//------------------------------// // Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself // Story: The Tailor and her Recurring Customer: Part 1 // by Dancewithknives //------------------------------// November 12th… Rarity woke the next day to light of the Princess’ majestic sun creeping across her room and finally onto her bed, where it informed her that it was morning, and time to wake. The owner of the business opened her eyes and let go of the pillow that she was holding like a longtime lover before stretching out her hooves in different directions atop her bed. She felt so tense, so sore, but then again she always felt a little on edge whenever she had a visit from him. Yesterday was just a raising of the stakes. It wasn’t just her life on the line anymore… She would have to be more careful next time. Her bed was ruffled, mane unsightly, pillow stained, but worst of all she was hungry. She slipped off the queen sized bed and onto the floor with four consecutive clicks of her hooves and then rubbed her eyes. She bypassed her lavatory and vanity mirror to instead make her way to the hall outside and then down to the first story. It was early, she had time to clean up and become presentable before she opened shop for the day. She walked into the kitchen, and sitting at her usual spot with a bowl before her and a large box of cereal nearby, thankfully, was Sweetie Belle. The filly turned to the new arrival and yawned, “You left the stove on from last night. I threw out the hot cocoa, it smelled burnt.” Rarity cut to a gallop as she charged across the room and threw her hooves around Sweetie Belle from behind the chair, tying her down like a hostage. The smaller of the two looked around, trying to see the attacker in her blind spot, but could not break free. Rarity closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against the side of Sweetie Belle’s head, thankful for her safety. “What’s gotten into you?” asked the blank flanked pony sitting and trying to eat breakfast. “Oh, nothing.” Replied her older sister, letting go and walking to her own seat and avoiding an incredibly awkward conversation. Sweetie Belle looked at her sister, and cocked her head sideways at the strange, listless smile that she wore, but gave up and focused on her breakfast. Sweetie Belle, still eating a generic store brand cereal that Rarity stocked her pantry with, lifted up her hoof and grabbed out onto the table and caught the newspaper on its surface. She dug through the stack and pulled out her favorite section; the comics. Rarity, using magic, pulled the leftover newspapers back and likewise began to read… but everything felt strangely similar, like she had seen it before. She kept flipping through the sections, having a faint recollection of the topics and paragraphs until she looked up and asked, “Sweetie Belle, did you go out and get the newspaper?” Her sister, with a mouth full of milk and crunchy whole grain circles, said, “No’m. I’s juss’ readin’ yesturduhs.” Before swallowing. That explained it. Rarity was about to close the opened newspaper when her eye caught a certain section. It was the mansion fire from yesterday, a foreign rich pony was having a birthday party for his wife and something started fire. He was claimed to be the creator of some terrible drug that luckily hasn’t reached Ponyville yet. A number of guests and the party’s host were still missing at the time of the paper’s printing. Rarity looked at the pictures of the article again; one was so happy, the other so tragic. She may have been a sworn defender of Equestria as an Element of Harmony, but she was upset with this image. Nopony should suffer that fate, it seemed so terrible. But then there was this Mr. Medellin, as wrong as she felt over his demise, if he was a bad pony making this drug and other nasty things then the world may as well be a better place without him. As one of the Elements, she was a defense mechanism against a certain type of threat, she was acting on behalf of all of the world, not by politics or personal agendas. The adventures and actions she would have to perform were for the good of everypony. She never had to be the judge, the jury, or the executioner of anypony, and she liked that. But best of all, she always had her five other friends to be there to support her as well as for her to support them. The idea of having to deal with this pony upset her already empty stomach, but luckily she did not need to deal with it. Call it either fate or some higher power, the judgment of this Mr. Medellin was performed by something with much more importance than a simple dressmaker in little old Ponyville. She diverted her attention back to the first photo of the paper; of happy and worriless partiers entering the mansion gate oblivious of the dangerous fire that may indeed claim their lives later in the night. She had always wanted to attend a big private ball like that ever since she was a little filly. One day her dream came true when she was invited to the Grand Galloping Gala. Even though it did not end in the way she intended, she still could cross that off her bucket list. As she marveled at the handsome stallions in finely pressed tuxedos and mares in long dresses, she, as strange as it sounded, recognized something. She squinted at the picture of guests at the party and had to blink to make sure she was not seeing something. It wasn’t a joke, she did recognize something. Near the background of the photo, walking in the opposite direction of a waiter carrying tall glasses of champagne, there was one certain pony that had caught her eye somehow. He was a green unicorn frozen in mid step. Where had she seen him before? She thought on it, and she did not recall any green unicorn stallions living in ponyville… so what stuck out about him? Then she realized it, she did not recognize the pony, but what he was wearing. A fine three piece suit, one tailored to fit him perfectly, made with love and all sorts of tiny features that would strengthen the overall product, a one of a kind article. It was her suit. She had made it for him. Rarity first thought was, “Why was he at the party?” but then quickly was changed to “Why was HE at the party?” Rarity could not jump to conclusions, but seeing her mysterious customer at a party, a bad pony’s party at that, and the events of the mansion burning down also happen unfold that very night? Her gut cut to the obvious; whoever he was, he had dealings with this Pixie Stixs maker, something went wrong and a fire may have been used as a distraction to escape, or rather as an excuse cover his dirty deeds… But once again she had no proof of that. For all she knew, he was a playcolt and was invited to the party. As strange as it sounded, she felt some strange reassurance that her client could have been a drug trafficker. It had as much of a possibility as a pony who was sent to stop Mr. Medellin by either diplomacy or force. Just like how the fire could have been an accident or intentional. Rarity was getting ahead of herself, she looked at the picture once more and noted that, like before, this pony was not the correct color, he was far away, but as far as she could tell he did not have wings underneath the jacket. He could have just been a unicorn in a fancy three piece suit. There was no reason saying that somepony could have tried to replicate her masterpiece and sold it to this individual. But then the gears in her head began to fill her mind with doubt. There were indeed creatures that were named for their trickery and shapeshifting, she had nearly lost her life at the mercy of one, Changelings. Throughout her life, Rarity had never heard of a spell that could be used to change one’s form or coat color… but that didn’t mean one didn’t exist. It could have been voodoo, a forbidden spell protected by penalty of law… or her customer was a Changeling! Now she was just being paranoid. What would a Changeling want with a mind altering narcotic maker? Like she thought before, what were the chances somepony saw her artwork and attempted to mimic it and did a fine job at it? She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It wasn’t like she had the previous suit on hand to check to see what it had experienced in its lifetime… She did. Rarity got up from the table and marched off to the store side of her house. Sweetie Belle pulled her head away from her comics and asked, “Hey! Aren’t you gonna have breakfast?” Her sister ignored her. Instead, Rarity made a bee line straight through her shop and to the counter from the night before, where the rags that were once one of her custom tailored suits lay dead and dismembered, ready to be ripped apart and brought back into service. She spread the ball of cloth open and inspected it, and apart from the usual cuts, gashes and red stains that could be either wine or blood, there was a heavy dust that seemed to stain the overall package. She dipped her nose down and sniffed. Blackpowder, she recognized it from when she would go act as a volunteer accountant and go shopping for fireworks for the annual Ponyville celebration on behalf of the town, but other than that there was another smell. A smell that went deep into her brain on the primal and instinctive level and frightened her fight or flight mechanics; It was the same smell that, even if washed hundreds of times, could never be purged from clothing. Smoke. This was a new development; he could have indeed been at the party. This changed everything. Rarity felt excited, but in a bad way. She had a new lead… but such a strangely lucky chance to spot him in the background of the picture… what would she do now? She couldn’t know what newspapers would be host to his unwanted appearance. Plus, Rarity could not just simply order the next dozen newspapers at once… But she did know where a large stock of newspapers was. She went to her shop window and looked straight out, aiming to the townsquare, specifically a hollowed out tree that doubled as the Ponyville Library. She used her hoof and twisted the bolt on the door, switching it to allow the door to open; Rarity pulled it and began outside when she heard a voice, “Rarity, what are you doing?” She turned, Sweetie Belle was standing around the corner of the shop, watching her. “I… Uhh… ” she didn’t have time for elaborate excuses, “I just remembered something, I’ll be right back.” And she was off. *Knock Knock knock* Rarity bounced her weight between her hooves as she tip toed in place before the door. The anticipation was killing her, she hadn’t been this nervous since her highschool prom. She knocked again and then reared up to look through the window at the top of the door. The lock clicked, and sure enough her friend opened the door. Twilight opened the door as far as the safety chain allowed it to go before speaking. “I’m sorry, but the library is closed until- Oh hey Rarity!” She closed the door, disengaged the safety measures and opened it all the way, “What brings you- My goodness what happened to you?” It was at that moment Rarity remembered that she had done nothing to make herself presentable to anypony beside her sister. It was sickening, but she hoped her indecent exposure had not tarnished her image to everypony. “Is everything alright?” Twilight asked. The white mare thought quickly and then had an idea, “I.. Jog in the morning! Yes, before everypony is up for the day I get my exercise in and then get cleaned up for the day!” “Oh. Okay, what brings you here?” Twilight stepped aside and Rarity walked in. “I just wanted to look at something, where do you keep the old newspapers?” Twilight pointed to a side door between two bookshelf that were carved into the tree, “Right down there. Is there something I can help you with?” “Oh no. I am the one intruding,” she claimed, hoping her friend could take the hint, “Please, I should be able to help myself. Just return to your morning routine!” she went to the door and closed it tight behind her. Sure she was now going to be left alone, Rarity swiped her hoof around the wall by the door until she felt something besides petrified wood. She flipped a switch, and about a dozen magical candles lit the way down the spiraling tree into its root basement. She descended the stairs until she had reached the bottom, and as Twilight promised, a large stockpile of newspapers, wrapped with string in groups of 10 by date, were collected in a large and neat cube. There were just too many newspapers to get through in one sitting, too many to get through without raising some sort of suspicion. So, she had to do the only logical thing and grabbed about a dozen random packages of the newspaper and broke the first bow. She couldn’t read every story fully or inspect every single picture in an issue, so instead she glanced at headlines that sounded like they would possibly fit her culprit and stuck mainly to them. Her first five searches were busts, nothing too interesting, and the ones she did check did not have a picture that showed her any ponies that looked to be wearing her clothing. But then she found something that interested her. In the “Cain Detrot Business Report”, she saw a title that begged to be inspected: The Hearts and Hooves Day Massacre She glanced through the article and made a brief summary. The story was about one of the five Detrot crime families. Key members had rented the private back room at a fancy Istallian restaurant for the night as they dined with their wives and discussed business. There was strange sounds coming from the room, and when the waiters investigated, every mare and stallion present was dead. She investigated the picture. Somepony snapped the shot while looking into the restaurant. Several paramedics were carrying out covered boards, hiding deceased ponies beneath them. The restaurant was cleared, and all of the diners were gathered around the outside, watching the procession of medics. At first she scanned every face and every stallion, but did not find her suit. But then, she opened up her search to both genders and she immediately found it. There was a teal pegasus mare wearing a fancy vest and shirt, staring blankly outside the building as police ponies taped off the area and medics carried covered bodies out to the ambulance with the rest of the crowd. She started flipping through more newspapers, trying to find more stories that fit her target’s MO, and as she wished, she found it. Nine newspapers later, she was looking through the Neigh York Times, specifically in the international section. Emergency Equestrian Royal Guards Thwart Assassination Attempt on Key Witness in the Dravaki Genocide Trials She skimmed the article. A detachment of Solar Guards were sent to protect a refugee after an assassination attempt almost claimed his life. The Picture below it was of the outside the hospital and looking into the main lobby. Police officers were everywhere, news reporters as well as gatherers were spectating what they were doing inside. She looked closer at all of them, and through a side window next to the main enterance, she could see a blue earth pony stallion in a jacket –there were no bumps where wings would be- was sitting in a waiting room, reading a newspaper… or so it seemed. Eleven newspapers later, she was in the Canterlot Times: Japonies Spy Killed Resisting Capture after Attempting to Steal from Celestia’s Intelligence Agency The story was as it seemed from the title. The Japonies National Party publically denied any knowledge of the act and declared the rogue agent a terrorist acting on his own accord. This picture was not very good, It looked to be junior photography shot by a passerby before a professional could arrive. It was shaky and out of focus, but still, she found it. A white winged unicorn with rolled up sleeves was walking away from the scene as law enforcement attempted to create a crime scene. Even if it was a still image, he seemed awfully calm. But what made Rarity’s stomach twist in a knot was the fact that he was carrying a briefcase in his mouth. After two more stinkers, she was back to international newspapers. She stopped at a headliner that read: Griffin Slave Ship Explodes off Stag Coasts She did not even waste the time reading the article, she was already scanning the pictures. She had heard of the place before. The Stag Coasts was a tourist attraction, several resorts resided beside the water of the ocean. Even though she could see smoke from a ship billowing in the distance, the real focus of the picture was of both vacationers and staff of multiple species in the water of the beach, pulling starved and kidnapped creatures to the sand. There was a black unicorn mare in in a suitcoat, drenched in saltwater, performing CPR to a zebra on the beach. She didn’t even know how many papers she rifled through this time, nor what the name of the paper was, all she cared about was the title: Equestrian Federal Police and Royal guards break up Las Pegasus Police Protection Racket Like sometime before, the picture had been taken by an amateur photographer. From this perspective it was safe to say that this pony was looking through a window when they snapped their pic. She looked intently at the scene. It was a wharehouse, several police officers were on the ground, tied at their hooves, and those with wings and horns had been braced. Standing above them were several ponies, some were wearing military grade metal armor, the letters E.F.P. clear for everypony to see. There were gold clad royal guards, but also, there were other mares and stallions, too. She had seen the elite guard before during one of her many trips to Canterlot. The Lunar guards were easily distinguishable by their batty features or mangy looking coats. The Solar guards, wearing their own unique armor, were almost causing glares to distort the picture because of their armor’s properties. But, sticking out to them all, standing next to a large suitcase full of money –Possibly the bait in the operation- was a navy blue winged unicorn wearing a three piece suit. He was in the act of raising his hoof at the camera, almost as if he was trying to shield his face from its view upon seeing the flash. This was her client, no doubt about it. She could easily recognize his partially covered face wearing her suit. “Rarity, are you okay down there?” called Twilight from the enteranceway, “You’ve been down there for three and an half hours!” Rarity had no idea how much time she had wasted searching through the… surprisingly large stack of newspapers that she found surrounding her. “Oh… Uh… My how time flies when you’re having fun!” she lied, “I’m coming up now!” She had chased down a lead, and that resulted in more leads. She was the only one who would find the similarities in these events. No pony in their right mind would be able to see the correlation between her suits and these actions as concrete and solid evidence of her client… But that didn’t stop her. Every answer she had found only lead to more questions, and with that even more theories. For as much as she understood about this enigmatic customer of hers, the more she found that she knew nothing about him. She stood up and left the mess she made. Knowing Twilight and Spike, they would probably enjoy cleaning it all up. She made her way to the spiral staircase that lead to the exit and looked back at where she had been sitting for the last three and a half hours. She smiled to herself. Nobody would understand it, but she deserved a pat on the back for the strides forward she made…. Progress… She looked back down at the bottom of the basement, namely the mountain of newspapers that sat calmly, waiting for her to break their bow and search through them. As good as she felt about her discoveries, one question crushed all that hope in one swift motion. How far behind was she?