//------------------------------// // 10: Hooviets Hate Baseball // Story: Loony // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// Arc maneuvered the car into a parking spot near the holding facility and shut off the engine.  It was now late morning and the bomb still had not been located. Arc turned in his seat.  “How do we want to do this?” “Do you want to talk to her or shall I?” asked Roxy. “Maybe I could try to shock her into something,” Arc pondered.  “We need information ASAP.” “But you don’t want to overdo it,” Roxy cautioned.  “I know how to talk to her.” “Together?” “Together.” They got out of the car.  Market was waiting for them inside and escorted the pair upstairs. “I heard what was happening,” Market said.  “Sounds serious.” “It’ll be just serious after we find the bomb,” replied Arc.  “Right now I would say the situation is desperate.” Roxy couldn’t disagree, although she would have described it less colorfully.  She and Arc took a seat in the interrogation room while Market went to get Buttercup. The prisoner appeared, looking as disheveled and shackled as always.  Spotting two visitors at once, both of whom looked like they meant business, a wary expression crossed her face. Buttercup sat, her eyes going between Arc and Roxy.  “Looks like you didn’t stop the bomb.” “Not yet,” Roxy was quick to point out.  “We found were it was assembled, though, thank you for that.  They’d moved it with a truck, however.  We need to know anything else you can tell us.” “Where is Sisal likely to employ it?” Arc asked. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been caged up for half a week,” Buttercup spat.  “And it’s not like she told me all her plans.” “We might make some guesses based on information about her,” said Roxy.  “Is there anything in San Palomino that Sisal particularly disliked?” Buttercup shrugged.  “Places of authority.  Sports.  The whole city, basically, and the fat, dumb Equestrians that live here.” “She doesn’t strike me as being very nationalistic,” noted Arc.  “Sisal is Hooviet, right?” “But I thought she does crime,” said Roxy.  “She’s after personal gain, not personal vendettas.” “That’s right,” Buttercup confirmed. “But putting a bomb in a city sounds like terrorism,” replied Arc. “I don’t know what makes her tick.”  Buttercup rolled her eyes.  “If she’s bombing ponies, then there’s a reason for it.  Maybe it’s just a bonus for her.” “But what’s her real goal then?” questioned Roxy. Buttercup moved her fetlocks, making them more comfortable in the cuffs.  “I’m not her personal assistant.” “If setting off a bomb in a civilian population isn’t the goal, it’s still a huge distraction,” suggested Arc. “And that leads to the question ‘a distraction from what,’” agreed Roxy. “Maybe stealing something; I don’t know.”  Buttercup’s voice had picked up a little bit of edge at admitting ignorance. “You still know more than us,” Roxy assured her.  “Tell us a little bit about Sisal.” “For example, the last place she would be on a Friday,” added Arc. “Are the Horseshoes playing tonight?” asked Buttercup.  “That would draw a crowd.  Plus, no one would notice another truck in the parking lot.” Arc and Roxy traded a glance.  He said, “A bomb that size could definitely do a number on a stadium.” “How many hundreds do you think it will kill?”  Buttercup grinned.  “Maybe thousands?” Seeing the disgusted looks from Arc, Roxy, and Market, Buttercup shrugged.  “What?  I’m evil.  Those numbers might be even higher because I remember hearing about a parade scheduled for tonight.  I might go myself if I wasn’t locked up.” “How do you know about the parade?” Roxy asked. “Regardless of what else you judge me for, you can’t fault me for liking baseball.” “I think we should call this in,” said Arc.  Roxy nodded and both of them got up, heading for the door. Roxy paused and turned back.  “Thank you, Buttercup.” The prisoner looked taken aback.  She turned back around to face the table.  “Find the bomb and screw Sisal.” That was exactly what Arc and Roxy planned to do, although perhaps not as colorfully.  The two of them left the building, Roxy dialing her phone. On the other end of the line, Tammy was able to run down more information about the parade.  The so-called San Palomino Summer Spectacular was not an official holiday, but that didn’t stop crowds of party-seekers from parading through the streets to reach the stadium.  With so many ponies, the potential death toll could be horrific. “We have some time before it starts,” Tammy said.  “While baseball isn’t really my sport, my guess would be that the bomb would probably go off near the beginning of the game for maximum impact.” “We’ll get there as soon as we can,” Roxy assured her.  “Please send as many Shades as you can to help.” Tammy said that she would and hung up.  Arc steered the car towards the stadium. It was only early afternoon when they arrived and the parking lot was nearly deserted.  As important as the parade and ballgame might have been to some ponies, those that held daytime jobs wouldn’t arrive to the evening game for hours. The main parking areas were across a four lane divided highway from the stadium.  A bomb detonated there would have much less impact.  However, if Sisal was only using it as a distraction, that was still more than do the trick.  More deadly and harder to plan for would be if the bomb truck pulled up along another street and detonated close to one of the stadium’s walls. Within half an hour of driving around, Arc and Roxy agreed that they had a good feel for the area.  They hadn’t spotted anypony or any trucks that looked suspicious.  Based on Tammy’s prediction, however, it could be hours before anypony arrived. They got lunch at an oatburger cart.  It wasn’t a great choice, but they couldn’t afford to leave the area until the bomb was found. Standing out of earshot of the vendors, Arc and Roxy ate and discussed strategy.  Arc had more experience with hostile operations, but he was an artillery pony, not some sort of special operator.  They both agreed that it was a game with stakes they couldn’t afford to lose. Roxy looked with distaste at the rest of her oatburger and dropped it in a trash can.  “I don’t feel much like eating.” “I know what you mean,” agreed Arc, but finished his lunch. “Maybe there’s something more appetizing.”  Roxy turned to look back at the small group of pushcarts that they had just visited.  They sold various things, from a la carte meals to snacks.  Her eye fell on a dessert cart that bore a painted sign identifying it as Haytalian Shaved Ice. Sweets didn’t sound great either, but at least it would go down easier.  Arc and Roxy each ordered a small cup of shaved ice from the old unicorn who ran the cart.  Both of them just asked him for the daily special. They took a walk, eating shaved ice and continuing to survey the area.  More ponies were beginning to arrive, among them a carload of Shades. Proficient, Harv, and Granite were the only three that Arc and Roxy had met before.  The others dispersed, taking strategic positions to monitor the incoming crowds. “The bomb squad should be here in a few minutes,” said Proficient.  “They might be able to do a little to help find the damn thing, but at this point we’ll take anypony we can get.” “Why not the police?” asked Roxy. “In a city this size, they get bomb threats every day,” Harv explained.  “We can say we’re the national police or somepony to give ourselves credibility, and for small situations we can pull it off, but eventually the real agency would learn of it.  I mean, it’s kind of what they do.” “What if we had Shades inside to help us with that kind of thing?” Arc speculated. “We do,” Proficient assured him.  “The trick is manufacturing the clues that a non-Shade agency would have collected to also arrive at a warning of a bomb.  The backstory is the hardest part and we don’t have time.” “Thousands of ponies could die,” Roxy protested. “Thousands of ponies die every day,” Granite broke in.  “And that’s nothing compared to what might happen in the aftermath of supernatural stuff being revealed to the world.” “Unfortunately true,” Proficient lamented.  “The number one job of the Shades, the directive that comes before everything else, is to keep the two sides of this world wholly separate from one another.  And some days, it’s even harder than it sounds.” A couple of black SUVs pulled up.  They screamed government, but apparently other accommodations hadn’t been quickly available.  Ponies, many of them large, burly stallions, began getting out.  The mare Harv had spoken to at Sisal’s garage was among them.  They all wore plainclothes and dispersed into the growing crowds in the parking lot. Just then, all the Shade’s cell phones began to ring.  Answering, they all found themselves listening to Tammy. “I set up this massive conference call for reporting.  There wasn’t time to get radios for everypony.  Keep your phone on and coordinate with each other if you see something suspicious.  If I get anything from my end, I’ll pass it along.” There were a couple of replies.  Everypony was careful not to stand too close or there might be feedback through the network.  The connection with so many phones had created a scratchy, noisy signal, but it was better than nothing. With a quick conversation, Arc and Roxy split.  Staying within sight of each other, they began to work their way through the thickening crowd.  Roxy took to the air, where there was less traffic and a better vantage point. The first parade vehicles had begun to arrive.  There was nothing that looked like a truck that could be carrying a bomb.  The convertible sports cars with waving beauty queens in the back seat certainly didn’t fit the bill. The parking lots and surrounding streets had begun to fill up with ponies.  Arc looked around, his mind analyzing the area like a target.  A simple bomb would kill or maim plenty.  A truck-sized device possibly packed with shrapnel or other additives would be unthinkable. Roxy glanced through the crowd, thinking about the effects if they failed to stop a detonation.  Controlling panic alone would be more difficult than even treating injuries.  This had to be stopped.  They couldn’t fail. Picking through the crowd, the two of them reached the street corner.  Ponies were already crossing to enter the stadium.  Out of the mass of bodies, there was one familiar face.  Both of them stared. Arc and Roxy found each other on the street corner, staring across the street and towards a service truck parked by the wall of the stadium.  Neither of them dared take their eyes from that direction lest they lose sight of their target. “That looks like Smoke Screen,” Arc muttered. “Dressed down from earlier, but that’s got to be her,” Roxy agreed. The mare was barely visible through the crowd, but she was working near the truck.  Doing what, neither of them could tell.  Today, she wore a black t-shirt and a red plaid skirt.  There was a somewhat mismatched fedora on her head. Arc reported it on his cell phone.  He made sure to note the hat and Smoke Screen’s overall description. “Don’t get close until I get there,” warned Granite.  “No telling what she’s doing.” Forced to wait, Arc and Roxy continued their watch.  Their stares didn’t waver, but their hooves managed to find their way to each other. More ponies kept blocking their view, and some of the larger parade floats put Smoke Screen out of sight entirely.  When the witch disappeared entirely, it took several seconds for either of them to realize it. Trading a quick glance, Arc and Roxy started across the street, dodging ponies and vehicles.  On the opposite sidewalk the view was better and it confirmed what they feared: Smoke Screen was gone. The truck was still there, however.  Despite the obvious threat of the bomb and whatever else Smoke Screen might have placed in the area, somepony had to approach. Arc wanted to tell his wife to stay back; that he would handle this.  However, if the bomb was as big as he thought it was, she would have to go a hundred meters or more to be out of the danger zone. Roxy caught him glancing at her and knew immediately what he was thinking.  She squeezed his hoof a little tighter.  They were in this together. Granite arrived just then, slightly out of breath.  He glanced at the truck and made a gesture for Arc and Roxy to stay where they were.  He started walking forward, head bent and appearing to probe the air with his horn.  About halfway there, he paused before advancing more slowly.  Walking a few steps sideways, he continued to approach the truck, this time from an angle. He stopped just a few steps away and appeared to be concentrating, his hooves spread slightly.  A tense minute passed as Arc and Roxy watched.  Around them, a few ponies may have noticed Granite, but few paid him any mind. Still appearing deep in concentration, Granite took another step forward and extended a hoof.  He hesitated for a few seconds before touching the side of the truck lightly.  If they hadn’t been paying attention, Arc and Roxy would have missed a thin shimmer of magenta that washed over the vehicle. Shoulders slumping, Granite turned around and nodded.  Quickly striding forward, the two of them joined him beside the truck. “Tricky fucking spell,” Granite muttered.  “Designed to be a lethal barrier.  It took a lot of power and I’ll bet we’ll find a few artifacts inside the truck that were energizing it.” “It didn’t look like it took much to disable it,” Roxy observed. “The most effective spells don’t waste energy on being flashy.” “What would have happened if somepony else tried to approach?” Arc asked. “If you’d touched the truck, you’d be dead,” Granite explained. “Is that why you touched it?” Arc asked.  “To make sure it was down?” Granite gave him a look.  “Smoke Screen is powerful.  I’m good.” The three of them moved around to the back of the truck.  The large door was padlocked shut.  Granite studied it for a moment before pulling the chain he’d used earlier.  As thin as it was, he was able to wrap it around and through the padlock several times, pulling the chain tight to put tension on the assembly. “One of you get up there and kick it as hard as you can,” he ordered. Slightly confused at the unexpected request, Arc grabbed a hoofhold and climbed up where the door was secured.  Bracing himself, he stomped down on the lock where Granite held it securely. “Harder,” Granite said, leaning back to put his weight on the lock.  He’d wrapped the chain around his fetlocks for grip.  Again, Arc gave it his best shot and this time the padlock broke. Granite stumbled backwards but quickly regained his balance.  He glanced at his hide, ignoring a little blood from where the high tension chain had cut him, and moving to remove the remains of the lock. Opening the latch, he slid the door up.  Inside the truck were several barrels and a cluster of electronics.  Upon quick inspection, there was nothing that would obviously disarm it.  There wasn’t even a helpful clock counting down. Now that he was actually faced with the bomb, staying there was the last thing Arc wanted.  However, if there was anything he could do, he had to take his best shot. Leaning over the barrels, he quickly spotted the detonators.  They were wired to a central control box.  The trigger, perhaps a timer or a remote control, wasn’t apparent. Several faces arrived just then—Proficient and Harv, along with a shorter creature that turned out to be a gremlin, concealing his face beneath a Horseshoes hat. “What do we got?” asked the gremlin.  He easily climbed into the back of the truck.  Arc got out, not wanting to interfere. The gremlin ran his long-fingered hands over the electronics.  Scampering across the tops of the barrels, he checked around the walls of the truck for anything that might be hidden.  Satisfied that he understood the workings, he returned to the controller.  Grabbing a fistful of wires, he ripped them out. Nothing happened and everypony breathed a sigh of relief.  The gremlin got down from the truck and received pats on the back from everypony.  Grinning, he folded the wires and stuffed them in his pocket. “We’ll have to get somepony to dispose of this truck,” Proficient said.  “Good job all of you, but we aren’t done until everypony who was responsible is in custody.”  Into his phone, he announced, “The bomb’s been defused.  Keep pursuing Smoke Screen.” “We have eyes on her now,” somepony reported.  “Moving in.” The tension relieved by the defusal suddenly ramped up again.  Everypony listened closely for news.  In a few moments… “Got her.  We’ll bring her to the truck.” Two large stallions from the strike team appeared through the crowd, dragging along a mare who did not appear pleased.  One of them had a hoof clamped over her mouth.  It was surprising that bystanders weren’t trying to stop them, but perhaps they assumed that nobody would be so blatant as to kidnap somepony in broad daylight and that the situation must be about something else. “This is her,” one of them said.  “Thanks for the tip about the fedora.” “This isn’t her,” Roxy protested.  “Different pony.” “She’s not even wearing a fedora; that’s a trilby,” Arc added.  “Don’t you know anything about hats?” Awkwardly, the two stallions let their captive go.  She ran. “Bet she’ll never wear a hat again,” muttered Harv.