha had her hooves full.

Still, between seatings and ringing up cheques and throwing the odd cup of coffee here and there, she found time to stop by Egg's table, the same table, and drop a word in edgeways.

"Gale's been covering all the crime in the city," Mocha explained, ruffling Ember's hair. "Who's the new guy, Eggy?"

"I don't know yet," Egg said, looking seriously at Emberkite. "Who are you?"

"Is he always like this?" Ember shot a hoof at the bespectacled, emotionless robot. "What's his deal, anyway?"

"He's always like that!" Mocha sang, turning to the side. "Coming! Ah, be one moment, boys."

Ember huffed, burying his face in his legs on the tabletop. "'Boys', she says. How old are you, anyway, old stallion?"

"How old do you think I am?" Egg frowned.

"Eighty."

"Yes, I'm eighty," Egg replied, picking up the newspaper. This Gale pony, whoever she was, sure was quick at covering that story. He gave it a scan, but there wasn't anything in it that he didn't already know. The report, however, was surprisingly detailed and very accurate.

"Could'a mentioned us at least," Emberkite grumbled. "Not even a single name drop or nothin'."

"It's better that way," Egg said. "You don't want them knowing who we are."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Ember said, shuffling his head up to look out the window. "So, why are we here, again?"

"Because the pie is excellent, and you ought to get some food. I know for a fact that eating street food for all three meals isn't particularly heatlhy."

"So, pie, then."

"Yes, pie. It's good for you. Eat your pie, Emberkite."

"And coffee," Mocha added, breezing past.

"And coffee." Egg nodded along. "You see? Coffee and pie."

"Do you… live here or something?"

"No."

"Oh. Oh, I got it. I got it!" Ember straightened up, staring at Egg down the length of his nose. "You… you and her!"

"Miss Leche?"

"Yeah! Whatever! You and her! You like her coffee and pie!"

"Yes, I do. It's very tasty."

"It's… you and her, dude! You and her!"

"Y…es? We're friends."

Egg looked confused. That look spread to Ember, who found himself doubting his conclusion based on the single fact that no one stallion in a relationship could possibly hide it that well. At least, not in Ember's experience.

"Aw, nothin'," Ember grumbled, slumping back again. He grabbed the slice of cinnamon apple pie off the plate and shoved it into his mouth.

Mmm. Not bad.

"I'm curious," Egg said, after a fork-full of his own pastry. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh, what, this?" Ember patted his sling. "It's… well. It's something from a long time ago."

"Can I see?"

"Yeah, I s'pose so," Ember muttered, dragging the comic out of the bag and placing it on the table.

It certainly looked like he hadn't been taking care of it, but only because it was frayed and fading in so many places. It was old – really old – and Egg knew the fading quality of the comic wasn't entirely due to Ember's neglect. In fact, without Ember's care, the rag might have disintegrated a long time ago.

Ember took a long look at the figure on the cover before spinning it around to face Egg.

'Action Sky', it read, in big bold letters across the top. It was one of those books from Egg's childhood. In fact, quite a number of years before then, even. It was one of those old propaganda-type comics that embellished the exploits of some real-world figures of some kind, and the subtitle read, clearly, 'Who can beat the Mob!?'.

Below that was a figure clad in a uniform that was somehow familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. There were flared boots and thick yellow collars, a blue suit and a single yellow thunderbolt drawn down the chest of the red-maned figure standing proud and defiant in the face of all danger.

"Don't you recognize it, old stallion?" Ember grinned, proud of his knowledge. "It's the Wonderbolts!"

"The Wonderbolts?" Egg took a closer look, trying to peer past the cracks in the colour and the speckly lines.

It sort of looked like a Wonderbolt, Egg supposed. The colours were the same, but the design and the whole feeling of it was something a bit different.

"Yeah," Ember explained, drawing the comic back and sliding it back where it belonged. "They used to be different, man. They used to do good things. They… they used to be cool."

"Hm." Egg thought.

"Nowadays, they're just a bunch of useless stunt fliers, man. You know? Can't do anything worth manure. That's why I keep that comic. Reminds me of what they used to be." Ember sniffed, mind wandering. "Can't believe I tried…"

Egg looked at Ember.

"Oh, I don't know if they're that bad," Mocha cut in again, swinging around, somehow keeping up despite having been present for all of three seconds. "They played quite an important role in keeping the changelings out of Cloudsdale during that horrible invasion."

"Yeah but… it was a lot of ponies. A group effort, you know? In the end it wasn't like a huge force came up here anyway, so it's not like they really did anything either."

"Hm," Egg interjected again.

"Well, maybe they'll change your mind one day," Mocha said, rushing off yet again.

"What did she mean by that?" Ember asked Egg.

"Haven't the faintest," Egg replied, thoughtful hoof on his chin. "She's always been quite… mysterious, that one."

A piece of ice flew through the air and bounced off Egg's head.

"Good hearing, too."

"Yeah, well," Ember eyed Mocha as she refilled a hay shake for a customer, "she seems nice."

"Anyway, we best be off," Egg said, leaving 12 bits on the table. "Tell me, Emberkite. Where were you living before this?"

"Just… under the docks. I don't got no home."

"Perfect."

"What's up, old stallion?"

"You're going to love your new house."





Survey shuffled uncomfortably in his bed, in the middle of a darkened room with only a tiny blue nightlight to keep him company. The nightlight, a small blue canary that stuck out of a plug near the main light switch, helped complete the mood he required for the 'comfortable' sort of darkness that he liked. It didn't matter what it was to him, as long as there was some glowing piece of electronics in the room with him.

He had to lie on his chest since his wings were healing, but that wasn't the reason why he couldn't get to sleep.

In front of him was the scrap of cloth that he pulled off the mugger. The same scrap of cloth that he brought with him to the hospital, and the same scrap of cloth that he brought home.

The logical side of him was telling him to throw it away. There was really no reason to keep it, was there? Where was the sense in all of it?

I mean, who was he going to tell, anyway? The police? What police? The Wonderbolts wouldn't be able to do anything, not at the rate they were going, and…

No. Don't ever, ever tell Egg.

Survey looked down at the fabric. There was three quarters of a little inscription of a feather on it which hadn't been torn off, but what made it particularly frightening was the thick red line drawn across it.

Don't ever tell Egg.

Not if you want him to survive.



Romancing the Clouds


EPISODE 1 :: End