Bonfire of the Rarities
"Ms. Rarity, this is our top agent, Gilda." He seemed confused, as anypony unaware of the... history between the two of us would be. "Are you okay?"
No. Most certainly not! I was supposed to share my living space and entrust my life to this, this... brute? This ruffian? No, this would not stand.
"No, this simply will not do." I was quite firm in my insistence. This griffon had been simply horrid to all of my friends, and I would not have her within fifty yards of me. "I must insist you find another agent to look after me."
He shifted on his hooves. "I'm sorry that this is not to your liking, Ms. Rarity, but there are no more agents available. I'm afraid they've all already been assigned."
I couldn't believe this. How am I supposed to sleep soundly at night knowing someone who doesn't care about me in the slightest is supposed to be keeping me from harm? "Then switch her with somepony else!"
"Oh, so this is about me not being a pony?" Griffons were always so quick to play the race card.
"Agent Gilda, that's enough!"
"Sorry, sir." At least she'd apparently had some obedience training.
"I do apologize, Ms. Rarity, but you cannot be without escort, and the agents plan weeks in advance for your arrival. I assure you, Gilda will be professional in every aspect of her assignment." He turned to her and narrowed his eyes. "Won't you, Gilda?"
Her expression was blank, but the slight twitch of her right eyelid told me how she truly felt. She'd probably be the one to try and put a knife in my neck. I would do well to keep an eye on her.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now then, if you ever need Gilda's help, you may ring this bell." He gave me the one he had rung to bring her from her room. If she was truly bound by her job to protect me, then perhaps this would not be so bad after all. "If you have any problems, don't hesitate to call me at the front desk."
"Very well." I sighed. "I suppose it could have been worse. I could have a manticore living in my room."
"Do enjoy your stay," he said before leaving the room. I almost expected her to lunge at me right then and there. Nothing a little magic wouldn't stop, mind you. I may not be as powerful as Twilight, but that doesn't mean I'm a slouch in the field of magical self-defense. A lady always stands ready to defend her own honor.
"Well then, since you'll be working for me, I'll expect you in your room. I'm not to see you while I'm working, and you are not to see anything I'm working on; my designs are top secret." You have to set down the rules and let them know that breaking them will not be tolerated.
"Pfft, like I care about your stupid dresses," she grunted, folding her arms. "It's you I have to keep alive, not your dumb clothes."
How dare she be so insolent! What Brinks sees in this braying animal, I have no idea!
"You are working for me now, and you'll do as I say." I certainly knew of one way to make sure I kept Gilda on a tight leash. "Or will I have to tell Brinks how unsafe I feel around you?"
There was the scowl that made poor Fluttershy cry. I knew it was hiding just beneath the surface, waiting for her boss to leave the room. She turned quickly and slammed the door to her bedroom.
Gah! If this job wasn't all I had right now I'd toss her out the window myself! Who does she think she is, ordering me around like that? Yeah, it may be my job, but that doesn't mean I have to like it!
I had to take a breather. I'd end up putting my fist through the wall if I didn't. Maybe do some push ups to release my stress. It usually helps. A few sets later, and I was calm... er.
Like I said before, most of my marks are really nice. Cool, even. But the ones that aren't are such stuck-up assholes that I have to stop myself from pushing them into traffic. Rarity fell right into that category. Directly into it.
It's only for a week. If I could put up with a spoiled Saddle Arabian prince making a pass at me every other minute without breaking his leg, I could deal with a dress designer.
It was just gonna take some patience. A lot of patience. Something I don't really have to spare in the first place. Thankfully, I didn't have to follow her around unless she wanted me to. And judging by our introduction, I'd be willing to bet she didn't. Just as well, fashion week is stupid. A bunch of wafer-thin models dressed like they stepped on a land mine in an alcoholic exotic dancer's prop closet. The only good thing was the free booze, which I would have to be careful about, because technically I wasn't supposed to drink on the job.
I bet none of the other guards got assigned someone who was this much of a tightwad. I hopped onto the bed and tried to relax. I had to admit, this bed was way better than the one I slept on in the guard barracks. Living with the V.I.P.s was easily the best part of the job. Everything was comped, and for the most part, it was a snore-fest. Truth is, no one ever wanted to hurt these rich snobs. They just thought they did. Sure, some folks are probably jealous of their money, but killing them isn't gonna get those poor fools any richer.
I was about to doze off when I heard that damn bell. Screw Brinks for giving her that freaking thing. I knew from the moment he handed it over she would abuse it. This must be some kind of punishment.
Why I even needed a bodyguard was still a mystery. Although I've never been one to question Celestia's judgment. As I began unpacking my things, I recalled all the terrible things Gilda had said to us. I mean, Gilda setting off all of Pinkie and Dash's pranks wasn't intentional. At least, I don't think it was.
Then again, there's really no telling with Pinkie...
Still, it does not justify coming into our town and acting like a brute. I simply can't believe Rainbow Dash would ever associate with someone so crass. Now I have to spend nearly a week with her. Ugh, perhaps I've angered Celestia in some way? After all, she'd sent her own sister to the moon for a thousand years. Who knows what she'd do to someone who isn't even her own flesh and blood.
I had to calm down. After all, that probably wasn't the case. If there was a credible threat, Celestia would do all she could to keep everypony safe. She and her sister would even be in attendance for some of the larger fashion shows this week, so I assumed the heightened security was normal.
I assembled my forms and set my designs on them. They'd each survived the ride wrinkle-free, and thankfully nothing had been damaged by their brief stint in the cargo hold of the train. I retrieved my notebook with my itinerary written on it.
The first event was a relatively minor fashion show, but it was said to be held by the one of the "known unknowns" of the fashion world. One of those designers that only the truly vogue knew of and adored, though they don't promote the work, as mainstreaming his designs would simply ruin his future aspects. One cannot simply be thrust into the spotlight after making their first fall line. It takes refinement. I mean, no one wants the designs to become just another fad; they want names with staying power.
Calfen Klein, Coco Marenel, names that stuck in the fashion world for decades after their first hit. That's the dream, and I would have it this time. I just knew it. Unfortunately, I would have to bring that... guard of mine with me. Honestly, what kind of criminal would target the fashion industry? What have we ever done to anypony?
Before I knew it, the clock had struck six, and it was time to leave if I was to arrive fashionably late. I had already donned a stunning evening gown, and I could only pray Gilda had some semblance of formal attire in that room she'd commandeered. I was about to knock on the door, when I remembered the bell. Why have it if you aren't going to use it?
Perhaps I enjoyed the tinkling of that bell a bit too much. She appeared from her cave and growled a "what" in my direction.
"It's almost time for my first gala."
"And?" she answered plainly.
"You are my bodyguard, and you will accompany me, but you will stay aloof enough so that no one associates me with... you."
She rubbed her eyes with a claw. "Fine, let's go."
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You honestly don't think you're going to walk into a fashion show without clothes on, do you?" It was as though I had asked her to model the clothes herself. Not even the most chic outfit could make the constant scowl she wore attractive. After all, who would have thought you'd wear clothes to a fashion show?
"What for? I'm not the one modeling clothes." The joke was there. I absolutely could have made it. It would have been perfect. But in the interest of her actually stopping a crazed maniac instead of just letting him make me into a "Rarity suit" in his basement, I let it go.
"It is a formal event. You need formal attire. Tell me you have something back there that's passable as formal."
"Give me a sec," she grunted. I suppose forty-five minutes late is just as good as thirty.
It's a formal event. You need formal attire. Who the hell does she think she is, hissing at me like that? If we were back in Griflandia, I'd have her plucked by now! I had the cure for this. I may not be able to drink at that stupid fashion party, but I could sure take the edge off now. I keep a flask in my nightstand. Honestly, it never saw much action except in cases like this.
Now that I was a little more tolerant, I had to put on clothes. Ugh, such a pain in the primaries. Where I'm from, only the rich wear clothes. Clothes are for pansies; our feathers and hides are tough enough. I sat down in the chair beside my bed and rubbed my eyes. I kept repeating the mantra I'd adopted whenever I got assigned to guard a real pain.
"I need this job, I need this job."
And I was right. I always am. I absolutely needed this job. I doubted someone like me would find a sweeter deal than this one. So I sucked in my chest, buried my feelings and put on my jacket. They actually do give us fancy clothes for this kind of thing. I just hated wearing them.
I grabbed my dagger and set it inside my coat pocket. A bodyguard is only as good as the weapon they carry, after all. Yeah, I got talons, but these snooty types don't like that kinda thing, so I had to keep them filed. I checked myself over in the mirror, whispered my mantra one more time, and opened the door. She was sitting on the end of the bed, filing her hooves. Typical.
She flicked her eyes up at me like I was a child trying to dress herself for a dinner party.
"Oh, you're wearing that?"
I need this job, I need this job.
"Take it or leave it, princess."
"Very well." She turned to the door. "Let's be off, then."
The hotel wasn't far from where this thing was being held. I had a copy of Rarity's itinerary, and some of the other agents and I had a chance to sweep this place for ingress and egress points, bottlenecks, and all other kind of important stuff we'd need to know about in case something went down. Nothing ever has, but still, it's part of the job.
Fashion types have weird taste, if that wasn't obvious by now. The venue was an old warehouse, but they didn't bother to move any of the rusty machines or junk off the floor. They just built a runway and set out some chairs. If I wanted to hang out in an abandoned warehouse with a bunch of ponies in mesh shirts, I could've just tried out as an extra in a hair-metal band video. Anyway, the only redeeming quality about this whole trip was that some of my guard buddies would be there. Pretty much the entire company got assigned to one snooty fashion type or another.
Technically, I had to "ensure the well being of the client at all times," but that didn't mean I had to be up her flank all night. I took a post by the bar, making sure I could keep an eye on her but stay away from her at the same time. All the other guards were actually pretty close to their marks. Lucky diamond dogs. I, of course, get stuck with the one pony out of the thousands here that I already hate.
Whatever. It's just a week. I can outlast her. She'll get sick of dragging me around before I get sick of her.
Some of the ponies she was talking to were getting awfully close. Not that I really had much to worry about. All of the ponies on the guest list have had their backgrounds checked, and were screened by club security. Though there's no telling how well trained the bouncers were.
Mercifully, the lights dimmed, and the ponies took their seats beside the runway. I could still see Rarity from the bar, so I decided I could just hang back and maybe sneak a beer or something while I waited for this nonsense to be over with.
The models started their walks, and I gotta admit, I almost felt sorry for them. They looked absolutely ridiculous. I hope they get paid a ton of money to humiliate themselves like that. Anyway, I decided to hold off on the beer. Something didn't feel right. It was like there was a tension in the air, but no one except me was tense. All the other guards were relaxed by their marks, except me. About halfway through the show, the fire alarm went off. Let me tell ya, for an old building, the alarm worked just fine. My ears were ringing as the second half of the alarm leaked from the ceiling. Slowly at first, then like a waterfall off the roof. If I had to guess, I'd say the water in the sprinkler system had been sitting there a long time. It reeked when it came out—and it was brown. Needless to say, the crowd panicked, and most of the guards were busy trying to get their marks out safely.
Except for me, because I wasn't near mine. The ceiling was too low to fly, so I had to fight my way through the crowd to try and find Rarity. I finally saw her mane from a distance and started toward her. When I made it about halfway there, I heard a scream. Between Rarity and me, some stallion had collapsed. As the crowd gave him some room, I saw a crossbow bolt sticking out of his back. It was the first time I'd ever actually seen something like that. I could understand why some folks froze up in stressful situations. I mean, you see it all the time in movies and stuff, but to actually see someone take a hit, to see the blood on the floor... it's almost like a dream. I know it sounds cliche, but when something like this goes down, you really do start to see things in slow motion. Most of the crowd either shoved each other to get away or just froze. It was chaos in there, but I finally managed to get to Rarity. She was just staring dumbly at the guy as he moaned on the ground.
"Let's go, princess!" I yanked her back into reality and pulled her toward a side exit. An ambulance was parked outside after we made it out, and I saw the guy being wheeled into the back of it. They must have had it on standby or something.
Every one of those fashion types got soaked in nasty water. I didn't get out smelling like guest room soap, either. Turns out, the building wasn't actually on fire. Someone just pulled the alarm to incite panic. Mission accomplished.
Once Rarity snapped out of her daze, she started talking all types of nonsense.
"Just where in Celestia's name were you? That could've been me!"
I had to stop myself from scoffing. "Please, who would want to hurt you?"
"Who would want to hurt Hoity Toity?"
I could see she didn't actually want an answer to that.
"I was standing right next to him!" she snapped.
"Look, unless you saw who shot him, there was nothing I could have done. Whoever his guard was slipped up, not me."
"Well, maybe I should just tell director Brinks about how your cavalier attitude nearly got me killed!"
I need this job, I need this job.
"Look, I'm sorry, but you told me to stay... aloft or whatever, and that's what I did! You want me to protect you, then I can't be twenty yards away."
She glared at me before wringing the water out of her mane. I love being right. "Fine, next time I expect you'll take that crossbow bolt."
"Don't hold your breath." I thought I mumbled that. Apparently, I didn't.
"Excuse me? I am covered in filth and my dress is most likely ruined thanks to your loafing." I had to hand it to her, she had practiced her whining voice.
"It was just a joke, your highness." She stomped a few times and started back towards the hotel. This was gonna be a long week.
I can't believe that so-called bodyguard almost let me get killed. I knew I should have just hopped the train back to Ponyville the moment I saw her face! I was soaked in the most foul-smelling liquid imaginable, and my dress was ruined. I wasn't even sure a thorough dry cleaning could save it. Luckily, I made it to my room without anypony recognizing me.
I closed the door and put my formerly beautiful evening wear in a plastic bag to have it laundered. It pained me to do so, but I couldn't stand the smell anymore. As soon as I was out of those wet clothes, I simply had to shower. While showering, I thought I heard a knock at the door, but shrugged it off. After all, housekeeping could come back later. Once I'd stepped out, I realized it was either an oddly persistent housekeeper, or Gilda had been locked out of the room. Some guard she is.
I opened the door with some quick magic. The hideous brown water had dried on her jacket, and her feathers were simply caked with that wretched fluid. "Do you not have a key?"
"No, it was in my room."
"And you don't think it wise to always have a key to your charge's room on you?" I swear, I could do her job better than she could.
"I didn't count on you storming off like a brat."
"How dare you!" I strode toward the phone and picked up the receiver. "Hello, this is Rarity, I would like to speak with—"
"Okay, I'm sorry!"
That was more like it. "Never mind." I hung up the phone and sat on the bed. It was quite late, and I was in need of rest. The events of the day had left quite the disturbing impression. "I'll be fine for the night, you may spend the rest of the evening however you want." Perhaps if Gilda started showing a bit of professionalism, I might allow her some leeway. After all, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Though why anyone would want to catch flies is beyond me.
She went back to her room and didn't appear again that night. I would have thought she would want to go... do whatever it is ruffians do in their free time. Spend time with other ruffians, I suppose. However, she did nothing of the sort. I soaked in the tub for a bit before retiring to the bed.
This was going to be a long week.