Every city had rules or ideals of which nopony spoke, but everypony picked up on very quickly. For instance, except for holiday parties, in the town of Ponyville, sundown meant work’s done and the town came to a standstill until first light the next day. In upper Canterlot, it was those who are here are important, and those who aren’t, are not. By virtue of the literal separation of upper and lower Canterlot, that attitude ensured that the majority of the city proper was snubbed by the upper - fiscally and geographically - ponies of the city.
Mix in the fact that the Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance rarely, if ever, ventured into the lower sector - they flew in or took the royal express train - and that the upper Canterlot patrol routes were highly coveted by Royal Guard members, and you get a situation that considers those who live below ‘unimportant.’
What do you get when you mix an industrialized city, located at a centralized point and with access to a navigable river, that is deemed beneath them by those who make and enforce the laws? The capital of organized crime in Equestria.
A species will always produce those who would exploit the system in place to get an edge, and ponies are no exception. Sure, of the civilized races, ponies were considered the least ambitious and least violent, but that was as a whole.
It was the exceptions that were dangerous. Exceptions that called lower Canterlot home. Exceptions that caused the rule of the streets to be ‘walk fast and don’t be a target.’
Thus, the mare in full makeup and jewelry standing just outside Sparkle’s door, hoof poised to knock when Sparkle opened said door, was all the more surprising. “Oh.”
“Excuse me,” the unicorn mare said. “I was wondering if I had the right place...”
Sparkle narrowed her eyes. “Depends. Who are you looking for?”
“I don’t know her name. The colt I got the address from said she could help me with my... unique problem.”
“Define ‘unique’ and ‘payment,’ and maybe I’ll help.”
“I’m being stalked. I’m sure that stallion knows I’m here right now. He’s always watching me, and he sends me threats. I want him gone.”
“Come in. No sense in you standing in the hall,” Sparkle said after a brief moment’s contemplation.
“Thank you.”
The two walked into the room, which counter-intuitively smelled fresher than the hallway, considering what happened in the very next room back. “Have a seat. Tea?”
The unicorn, who couldn’t have been more than her mid-twenties, straightened out her red dress and daintily seated herself on the dingy couch. “Yes, thank you very much.”
Sparkle’s horn flared for a moment, but nothing tea-related happened. Instead, she simply sat on the other seat in the room, a worn out office chair. “Now, when you say ‘gone,’ how far do you want him gone? Fleeing in fright? Or something a bit more permanent?”
“I... I’m not sure what you mean, exactly. You can take care of him, right? Make him stop?”
“Yesss...” Sparkle hissed. “I... have the feeling I am not quite the service provider you were lead to believe I was. Switchblade, come in here.”
A silver-grey pegasus trotted in from the kitchen, carrying a tray with an old teapot and two cups in his mouth. His face was mostly hidden on one side by his black mane. He set the tray down on the coffee table between the two mares, and then brushed a strand of black mane out of his one visible eye. “How else may I help, Mistress?”
“Tell me, why are you working for me?”
“Because I tried and failed to kill you, Mistress,” he replied without missing a beat.
“And why did you try and kill me?”
“Because I was a criminal, and I wanted what I thought you had, Mistress.” He poured the tea.
“How long are you going to be working for me, Switchblade?”
“Until you dismiss me, Mistress.” The pegasus passed a cup to Sparkle.
“And why is that?” She took a sip.
He brushed his mane aside, revealing an empty cavity instead of an eye. “Because I am dead, Mistress. You took my soul and my eye. There is nothing left for me but you, Mistress.”
“And where are the things I took from you?”
He passed a full cup to Sparkle’s queasy looking guest. “Why, digesting in Thornecrovitar’s stomach, of course... Mistress.”
Sparkle turned towards the unnamed mare. “I ask again, how gone do you want your stalker? An upper Canterlot lady like yourself must be pretty frightened if coming here was the safer option.”
“I w-want him... d-de-d-dead.”
“Are you sure?”
“O-o-of c-course I’m sure! He’s ruining my life!” The mare replied.
“Because he’s right there.” Sparkle gestured a hoof, pointing to behind the mare, where a stallion was menacingly standing. A burst of magic pinned the culprit to the wall, his legs spread apart and his belly exposed. “Switchblade, if you would.”
“Yes, Mistress.” The zombie pressed the hilt of a knife into the client’s hooves. “Kill him, Miss.”
“Yes, Kill him yourself,” Sparkle echoed.
“Kill him.”
She stood.
“Kill him.”
She rounded the couch.
“Kill him.”
She approached the trapped stallion.
“Kill him!”
She raised the knife oh so slowly.
“Kill him!”
She hesitated.
“KILL HIM NOW!”
“NO!” The world shattered like glass. She was seated on the dingy couch, spilled tea spreading across her dress and the couch below. There was no knife, no stalker, no zombie.
“No?” Sparkle asked. “You don’t want me to kill him?”
“What in Celestia’s name was that?”
“A test,” Sparkle answered sagely. “One you failed. A pony that cannot end a life on her own strength does not deserve to order the death of one at the hooves of another. We’re done here; I have no more business with you.”
The guest’s eyes went wide. “But... he’ll kill me!”
“Then defend yourself!” Sparkle commanded at a much louder volume than she had been the whole conversation. “Or get in touch with the Royal Guard! Hire a bodyguard! Flee! Anything!
"I am not the right pony for the job,” she concluded, voice returned to normal. “Good day. Show yourself out, coward.”
“But-”
“GO!"
The mare went.
“Great. I’m going to be late now.” Sparkle took another sip of her tea. It didn’t taste like much of anything at all.
"You better have something better than this, Twi." The speaker slowly slid out from the shadow on the park ground. "It takes forever to escape Canterlot without setting off those stupid traces on me. Honestly, I'd almost rather get talked at by Princess Sunbutt again than go through this again just to have a conversation with you."
Twilight sighed. "I know. Spike can help with single letters-"
"-but we'd rather not put him through the effort of playing messenger for a whole conversation, I know," Sparkle finished.
"Well, there are a couple of options we have available. Astral projection, mana resonance, telepathy-”
"Absolutely not!" Sparkle interjected. "That would drive us insane!"
"I figured as much," Twilight replied. "There is something I've been wanting to try. Princess Celestia taught me about something called sympathetic entanglement, where two objects can be made to interact with one another across space, without any detectable means of communication between them. I was thinking, if we went into a store, bought the exact same typewriter, and overlapped them, we could entangle their parts so they move in unison when one of us types."
"I'll have to trust you on that; this is the first I've heard of sympathetic entanglement," Sparkle replied with a shrug. "The idea sounds sound... And really familiar, now that I think about it."
Twilight giggled. "It would to us, wouldn't it?"
"What do you... Oh. Us."
Twilight nodded excitedly. "Yep. If this works, we could end up pioneering the future of high-speed communications! Think about it, two machines, portable, and with no other infrastructure needed!" She thought for a moment, her eyes darting back and forth as she pondered different scenarios. "You should crash the Grand Galloping Gala," she eventually stated, as if she had just said 'the sky is blue.'
Sparkle blinked. She blinked again, rubbed her ears as if to clean them, and blinked a third time. "What? No, seriously, what?" She put a hoof up to her temple and massaged it. "I know I'm supposed to be you, but even I didn't follow that train of thought."
"Well, the Gala is in four months, so tickets have been distributed already."
"Faust knows how long those nobles take to get ready for a party," Sparkle deadpanned.
"Yeah," Twilight agreed. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure that I can have a functioning prototype of the typewriters working by then. And since some of the nobles and upper class go there to invest on business ventures, it would be a great time to get a sponsor. If you were there, it would help me pitch it, but there's no way the Princess would give you a ticket.."
Sparkle had her eyebrow raised the whole time Twilight explained her thoughts. "That's... smart... but way out of character for you, Twilight." She gasped and fainted melodramatically. "Oh dear, perfect little Twilight suggesting that I break the rules? What has the world come to?"
"Drama queen."
"Smartass."
"Language, Sparkle."
"Madam! Are you accusing me of possessing an inelegant vocabulary?" Sparkle asked in her best 'Canterlot Elitist' voice, more arrogant sounding than a simple 'Canterlot Elite' voice.
"Indubitably."
"Well, buck you too."
Ignoring that, Twilight asked Sparkle if she would come. The latter replied that she would think about it, and perhaps find an alternative way to get a transferable ticket before simply showing up at the gala. Twilight agreed and settled for a promise of 'I'll try to be there.'
The sisters parted soon after. They had agreed to meet soon in order to get and experiment with their chosen communication tool, but for now, Sparkle had to return to her home before the guards realized that her magical trace had been stealthily transferred to her bed in lower Canterlot.
The fools couldn't hold her if they were a hundred times as competent. She was a free mare! Not that she wanted to live as a fugitive, though. It wasn't worth the effort.