//------------------------------// // The Rails out of Ponyville // Story: Flim and Flam and the Road to Old Donado // by KFDirector //------------------------------// “…and, lastly, seven hundred thirty bits from the Appleloosa Municipal Orchard.” Applejack nodded at the attorney’s assessment, and both earth ponies shut their ledgers in satisfaction. “That closes out the accounts and wraps up this year’s cider season, as far as we’re concerned. If you could sign here, so my clients could get their money out of escrow….” While Applejack struggled to use a quill pen in the manner that all earth and pegasus ponies are doomed to whenever cruel fate demands that they write, the attorney turned from the desk to face his clients. Sprawled on worn sofas in the front room of the Apple family home, they weren’t doing a particularly convincing job of pretending to care. “Flim, Flam. We’ve been paid now.” Flam yawned loudly. “You’re quite sure, old bean?” “I know the scent of money. Now, we’ve been invited to stay for a celebratory dinner with the Apples, and then we can head to the bank in the morning, and – ” The lawyer stopped speaking as Flim jumped to his hooves, throwing one foreleg over his shoulder and began whispering in his ear. “Or…you can stay for dinner and we can go to the bank now, before it closes.” Flim’s voice became lower still. “I know you’ve already drank the Ponyville cider, Nickel, but I’d rather bath in the boiled remains of my own relatives then spend another saccharin moment with these types. You understand, of course.” Nickel Guise, Esq., forced a smile. “Always a pleasure, you two. Do try and remember everypony to whom you owe money this time.” “Wouldn’t dream of forgetting, Nickel.” “That’s not an answer.” “You didn’t ask a question.” “Eighty-one thousand, four hundred and forty-four bits.” It was the count their lawyer’s ledger said they should have, it was the count the bank teller said they got, and it was the count they re-confirmed just now, nodding in satisfaction. They clinked together two bottles of cider, leaned back on their haunches, and threw back their drinks. Flam made a very satisfied sound as the last of his bottle was emptied, and he magically hurled his bottle towards the waste bin – missing the target and smashing it against the kitchen pantry. The broken glass did not appreciably alter the amount of litter already on the floor of their studio apartment. “Alright. Now we can pay our first installment on probation. Should make Pearl happy.” Flim finished his as well, and did not even bother aiming for the waste bin, which was probably the cleanest part of the whole apartment. “Or – or – hear me out, brother. We could spend the money on something even better, like – wait for it – ” Flim here raised his voice. “ – literally anything else at all.” Flam’s mustache twitched. His twin had been getting rather more irritable than usual of late. “I want off of probation, brother.” “So do I! But at this rate, we’ll be off probation in…oh, longer than all recorded history to date. Even with the whole lot of us all paying off the same debt together, and even allowing for Vinyl and Octavia and Iron Will to be pulling in a bit more income than us, we’re still doing this for a few hundred years!” Flim’s magic seized another bottle of cider, shaking it vigorously. “Brother of mine, you know I’m a big fan of living. I may in fact be one of survival’s biggest fans. But if all I’ve got to look forward to until I die is weekly probation check-ins, justifying my every action to a unicorn in stretch pants, then pass the locoweed and let me move on.” The mustachioed unicorn’s magic took the bottle from Flim, before he could shake it entirely apart, and set it aside. “Enough, Flim. You don’t rant like this unless you’re trying to convince me of something. You must have a plan.” “You heard that this place called ‘the Crystal Empire’ suddenly appeared out of nowhere while we were in the dungeon, right?” Flam raised a brow. “Yes. It was rather a big deal. It was in a few of the papers, even.” “And it had been missing for a thousand years. Notice how there’s been a lot of that going on lately? Things missing for a thousand years coming back? Princesses? Evil spirits? Cities?” “And the chosen heroines of Equestria are dispatched to go deal with it, while life goes on for the rest of us.” Flam forgot himself, and opened the bottle he had taken from Flim, a violent spray then soaking his face, hat, and the unauthorized pin-up of Daring Do on the wall behind him. He sighed. “What of it?” Flim overlooked his brother’s drinking problem, and continued with his point. “And that’s why nopony ever makes any money off of these things. The Princesses always send the Elements of Harmony or something to go deal with them, and I think we can tell from the state of Sweet Apple Acres that they aren’t getting compensated. So I say we figure out what the next place to reappear is going to be, and we make sure we’re there first – to collect a fat finders’ fee, or to loot the place before anyone can stop us, whatever seems to be the better option at the time.” Flam shook the cider from his hat. “I understand how ‘step three’ is ‘profit’, and I get why ‘step two’ is ‘as yet undefined’, but I don’t see how we even have a ‘step one’ here. How exactly do we figure out what long-lost barely-known mythical place is going to suddenly reappear?” “Good guesswork, a little research, and some pattern recognition. I won’t bore you with all the details right now, but two words: Old Donado. It was very likely real, and it fits the criteria – the last time anypony knew anything about it, it was under the thumb of a strange evil being, and then it suddenly fell out of contact with all its neighbors. A few explorers looked for it, but most ponies concluded the world was better off without, and that’s it, it’s gone. And all of this happened between nine hundred and eleven hundred years ago, as close as I can work out.” Flam sopped up the cider in his mustache with a napkin. “So it might not even be a thousand years ago, and we’ve got no reason to think that a thousand years means anything in this case anyway. Any other catches?” “Well, there’s the little issue of not being certain where it is. Oh, and that, when it reappears, the strange evil being who ruled it will likely be back, too.” “So basically this is a horrible plan.” “Or we could hang around Ponyville picking up odd jobs for eight months to satisfy Pearl’s demand that we’re gainfully employed and wait for another cider season to work. And do it over and over again until we die.” Flam stared at Flim for a while. Flim smiled at his brother. “So, Flam, what’ll it be?” “I…think we need a third opinion.” “Who’d you have in mind?” “The old girl should be getting off work about now, right?” Trixie’s apartment, while by all objective measurements smaller than the twins’ own, managed to feel roomier by the simple virtue of being cleaner than a sty. There still was barely room for the three of them, but at least nothing hazardous or disgusting had to be shoved aside to make that room. The mare ignited some incense with her magic, before reclining with the brothers at her low table, a plate of warm biscuits between them. “I have to say, old girl, the rock farm has really mellowed you out lately.” There was some concern in Flim’s voice. “The rock farm has nothing to do with it,” Trixie said languidly. “There’s a zebra potion-maker in the Everfree Forest, she sold me some fantastic herbs.” “And why do you take these herbs?” Flam asked, while a dim light of recollection flickered in Flim’s mind regarding the zebra. “Because I’ve been reduced to working on a rock fa – oh. Yes. Biscuit?” “Pass. This isn’t you, Trixie. You don’t calmly accept fate, you don’t hold steady employment, you don’t eat strange herbs to deal with your identity issues, and you don’t use the first person! You need out of this place, out of these routines! You need an adventure!” “I can’t have an adventure, Flam,” Trixie growled, obstinately refraining from her characteristic speech patterns. “I’m on probation.” “Breaking news, old girl!” Flim said, pounding the table with his hooves. “You’re going to die on probation! Are you really done living your life?” She growled again. “Forget it, brother. I told you she wouldn’t go for it. This place has finally taken her – now she’s just as boring as the rest of them.” He showily rose on his hooves. “Lies!” She shouted, in a low and thundering voice, as she in turn stood, eyes glowing. “The Great and Powerful Trixie will hear no more of them! Is she not the mare who called down the thunder and destroyed the Burning Mare, who held off waves of the Night Guard to cover your escape, who nearly sacrificed herself to lure a herd of angry buffalo off a cliff, and who impressed tens of thousands with her amazing talents on the saxophone?” Flim smiled. “She is now! Good to have you back with us, old girl!” He walked around the table and threw a foreleg over her in a hug, while Flam stood, came around the other side of the table, and did the same. She stammered as she calmed down and the fierce magic faded from her eyes, and then sighed. “You’re right. Trixie does need out of this rut, probation officer be hexed. What did you have in mind?” By Ponyville standards, the train station was crowded – which is to say that there were about twenty ponies present, counting the staff and guards. Flim and Flam straightened their bow ties and stood in line for tickets; their wait was not long, as the wall-eyed grey pegasus ahead of them received hers and flew off in the general direction of the track. Flim stepped up, a wide grin on his face. “Two tickets to Manehattan, dear filly.” The ticket seller, a small yellow earth pony who looked to have earned her cutie mark no more than a week ago, chirped happily. “Yes sir! Two tickets to – ” “Halt.” A dark gray pegasus in the armor of the Night Guard stepped up. “You’re Flim and Flam, aren’t you? I need to see signed documents from your probation officer that you’re approved to travel.” “Told you this wouldn’t work, Flim….” The mustachioed brother whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Of course it will, Flam….” The bare-faced one whispered back. “What are you two muttering about? I need travel approval documents.” The pegasus advanced on them, his wings flaring. “And what did you say your destination was?” Flim’s magic shimmered again, tugging his bow tie, smoothing his vest, and adjusting his hat. Flam followed suit. “We’re off on the rails to Manehattan!” The sudden musical accompaniment was startling, but not disconcerting to anyone but the guard – these were ponies that lived in the same town as Pinkie Pie, after all. Flam spun and waved a bag of coins at the ticket seller again. “Two tickets please, if you don’t mi~ind!” She started to get the tickets again when the pegasus interposed. “No! Rules are rules – probationers need to present written approval to travel.” “Oh don’t you worry we’ve got it, you can be sure of that –” Flim sung, as he sidled around the pegasus, closely invading his personal space. “Show ‘em, Flam!” “I was so sure it was here…must’ve left it in my other hat!” Flam replied, shrugging helplessly as he waved his empty hat from side to side. “We’re off on the rails to Manehattan!” the two harmonized. “Not without paperwork you’re not!” “We just haven’t got the time!” “No paperwork, no train ride!” Flim draped himself over the pegasus guard, flabbergasting the stallion beyond the thought of retaliation. “Oh we’d like to take you along, that sure would be nice!” Flam’s magic dragged his brother off of the stupefied guard. “But frankly this whole thing is against legal advice!” “Three tickets to Manehattan, please.” “Here you go, mysterious cloaked stranger!” Hearing the song, other ponies began to file into the train station from off the streets – just because Pinkie Pie had made random songs acceptable didn’t mean they had become routine. Two more guards moved to join their comrade, looking to him for an explanation of the situation. The first was still too stunned to offer one. “We certainly do get around! Like the Statue of Harmony, we’re Manehattan-bound!” “Though it’s technically out in the harbor, it surely had to pass through the city at one point, didn’t it?” Flam mused, tapping his chin with his hoof. “History’s not your forte, brother, just let it go.” “Sir,” one of the newcomer guards, in matching armor but with fewer stripes, asked, “Are we stopping them?” “The – the song’s legal, they just can’t leave on the train, that’s all!” “We’re off on the rails to Manehattan! Well look out – ” The brothers slid forward into the crowd, bypassing the guards. “Clear the way!” They spun around and strutted back towards the thoroughly confused pegasus ponies. “Because here we come!” Flam stroked his mustache again. “They say out there the feathers beat you senseless while they laugh.” “Sounds like there you’ll finally meet your better half!” Flam laughed, and then stopped short. “Wait – are you talking to the guard, or me?” His brother melodramatically pressed his hat to his heart. “Why should I insult one of Equestria’s finest? They’ve only implied that I might end up in the dungeon again!” The brothers snorted at each other, and then caught up to the beat. “We’re off on the rails to Manehattan!” “All aboard!” the conductor cried. “And aren’t you feeling…kinda dumb?” they asked each other. They nodded with determination, glancing at the mysterious cloaked figure boarding the train behind the guards’ backs. “No obstacles will arise that we can’t overcome!” Flim sang. “For no world with Pinkie Pie in it could be anything but fun!” Flam explained. Many of those present who were not guards, and thus not responsible for figuring out what in the hoof was going on, nodded, finding this reasonable. “We certainly do get around…” the twins continued, turning to face each other, as the Friendship Express built steam and its wheels began to grind forward. “Like a juvenile member of the Apple family suffering from one last identity crisis before succumbing to a lifetime engaged in the manufacture and distribution of apples and apple-related products, we’re Manehattan-bound!” Their hooves rose and fell a few more times on the station platform. “Or like a pair of con artists who’ve grown weary of gainful employment after just four months and have learned that the first clue to fabulous riches can only be found in the warehouse district of a certain major harbor, we’re Manehattan-bound!” A few more moments of tap-dancing followed. “Giving the game a bit away, don’t you think, brother?” “Nothing distracts like the truth, brother!” “We’re Manehattan-bound!” As the magically conjured invisible brass section finished its piece, the brothers flung their hats skywards, and then those others present at the station could only see a great white light, as the hats burst like fireworks. When the light cleared, the train was plodding its way down the track, and the Flimflam brothers were out of sight. A murmur went up among the assembled. “Sir, do we stop the train?” The first guard shook his head, trying to clear it. “No – no. They don’t have tickets. If they’re on the train, they can’t hide, and the conductor knows his business. But search the station – who knows what else they’re up to?” “Tickets please,” called the conductor, an earth pony with a most impressive set of mutton chops. The mysterious cloaked figure, her hood now thrown back, held up three with her magic. The conductor raised a brow as he approached, eying the superfluous tickets. “Where are your companions, Miss?” Trixie grinned warily. “They…had to use the little colt’s room. They’ll surely be along shortly.” On cue, the door on the far side of the car burst open, as two unicorn stallions in striped vests rushed in, wheezing heavily. “Just…made it….” The conductor’s brow raised farther still. Trixie laughed nervously. “They…had a lot to drink in the line for tickets,” she said in explanation. “…next time, brother…a less terrible plan….” “…we both know I can’t promise that, brother.” She laughed again, though it had lost the nervous energy and just became small and horrified. “And the less said about that, the better.” She reinforced her fake grin and held the tickets up higher. The conductor glowered and tore the stubs of the tickets off with his mouth, before continuing down the car, giving Flim and Flam a long, disapproving look as they reclined on the benches near Trixie. “So what do the others think?” Trixie asked, quietly. “It’s obvious why Lyra and Bon-Bon declined, but surely Iron Will would have been interested?” “We…didn’t exactly tell any of the others. If we told them, Nickel Guise would have to find out, and that just wouldn’t be good. Not ahead of time, anyway.” Flim nodded at his brother’s statement. “You can’t ask lawyers like him for permission – only forgiveness.” “Preferably while waving a comically large bag of money in front of his face.” “Comical and large. Can’t skimp on either – there’s no bulk discount on forgiveness, not with his ilk.” “Honestly, old girl, have you never had a lawyer before?” Trixie shook her head. “Only yours.” She paused, as the brothers snickered. “You know, at the trial – oh, grow up, you perverts!” She sighed. “So you mean to tell Trixie that we’ve skipped town, leaving Lyra, Bon-Bon, Iron Will, Octavia, Vinyl Scratch, and your attorney – who previously stalked you halfway across Equestria in pursuit of vengeance – on the hook for our restitution and with no hint as to why or what our plan is?” “I know this sounds like a terrible, poorly-thought-out idea that will come back to bite us in the flank – and that’s only because it is.” Flim cleared his throat and glared at his brother. “But it’s still better than the rock farm, right?” She gazed solemnly out the window at the passing scenery. “Yes. Yes it is.” After another long pause, she rubbed her eyes with her hoof, irritably. “Where in the hoof is the drink cart? Trixie is far from being in the proper state of mind for this lunacy.” “Not time to drink yet, old girl,” Flim said, opening his suitcase and beginning to magically lift books from it. “First, we need to do our research.” “Research?” Trixie asked, incredulously. “Do I look like Twilight Sparkle?” “Of course not – you’re way hotter, and everypony but our lawyer knows it,” Flim said, soothingly. Trixie puffed her chest and smiled, taking the compliment. “That said, if we don’t want to end our days as the ominously placed desiccated skulls the likes of Daring Do are always stepping over, we might want to make a little effort to know something about something.” “Also,” Flam added, “and no criticism, old girl, but you didn’t get us a sleeper car, and it’s at least sixty hours to Manehattan. So get cozy.” Trixie peered at the paperback book Flim had tossed her. “ ‘Daring Do Does Stalliongrad’….” “Ah! Wrong one, wrong one!” Magic pulled one book from her, and thrust forward a different one. “That’s, uh, fiction. My mistake, don’t know how it got in the bag! This one instead – The Real World of Daring Do and Adventure Archaeology.” For a few minutes, everypony was silent, as they began their reading. Only the chugga-chugga of the engine and the rocking of the carriage on the rails punctuated the turning of the pages. “…if this representative of the kind of research material we have, Trixie is pretty sure that we’re still going to end up as ominous skulls.” “…yeah, let’s go ahead and order those drinks.”