Button was sitting at his desk in the small office at Horseshoe Ring. They still had to pay rent for it – they didn’t want to lead potential candidates to their secret headquarters. He looked into his notes and at the blue filly who was standing in front of him with a lead pipe in her teeth.
“Aren’t you that filly Twist’s sister adopted?” Button asked. “Tootsie Flute or something?”
“Yeah, dat’s me,” Tootsie Flute replied. “Ya’re trying to get ponies to dat group of superheroes, right?”
“How do you–”
“Ya said ya ain’t doing dat,” Tootsie replied, smirking. “Dat was clever, but not for a pony wiff my instinct.”
“So, your skill is your instinct, right?” Button asked, taking notes.
“Yep. Ma and Pa were cockneighs,” Tootsie said, sighing. “Dey were walking around, beating ponies and I continue dat tradition.”
Button wrote something in his notes quickly. “So, your parents...”
Tootsie smacked him in the face. “My parents are dead!” she exclaimed. “Dey met a bunch of Manechester United fans...”
“I understand...” Button muttered, grabbing the edge of the desk and getting up from the floor. “Nice right hook, by the way...”
“Yeah.” Tootsie smiled proudly. “Ma’s lesson. Anyway, I ‘ad no bees and da ponies in da orphanage were a bunch of berks and khybers, so when Lyra and Bon Bon decided to adopt me, I was happy like a lark. Dey’re bale of hay, but who cares.”
“Y-yes...” Button muttered. “If you say so...”
“Dey sometimes speak weird and I can’t understand ‘em.” Tootsie shrugged.
“I wonder why.” Button sighed. “So, you beat ponies and have some kind of a sixth sense, right?”
“Right. And I love flowers,” Tootsie said. “Dey grow best on bodies.”
“Do you have any costume?” Button asked, deciding not to ask a question that appeared in the back of his head. Something was telling him that it wouldn’t be safe.
“Well, let me get my weasel and stoat...” Tootsie left the office. When she came back, she was wearing a domino mask and a tight suit in the colours of the flag of Great Bridletain.
“Umm... Right.” Button muttered. He had quite a different idea of stealth, but he decided to keep that to himself. “What’s your pseudonym?”
“Captain Cockneigh,” Tootsie replied, levitating a monkey wrench. “And this is my trusty assistant, Father Ted. Insult ‘im and ya’re dead.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Button muttered, giving Tootsie a piece of paper. “This is where we usually meet. Remember the address and destroy this message.”
“Da ad said sumfin’ about Fluffy Bunny...” Tootsie muttered.
“What?” Button scratched his mane.
“Y’know... Pie and mash...”
“Mash? Sounds familiar...” Button said.
“Bits.” Tootsie said with a sigh. “Ya said about bits...”
“You’ll have to talk to my boss,” Button replied. “Though I’m sure she’ll find something. See you later, Captain Cockneigh...”
When he was finally left alone in his office, he sighed and smacked his head against his desk. Twist and Nursery Rhyme were already a bit intimidating – well, for Button every filly was intimidating – but Tootsie was certainly stealing a cake. While beating the baker to death with Father Ted.
He had no chance to get his bearings – somepony was knocking on the door.
“Come in,” Button muttered.
“Hello, my name is Snails and I’ve heard that you’re looking for superheroes...”
“Wait, what?”
Button sighed and put the quill back on the desk. He’d been sitting there all morning and so far there was still only one name on his list. Many ponies came to his office to present their superpowers. Most of them were lame or nonexistent. Button wasn’t sure of many things about that whole team of masked vigilantes, but he was pretty sure that “knowledge of the names of all the metal bassists in Equestria and the Griffon Empire”, “throwing stones at ponies”, and “reading the future from piss” weren’t useful in fighting crime.
Button banged his head against the desk and looked at the list in front of him. The longer he stared at it, the more he was sure that Twist wouldn’t be happy about the fact that the only candidate he found was a strange pony wearing a costume made of a flag and talking in rhyme slang. Not to mention that Tootsie was technically Twist’s niece.
He was about to call it a day and go home. After all, every minute of renting the office was costing him a lot of bits and he wasn’t sure how much he could take from Twist’s account without her parents noticing. Besides, he had the projects of some new gadgets in his mind and he wanted to go to his workshop and try if they’d work.
Suddenly, somepony knocked on the door. Button raised his head. “Come in,” he muttered.
The door opened. The pony behind them was a short filly with pale yellow coat, orange mane and lots of freckles. She was wearing a filly scout’s uniform.
“I don’t want any cookies, thank you,” Button said. “Though if you have whisky...”
He didn’t really drink whisky. Nopony wanted to sell it to him.
“I’ve heard you’re looking for ponies with superpowers,” the filly scout said. “My name’s Ginger Snap and my secret identity is Tagalong.”
Button grabbed the quill and wrote it on the parchment. “So, what is your superpower?” he asked. Two was always better than one. Even if the team was to consist of a hooligan and a filly scout.
“I have an infinite number of lives,” Tagalong replied.
“In what game?” Button asked, sighing. If she had immortality cheats in any of his favourite games, he could report her to the mods. He was sick of cheaters.
“In life,” Tagalong replied. “I discovered it when I tried to sell cookies to some creep and he shot me.”
Button raised his eyebrows. “So, you’re, like, immortal?” he asked.
“No.”
“Invicible? Bulletproof?”
“No,” Tagalong replied. “I’m gonna show you.” She produced a shotgun from her saddlebags. Button cowered behind his desk – it had a built-in flamethrower, but before he was able to reach it, Tagalong put the barrel in her mouth and pulled the trigger.
Button’s jaw dropped. He had recently painted the walls in the office and it seemed that he’d have to do that again. Not to mention that there was now a big, red blot right in the middle of his notes. He just started to calculate the costs of a new carpet, when he realised that something icky had landed in his mane. He rushed to close the blinds, wondering whether to call Twist and Nursery or try to get rid of the body himself. Technically, he knew the theory, but...
Fwoosh!
“So, just like I told you, I have infinite amount of lives,” Tagalong said, standing in the middle of the room and looking at the splatter on the walls. “Nice,” she muttered. “Never seen such a big one...”
“It happened... more than once?” Button asked, staring at Tagalong with wide eyes. He was sure of two things: that he was not going to like that and that Twist and Nursery would love that.
“Sure,” Tagalong replied. “And I’m completely regenerated. Do you know that when I chip a tooth, it’s faster to jump out of the window than go to the dentist?”
Button nodded, still too busy thinking about the mess in the office and not caring about the excited, shotgun-wielding filly scout. He just found some white and green sphere under his desk and felt his stomach twitching when she realised that the sphere was staring back at him.
“So, am I in?” Tagalong asked. “Or should I do that again?” She raised her shotgun, making Button wonder where she got it. Definitely it was for a badge.
“No, of course not!” Button rushed to his notes and started to write quickly, leaving a bloody smudge on the parchment. “You’re in.”