//------------------------------//
// Chapter Two: Surprise Party 
// Story: From Gander to Gendarme 
// by HackamoreHalter 
//------------------------------//

For most of Gander’s life, ‘home’ was the cold, windy halls of the Bastion. It was an ancient, angular, crudely carved castle atop an island that could be somewhat simply described as a giant rock tossed into the ocean. Sheer cliffs marked its every edge, leading to a long drop into an unforgiving frozen sea. The structure itself was designed as a defensive fortification, entirely lacking in any sort of comfort. Furniture was a luxury that made one soft, an unneeded excess, and was by-and-large absent. The solid stone floors would sap the heat from one’s body, just as the frigid winds flowing through the parapets would send frosty daggers through one’s skin. It was designed to toughen up the weak, until those that lived within its walls were as unyielding as the fortification itself.

Gander sighed wistfully at the memories. His current two-room apartment made his old home look like a five-star hotel.

How these happy candy-colored ponies had been able to create something so insidious, so... evil an invention as low-income housing, Gander just could not understand. It somehow managed to be swelteringly hot in the day, muggy from lack of air even with the grimy windows cracked open and a positively archaic ceiling fan spinning so slowly that it didn’t so much as stir the dust, and yet at the same time the temperatures dropped to bone-chillingly cold at night, as if the walls were mere paper and the weather teams had scheduled an impromptu blizzard outside his third floor. He’d tried the quaint radiator heater, a model he was sure could match the sun princess in years, but every moment it remained on it would steam and hiss in such a manner he half expected it to explode. The lights, such as they were, sparked erratically with a sickly puke-orange glow, and Gander avoided using them to keep from setting the cramped little matchbox aflame. He’d originally thought the apartment came with a carpet, only to learn it was really a pervasive mold that he swore increased in size every time he turned his back to it. The possibly semi-sentient lichen was all that kept him from sleeping on the ground instead of his bed, which was several sizes too small and left his legs and wings sprawled out over the sides. The springs of his mattress jammed into his spine like blades, or perhaps like monkeys wielding blades since they screeched like a horde of tiny animals being trampled underfoot every time he so much as shifted his weight. 

But it was cheap, so all of the problems that plagued this dwelling that was a single step away from being condemned were of little consequence. It was also available and would take griffon, or hybrid griffon, residents. The owner didn’t care or ask questions so long as the rent was on time, and Gander appreciated that. He’d often wished for a cloudhouse, but there were zoning regulations to be considered, and the constant issue of pollution clogging up the architecture, not to mention the lack of security when any old pegasus could just fly through the walls. Or, if enterprising enough, one could drag the entire dwelling away. An entire house nicked. The thought made Gander snort in amusement.

With a heavy backstroke that was just a tad graceless due to his exhaustion, Gander landed outside the ugly apartment building’s front steps. Bags of garbage were piled haphazardly along the dirty edge of the building leading to the alleys. Apparently, the dumpster was just too much of a hike for one of his delightful neighbors. His keen hunter’s senses caught a whiff of what lived, or at least had lived at one point, in the dark corners of the alley and he found himself agreeing with the mysterious litterer’s decision. Sometimes, he wished he’d had a nose to wrinkle in disgust. The beak simply did not have the dexterity.

He made his way inside, past walls of peeling brown wallpaper and thick doors marking other residences, with more than a few locks on each sealing them closed. There was an elevator in the building, or at least an elevator shaft since he’d never seen evidence of the carriage’s existence, but he trudged past its sliding door and slanted out-of-order sign. The stairs were narrow and claustrophobic, creaking with every step. They made his wings twitch, and he considered once more removing the iron bars outside his window for quicker exits before discarding the idea. Not that he had much in the way of possessions to be stolen, but he preferred his neck in tact and without extra breathing holes. He wasn’t sure a pony was capable of such an act, but he couldn’t say for sure that they wouldn’t. Desperation makes for desperate acts, and in a city this size there were more than a few ponies down on their luck.

Sighing wearily, he reached the door to his humble abode, fumbled with the key before unlocking it, and pushed open the door.

“SurprACK!”

Instinct kicked in before his mind caught up. Thoughts slow from fatigue were no match for the instant muscle memory of years of training. The first moment, Gander was opening the door. The second, he had his claws around an intruder’s neck. It took all of the third moment and most of the fourth for realization to kick in, and for Gander to become aware of the sight in front of him.

Held between his curled front toes, a bright yellow neck. Attached to the neck, an equally bright yellow pony head with an even brighter, if somewhat sheepish, smile. Flaming orange mane and brilliant blue eyes that were slightly bugged out from oxygen deprivation. Slender wings and a petite frame that squirmed to escape. His brain did the math, somewhat slowly, and he released his death grip on the mare’s throat. She wheezed slightly as she stepped out of the doorway, giggling as she got her breath back.

“Okay, so... um, I dunno how griffons hug, but just for your information, that ain’t how we ponies do it,” she said matter-of-factly as she hovered over to the dinky coffee table in the middle of the living room with rapid, hummingbirdesque beats of her wings.

“Ducky...” Gander’s mind had yet to fully comprehend what was going on. “What are you doing in my home?”

She looked at him in surprise before gesturing grandly at a banner that hung from the ceiling fan. The fan blades were twirling slow enough that he could make out the word ‘SURPRISE!’ in bold and rainbow-colored font. “Surprise party. You know, for your housewarmin’. It’s supposed to be like a welcomin’ sort of thing for gettin’ some new digs.” She looked around at the rundown state of the room, hardly improved by the rest of the ‘party’ which consisted of take-out pizza on the coffee table and streamers hanging from the ceiling or tossed on the floor. The mold already seemed to be eating the few it could reach. “It’s... um. It’s nice. I like the, uh... place. Yeah, nice place. So... welcome?”

“Ponies give parties even for the house,” he snorted. “Interesting to learn of surprise parties, but not the question I ask.” Gander regarded his first, and pretty much only, friend with absolute bewilderment. “How did you get inside? The door was locked.”

“Oh. Oh! That. Yeah. I had to set up the stuff so I, uh, kinda just opened it. Who wants pizza?” She held out a greasy, melty slice of cheese on a crust as a way to change the subject. The tomato sauce gave it a bloody appearance that appealed to Gander‘s upbringing. It was almost enough to make him forget the absurdity of her last statement. Wisely, he chose to drop the subject rather than strain himself thinking about it.

“I think no. I... do not wish for a party, Ducky.” He scowled as he appraised the celebratory banner as it made another slow rotation. There was work to be done, after all. The saddlebags resting against his flanks felt heavier by the moment, though he could not be sure if it was a growing sense of responsibility to the case or if it was just his weariness. Ducky’s signature smile wavered, a twinge so slight he might have imagined it.

“Oh.”  Her hooves fell and the rejected slice of pizza was banished back to its box. Her ears drooped as she stared down at the cracked linoleum floor and chuckled sheepishly. “Right, right. I guess I got a little carried away. Sorry. I’ll just, um, how about I just head out then. ” 

Head hanging low and fiery tail dragging listlessly, she made her way to the door as if she was being led to the gallows. Gander could swear he saw an unshed tear forming in one ocean-blue eye. He ground his teeth together and let out a heavy sigh, quite certain that if ponies ever managed to weaponize that expression they would no longer have a need for a standing army; all in their path would surrender at first sight, and world domination would be theirs. 

“Wait,” he relented, and the gloom hanging over the mare seemed to melt away as if it had never been. If Ducky was even capable of lies, he would have assumed it had all been an act. “Your party is fine, Ducky. You do not need to go. I mean to say I am tired from work, is all.” 

Gander made his way over to a threadbare couch with only one remaining cushion. He never sat on the cushion anyway, since the lower seat helped with his greater height. The pegasus gleefully took the adjacent cushioned seat, murmuring sympathetically.

“Aww, that’s all right. We all have some tough days,” she said as she offered Gander a friendly hug, her short legs barely able to fit around his chest. Her head drew back in surprise as her hoof came back with a fork in it, the tines covered in traces of congealed griffon blood. “Um, does that maybe have somethin’ to do with why you got silverware jammed in your shoulderblades?”

Gander shrugged. “It was a very interesting night. Thank you for catching that, I thought it was only an itch.” He took the fork from her and jabbed a slice of pizza, oblivious to her sticking her tongue out in revulsion. The pizza wasn’t half bad, and the calories would surely come in handy.

“Okay, that was gross, but you’re welcome, I guess.” She bit her lower lip in concern, focusing for the first time on the bandages that did not appear to be a fashion statement after all. “But you’re seriously okay, right? Cause you look a little beat up to me.”

“It is fine,” Gander waved off her worries between bites. No wonder the greatest griffon chefs would make their way to Equestria to prove their mastery of the craft. The ponies were a tough act to follow when it came to food. “There were many criminals. Now there are lesser criminals.”

“Fewer criminals,” she corrected somewhat automatically. Gander’s equestrian tended to lapse when he wasn’t concentrating, which was apparently hard to do when he was tilting his head back to scarf back a slice without so much as chewing. “You keep this up, there aren’t gonna be any left. Criminals, I mean, not pizza. Though that’s going quick, too. Anyhow, you just got the job, right? Can’t you kind of, I dunno, ease into it? Maybe without gettin’ hurt too bad?”

Gander shook his head as a sneer formed on his beak, though it was aimed at the idea and not the mare offering it. “I must earn my place. It is an honor, this position given to me, and I feel I have yet to earn it.” 

He gave her a pointed glance and she waved her hooves in front of her face defensively. “Whoa, hey now, don’t go blamin’ that on me.

“I know you’re all about the griffony honor and whatsits. Yeah, I got family in the Wonderbolts, but they gave you that recommendation on their lonesome. I had nothin’ to do with it.” He didn’t seem convinced, so she put on her best stern glare. “And don’t you go tellin’ me you didn’t earn that. The ‘bolts were comin’ to chase that Ursa out of town and you beat them to it. How’s that not earnin’ your way?”

“Simple,” Gander snorted. His bones still hurt at the memory of facing that skyscraper of a monster. “I did not beat the creature. It is luck only that I still breathe.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Ducky’s eyes rolled in her head at a pace the rotating ceiling fan could never hope to match. “Beat it, scared it off, same difference. They saw it light out with its tail between its legs. Well, if it had a tail. The metaphorical... whatever. You know what I mean.

“The point is,” she said as she bumped her head against his shoulder in a show of support, “you totally earned your spot. And it sounds like you went and proved that again, right? Those aren’t kitty scratches you got there.”

“True,” he admitted with reluctance. “The catch this night was worthy prey. The other officers celebrate even now for these criminals to be off of the street.”

Ducky did a double-take. “What, like a party? And you’re missin’ it?”

“Perhaps,” Gander shrugged. Even this ‘housewarming’ was more than enough. If one mare’s craziness could test his patience, then a crowd would be a nightmare. “I do not know much of parties. They say they go for celebrations at a hole for water.”

“Hmm,” the mare tapped at her chin in contemplation. She seemed to take this far too seriously. “Alright, that narrows it down to a couple of good pubs. Now listen real careful cause there’s a big difference here. Did they say the Waterin’ Hole, or did they say the Holy Water?”

“The first, maybe. What does it matter?” Gander stretched his wings to work out the kinks.

“Eh, either pub’s fine.” Ducky shrugged in indifference. “Drinks aren’t bad whichever place you choose, it’s just the, um, what do they call it... the ambiance or whatever.” She made a waving motion that Gander couldn’t quite decipher. “Like, the feel of the place, you know? One’s real casual and the other’s all stiff. At the first you find punks and the second you find monks.”

The griffon’s eyes widened as a thought came to him, and the audible crack from the joints in his wings may as well have been the sound effect of a lightbulb appearing over his head. An informal setting for ponies of all walks of life, or even nonponies, to gather. The loosening effect of inebriation on closely kept secrets. The spread of underground information and the sealing of shady deals. The testing ground for a new and unfamiliar substance. His mission now was so simple.

In order to fight crime, Gander would have to go clubbing.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Ducky floated in front of his vision, hovering a few feet from the ground. “Did the pizza get to you?” She leaned back with caution. “You aren’t, uh, lactose intolerant, are you? Cause I would be totally fine with havin’ the party later, if that’s what’s up.”

“No, I tolerate ponies and their lack of toes. It is a different thing.” Ducky’s expression twisted up in confusion for a second, but she didn’t get a chance to voice it before Gander continued. “I am thinking maybe it would be good to go to this pub. For to celebrate with the officers. And for the making of friends.”

“Oh! Yeah, that sounds... um, that sounds good.” She nodded enthusiastically, though her voice wasn’t in it. She landed on the ground once more, pawing at a wayward streamer without meeting his gaze. “Way better than this dinky little thing, hehe. Ehe. Ahem. But, yeah, that’s a big step, Gander. Makin’ friends on your own and all. I’m... proud of you. Yeah.”

If Gander had jammed his new fork back into his skin, it would be less painful than this. His mind was used to forming a thousand different strategies for avoiding injury in battle, and now it worked furiously to find a way of escaping this situation without succumbing the horror of the mare’s hurt expression.

“But I am not knowing the way to this Watered Hole. You maybe will come with me, yes?” There was that smile again, her pearly teeth finding a way to take up half of her face. She dove at him for a hug, which he endured without complaint.

“Of course! Ooh, I can meet your coworkers and talk about all the awesome stuff you guys do! And most of the weather team is probably off by now, I bet they’d love to meet you! I can get Drizzle and Cobolt and Peeps and Sleetfo-no, wait, she’s on vacation, but I can get the rest of the whole gang! I’ve been tellin’ them all kinds of crazy stories and they’re like “Whaaaat? No way!” and I keep saying “Ya huh, that totally happened!” and they’re all-”

“Ducky!” Gander finally interrupted the continuous stream of chatter spewing forth. Sometimes, this mare did not seem to need to breathe like normal beings. “This is all good, but there is not much time for preparing. You do not wish to miss the celebratings, yes?”

“You’re right!” She gasped, her eyes wide with panic. “I gotta get ready! Okay, you stay here and I’ll be back in like a couple hours. Bye!”

She disappeared so quickly that Gander had to blink away an afterimage, the door slamming behind her. With a heavy sigh, he undid the saddlebags as the door busted open once more with a crash.

“Sorryforgotpizzahungryokaybyeforrealsthistime!”

The door slammed close once more, and this time his little apartment was absent the pony and the remnants of the pizza. Gander laid his saddlebags onto the now-empty table with a weary sigh, emptying papers into neat little stacks. He had to be ready. He had to know just who and what he would be looking for, exactly what hints and clues to seek out in the vibrant nightlife of Baltimare, and the answers to those questions were hidden somewhere in these pages. 

Sleep called to him, but there was no time for resting. Not when the call of the hunt was so much greater. It was a different kind of hunt than he was used to, but it was still a hunt and there was still prey just waiting to be caught. Gander’s eyes narrowed at the profiles and case notes before him, staring at them as a hawk might watch a mouse in the field. No, he thought, there would be no rest. 

Tonight, he would hunt.

***

“Gander, can you do me a favor?” Ducky asked of the griffon at her side. 

The sun had begun its descent in the sky, marking an early start to the evening. The two friends, along with many more of Baltimare’s residents now freed from their daytime jobs, had taken to the streets of the city, walking along one of its cleaner sidewalks towards the downtown commercial districts. Already, the traffic to get to the bustling nightclubs and shopping centers was increasing, and ponies of all colors and types crowded together in a living stream of Equestrian pedestrians. However, it was a river with a conspicuous boulder in its center, around which the water flowed without touching. Gander’s unhappy scowl was especially prominent at the moment, his mood dark and his body tense to the point of snapping, and wary passersby kept more than a few feet of distance between themselves and the intimidating griffon. He looked at her with bloodshot eyes, doing his best to ignore the stares and whispers as he waited for her to continue.

“I guess gettin’ prettied up for the night probably isn’t the griffoniest thing ever, so I can understand you not cleanin’ up much,” she said in an agreeable tone. Contrasting to Gander’s rough looks, she looked fresh from a recent shower, and her normally incorrigible mane was pulled back in a loose braid that left a single strand of her tiger-orange locks free. She hadn’t bothered with makeup, but she had sprung for some rose-shaped earrings that matched the scarlet cocktail dress she was wearing; a pretty little number cut to calf-length in the black, form-fitting and simple other than a sheer fabric exposing the shoulders. It wasn’t particularly loud or fanciful, crafted for general use than as any sort of formal wear, but it did have an elegance about it that fit her very well. In pony terms, she looked striking. Gander, meanwhile, might well have been a step away from physically striking. “But could you try to look... um, I dunno, less... scary?”

“I am not understanding.” Gander looked himself up and down. “I am not bleeding for once, and I brought not even one weapon. What more can I do?”

“You could try smilin’, maybe,” Ducky suggested with a hint of pleading in her voice. Gander complied, baring his teeth through the curves of his beak. A passing mare promptly shrieked and fainted dead away in the middle of the street, a crowd of worried onlookers gathering around her. Before they started searching for the reason of her sudden collapse, Ducky wrapped a wing around her friend and steered them quickly away at a near trot without looking back. “Okay, um, forget that idea. Also, let’s just agree to never do that again.”

“What is wrong with how I look?” Gander asked curiously, stealing glances over his shoulder at the oddities of pony-kind. He would never understand their love of dramatic fainting, which they seemed to do often in his presence. He couldn’t help his expression or demeanor. In his mind, he was on the job right now, and that lent a seriousness to his every motion that was far from open or relaxed.

“It’s just, my friends are gonna be there, and I really want them to like you,” she somewhat worriedly confessed, “and right now you look like somepony went and insulted your honor or somethin’.

“Which, by the way,” she added as an afterthought, “if somepony does do that tonight, you are not allowed to beat them up. Maybe not everypony’s gonna like you right off the bat, but this is a pub, not an arena.”

“I thought parties were for fun,” Gander muttered. “Where is the fun in that?”

“No fighting!” She said firmly, her words brooking no argument. “We’re tryin’ to make friends here, and that ain’t the way to do it. You gotta admit, bud, you do not give the best first impressions.”

“Fine, I will do this.” Gander grumbled, but knew better than to go against her lest he face the wrath of the puppy-dog eyes again. He was rewarded with a cheery smile.

“Great! This is gonna be awesome, I just know it.” That unflappable optimism was going to get her into trouble some day, Gander thought. “Look we’re almost there!“

The mare waved at a collection of ponies up ahead, standing in front of a nondescript building with a horde of neon-lights in the mud-colored windows. The pub was nestled between a carriage station and an eggshell white, two-story hotel, with pot-hole infested alleys separating it from the other buildings. Already, Gander’s keen ears could hear the carrying drone of overly loud music and chatter coming from within. The griffon took a long, calming breath and held it for a moment. Ostensibly, he would be ferreting out clues to track down a criminal organization, but on the surface of that he also had to ingrain himself into pony society and, somehow, make new friends.

As Ducky flew on ahead, Gander briefly wondered why dealing with criminals sounded so much easier.

***