//------------------------------// // The Start of Something New // Story: In Another Life II: Chance's Folly // by Bateman66 //------------------------------// Ms. Press smiled wickedly in her vacant classroom. In her hoof was a small white ball that she continuously tossed up and down into the air. Her hind legs were folded up on top of her desk, as she leaned back in her comfortable and expensive swivel chair. The shades to the windows had been pulled down hastily, so at several areas the plastic shutters were either bent or crunched, allowing in asymmetrical gleams of light at random. The clock at the top right of the room clicked away with the passing seconds, making her giggle with delight as the time for action became closer. For weeks she had been fussing over this exact moment, worried that something completely out of nowhere would topple the fragile events she had set in motion. But now that she was here, minutes away from the expected time of arrival, she felt more than ready to carry out her scheme. The scheme in question, was the capture and smuggling of a pesky little human that had been plaguing her existence ever since she laid eyes on him. His mere presence among the rest of the class mocked her abilities as an agent, and the longer he remained unaware of her attempts to subdue him, the more enraged she became. True, her first attempt had failed, but that was just because she was horridly unprepared for the situation. What had started out as covert surveillance of his activities and home life, turned into Ms. Press trailing him through the night and attempting to knock him out with volleys of sleeping darts. However, she had no time to dwell on her mistakes, and that experience in question had told her all she needed to know about the dopey-looking loser. He could jump out of the way quickly enough, and scream pretty loud, but from her observations, he couldn’t fight off a sick parasprite if he tried. This revelation made the entire capturing process of her plan loads easier, leaving only the processing portion to be the trickiest. But she didn’t fret, this wasn’t a solo job, heck no! Peering up at the clock, she smiled an even wider and more maniacal of a grin. Only a few more minutes to show time! ----------------------------------------- Alistair paced hurriedly down the street. It was almost 4:30 in the afternoon, and he was going to be late. Why couldn’t have you just waited there?, he angrily asked himself as he speed walked. Now she’s going to deduct points! Ms. Press, at the end of class, had asked for him to swing by the community house later in the day to chat about his progress in her pottery class. And although he’d tried his best to look understanding and unfazed by her request, he’d been sweating buckets since noon. He’d never been involved in formal academics before, but the way his grey furred teacher had worded it, he felt like it was horribly bad news. Even though this was just a summer screw-around course, he would not tolerate getting a poor grade on the first thing he ever got graded on. He had kept a quiet but attentive attitude all through the past weeks, trying his hardest at whatever project Ms. Press threw at him. If she was going to give him trouble about his classroom performance, well, it least he wouldn’t be late to hear it! Gritting his teeth, he began to sprint down the street, his eyes fixed on the horizon. ------------------------------------------------ “Darn it! He’s running now.” “Should we run too?” “No, it’d be too obvious. C’mon, just keep walking, I can still see him.” Jam and Commodore picked up their pace, but continued at a slow trot. Both of them faced forward, their eyes focused on a peculiar looking human in a brown cloak, walking down the street in the afternoon sun, with not many ponies around. Considering the circumstances, it would have been near impossible to loose sight of him, but both of them didn’t want to take their chances. Their “investigation” had started with a trip over to Golden Oak Library to possibly speak two on one with the guy. However, right as they could see the building, the human had quickly thrown open the front door and took off walking onto another street. Seeing that he was in a hurry, the two made the polite decision to trail him to wherever he went. “Is that the community house?” asked Jam, leaning his head over to Commodore as they walked. “Yeah, I think so. I took a few art classes there when I was little. Had to go every Saturday morning.” Commodore paused a second, thinking to himself. “That means that he’s doing a course there, or something.” Jam blinked. “You really think so?” “Why not?” shrugged the shaggy blue pony. “If he can successfully integrate into Equestrian society without harming himself or others, then he is fully liable to all rights guaranteed to that of a naturalized citizen.” Jam smirked, “Looks like somepony’s been doing their homework.” Commodore didn’t respond, squinting at something ahead of them. Suddenly, he stopped walking. “He’s going inside. Look.” He pointed his hoof towards the front of the building. The human pushed up against the double doors with its shoulder and disappeared into the building. “We’ve got to follow him!” declared Commodore. “Come on!” Jam opened his mouth to object, but before he could, his friend was already galloping towards the front doors. -------------------------------------------- Ms. Press could almost explode with anticipation. It was 4:30 on the dot and the human would be there any moment! She’d prepped everything to say, do, and express right when he walked through the door, and even then did she find herself a bit nervous. The more and more she planned, the more likely it seemed she would fail. Wringing her hoofs together, she got up from her chair and began to pace around the front of the room. There was nothing else she could to completely assure that her mission would be a success, there was no way. But her inner anxieties gnawed at her stomach, telling her that much was still to be done. Beginning to sweat, she nervously tossed her white ball up and down into the air. What if he realizes something is ahoof? What if he doesn’t even show up? What would the rest of the organization think of me?! I can’t bear to hear anymore of them! All that teasing, laughing right in my face! What did I ever do to deserve this!? Why is it always me who-- “Enough!” she screamed to herself. “You’re going to be fine! If that little brat thinks he can slip through your hooves again, you’ll smash them right into his face!” Her gray fur seemed to turn red with rage as she seethed deeply thorough her snout. A million images of violence flashed through her mind, as every possible form of pain was inflicted on that cheeky, two-legged, gangly faced freak. As hate filled every able space within her, she felt a thickening layer of calm on her nerves. All of the worries slowly soothed out of her and were replaced with nothing but pure raw hatred. Her concentration immediately returned. Smiling, she confidently walked back over to her desk and sat down. Tossing the ball back into the air, she glanced once more at the clock. ---------------------------------------------- Alistair made his way down the linoleum hallway in silence, his fur shoes muffling out any step he made against the shiny waxed floor. Just a little farther and he would be in Ms. Press’s room, ready to receive her judgment. The worries he had felt earlier still burned in his chest, making his steady approach all but more uncomfortable. The silence of the entire building wasn’t helping either. It unsettled him, which was odd considering he loved the quiet. Peaceful mornings looking out the window were some of his favorite times of day. No, this silence felt different, strained, like tension was building somewhere. Like a violin cord being stretched and strained so tight, that at any moment, it would unexpectedly snap. Perhaps it was just the cramped hallway, he thought. Small areas had freaked him out since before he could remember. And small areas with danger…well, he got the picture. Turning a corner, he peered down another hallway almost identical to the ones he’d just been walking through. All the doors in the hallway were shut except for a single one left agar at the end of the corridor. He was here, it was show time. Taking a deep breath, he slowly approached the room step by step, as his body began to jitter. Here we go again… ----------------------------------------------- Commodore peered his head around the corner. Right in front of him, just a few short yards away, was the human, slowly walking down the hallway. Turning to Jam, he silently gestured with his hooves to continue following him. Nodding once, Jam understood. Poking his head back around, Commodore gasped and turned to Jam. Leaning close to his ears, Commodore lightly whispered something. “He’s going into one of the rooms. I say we follow him in there.” Jam looked shocked for a moment then quickly shook his head in disagreement so fast that little bits of his brown mane fluttered to the ground. “I don’t think we should do that, we might get in trouble, or worse.” Rolling his eyes, Commodore spoke once more. “It’s now or never, dude, and I’m planning on choosing the latter.” Looking around the corner once more, Commodore slowly made his way around the bend, and towards the opened door. -------------------------------------------- Alistair slowly stepped into the darkened classroom. His body cast a shadow from the open hallway door, allowing in a steady flow of light while the room itself offered next to nil. Moving to the front center of the room, he looked from left to right to see if anypony was around. “Hello?” he called out, “Ms. Press, I’m here.” He heard no response from anywhere in the room. Had she forgotten? Was she running late? He was about to call for his teacher again, when he heard brisk hoofsteps coming from behind him. Turning around, he saw Ms. Press quickly approaching him from out of the darkness. “Alistair!” she called out cheerfully, “I’m so glad you could make it! How’re you doing?” Alistair tried his best to smile. “Oh, uh, I’m fine…just had a quick walk over. Thought I was going to be late, but, uh, got here on time.” Ms. Press warmly smiled to him and shook her head in agreement. “Well it’s very good that you came, because like I said earlier, we have a few things to discuss about your performance in class.” His face turned pale in horror at the mention of ‘performance’. “W-What do you mean by that?” She chuckled to herself. “Oh, nothing like that Alistair! I wanted to congratulate you on the fine progress you’re making so far.” He looked puzzled. “My progress?” Ms. Press chuckled once again and continued. “I’ve seen the items you have made. vases, pans, that alien spacecraft with differing color patterns and tentacles coming from the sides.” Alistair raised his hand. “It was a flower pot, actually, Ms. Press.” She waved with her hoof. “Whatever. You’ve been doing a fine job so far, and I believe that a proper award is definitely in order.” His eyes lit up amazingly. “A prize…for me!?” Ms. Press nodded. “It’s always been a tradition of mine to award the best student of the class. A student who shows an aptitude to listen, learn and listen. And you, Alistair, are the most perfect and special candidate to receive this offer.” She moved back over to the worktables section of the room and turned around to face him. “I’m going into the backroom to get your prize, but before I forget.” She dashed over to her desk and gently set a white ball on top of the table. “I’ll be right back!” Sprinting into the barely visible part of the room, a sound of a door opening and then closing could be heard, followed by what sounded like the locking of a door. Alistair stood vacantly for a moment, waiting for any noise to come from his teacher. Hearing nothing, he immediately bounced over to her desk, giddiness overtaking him. The very sight of the peculiar white ball had attracted his attention so much, that in the course of twelve seconds, he was now more interested in whatever the ball was than what his prize would be. It occurred to him that maybe the ball was his prize, and Ms. Press going into the backroom was actually an elaborate way of saying that he could take it. Reaching with his right hand, he picked up the object and was able to wrap all of his fingers around it. The weird thing was no bigger then an orange but heavier then a brick, and he swore he felt liquid sloshing around inside of it. He brought the object close to his ears and shook it. Yep, definitely liquids, and maybe some tiny pebbles too. Maybe it’s a cup or a lamp of some kind, he thought. A toy? Plastic water balloon? Food container? He mulled over what the little trinket could be, but nothing in his mind could match the description. Perhaps it was some weird pony thing that nobody had told him about, like when Twilight took him to the movies and forgot tell him the pictures didn’t actually come out of the screen, and before he knew it he was being taken out of the theater by an usher, while screaming: “But it looked so real!” He held the hard white orb in his hand and kept on staring at it, hoping that something would appear in his head. He’d been so transfixed by the wonderful ball of plastic; he hadn’t even reacted to the voice he heard behind him. “E-Excuse me?” said something that sounded very deep and flat in tone. “Can we, uh, talk to you for a moment?” “Hmmmm?” said Alistair, not paying attention as he turned his body around to face where the voice was coming from. He flinched slightly at the sight of the figure, but that was just in some weird sense of surprise that the voice had actually come from something. To his right, standing just at the border between the classroom and the hallway, was a tallish looking colt, with bright blue shaggy fur, and an even shaggier dark blue mane. A Cutie Mark of a game controller was on its flank. Alistair stared at the pony from hoof to head, examining him for anything that would indentify the pony as an adult. This was mandatory of course, to check what amount of respect he should address to the stranger. Twilight had emphasized good manners almost immediately since his arrival, and he’d been following them ever since. Seeing no sign of age on the pony, he nodded to himself, suddenly a bit less worried on what to do. Dramatically clearing his throat, he responded. “I’m sorry, what did you say, friend? My mind was somewhere else.” His tone was as casual as he could muster, a bit deeper then usual, but he always found himself doing that when he met new people. The blue pony gulped slightly, and kept a placid expression on his face. “I, uh, asked if I could speak to you, on s-something important.” Alistair raised his eyebrows in legitimate query. “What would that be? Are you a Royal Guard, or a detective of some sort?” The colt let out a quick sigh and wrung his hooves together. “No it’s a, uh, inquiry…on, uh, personal matters that I, uh, I mean, we would like to get a better…” The pony’s speech trailed off as his eyes began to dart around the room. “Ooooooooooh!” realized Alistair with a seeming understanding. “You’re a reporter, right? For a newspaper? I didn’t think they let young ponies get a job so quick!” “Uh, yes!” blurted the pony. “I’m a reporter! And I’m, uh, doing an article…on you!” “Me? Really?” asked Alistair with moderate disbelief. “Twi—I mean a friend of mine, said that some ponies might ask me some questions, but I never expected something like this.” The pony bobbed is head rapidly. “Well…this one’s special, especially for you! Now why don’t you come outside with me… so we can discuss this further.” Alistair shrugged his shoulders. “Alrighty then, lead the way.” The two made their way out of the classroom and into the hallway. Standing right outside the door, was another pony. This one was a lanky, dark red colt, with a curly brown mane, and a pair of glasses on its snout. He seemed to be bothered by something, holding an annoyed expression as he eyed the reporter with disdain. “And this,” introduced the shaky reporter, “is my…close friend and associate: Jam Roly-Poly. We’ve been on, uh, several stories together, and he was very…eager to help me on this one. Weren’t you, Jam?” He eyed the red pony excessively, like he was trying to tell him something. The red pony rolled his eyes. “Commodore, I’m not playing this game. You said you’d tell him the truth.” The pony turned to Alistair. “I’m really sorry, he didn’t know what to do, and this was all kinda last minute--” “Jam!” yelled Commodore. “Don’t throw me under the cart! I was going to tell him once the interview was over. I wouldn’t lie that much.” Alistair looked at the two ponies, confused. “What’s going on? What’re you talking about?” Commodore sighed. “We were trying to get an interview with you, and I, really we, thought that the best way to seem professional was pretending to be news reporters. That way, you’d trust us and stuff.” “Hey!” retorted Jam, “This was mostly your idea, I only partially agreed to it.” Commodore glared at him. “But you still agreed to it.” “Because you insisted.” “Because this is important.” “Says you.” “So…” uncomfortably cut in Alistair with a nervous smile, “About that interview. Should I just stick here with you guys, or come back tomorrow, or should we organize a meeting spot, or something along those lines?” The two ponies turned to look at him, slightly surprised. “You actually want to go through with this?” asked Jam, “100% serious?” He shrugged. “Twi—I mean the friend, said she’d handle the media and all that jazz, but you guys aren’t the media and you seem nice enough, so why not? I’ve got nothing else to do but putter around for the rest of the day.” “That’d be great!” shouted an ecstatic Commodore, “That’d be really great. Thank you!” Alistair beamed. “You’re welcome.” Commodore turned to Jam then back to Alistair. “Alright, so we’ve got our man, now all we need is a safe and quiet place to conduct the interview. Somewhere put off but still comfortable. And I know just the place. Follow me!” He jumped up from where he stood and sprinted down the hallway at full speed, not even checking if anypony was following him. “Does he do that often?” asked Alistair. “Oh yeah” responded Jam, “All the time. Come one, we might loose him.” The two made their own way down the long corridor, moving as fast they could. As they were about to turn onto another identical looking hallway, Alistair stopped for a second and looked back towards Ms. Press’s classroom. Thinking for a moment, he shook his head. “She’ll understand”, he mumbled to himself. Getting back into a stride, he followed after Jam, not looking back again. --------------------------------- Ms. Press had been hiding in the supply room closet for at least twenty-minutes, and she still didn’t hear explosion from her classroom. Unclipping the gas mask from her face, she silently slithered back into her room, curious and a bit ticked on why she hadn’t heard the tell tale boom. It was hard to see anything in the room at this point. The closed shades and the setting sun had pretty much drained all light from the room. However, from the almost complete darkness, she could tell that something had gone horribly wrong. The bomb still sat on her desk, the door had been left open, and the human was nowhere to be found. An awful feeling creeped into her mind as she frantically dashed over to her desk. Holding up the small white ball in her shaking hoof, she knew that her plan had failed. The firing mechanism must have malfunctioned or maybe it was the timer. Had she not put enough primer into the chamber? It didn’t matter. Her plan had failed once again and she was back at square one. All of her hard work had just went straight down the drain, and it was all because of that plain-faced, knuckle dragging monster slipping through her hooves once again! Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t she just win for once? Why was it that any time something positive could happen, the world always found some way to ruin it for her? She felt like exploding, as if every single inch of her body had been turned into dynamite and she would combust into a fiery cloud of rage. Clenching the white ball in her hoof, she tossed it at the wall with full force. The small device bonked against the concrete, and fell to the floor with a barely audible dink. At that immediate moment, the ball exploded in a bright yellow flash, and purple smoke began to fill the room. Thinking quickly, Ms. Press sprinted to the open hallway door and slammed it shut. Now no pony would have any evidence against her! She felt the thick violet smoke seep into her lungs as her eye lids became heavy and difficult to balance. Her head became twisted and she could feel her blood beginning to cool. The brew of wild flowers and radishes had made her potent sleeping gas some of the best she ever made. Sighing happily, she fell to the floor as her vision faded out. She needed some much needed rest anyway.