//------------------------------// // The false hero // Story: School of Hard Knocks // by Hoopy McGee //------------------------------// “I was thinking,” I said as Mom carried a tray in from the kitchen, “that maybe we could make another change to the Deal.” Mom blinked at me from over the top of the tray. Then she set it down carefully on the table and waited for me to talk again. “I was thinking that we could make today a permanent part of the Deal. You let up on trying to keep me in the house all the time, and I agree I’ll never try to run away again.” Almost a minute went by while she stared at me. “Mom? The sandwiches?” “O-oh, yes. Here,” she said, passing a plate over with my meager lunch. “I’m trying to figure out the catch.” I sighed and flipped open the top of my sandwich. “Carrot and celery sandwich? Seriously?” “It’s good for you,” she said, sounding defensive. “And you’re changing the subject.” “It’s not good for me, Ma. Nopony else eats like this.” I picked up the sandwich and crunched my teeth into it, gagging a little at the blandness of it. There wasn’t even any salt! I chewed and swallowed while she watched as if I were going to pull some sort of a trick right there. “There’s no catch,” I said eventually. “I just want to get out more. Staying cooped up in here is driving me crazy. It’s worth not trying to get to Ponyville anymore if I get to go outside sometimes.” “Hmm...” “What happened to your cooking, anyway?” I asked her. She reared back as if I had slapped her. “What do you mean?” “I remember you used to be a great cook. I loved your food, and so did my brothers. When did all that stop?” She looked away, her mouth turning down in a frown. When she did reply, it was quietly. “I was cooking for a bunch of colts,” she said. “Y-... They were growing boys, they needed the calories.” “And I don’t?” I said with a snort. “A filly has to stay trim,” she said primly. The sandwich had been halfway up to my mouth for another bite when she said that. I slowly lowered it back to the plate, my eyes narrowing. “I’m full,” I said, pushing the plate away. “You need to eat,” she said, looking worried now. “I thought I needed to stay trim,” I said, deadpan. “Anyway, do we have a deal?” “What?” She was looking at the half-eaten sandwich. “The Deal!” I barked, and she jumped. I took a steadying breath and let it out. “The addition to the Deal. I don’t try to run away anymore. You let me go out, to hang out with my friends, or go to the park or whatever.” I waited impatiently while she considered it, tapping my back hoof on the leg of the chair. Time crawled by until she finally nodded. “Eat your sandwich and we have a deal,” she said. I scowled. But I ate the sandwich. “I have a favor to ask you,” I said when I was done. She looked up from her own lunch, a large salad with a hypocritical amount of dressing and cheese swamping the lettuce. “I was wondering if you could make me something.” She looked suspicious. “What is it?” Her mouth dropped open as I described what I wanted. It took some time to explain, and all the while she stared at me as if I were a crazy pony. “Why would you want something like that?” “It’s for a game,” I said, trying to sound defensive and embarrassed. It didn’t take a lot of acting skill. “My character wears something like it in a game I play with Plum and the other girls.” “Why?” “Swift Leaf is a rogue. Hiding in shadows and all that.” I avoided the gender pronoun. I didn’t need to set her off by telling her that I was playing as a stallion. She was frowning now, and I knew this part of my plan was hanging in the balance. “It doesn’t sound like a very nice game,” she said, giving me a dubious look. “It’s just for fun. Make believe, you know?” I sighed. “Look, you want me to hang out with them, right? All those normal, regular fillies, yeah? Maybe it seems a little weird, but when you get right down to it, it’s just some dress-up with the girls. Besides, I can use it for next Nightmare Night. Okay?” For a minute, I didn’t think she’d buy it. I had stacked the deck in my favor, talking about hanging out with fillies. I considered bringing up Nightmare Night to be a stroke of genius since it implied that I would still be a filly in about six weeks. But I think it was the “dress-up” that did it. That, and she’d get to make me something. If I got really lucky, maybe I would get away with this without her— She clapped her hooves together and grinned at me. “I have to measure you first!” she said happily. I groaned. I knew it. “You’ve got my measurements already.” “You’re a growing filly,” she said primly. She ignored my death glare. “Come on, let’s go into the sewing room!” I wasn’t happy about it, but I was glad that at least I would get what I needed for tonight. I put up with it as best as I could as Mom brought out the measuring tape and wrapped it around every part of my body she could possibly manage. She even measured my ears, for some reason. I managed not to complain. Honestly, I still couldn’t believe that she was doing this. The situation in my house was beyond messed up, but there was one thing that hadn’t changed: My mom is an absolute wizard when it comes to making things with fabric. Nothing fancy, she’d never be a fashion designer, but she could whip together a simple outfit before you could blink. I watched her working, feeling almost happy as what I had described to her started to come together right in front of me. It reminded me of simpler, happier times. Back to when I had been a colt, and I would spend hours watching her work her magic with scissors, needle and thread. “I remember you doing this when I was little,” I said quietly, buffeted by nostalgia. “Sorry, what?” Mom said, distracted as she measured and cut out a large piece of black cloth. “You were always really good at this,” I said. “Making things, I mean.” She grunted at that. “I didn’t start out all that good. Raising six colts on a limited budget meant that I got a lot of practice. Not that you all wore clothes that often, but we could never afford to buy new.” She chuckled as she marked a line with chalk before cutting. “I remember when you were little, you used to hold my pincushion for me. Do you remember that? You were always so eager to help, such a good little boy...” She looked over her shoulder with a smile as I sat quietly frozen on the stool in her workroom. She blinked at me in confusion as her smile faded, and I didn’t dare say a word. Eventually she shook herself and looked away from me, going back to her sewing. And just like that, the warm feeling we’d so briefly shared withered away as my mom returned to being the mare who used her obsessions to avoid life, who sunk herself into her hobbies as a way to sink down into herself as she drifted away from the rest of the world. The moment had passed, leaving me feeling empty and hollow, the only sounds in the room being the rush of my heartbeat in my ears keeping time with the rhythmic clacking of her hoof-powered sewing machine. And I forgave myself for not being completely straight with her about what this outfit was for. The silence stretched out between us until she finally cleared her throat. When she spoke, she did it without turning to face me. “Cinnamon? I’m sorry, but I don’t have enough black cloth to make the whole costume. I... don’t use black all that much anymore.” I grunted and said, “Anything dark will do. What have you got?” The last time she’d used black that I remembered was for the suits we'd worn to Dad’s funeral. She held up a bolt of dark purple cloth. “How about this?” Purple wouldn’t be my first choice, but it’s better than pink. Then again, so is anything. And that color would be almost invisible in shadow. “That’ll do just fine, Mom.” The silence returned, and the next half hour dragged on forever. I was jittering on the stool, chewing on my own tongue in frustration when she finally stopped the machine and gathered up the costume. She turned around with a big smile on her face, by all appearances having forgotten the last hour of awkward silence. “Well?” she asked, pride glowing through her voice as she held it up. “Will this do for your little game?” “That will do nicely,” I said, staring at it. It had turned out even better than I had thought it could. “Try it on!” Mom said, nearly squealing with excitement. I was going to protest, then I shrugged. “Yeah, may as well,” I said. Best to find out if it fit right, after all. She tried to help me into it and I batted her hooves away. It was a simple one-piece body suit that covered me from my neck to my fetlocks, leaving my blond tail hanging free. She had even put a zipper on the chest that I could grab with my teeth to tighten it up. “It’s almost like a pair of pajamas,” she said happily. “Weird pajamas, but pajamas nonetheless.” I forced a tight smile her way. “Can I ask for one more thing?” “Sure, sweetie,” she said, looking happily at her hoofwork. “What do you need?” “My character’s face needs to be hidden. Can you put a hood on this?” “Sure, why not?” she said with a laugh. “You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?” “If I’m doing it, I’m doing it right,” I said. She took the cloth off of me and brought out the midnight purple fabric again, attaching a loose hood to the outfit. I put it back on and flipped the hood up, then turned to examine myself in the tall mirror she kept in the sewing room. What I was hoping for was something that looked like those ninjas you’d see in the movies we get from Neighpon. What I saw instead looked like something out of a comic book. The body of the outfit was a midnight black, covering my barrel and haunches snugly but not tightly. The legs were dark purple, the same as the hood, which hung over my face and obscured everything but the tip of my muzzle. It would do. Barely a hint of pink showed, though I would have to do something with my mane and tail, the blond hair spilling out of the hood and the back of my outfit. I vaguely remembered that I had some tail ribbons in one of the dresser drawers that I never used. Maybe I could employ some of them as a tail-wrap. “It’s perfect, Mom.” I hesitated, uncertainty creeping in on top of my usual frustrated anger. On the one hoof, my mom was still in denial about our situation, still treating me like a kid. On the other, she had just done me a huge favor. And, what the hell, she’s still my mom. I gave her a hug around one of her forelegs. “Thanks,” I said, knowing that it wouldn’t make up for my deception. I felt her stiffen in shock for a few seconds before she relaxed and placed a hoof on my back. I shut my eyes and for a little while I could convince myself that everything was back to normal. “You’re welcome, sweetie,” she said, and the spell broke as she sniffled a little. “Now, you go and play with your little friends.” She shoved me lightly on the rump and I started walking. That’s when I realized what I had done to myself. I couldn’t take the outfit off because Mom thought I was going to wear it to play with my friends. I would have to walk through town wearing the damned thing. I slipped on my saddlebags and sighed, stepping out of the front door and preparing myself for the stares my fellow ponies were sure to unleash on me. ~~*~~ Plum had taken one look at me in my outfit before she burst out laughing and ran off to her room. I could still hear her thumping around up there as I stood awkwardly in the foyer with her mom. “Okay. Why?” Mulberry asked eventually, ignoring the noises from her daughter’s room. “Aha!” I heard Plum shout from upstairs. “Found it!” “Swift Leaf,” I told her. She stared at me blankly. “He’s my character from the game we were playing last night.” “‘He’?” Mulberry repeated. “You play as a colt? Why?” Plum had been coming down the staircase when her mother had said that. Apparently, that question was enough to set her laughter off again. “You about done?” I asked her. Breathless giggles told me that she wasn’t. I sighed and sat on the floor. “Just because,” I told Mulberry. “There’s nothing wrong with being a filly, you know,” Mulberry said. “Mares can be just as strong as stallions.” Not completely true, based on average muscle mass across the genders, but overall a good sentiment. To be fair, I had met some mares in Ponyville that could run pretty much any stallion into the dirt, and a couple that could certainly go hoof to hoof with any stallion challenger in Equestria. That was neither here nor there, I didn’t exactly feel like arguing the point. “It’s just for fun,” I muttered. Telling most ponies about actually being a stallion hadn’t gotten me anything but weird looks. I didn’t want that from Mulberry, too. She’s a good mom, and I liked her too much to have her think I was crazy. “Well, if you’re going to play, do it outside, okay?” Mulberry said to her daughter. “Don’t wake your daddy.” “Sure, Mom,” Plum said, finally recovered from her giggle fit. As Mulberry walked away, Plum produced a bundle of black and purple cloth of her own. “You can be my sidekick!” “What the hell is that?” I asked. “It’s my costume from last Nightmare Night! I was...” she unfurled the clothing with a dramatic sweep, “...the Mysterious Mare Dowell!” A bark of laughter escaped before I could stop myself. Plum gave me a hurt look. “It’s ‘Mare Do Well’,” I said. Her eyebrow arched up as she regarded me skeptically. “You sure?” “Absolutely.” I had written that damned name often enough in the volumes of paperwork her antics had generated. Don’t get me wrong, I was glad that the masked “hero” had shown up and saved some lives, not to mention stopping the entirety of Ponyville from flooding when the dam collapsed. But having a masked do-gooder running around plays havoc with police reports. “I’ve only ever read the name in comics,” Plum said, looking at the outfit in her outstretched hooves. It even had a hat and cape with it. “There are Mare Do Well comics?” I asked. “I thought she was just some crazy mare running around in Ponyville.” Plum snorted, laughing. “Don’t be silly, Cinnamon. Mare Do Well is just a comic book hero. She isn’t real.” I almost started arguing before I thought better of it. I shook my head instead. “Fine,” I said. “But what makes you think I’m going to be your sidekick?” “Because I’ve had my superhero outfit for longer and that’s how these things work!” “That’s not what I meant,” I said, irritated. “I mean, what makes you think I want to be a superhero at all?” “Well, what else are we going to play?” Plum asked, throwing up her hooves with exasperation. “How about nothing? How about we just go hang out on the jungle gym for a while, or something?” Plum turned to me, her bottom lip jutting out and her eyes big and watery as she gave me the old puppy dog look. “Ain’t gonna work, kiddo.” She kept at it, her lips quivering. “Seriously, I’ve got a heart like a rock.” A barely audible whine reached my ears. “Try as much as you like, Plum. I’m not playing superheroes with you.” ~~*~~ Young foals slid on the slide, swung on the swing, and clambered over the jungle gym. All of that stopped when a dark figure appeared at the top of a nearby hillside and a clear voice rang out, echoing through the park. “Fear not, citizens of Hoofington! For it is I, the Mysterious Mare Do Well, and I shall protect you, and everypony in Silver Park, from any evildoings that may occur!” Plum stood there, her chest thrown out and her cloak rippling in the breeze. The costume was slightly too small for her, the cuffs on the legs missing her fetlocks by a good inch and the fabric straining across her barrel. The foals in the playground stared at her for a few seconds before shrugging and going back to whatever it was they were doing. “That’s your cue!” she whispered to me. I sighed and walked out from behind the bush I had taken refuge behind. “And I’m the Night Colt,” I mumbled. “I’ve come to... Do I really have to say this?” “You said you would!” That’s right, I did. Why would I do that? Because I was planning on spending a good part of my night possibly finding the evidence that would lock Plum’s dad away for the rest of her childhood, that’s why. I sighed again. “I’ve come to conquer injustice with the force of my iron hooves of steel.” Plum nodded in satisfaction as I spewed out the corny and nonsensical line. “Come, Night Colt! Let us investigate this park for evildoers!” And then she galloped down to the park. I sighed and trudged after her. There were only three reasons I was even here right now. The first I’ve already mentioned. If I found what I was pretty sure I was going to find, then Plum wouldn’t have her dad around for much longer. And, right or wrong, that would be partially my own doing. The second was that I had told Plum that I would hang out with her this afternoon. I felt like I owed it to her. After all, if it weren’t for her slumber party, I wouldn’t have the cure on its way. Hopefully on its way. The third was that I was planning a major excursion tonight. When I was still a stallion, I had a pretty extensive physical fitness routine. I wouldn’t have won any awards, but I was fit, I could run, and I knew the extent of my own abilities. I became a filly and all of that stopped. I had no idea what I was and was not capable of. I grit my teeth in determination, tensed up, and galloped down the hill after Plum. Time to find out what I could do. ~~*~~ The colt had a runny nose. The front of his muzzle was caked with dirt and snot. His mane and tail were a bushy mess. He stank so bad that I could smell him from where I stood. He came up to maybe my shoulder, and he was annoying the hell out of me. “So, your hooves,” the colt said, digging at his nostril with his own hoof. “They iron or steel?” “Neither,” I said. That didn’t seem to satisfy him. “Both.” He nodded his approval and dropped his hoof to the ground. “So, what superpowers ya got?” he asked. “None,” I said as I took a basic stance, planting my hooves solidly on the grass. In the distance, Plum raided a clump of bushes, shouting “Ah-hah! Found you!” A pack of younger foals burst out of the foliage and ran, squealing and giggling, and Plum gave chase, her ridiculous cape flapping as she galloped after them. Meanwhile, the colt looked disappointed. “So, ya can’t even fly?” “Flying’s not a superpower,” I told him. “Pegasi fly all the time.” “But you’re an earth pony,” he said. “If you flew, it would be a superpower.” “I guess.” I moved a back hoof and the opposite front hoof in a slow circle, keeping a light touch on the ground. “You super strong? Super fast?” “Nope and no,” I said. I stopped the motion of those first two hooves and planted them again, then moved the opposite ones in a similar circle. This ended up rotating me about ninety degrees to my left. The colt trotted around so he could keep in front of my face. “So, what’s the point of ya?” he asked. “Go away, kid,” I said. I shifted my weight back onto my hind legs, tensing them and feeling out my strength. “And why ‘Night Colt’?” he asked, ignoring me. “You’re a filly.” Plum may have whined me into playing superheroes with her, but I would be damned if I was going to be “Filly-something-or-other”. My eyes narrowed as I stared at the colt. “The Night Colt,” I growled at him, “is a boy.” “Okay," he said, and I shuddered as he wiped his sticky muzzle with a foreleg. "You’re a girl, though.” “Go away, kid,” I said, a little more forcefully this time. “I read lotsa comics an’ I never heard of the Night Colt.” “I’m happy for you. I made him up.” I leaned my weight onto my back legs, taking my front off of the ground and folding them up to my chest. “Back up a bit, huh?” The colt took a few steps back, regarding me curiously. “What ya doin’?” “Mid-range self-defense training exercise,” I told him. I pushed as hard as I could with my back legs while extending my front legs out. While in the air I brought my hind legs in tight and ducked my head down, causing me to tilt forward. My forehooves planted into the ground, bending to absorb the shock. I straightened my forelegs with a sudden snap and kicked upwards with my rear hooves at the same time, putting every ounce of power I had into the buck. If a pony had been standing behind me, I would have just broken his jaw. If I were still a stallion, that is. As a filly, I would have just bruised his chest a little. That kick had felt weaker than I had been hoping. I let the momentum of my back legs keep going while hunching my shoulders and ducking my head, which propelled me into a forward roll. I popped back to my hooves right in front of the startled, but apparently impressed, colt. “Coooool!” he said. Apparently some of the other kids agreed, because I heard some stomping of approval. “So, Night Colt is, like, a martial artist like the Batpony?” “They still make Batpony comics?” I asked. “Duh,” he said with an eye roll. “He’s only the coolest hero ever.” “Nuh-uh,” another grimy-faced colt said from my rapidly forming audience. “Spider-Colt is cooler.” “I like Wonder Mare,” a nearby filly said quietly. The two colts ignored her. “Bats eat spiders, duh,” the first colt said. The two of them got into an argument while I looked around. “Hey, do some more cool moves!” a third colt said. I looked around me and reconsidered the wisdom of performing imitable martial arts moves in front of a bunch of impressionable kids. “I don’t think so,” I said. “Awww!” they whined in perfect harmony. What is it with these kids? Do they practice synchronized whining, or something? “You want to learn that stuff, get a real instructor,” I said. “That is correct!” Plum said, popping up beside me, still talking like she thought a superhero would. “Martial arts can be dangerous without proper instruction, and my sidekick would be... um... irrepressive—” “Irresponsible.” “—irresponsible, if he taught you improperly.” It was then that another one of the seemingly endless supply of snot-faced colts came running up, trailing a towel that was wrapped around his neck and fastened with a safety pin. He was making “whoosh!” noises as he ran, and he skidded to a halt right in front of us. “No need to fear, citizens!” the new colt shouted. “For I, Captain Amazing, am here to protect you!” “Hey!” Plum said, stomping a hoof. “We were superheroes first!” “You don’t own superheroes!” the newcomer shot back. “Yeah, but you’re just wearing a towel! We have actual costumes!” “So what? I can be a superhero if I wanna!” “You’re copying us!” Plum shouted. “But I want to play superhero too!” the colt whined. “There can be more than just two superheroes!” The other colts and fillies in the playground all looked at each other as their ears perked up. A second later and they were scattering in different directions at top speed. “Let it go, Plum,” I said, stopping her as she inflated her lungs for what would have no doubt been a pretty decent comeback. She frowned after the retreating kids. “It’s not fair! We’re the heroes!” “True heroes don’t need recognition,” I told her. She looked at me as if I were crazy. “What’s the point, then?” she asked me. “I’ve got candy.” Time froze solid as she stared at me. I barely recognized the voice that came out from behind that mask as hers. “You mean to say,” she growled, “that you’ve had candy this whole time and you didn’t tell me?!” “Yeah. Want some?” A minute later, Plum was happily sitting under a tree and gnawing on the chocolate bar I had gotten for her. She’d even been nice enough to let me have a couple of bites. “I officially forgive you for ditching me earlier today,” she said happily. “I’m glad,” I said, as I planted my hooves in the soil and concentrated. Plum watched me curiously for a while, but I tuned her out. Instead, I imagined streams of energy rising from the ground, into my hooves, up my legs and finally into my chest. Soon enough, I didn’t have to imagine it anymore. A warm glow started, and I knew it wouldn’t take much more before— “What are you doing?” Plum asked, breaking my concentration. The energy fled. “Dammit!” Plum jumped in shock at my sudden shout. “What? What did I do?” I rounded on her and my anger froze when I saw the startled tears in her eyes. Class A jerk, that’s me. I sighed. “I was grounding myself,” I said. Plum just looked confused. “I don’t get it.” “Its earth pony magic. Just about the only combative magic we get, actually.” “I’ve never heard of it,” she protested. “No surprise. It’s mostly a lost art. Hasn’t been used much outside of the military and police since the tribal wars.” “The what?” “You know the story of Hearth’s Warming Eve?” She nodded. “Well, before the three pony tribes became friends, this was the only way us earth ponies could fight against a unicorn’s magic and a pegasus’ weather control.” “Oh! Neat!” she said, perking up. She dropped her chocolate bar on top of my saddlebag and stood up. “What does it do?” I took my stance again, trying to find my center. “It pulls the magic of the earth up into you, increasing your core strength. It makes a pony faster, stronger, harder to hurt. And most weather and unicorn magic will slide right off of you.” Of course, strength was relative. A strong enough unicorn could overwhelm even a well-grounded earth pony, and a tornado doesn’t really “slide off” of anypony. And, as a filly, I doubted I’d be able to resist anything much stronger than a minor cantrip. “Cooool!” Plum was trotting in place, looking even more excited than she had when I’d started producing the candy from my saddlebags. “Can you teach me?” “Maybe,” I said, snorting. She looked hurt, so I tried to explain. “It’s tricky. You can study for years and still not pick it up. I’ve been working on this most of my adult life, and I still suck at it.” “Oh... Well, why do you want to do it all of a sudden?” I looked away from her face, unable to meet her eyes. “I just do.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it was damned close. We spent the next couple of hours going over the basics. I was able to gather energy multiple times, holding it in me like a precious flame before releasing it. The good part about grounding is, once you gather the energy, it’s pretty easy to hold on to it for a while. Like I expected, Plum never got any energy going. She didn’t seem fazed, though. “I know I’ll get it,” she said. “Besides, I think I felt the energy in my chest just like you said!” “Maybe,” I said, though I doubted it. It took me months before I could even gather a trickle of energy. Getting it on the first day was almost impossible. “Look, it’s getting late. I should really get home.” “I’ll go with you,” Plum said. “What? Why?” “Well...” she grinned at me. “I was hoping I could help you talk your mom into letting you sleep over again. I asked my mom earlier and she said it was okay.” “I don’t...” I stopped and considered it. There were actually some advantages to that. First, I’d be able to keep an ear out for Figgy and maybe arrange another distraction if he dared show his muzzle over there again. Second, Plum’s house was a few blocks closer to downtown than mine was. It would save me some time. Third, if my mom caught me sneaking out of the house tonight, she’d never for a minute believe that I was just going for a walk or something. She’d assume I was going to violate the Deal and run off to Ponyville. I shuddered to think of what the fallout of that would be. “Yeah, alright,” I said, and together we took off. “Let’s try and convince my mom.” ~~*~~ “No,” my mom said. We were standing in our dusty living room. I’d have offered Plum a seat, but every flat surface was covered with junk mail, magazines, or unfinished craft projects. Sometimes all three. “Why not?” I asked her. I wasn’t able to keep the heat out of my voice. “Because... well, because I think you should spend some nights at home!” she replied. “Look, mom, I finally have a friend.” I pointed to Plum, who smiled sheepishly and waved at her. “She wants me to stay over. We’re bonding!” “Well... Maybe she could stay over here, instead?” Mom said. “I don’t mi—” Plum started saying “No!” I said, cutting her off. The filly looked at me like I was crazy for a second, but then she nodded and stepped up beside me, giving my mom a pleading look. “All the stuff for our game is over there. It would be a pain to bring it back over here.” “But... I miss you.” Tears welled up in her eyes. I sighed. Emotional blackmail, once again. Well, two could play at that game. “Mom... I finally made some friends. Filly friends, just like you wanted. And you won’t even let me hang out with her? I sleep here every other night! And, maybe next weekend Plum can sleep over here instead. Heck, maybe we can have the whole crew over!” Maybe they’d wreck my pretty, pretty princess room, while they were at it. I could feed them lots of sugar and hope for the best. Mom was wavering. Plum, bless her heart, tipped the scales, turning that same puppy dog look on my mother. “Pweease, Mrs. Swirl?” Her eyes shimmered like twin pools of water. “Cinnamon is my bestest friend in the whole, wide world! It would mean ever so much if she could sleep over tonight.” I glared at her, afraid her theatrics would be too obvious. My mom bought it, though. She let out a happy sounding sigh and smiled at the little purple filly. “Oh, my dear Plum, of course she can sleep over tonight!” she cooed as she gave into Plum's blatant emotional manipulation. “Yay!” Plum said, and bounded over to hug my mom around a foreleg. Mom stiffened in shock, then awkwardly patted her on the back. “But if I do this for you, I want something in return,” Mom said in her stern voice. I rolled my eyes at that. “Fine. What?” “I want a mother/daughter day at the spa. Just you and me.” “What?!” I didn’t like how high my voice got when I said that. I think it actually squeaked a little. I gaped at her, and she just stared back at me smugly. I had a feeling that my luck for the day had finally run out, and this was as far as she’d bend. “Fine,” I growled. “How about the weekend after next?” Hopefully, I’d have the cure by then. The thought of smuggling it into the spa with me and turning back to a stallion in the middle of the spa treatment gave me an almost fierce pleasure, and I felt my mouth turning up in a grim smile. “Why not this weekend?” Mom asked. My smile vanished. “Plum was staying over, remember?” “Oh. Maybe she and her mom could come with us?” Plum, who’d spent the last few rounds of conversation looking back and forth between us as if she were watching a tennis match, cut me off before I could answer with an exuberant “Yes!” I knew when I was beaten. “Fine. I’ll go pack up.” I moved quickly up the stairs and into my bedroom. Once there, I quickly dropped to the floor and rummaged around under the bed, finding the stash of things I’d gathered earlier that day while Mom was preparing that poor excuse for a lunch. First into the bag was a short coil of rope, followed by a small nail puller that could also double as a hoof-length crowbar. I’d found those in the garden shed, after coating myself with three years’ worth of dust and cobwebs. Nopony had been in there since my youngest brother had moved out. Next came a pair of wire cutters, a small hacksaw and a flashlight with fresh batteries from Dad’s old workbench. I’d also grabbed some lengths of wire and a screwdriver that I could use as crude lockpicks. Those went in the bag as well. I opened the dresser drawer where I vaguely remembered having seen some ribbons. I was satisfied to see that there were a few long black ribbons mixed in with the rainbow of other colors, nice and wide and perfect to wind around my tail, hiding the blond hair from sight. My mane I could just tie back and hide under my hood. Last but not least, I grabbed the shipping manifest. I had the tracking number memorized by now, but it didn’t pay to take chances. There might be more information on it that would help me find the crate I was looking for. After a moment of indecision, I also put in my heavy steel lunch box. Any evidence I found would hopefully fit in there. I didn’t want any Zebrican artifacts I found getting damaged, after all. Then I packed the “normal” stuff: toothbrush, hair brush, toothpaste. I nabbed a pillow and, shrugging, flipped it onto my back. After running around all day in a superhero costume, I couldn’t really complain about the indignity of carrying a pillow on my back. I went back downstairs and almost laughed at the sight of the glazed look on my mother’s face as Plum jabbered away at her. I doubted that she’d stopped talking since I’d gone upstairs. “I’m ready,” I announced. “Okay,” Mom said, shaking herself out of her stupor. “Have fun, sweetie.” “Yeah,” I said, opening the door. Plum trotted up beside me and bumped me with her shoulder affectionately as we left, probably glad to have me sleeping over again. I gave her a tight smile back and didn’t think about the real reason I wanted to stay over. “Love you,” Mom said softly as I stepped over the threshold. I looked back and saw her staring after me, looking forlorn and a little lost. I almost didn’t say anything for a minute, then relented. “Love you too, Mom,” I said, and then I closed the door. ~~*~~ I lay on my back in the sleeping bag that Mulberry had provided for me, staring up at the dark ceiling. Thoughts were whirling in my head, replaying the day’s events, and going over my plans for the night. Even if sleep had been on the agenda, I wouldn’t have been getting any, in spite of how exhausted my filly body was. After coming back to Plum’s house, we’d “played” a little more. I used it as an excuse to figure out more of my new body’s capabilities. I was pretty disappointed nearly all around. Plum, in spite of being my same physical age, was stronger than me, faster than me, and nearly as agile as me. I had a slight edge in coordination, but that was it. I was under par, even for a filly. I had to counter my lack of physical advantages with planning. Again and again, I ran through possible scenarios in my mind. What to do if a guard came, what to do if I hit a lock, and so on. I hoped I wasn’t too rusty at lockpicking. It had been a while since I’d taken the class. After the delicious and filling dinner that Mulberry had supplied for us, Plum had been more than happy to help me wrap my blond tail in the black ribbons I’d brought over. She also put my mane in a tight bun for me. She was happy to do it. She thought we were bonding. Sometimes I really hate myself. We’d finally gone to sleep some time after the sun had gone down, Plum in her bed and me on the floor in the sleeping bag. I had worn my costume to bed, explaining that they were basically pajamas anyway. Plum had slept in her own tight-fitting costume, though she took off the hood and cape. It wasn’t long until she fell sound asleep. I listened to the even breathing coming from her bed for at least twenty minutes, then decided that it was time to get going. I pushed myself out of the bag and onto my hooves as quietly as I could and left the bedroom. Then I crept down the stairs, feeling like a burglar, until I got to the front door where my saddlebags were. The Puddings left their front door unlocked. It was unwise, but it worked out for me that night. I put on my heavily loaded saddlebags and walked out into the night, closing the door softly behind me. In spite of everything, I actually managed to have some fun today. Plum was a breath of fresh air in my otherwise frustrating life. And by this time tomorrow she would probably never want to talk to me again. I tried not to think about it. Instead, I put up my hood and slipped into the shadows, heading towards the Warehouse District. I had a job to do. And one way or another, I was going to see it done.