The inside of the Imperial Theatre’s foyer could be described to be more like a high school prom than the entranceway to a concert. There were no merchandise stands selling cheap, thin, T-shirts or other paperweights of Sapphire Shore’s likeness. Nor was there “true” fans or groupies out and about in the crowd. This performance was made out to the wallets and coin purses of the audience, not the fans in the world. The audience –which was currently mingling at the time- was the financial elite. With the tour ending on what was possibly the grandest stage in Equestria, the rich and powerful had waited to attend the event at a place where they would find those who were among their equals in regards to class. It didn’t matter if they were a fan of the music or not, this was a means to flaunt their wealth around and show off. The hotly contested ticket prices were enough to omit anypony from the middleclass down, so this was a competition to see who had the most money to waste.
With the volume of incredibly important individuals in attendance, the security was also doubly so. Out of the 15,000 Security officials in Canterlot, of every precinct combined, a record setting 10,000 of them were currently on duty in preparation for the show, either patrolling around the city in case of an event occurring during the distraction of the concert, or actively being involved with the security of the show; now was not the time to try to break the law.
Inside the theatre, the security’s presence was noticeably present. Not counting the private security personnel (also known as bodyguards), civilian staff members, or the castle’s Royal Guards; the police were also in full force in the building. Be it the uniformed officers patrolling through the halls or standing on the sidelines while the upper-class mingled, to the Riot officers armed with assault weapons, gasmasks and Kevlar body armor on standby around the entrances, exits, and standing by in the event of an incident. The Canine Officers were even out and about trying to sniff out anything that was out of place. It could be said that the police held an equally recognized presence.
As ridiculous as the security precautions sounded, they were going to need to work for their money. With the amount of revenue going to the city after tonight, the municipality was going to have enough money to pay their Hearth’s Warming Eve bonuses for the next two years. So making sure that nothing went wrong for a bunch of rich snobs was going to be worth it.
But, even with all this security, there was still one area that a pony could still find some form of privacy; the restroom.
A green earth pony walked into one such restroom, one that was far removed from the areas that the guests were allowed to be and had little to no chance of actually being used by the guests of the night. The earth pony walked in and kicked open one of the stalls. Backing up, he walked into the private cell, closed the door, locked it, and sang “I don’t give a shit, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t give a shit, I don’t give a fuck! If I gave a shit, I might just give a fuck. But I don’t give a shit, so I don’t give a fuck.”
He opened up his red usher uniform, pulling it so the magnetic buttons released and exposed his bare chest. With his mouth he reached down into an inner pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and placed the carton on the toilet paper dispenser. He took one of the wrapped sticks, lit it up with his lighter, and picked the cigarette up with his mouth. He gave the stick a long tug as he leaned back atop the porcelain throne, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He breathed the polluted air out his nose like a dragon and slouched on the secluded toilet.
Using his hooves again, he snaked his way back into his jacket and pushed the magnet out of his coat, making the tag on his chest fall to the tile floor. Still smoking, he looked down at the laminated photo of himself and the words, “Hello, My name is: Balisong”.
The door opened once again, causing Balisong’s eyebrow to raise as he listened to the hoofsteps. Soon after, a similarly dressed red earth pony opened the stall and rolled his eyes. “Dude, are you asking to get fired?”
Ignoring the rhetorical question, Balisong rolled his eyes and said “How’s it going, Swiss?”
“Balisong, when the manager finds you smoking he’s gonna fire you! Aunt Cleaver and Uncle Butcher told me to keep you out of trouble.”
“What do you mean? I’m just taking a shit,” he said, smiling with the smoking stick in his mouth. “Plus, Swiss, don’t you want to take a seat?”
Swiss A. Knife looked at the entrance to the restroom and back at his cousin. “Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted, jumping up and sitting on the sink. “At least put the cigarette out so you don’t smell like you were screwin’ off in the bathroom.”
“Good point,” Balisong said, opening his mouth and letting the partly smoked cigarette fall between his legs and into the toilet bowl. With a flush, the little tobacco log swirled around the white bowl and disappeared down the drain, never to be seen again.
“Havin’ fun?” Balisong asked.
“Listening to rich people bitch about first world problems? No. You?”
“Same here, but I’m more pissed about the hokey-ness of Shit-phire Shores.”
“Not a fan?”
“Yeah, didn’t like that shit in Detrot, still don’t like it now. But it’s a little deeper than that?”
“Please,” Swiss said sarcastically, “do go on.”
Balisong grabbed the top of his head and pulled, cracking his neck, “Okay, everything here- the ‘benefit’ that her ticket proceeds are going to, the fact that each one of the vendors for her concert needs to make a donation to her charity, and that each one of these rich pencil-dicks is required to donate something alongside their tickets- its all because she can’t sleep with herself at night.”
“How is her charity bad?”
“Its not that her Charity is bad, it’s because she’s bad. One day she must have woke up and realized that she was rich out of her fucking mind and couldn’t live with herself. So the only way to feel alright over the fact that she has all this money is to make her fans focus on people who don’t. While she’s singing and rapping about not having anything and making the big time, she is trying to keep people occupied with ‘Lil’ JoJo’ in Zebrica. Like, remember when she was balling in public when she learned that her merchandise was being made by like a hundred or so fillies in Bangcock?”
“Yeah, didn’t she shut down the places that were using sweatshop labor?”
“Exactly. Everypony told her she was doing the right thing and whatever, meanwhile the fillies at her factory lost all of their jobs- many of which were earning half of their family’s income- and had to turn to going back to the bustin’ their balls on the family farm or being maids or hookers to get by. So see what I mean?”
“I guess, but you can’t be serious that you’d rather work in a sweatshop.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to work in a sweatshop. But look at us! We’re earth ponies from Equestria. We never had celebrity charities giving us money from some place that we never heard of! We went from farmers fighting to survive and hundred years of hard work later we are in a marble building on an artificial plateau on a mountain sitting in an air conditioned shitter-room bitching about some dike who’s going to make more money in two hours than we will in a year.”
“I see.”
“Yeah, and Momma Knives wonders why I piss people off,” Balisong said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a long metal tube. In his mouth, he released a part of the metal, opening it and revealing a blade. He swung the artistic knife around with his mouth and head until finally it was pointing straight out at his cousin. His namesake and the same thing that occupied his flank.
Swiss rolled his eyes and groaned. “Balisong, did you really need to bring your butterfly knife? You really must be begging to get fired.”
“Uh huh.”
Swiss slid off the counter and landed on his hooves once more. “Well, I’m going to get going before anybody finds me missing. You should get back to work, too.”
Swiss A. Knife walked out of the bathroom. Shortly after, Balisong vacated the premise as well, walking towards the main foyer to his post by the doors to the theatre to rip tickets in half. But midway to his post, a voice from behind halted his progress.
“Excuse me, sir,” it said.
Balisong stopped and turned around. Upon first inspecting the pony who he was assuming was going to ask him where the bathroom was, Balisong was somewhat confused as to the gender of the individual. The first thing that caught his eye was the suit, so his mind wanted to jump straight to the assumption of stallion, but upon a closer inspection, the head and facial features were particularly effeminate. So, with his confusion over whether this pony was a dike wanting to complain about something or a doucher requesting that he do something stupid, Balisong choose to keep his answer as gender neutral as he could.
With a tight grin and a voice that was full of false interest, he said, “What can I do for ya?”
Whatever the dike/doucher wanted, it smiled and said, “Oh, I hope to not inconvenience you, but I believe that I may have accidentally placed the ticket for my coat inside of my jacket before one of your fellow staff members placed it in the coat room.”
“Dike “ He mentally declared. “Sure,” he said, rolling his eyes and turning towards the coat closet. “Right this way.”
With another smile, Crocodile Tears followed closely behind Balisong, keeping pace with his lazy strides.
Somewhat similar to the celebrities who had a following of ponies waiting for them to arrive at the theatre in order to check them over inch by inch, the filming crew for the concert likewise was greeted by a welcoming party of ponies. But, what was different from the ones who waiting for this group of event staff was that they were not paparazzi, fans, or gawkers. Instead, the dresses were replaced with armored vests, reporters were now combat canines, and the cameras were instead varying types of projectile and magical weaponry.
The cargo entrance to the Theatre had been temporarily repurposed as a checkpoint for the camera crew to be brought in and harassed by the police in charge. Even though there was a larger margin of individuals entering from the actual entrances of the building, the essential personnel involved in the show had to be checked before entry. From the ushers and staff who were employed by the theatre’s owners to the members of Canterlot Orchestra, who were just as essential to the show as Sapphire Shores herself, had to be sniffed down and their equipment checked for questionable material.
It was an inconvenience, but a necessary one, and like all inconveniences, Establishment Shot had been prepared for them.
The blue earth pony stood in line like several other members of the staff. He lazily stared off into nothing as the police ponies checked the individual at the front of the line before letting the hired camera operator past. But unlike what the other ponies in line were doing, Establishment’s mind was traveling at a mile a minute. For all of the things that he had prepared for, there was one that he had not considered.
Dogs.
At the checkpoint into the theatre, two police officers patted down the their subject, and while they did that, a Canine -an especially overweight Bulldog wearing a tight fitting magic-projectile proof vest labeled “CPD K9”- rummaged and sniffed through the owner’s possessions.
But, as Establishment thought of a solution to his problem, he looked at the checkpoint and had the solution given to him on a silver platter.
The checkpoint, which was just a number of police officers, standing in front of a wire door while the canine officer did the work, had a large sandwich board next to it. The plaque, which was yellow and had maroon letters, read;
“Please No: food, weapons, non-prescription medication past this point!
Please remove all items and comply with all law enforcement officials at checkpoint.”
Establishment closed his eyes and smiled. Too easy.
He opened his bag and reached in with his mouth, pulling a small hockey puck sized container. On the top of the package was a thin foil of tin. He bit the lip of the lid and pulled, ripping the glue off of the plastic container and releasing a rich nutty smell of peanut butter. He dropped the container back into his bag.
Establishment Looked down the line of other camera technicians and needed not look any further than the pony in front of him in line to find a large black bag with the word “Suny” embroidered on the side. He took a step forward and tapped the pony in front of him on the shoulder.
The pony he disturbed turned around with a scowl, “What,” he demanded.
Establishment Shot smiled and whispered in a manner that was like two hooligans proudly whispering over their bad deeds, “Is that the new Suny?”
The owner of the black bag visibly stood taller, and upon the question of his possessions, his annoyed tone seemingly disappeared. “Yes!” he proclaimed, “I got it as soon as it came out two months ago!” He lugged his bag over his shoulder in a way that it was on his chest, allowing him to open the bag with three easy motions and show his prize within.
“It’s got an 2.8 optical zoom, a duel candle torch for when I record things in the dark and a magic assisted crank. It’s like I’m pulling on nothing when I film!”
“Wow, that’s amazing!” Establishment Shot said, moving beside the pony with the camera and, more importantly, his open bag.
“That’s not even the coolest part! It has an extra rack and track so that I can have an extra store of film at the ready, meaning I can film for twice as long before switching out the reel. But what’s really cool is that I can hit a switch and use both at once, meaning that I can take twice as many frames at the same time! So with double the frames, I can film something in slow motion!”
“Wow, that’s a good piece of hardware,” Establishment Shot said, gently dropping the single serving container into the other pony’s bag.”
“Oi! You suzies quieh ya gossip and urry Up!” shouted the fat Bulldog as he and the other officers waited at the checkpoint for the two to end their conversation.
“I’m coming, hold your shit!” the pony in front of Establishment Shot said as he placed his video recorder back into its special carrying bag and zipped it shut. He stepped forward into the inspection area and showed the pony police officer before him his I.D. As he did, the Bulldog walked forward and began sniffing in front of the camera stallion.
The stallion, seeing the drooling canine, yanked his bag away and stepped aside, “Hey! Keep that mangy mutt away from my camera! This costs a fortune!”
Upon hearing the “M-U-T-T” word, the officers jumped and restrained the bull dog as foam formed around his mouth and clawed at the pony’s throat. “You bloody wot! You outta be Yammin’ or else I oughta giv ya a dry slap!”
Another officer jumped between the two and said, “Hey, hey, hey! Everyone calm down!” The rage filled hearts of the two slowly calmed, and then they returned to a neutral demeanor. “All we need to do is check your belongings. There’s nothing to get upset about unless someone is carrying something that they’re not supposed to.”
“And I’m not! It’s just my camera!” the pony shouted.
“That’s good. So this shouldn’t take any time at all.”
“Fine,” he finally spat, being released by his restraints and stepped forward. The canine officer was likewise released and he stuck his nose up at the one who insulted him.
The camera man was given a pat down by two officers, and, like before, the bulldog stepped forward and began to sniff around his area. The dog moved from one item to the next until he reached the black Suny bag. As he passed by he stopped, gave a few extra sniffs, and shouted, “Oi, Jonneh, t’is twat’s hidin’ sumtin.”
The bulldog began to claw at the bag’s zipper, causing its owner to break free from the officers inspecting his body and tackle his precious prize. “No! Get away from it you son of a bitch!”
Establishment Shot, who had been minding his own business like he was supposed to, was shoved around as CPD officers wearing riot armor forced their way past him and tackled the pony in front of him, shouting “Take him down!”
When the situation escalated, there was such a commotion in the small area behind the theatre that nopony was left unaffected. Establishment Shot was so disoriented by the rush of armored ponies pushing him around while they detained the unruly camera pony that he was forced to stagger past the mob of officers and over to the other side of the Checkpoint’s door so that he didn’t trip.
Before anypony could notice the poor stallion who had nearly been floored by the aggressive officers, Establishment Shot was gone. He was about halfway down the hall when he heard the sound of something being broken against a wall and a cry of “NOOO!” accompany it.
Like the prized showpony that she knew she was born to be, Rarity felt as if she was in a new world, a new element, a place that she had never been before, but felt more familiar than her own world when the chauffer opened up the door to the royal limo.
Once when she was a little filly, she had ogled and obsessed over a magazine of celebrities at a red carpet event, desiring to someday be in their shoes, and today was that day. Now the cycle would continue. Because her dreams and efforts had become a reality, the fillies who would sit in a circle admiring the pages of a gossip magazine would see her and in turn drive themselves to become their two-dimensional idol.
With poise, pomp, perfection, and professionalism, she respectfully followed the Sovereign of Equestria out of the limousine and allowed the cameras capture the true magnificence of Lady Rarity. With a model’s stride, she made her way down the rug and into the theatre, joining her friends and the other Princess as they received their tickets.
It was a dream come true. Rarity slowly reflected some of the admiration that the media was giving her as she looked around with a smile on her face. Absolutely nothing could ruin this day.
But, it was at that particular moment that she saw something -an anomaly out of the corner of her eye. For a split second, she noticed something that was like a black hole, and to her at least, it sucked the attention away from her.
Rarity broke out of her self-trained elegant demeanor, but only for a tiny second, to investigate what had distracted her from her perfect day. But, after the one second of worry, she relaxed.
The black anomaly that had caught her attention was nothing. Maybe it was the combination of the Theatre’s lighting and the flashes from cameras blinding her, but what had caught her attention was the fine black fabric of an elegant three piece suit. A stallion was following behind an usher and had stopped at the entrance to a coat closet. Just a silly false alarm.
Whoever it was, though, was quite the spectacle. Rarity made a mental note to single out that individual at one point in the night and see who his tailor was, because his suit made him look rather damper and dashing.
But then the stallion turned, and Rarity then saw what caught her eye again. It was a her, not a him.
Rarity shook her head, and the mysterious mare wearing a suit disappeared with the usher into the closet.
“Your ticket, Madame.”
Rarity returned to what she had been doing. The usher, having performed his duty for the other show goers, was waiting with a ticket for her. Rarity threw out a quick smile, “thank you!” she said before taking the ticket and moving out of the way.
She looked back at the coat closet and closed her eyes, giving a single chuckle and a self-patronizing shake of her head.
“Just a coincidence.”