//------------------------------//
// Chapter Four. 
// Story: CMC Investigations: The Creature of Canterlot 
// by AidanofVT 
//------------------------------//

	An extremely tired Pastry Chef wandered into the main kitchen, a cup of coffee magically held to his lips. He didn't sip it, or pause between gulps, instead holding it at a constant angle and  letting it flow down his throat: fueling up for another exhausting day. Two more steaming cups floated between his ears in reserve. In the early morning he could never stop himself from wanting intensely to quit this job and take up something less physically demanding, like salt-mining or lumberjacking. Today, as usual, those thoughts of job-loathing were front and center in his mind, but even he knew that they would be gone an hour from now, banished by the distractions of hectic work and a love of his craft.
        After he passed through the second pair of doors into the bakery, he was confronted by a strange sight: a pile of three mares, slumped against each other, fast asleep. He jumped in surprise: somehow he had completely forgotten that the Center for Magical Curiosities had spent the night in his kitchen. Their posture was strange. He couldn't imagine how anypony could fall asleep like that. It looked very uncomfortable, and a bit unnatural. As he stared at them, letting the coffee flow, he started to feel a little cheated: here he had been given a chance at vindication, and these "professionals" had fallen asleep on the job, apparently not bothering to give due diligence to his claims.
        "I gotta say, I expected more professionalism from you three," he said, loudly. They didn't stir. Sweetie emitted a loud snore.  Pastry walked over and gave her a nudge. She toppled away from her companions. The sensation of falling caused her to spasm into wakefulness, though not fast enough to stop her head from colliding painfully with the floor. With the first leg of the pony-tripod removed, Scootaloo  and Apple Bloom were placed in a similar predicament, slumping to the floor with comic lethargy.  A chorus of quiet groans soon reached Pastry's ears.
        "Turn off... the light," muttered Scootaloo.
        "Am I... alive?"  said Sweetie, sounding surprised.
        "You are now," Pastry deadpanned.
        "I really thought I was dead there," Sweetie groggily said. 
        Something clicked for Pastry. The strange posture; Sweetie’s ‘I thought I was dead’. Maybe things hadn't gone as poorly as they appeared. Pastry offered a hoof, helping them to their legs. They swayed unsteadily. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"
        "Right," said Sweetie, "Well, uh... what did happen?" She directed a confused look at her friends.
        "The cakes," said Apple Bloom.
        "The... cakes..." muttered Sweetie as the gears of her mind began to grind. Suddenly it all snapped into place: "Ah! Right: the cakes. We watched them for hours, but nothing happened until we were just about to fall asleep. I don't really know what time it was; we kinda forgot to bring a clock. Anyway, all of the sudden, this cake starts to float off the rack. I think it was that one," she pointed at the racks of cake-debris. It took her a moment to notice that the cake in question, by nature of being relevant, was no longer present. "Oh yeah. Anyway, chunks start disappearing from it, like it's being eaten by an invisible mouth!"
        Pastry should have been happy to hear this, but instead he just felt a great lack of surprise. In fact, he was a little skeptical. They had fallen asleep on the job, and their story was one which could have been fabricated with no effort at all. They had told him exactly what he had been expecting to hear.
        "So anyway," continued Sweetie Belle, "After this thing has gone through three or four cakes, we switch on the lights-"
        "I left the lights on for you."
        "We shut them off. We thought there was a chance it would scare the ghost."
        "A ghost scared of light?"
        "How many ghosts have you heard of that appear in the day?"
        "Fair enough."
        "Anyway, we turn on the lights, and everything goes nuts. We... It... I actually don't remember anything after that."
        "I think I do," said Apple Bloom, "We turned the lights on, but then they shut themselves off. The cake dropped to the ground; I think the rack caught on fire?" she glanced at the cake rack, "or at least it appeared to. There was this horrible... black thing. We got pulled into it. It felt like dying. You know how sleep is kinda like death, because you can't remember falling asleep afterward, so it's like your consciousness ends? But it doesn't feel like dying as you fall asleep because your thoughts turn into dreams? This wasn't like that. It felt like my thoughts were muffled and then silenced, like I was just fading away." She grimaced. "It was awful."
        Scootaloo and Sweetie slowly nodded. If they had previously forgotten, they were reminded now of at least enough to make them shudder. They were silent for a minute, then Pastry spoke: "So… Can you get rid of it?"
        "Um," began Scootaloo, "you know, for a minute there I actually forgot about that part. Yeah, we probably can get rid of it. We've dealt with ghosts before, though I admit that this one is a little different. 'Bloom, can you make that alchemical snare like you did last summer?"
        "Yeah, but it might not be necessary," said Apple Bloom, "The ceiling lights really seemed to affect it. Maybe the ghost would stay away if they were left on at night."
        "I'm sure that at some point somepony's left the lights on before," said Scootaloo, "So if that theory were true, Pastry here would probably have figured it out by now."
        "I don't remember ever finding the lights on in the morning," commented Pastry, "I'm pretty meticulous."
        "Well..." began Sweetie, "Floral Flourish probably had the lights on when she stayed. She was trying to catch a vagrant, not a ghost."
        "Actually, judging by what we can infer about her experience, she probably did exactly what we did," said Scootaloo, "Anyway, 'Bloom, your snare? What do you need for it?"
        "A lot of stuff," said Apple Bloom, "Basically, I need my office. Barring that, though, I can try to make do with a good arcana shop and a pile of Bits. Pastry, 'know where I can find one?"
        "Nope, sorry," said Pastry, "I've never really needed one."
        "Okay, I'll ask around," said Apple Bloom, "and for a bank, too. I'll need a little cash."
        "Sounds good,” said Scootaloo, “I'll see if I can wave my copy of Twilight's letter at somepony and get into the royal library. There might be some spells in there that could help."
        "I'll come with you," said Sweetie.
        "Great," said Scootaloo, "'Sounds like we've got a plan. Pastry, talk to the guard and get them to let us in again tonight."
        "I'll find some time for it," he confirmed.
        "Don't worry, Pastry," said Sweetie, "after tonight, that ghost won't bother you  or your cakes anymore."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
        "There you are," said Sweetie Belle as Apple Bloom strode into the bakery. A long length of thin rope was coiled around her neck, and the pockets of her duster bulged. A coffee cup was precariously balanced on her rump. "It's already nine o'clock," continued Sweetie.
        "We got a watch," explained Scootaloo, "And we got you some coffee. I guess we forgot how self-reliant you are."
        "Yeah, I just keep you guys around for the occasional freebie," responded Apple Bloom, "This one's almost empty anyway." She demonstrated her point by taking a final swig from the cup and placing it on a nearby surface. She took the cup offered to her by Scootaloo and immediately began work on it.
        "Where's the net?" asked Sweetie.
        "You're gonna make it." replied Apple Bloom. 
        "What?"
        "I said you guys are going to make it. You didn't think I was planning on tying hundreds of little knots with my teeth did you?"
        "How did you make it last time?" asked Scootaloo.
        "It took weeks."
        "Why didn't you ask us for help then?"
        "Because.... I'm so self reliant?" Apple Bloom sheepishly replied.
        Scootaloo levitated the rope off of Apple Bloom's shoulders and placed it on a nearby table. "'Bloom, your ego is going to be the death of you,". Apple Bloom scowled.
        "I've already prepped the rope, so here's all you gotta do:" she stepped over to the table that the rope rested on and spilled out her pockets. Hundreds of deep-red coins crashed onto the metal surface. Scootaloo and Sweetie each levitated one and examined it. They were blood-red, and exactly the size of a Bit. On each was a simple rune: staep: peace.
        "Redgard tokens," observed Sweetie, "you found a shop that stocked these?"
        "Not exactly," said Apple Bloom, "I had to buy out the stock of four different stores before I had enough."
        "Canterlot has four arcana stores?" asked Sweetie.
        "More," replied Apple Bloom, "I got directions to a place called the arcana district. There's like a dozen shops on one block, so it was pretty easy once I got there. Anyway, I couldn't find any staep tokens, so I bought a bunch of miscellaneous ones and used the royal mint to press the right faces onto them."
        "Wait, what?" asked Scootaloo, "So what, you just walked in and asked them nicely?"
        "Pretty much," responded Apple Bloom, "They were pretty cool about it. I'm sure Twilight's letter helped a lot."
        "We didn't have any trouble getting into the library, either," said Scootaloo, "Ya know, I'm starting to think that the security here is getting a little lax. As a taxpayer, I'm not sure I'm okay with that."
        "Twilight and Co. solve all their problems for them now," hypothesized Apple Bloom, "The enemies come with overwhelming force and then are inevitably defeated. The guard's figured out it doesn't matter if they give an effort."
        "Still..." Scootaloo trailed off.
        "Anyway," continued Apple Bloom, "all you've gotta do is tie together a net, and between every knot thread the rope through one of these tokens."
        "These tokens don't have holes in them," said Sweetie.
        "And I don't know how to tie a net," added Scootaloo.
        "Well," said Apple Bloom, "I was counting on you lasering some holes, or something." Scootaloo scowled; Apple Bloom had a habit of simplifying magical terminology just to irritate her.
        Sweetie rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, I think I might have a way to do that," she said, "I hope you bought a few extra; I'll need them to experiment with."
        "We can probably spare a few," responded Apple Bloom, "As for the net, it's easy. It's just a bunch of sheet-bends." Two quizzical expressions stared at her. "Here, I'll show you." It was not easy for her to show them. There was a reason she was having them perform this task, and it was tragicomic to see her trying to explain the knots to her friends while simultaneously trying to tie them using the same orifice. Eventually though, Sweetie and Scootaloo were managing them solo, and Apple Bloom only had to make the occasionally correction.
        "Did you guys find anything useful in the library?" asked Apple Bloom as they untied the practice knots, readying the rope for the real-deal.
        "Yes we did," said Scootaloo, "We found a new version of Otiluke's Confinement-"
        "New and improved" added Sweetie.
        "Heh, yeah. Anyway, we should be able to do something with the ghost once we catch it. All we need is some kind of container."
        Apple Bloom indicated her empty coffee  cup. "Will this work?" she asked
        Sweetie shrugged. “Sure.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
        It was simple, repetitive work, so they had no trouble with it. Scootaloo burned holes into the coins with searing rays from her ears. She tried to minimise the damage to the floor by holding the targets close the ground, and succeeded in carbonizing only a small spot. After cooling for a few minutes on a baking sheet (which, by the end of the project, had been completely totaled by drops of molten metal), Sweetie would incorporate each one into the growing snare. She had inherited some of the magical dexterity that her sister was so well known for, and took full advantage of it, quickly weaving the lengths into a sturdy net. Apple Bloom watched. It always made her smile when Scootaloo used destructive magic. The sight of deadly energy blasting forth from such fragile lobes of fur, skin, and cartilage was humorously ironic. 
        It was hard to stay awake for as long as was needed to complete the project; the meditative work had a sedating effect, and the heat radiating off the medallions eventually brought the room to a sauna-like temperature. But the CMC was a professional organization, and they managed to keep themselves upright by force of will. Until, that is, about two o'clock, when they had a new excitement to keep them awake.
        The trio jumped at the sound of a plate clattering onto the cake rack. Three faces swerved towards it. Scootaloo's beams slashed across the room, setting alight a box of tissues before she frantically batted her ears into submission. One of the plates on the rack held only crumbs, and another was now levitating up off the surface.
        "Do we have enough net?" queried Sweetie Belle. She proffered their work so far: a ten-foot-by-seven-foot net, with knots tied four inches apart.
        "Hopefully," responded Apple Bloom, "it depends how big the ghost is. But, if it's pony-sized, we should be good."
        "I wonder if we could just keep working," posited Sweetie Belle. She waved towards the disappearing  cake. "I mean, it seems practically nonsensing. Or unsensing? Senseless? You know what I mean. Nothing we do seems so scare it, and it'll probably be here for a while. Maybe we could finish a few more rows."
        "You're probably right," said Apple Bloom, "but I wouldn't take the risk. Scootaloo? What do you think?"
        "I think, uh," Scootaloo panted, "I think I'm all lasered-out. I don't know if I can cast the spell."
        "Can you try?" asked Apple Bloom.
        "Maybe, but... *sigh* I doubt it."
        "Well," said Sweetie, "I hope we can make this work with just one caster." She finished the knot that she had been working on and levitated the metal-weighted net. She levitated the coffee cup which they hoped would become the ghost's phylactery. "Hey, will the ghost be able to get through the net into the cup?"
        "Probably not," said Apple Bloom, "you'd better throw it first."
        "Let me do it," said Scootaloo.
        "Why?" asked Sweetie.
        "I wanna do something."
        "Be my guest," said Sweetie, releasing the cup into Scootaloo's purple aura. The cup floated over to the base of the rack and was gently placed on the floor. A few crumbs from the ongoing cake demolition fell into it. "That wasn't a throw," observed Apple Bloom.
        "It worked," rebutted Scootaloo.
        "Fine."
        "Everypony ready?" asked Sweetie Belle, "we could be going for a bit of a ride." Scootaloo and Apple Bloom nodded. Sweetie hefted the net, considering the throw. Then she tossed the it: the net arced high. It descended upon the floating cake, and it loudly crashed onto the floor. It fell unimpeded. In that moment, it appeared that they had missed the ghost; or perhaps the net had passed through it. But it was soon obvious that there was more than air under their net. The center bulged upward, draped over an invisible object. The three mares glanced at each other. Sweetie closed her eyes began weaving the spell. She felt out, and immediately detected a presence under the net. "I think we got it."
        "Not until it's between sturdy styrofoam walls," said Scootaloo. Sweetie progressed to the next phase of the spell. She increased her energy output by two orders of magnitude, pulling apart a void in the cup and trying to drag the ghost into it. Then things got interesting. Those remnants of the cake that had wound up under the net exploded, and then it seemed that everything exploded. The rack was pulled down onto the net and flames gushed out from under it; sounds of every variety bombarded the ponies' ears; from the net flew tar and bile and bats and puppies; gales assaulted them from every side. Sweetie could feel the entity fighting back. Hard.
        "Scootaloo, you've got to help me!" she yelled, hoping she could be heard over the bedlam.
        "Okay!" responded Scootaloo. She knew that there was no way she could fabricate a spell of her own, so instead she lent her remaining power to Sweetie. Sweetie felt it, and redoubled her efforts. Tendrils of her adversary were wrenched into the coffee cup. The creature writhed and flamed, but Apple Bloom's net held steady as a brick wall.
        "We're  close!" announced Sweetie, "Apple Bloom, do you think you could..."
        "What?!"
        "I don't know, shoot it or something!"
        "Alright!" Apple Bloom eagerly unholstered her patented Insta-Vape 2000 and twisted the Property Damage dial as far clockwise as it would go. She trained it on the epicenter of the chaos and started firing like it didn't cost her eighty bits per power cell to use the thing. The noise began to lessen, as did the light and wind. A dark shape began to materialize beneath the net.
        "It's not working!" shouted Sweetie, "It's... changing." She glanced at Scootaloo to find her slumped on the floor, eyes closed; face expressionless. Still, she could feel a trickle of magic flowing from her; she might sleep for a few days, but she'd be okay. The larger problem was that with Scootaloo out of commission, their collective effort would only get weaker, and the ghost appeared to be adapting to their strategy, which scared her. Apple Bloom heard the panic in Sweetie's voice, and fired even more rapidly, trying to compensate.
        She was surprised when this resulted in the ghost unexpectedly yelling out in a pained, female voice: "Oh! Ow! Uncle! Uncle! I surrender! You win." The ghost had a familiar accent. Apple Bloom ceased fire and Sweetie let her spell unravel. The form beneath the rack continued to grow. The rack toppled over and the net fell to the floor, revealing a cake-covered, but familiar, form. A horned form. A winged form. “My goodness!" said Princess Luna with a pained smiled, "It's like fighting two and a half Twilight Sparkles."
        "Princess Luna?!" exclaimed Sweetie and Apple Bloom with comic unity.
        "What-"
        "Why-"
        "How-"
        "You're the ghost?"
        "Yes, I suppose I am," said Luna.
        "But why?!" asked Sweetie Belle. Luna rubbed her chin, carefully considering her answer.
        "To live a gluttonous lifestyle whilst maintaining a regal reputation," she eventually said.
        "What?" said Apple Bloom.
        "Well, when one is an alicorn, the only consequence of a voluminous diet is possible damage to your image. Not your physical image; your... reputation. Some years ago, a publication called the Foal Free Press exposed this trait in Celestia. Now she openly consumes upwards of eight cakes every day. It makes her happy, but people see her that much less regally. And that's a good thing! But I'm supposed to be the other sister. The strong arm of the throne. The... the hardass," She looked down shamefully, "Not some sweet-fixated foal. But I like sweets just as much as Celestia: a lot. I get them in this manner so that it remains secret; so that I receive the fullest of respect from ponies."
        "Huh..." Sweetie trailed off.
        "But, why the ghost?" asked Apple Bloom.
        "My way of playing it safe," responded Luna. There was nothing to hide now: "I used to perform the deed with darkness as my only disguise, but then our pastry chef at the time, a mare named Flourish, I believe, got curious. Actually, it was more like frustration at having her work demolished. I don't blame her. Anyway, one day she told me that she was going to stay after hours and catch the vandal, that being me. I came up with the idea of the ghost, and that was the end of that."
        "So you did scare her away?" asked Sweetie Belle.
        "I admit: it was a bit cruel, but I love pastries so." Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle stared at her with gaping mouths. "Do not forget that what's good for your princess is good for you," snapped Luna.
        "Is this really good for you?" asked Sweetie.
        "It is not bad for me."
        "Really?"
        "Oh, you are right. I cannot go on like this, but I do not know what to do!" Luna burst.
        "Well," said Apple Bloom, "I would suggest that you work something out with Pastry."
        "Absolutely not!" said Luna, "Once I start telling ponies, where will it end? I will be just like Celestia."
        "I'm not saying you have to tell ponies," said Apple Bloom, "just that you should tell a pony." Luna wore a stubborn expression. "Look, it's not my job, but I really think that this would be the path of least resistance."
        "I do not know if we can trust him," said Luna.
        "You trust him to make your food," observed Sweetie, "You probably know him better than we do, but it seems to me like he avoids trouble if he can."
        "I will consider it," said Luna with finality. She noticed Scootaloo for the first time: "My goodness! Is she alright?"
        "Yeah," said Sweetie, "She pretty drained, though."
        "I did not mean to hurt anypony," said Luna.
        "She'll be fine. Really," said Sweetie. An awkward silence ensued. 
“Well, that was easy,” said Apple Bloom.
        “What were you expecting?” asked the Princess.
        “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting you,” said Apple Bloom, “But what I meant was that after we did see you, I never would have expected you to just spit it all out.”
        Luna frowned. “What else could I have done?” she asked, “say ‘pay no attention to the mare beneath the net’ and skip away?” Nopony responded.
"So... what now?" asked Sweetie. 
        "Well, we appear to have made quite a mess," observed Luna, kicking cake off her hooves.
        "You made quite a mess," corrected Apple Bloom.
        "Fair enough," said Luna, "I know where we can get some rags... would you care to help?"
        "We, I gotta say, after that little encounter, I'm completely awake," said Apple Bloom, "so I could manage it."
        "Yeah, I'll help," said Sweetie.
        "Excellent," said Luna, "why don't you start by dealing with that." She indicated the glowing ashes of a former tissue box. "I didn't do that."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
        Luna stepped out for a few minutes to retrieve rags for them to use. While she was gone, Apple Bloom found a large trash can in the main kitchen, and Sweetie used her magic to scoop cake-bits into it. She had finished with most of the pile that had fallen off the rack by the time Luna returned, but that wasn't nearly the end of it. The event had spewn particles to the far corners of the room. Apple Bloom took a cloth offered by Luna, wet it with warm water, and started scrubbing sugar-residue off the the surfaces Sweetie had cleaned. Luna roamed around, hunting for stray debris.
        "So, Princess Luna," began Apple Bloom.
        "Yes?"
        "If you wanted to scare ponies away, then why didn't you do anything until we threw a net over you?"
        "Or turned the lights on," added Sweetie Belle.
        "I..." Luna trailed off for a few moments, "I met you upstairs yesterday, so I knew you would be here..."
        "So why did you still come?"
        "I thought I would have some fun with you," Luna confessed, "I believe the modern phrase is 'mess with'." She moved her rag over to the trash can, and used it's rim to scrape red-velvet chunks off the rag.
        "What?" Sweetie queried.
        "I thought it would be fun to confuse you. To scare you. I thought that maybe if I acted in a nonsensical manner it might lead you away from any conclusions involving sentient offenders," said Luna, "And, of course, to add credence to the story of the ghost. If some professionals saw it, then people would be forced to believe the story, and there would be no chance of anypony ever being wrongfully accused of the vandalism."
        "But you knew that we weren't just here to watch," said Apple Bloom, "We stood there for a full minute talking about how we were going to net you."
        "I thought that I could overpower you," said Luna, "Do not doubt that I could, but that weapon is extremely painful." She frowned at the thing holstered under Apple Bloom's barrel.
        "Thanks?" said Apple Bloom, "I'm sorry about that, I wouldn't have shot you if-"
        "Do not be sorry," commanded Luna, "I quite willfully brought it upon myself."
        "Well," said Apple Bloom, "It would've killed a normal pony thirty times over, so I'm not surprised it hurt. I'm glad all that all it did to you was... pain."
        As they say, many hooves make light work, and in this case they had two horns to boot, so they finished quickly. After fifteen minutes they were washing rags and replacing the trash can in the main kitchen.
        "Well," said Sweetie Belle, "I guess you've got an in with Pastry tomorrow."
        "What do you mean?" asked Luna.
        Sweetie emulated Pastry Chef's hard-boiled voice: "What happened to this baking sheet?!"
        "And all the cakes?!" added Apple Bloom.
        "And the floor?!" added Sweetie.
        "And why are there two hundred pounds of cake in this garbage bag?!"
        Luna smiled sheepishly. "Well," she said, "It is a funny story, about that." They all smiled, and then they all laughed, and then they laughed louder. The two smaller mares were very tired and over-caffeinated.
        When they had calmed down, Apple Bloom observed: "It's late."
        "Would you like to go home?" asked Luna.
        "We live in Ponyville," said Sweetie, "We'll find a motel."
        "Nonsense," said Luna. With a sweep of her horn, a silver crescent of magic peeled opened a soft-blue portal in the center of the room. She levitated Scootaloo's sleeping form onto her back. The pegasus' limp limbs and wings hung off of Luna. "Are you certain she will be alright?"
        "Yeah, fairly certain," said Sweetie, "it's happened before. Does this go to Ponyville?"
        "Yes."
        "Thank you," said Sweetie.
        "It is my pleasure. You have helped me a lot tonight," said Luna, "Come on now." She stepped towards the blue oval and was pulled into it. The air behind the portal distorted for a moment. Sweetie bit her lip, hesitated,and jumped through. Apple Bloom walked across the room and picked up the mostly-finished net. It had held up pretty well considering what it had gone through, and she would never consider leaving such a valuable investment behind. She folded it a couple times, draped it over herself, and stepped into the portal. She felt intense vertigo, but only for a moment, before finding herself in the middle of Mane-Street, in Ponyville.
        "Get out of the street!" Sweetie loudly commanded her from the sidewalk. Apple Bloom stepped towards them. There was no traffic, so she didn't rush.
        "Don't yell," she said, "Ponies are sleeping."
        "Where does Scootaloo live?" asked Luna.
        "Right there, in the green building," replied Apple Bloom, pointing one block over. The walked in silence to the building, fished around Scootaloo's pockets until they found her door key, let themselves inside, took the elevator to the third floor, silently walked to her room, found the door unlocked, trotted through the apartment and tucked Scootaloo into her bed.
        "There," said Luna, "Now, if you have no more need of me, I have other matters I must attend to." The two mares shook their heads. "Well, it was nice meeting you. Again." She looked at them for a moment. She nodded, then stepped to the window, opened it and awkwardly (and amazingly) squeezed herself through, swooping away into the night. They stood in silence for a minute, watching her figure shrink to a speck as she ascended towards Canterlot.
        "We forgot to ask her about our fee," said Sweetie Belle.
        Apple Bloom muttered a reply: "Somehow, I don't think we'll be getting our full asking-price for this one,"